《Dungeon Item Shop》 Chapter 1 ¡°I hate myself.¡± The girl lays in her bed, huddled tightly together into a ball. Her cold, whisper thin hands fidget with a single coin that was laying there together with herself. The drab curtains, drawn tightly shut over the windows, obscure the bright morning daylight, causing the room to be lost in a nigh-complete darkness; save for the blinking of a single red LED in the distant corner, next to a dead, dried out basil-plant on the shelf. The air in the room is stale, but cold. It''s winter and her heater is off. But she isn¡¯t lying beneath the old, unwashed shamrock patterned blankets, she''s lying on top of them. It''s uncomfortably cold in here, in just her pajamas, the pajamas that she has been wearing for the last sixteen hours, give or take a day or two. That''s okay though. She can¡¯t explain why in coherent thoughts, but she wants it to be uncomfortable. Somehow, the minor self-inflicted suffering makes her feel. Just feel. Not feel something better. Not something worse. Just something. Anything. She closes her eyes, laying there for a time; numb, but not as numb as she had hoped to be. Until eventually, the all encompassing weight of sleep presses her conscious mind out and away into an ocean of nothingness, out to somewhere where even the feelings of the cold are lost in the depths, as the two of them sink down together and part ways. There is a trickle of water in her dream. She fidgets. The sound makes her feel like she needs to use the bathroom. The girl opens her eyes. Everything is white. Her room is gone. Her bed is gone. There is only herself, standing in a giant, empty, blank space. But the water¡­ Where is that sound coming from? She turns around and sees it, the source of the noise, a fountain. A simple fountain, like you¡¯d see in any old park, stone-wrought and ornate, but covered in the kinds of esoteric decorations that one might find ¡®neat¡¯, but nothing more than that. It''s a fountain like any other really. She walks towards it. However, as she moves, she notices that her body doesn''t feel quite right. It''s light and floaty, just like running in a dream. - In a dream? She looks down at her hands. Oh. It¡¯s just a dream. Her body is gone. There is simply a vague, colorless blob in a roughly human shape, there where she herself should be. The only thing distinct left about herself, is the single coin that is still held between her ''fingers''. She looks at it and then back towards the fountain. Well¡­ It seems like the obvious thing to do, right? With a flick of her thumb, the coin flies through the air, flying just a bit too high and hitting the upper part of the fountain, before splashing down to sleep with all the rest of the coins, down below the surface of the oddly dark water, shimmering with a jubilant shine from unseen source of light. Instantly, the white room vanishes and then so does she. A woman¡¯s voice rings out in her mind, clear like a spring brook. ¡°Hey, you there. Did you drop this diamond ring in my fountain?¡± asks the voice. ¡°¡­Huh?¡° The girl floats there and sees the image of a luxurious, diamond-studded ring in her mind¡¯s eye, a pale, bony hand holding it out towards her. It must be worth a fortune, she thinks. More money than she has ever seen before. ¡°Here, you can have it back,¡± offers the voice and extends the hand out further towards her, its witchy fingers spread open wide. She floats there and looks at it. Her heart beats a little faster and she feels the phantom sensation of her own hand rising up to take it, even if she doesn¡¯t have a body anymore. But then, she stops. The dreamy sensation of her arm moving has made her think a strange thought. The thought, that this feeling, this floaty feeling of moving in a dream, that it is the same as being underwater. This darkness¡­ It isn¡¯t a void or some light-less dreamscape. It''s underwater. She shivers. The cold of her bedroom, which had sank down together with herself, reaching her here, now, as it finally arrives down in the depths that she had fallen into. Its familiar bite brings clarity to her mind, it returns her personal-truth to her senses. This ring is too nice for her to have. She doesn¡¯t deserve it. ¡°No, it¡¯s not mine,¡± says the girl and slowly lowers her hand. The water stirs. The voice cries out, pleased. ¡°Ahh! It¡¯s been a while since I had someone honest here!¡± In contrast with its own excitement, just a second later, it yawns, somewhat sleepily. ¡°Let me reward you for your honesty, is there anything that you want?¡± asks the voice, drifting lazily around her shapeless body in a circle. Anything? What does that mean? Anything? Like, literally anything? Well, what does it matter¡­ It''s just a dream. A strange dream, that''s going to make her have to run to the bathroom straight after she wakes up in a minute, but a dream nonetheless. The girl floats there silently for a while. ¡°- Can I have my coin back?¡± she asks. ¡°No,¡± says the voice, very clearly, now less sleepy, as if provoked. ¡°You can wish for anything but that. No refunds.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± she says, feeling her body-less self turn upside down, as she floats idly in the murk. ¡°¡­Can you make me happy?¡± ¡°No. I can¡¯t do that either,¡± says the voice of the water, fairly matter of factly. ¡°Huh? You said I could wish for anything and now there are two things you¡¯re telling me I can¡¯t wish for.¡± The voice sighs. ¡°Listen, happiness isn¡¯t something I can make, you have to make it yourself. You have to work for it. Nothing from the outside can fix that fact of the universe. I¡¯d say take a nap, but¡­ hmm¡­ of course my first donation in this long would end up being a tricky one¡­ Uh¡­¡± the entity thinks. It''s strange, hearing an omnipresent spiritual being say ¡®hmm¡¯ and ¡®uh¡¯. The girl feels a heavy resignation inside of herself. Not even her dreams can be exciting anymore. She just wants to go back to that dark place between wakefulness and sleep, to that emptiness, where she simply isn¡¯t there anymore. That''s a dark wish, sure, now that she thinks more about it. But it''s her true wish. That would be nice. She would like that, actually, a lot. The girl opens her mouth to speak. ¡°Can yo-¡° ¡°Ah! I got it!¡± interrupts the voice. ¡°You want your money back and you want to be happy, huh? Well, have I got a deal for you! Are you ready?¡± The girl floats, not even agitated at being interrupted. She''s used to it, people usually never let her finish her sentences. Most of them didn''t even bother listening to her to begin with. ¡°I¡­ Uh¡­ I guess?¡± ¡°You want to earn happiness, right?¡± asks the voice. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± she responds, with some uncertainty. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled. Good luck!¡± ¡°Huh, wai-¡± There is a loud ''click'' in the water, as if someone had snapped their fingers. Everything vanishes in an instant once again, as her soul is hurtled into the darkness; spiraling towards some place far off and away from her old life. The drone of rushing water roars all around her, intermingling with a tiny jingle which never seems to leave her ears; the sound of a fistful of clinking coins. Razmatazz ! IMPORTANT ! I am a super slow paced writer, I like to lay HEAVY worldbuilding. If you''re impatient, please reconsider moving forward from here. It will take at least until chapter - 30 when the store is founded. Chapter 36 when it opens <3 DIS is also available on [Amazon], if you would rather read on your Kindle! (No Kindle-Unlimited because I don''t want to make the story an amazon-exclusive) ALSO AVAILABLE ON AUDIBLE! Narrated by Andrea Emmes, the voice of Beneath the dragon-eye moons! Trivia - The spirit of the fountain The ''Spirit of the fountain'' is based off of Aesop''s fable "Mercury and the Woodman" where a lumberjack drops his axe into the water and his honesty is tested by the god Mercury (Hermes). Chapter 2 *BAKAAAAAAW* Her eyes suddenly shoot open at the loud sound, her body jostling awake in the same instant. Everything is bright, too bright. Her hand flies up to shield her surprised gaze as she yelps. Feeling the sensation of a free-fall for just the briefest second, her torso falls back behind herself, her legs seemingly locked into where she is sitting, as the inside of her knees presses against some hard surface. Cold water splashes everywhere around herself. Her hands flail around in her panicked state of mind, before they find the same stone surface that she is laying on with her back. She presses herself upright, coughing and spluttering out water as she breaches the surface a second later. A weak fist hits against her own chest as she coughs out a lungful of water, now sitting back upright on the rim of a large, stone fountain. What? Where is she? Why is it so bright?! Her eyes scan the area around herself. It''s sparsely wooded; the edge of a forest, maybe? Has she been kidnapped?! She jumps up and looks around. The fountain behind herself is the most obvious thing to look at, but it only seems vaguely familiar. Like something she might have seen in a dream once or in any old, generic park ever. But the rest of this place? The late morning sun shines down with warm intensity through the boughs of the gently swaying, evergreen trees, each of which is moved by the supple springtide breeze. The clearing is small and surrounded by light forestation. A single dirt path leads towards the fountain that she had been sitting on the edge of. This place looks more like a shrine than a park of any sorts, thinks the girl, as she swings her arms around, getting the wet off of her pajamas. She hopes that the pink-elephants, which were printed on them, would forgive her, for getting them wet. ¡°Huh?¡± She looks at her clothes. These aren¡¯t her pajamas. There isn¡¯t a single elephant to be seen anywhere, let alone a speck of pink. She is wearing a dress, no, a robe. It''s an off-gray¡¯ish almost, but not quite, white tone. It has no sleeves. Also, the wet-front is more generous and showy than anything she would ever dare to wear outside. *BAKAAAAAAW* Surprised again, she jumps and, now roused from her initial shock, looks at the fairly large bird that is running around the clearing, pecking at the dirt. It looks like a chicken. A chicken? Where is she? The chicken looks at her. She looks back towards it. It nods to her. She nods back. Wait, what? *BAKAAAW!* The chicken shouts and spreads its wings, charging towards her with a dangerous look in its small eyes. She screams in surprise and turns tail to run the other way as fast as she can. Her dry leather boots send a cloud of earth up and out behind herself as she sprints for her life, scrambling away from the chicken, which is hounding her with flapping wings and high-pitched clucks. ¡°GO AWAY! SHOO! BAD CHICKEN! BAD!¡± screams the girl, between surprisingly heavy feeling breaths, as she runs from the bird that doesn¡¯t even reach her knees. The creature wildly flaps its wings as it pursues her and chases her away from the fountain. A fork builds itself in the road ahead. She hears the squawking just behind herself, likely not even five feet away, it¡¯s close! Sweatily, wet, covered in dirt, she grabs hold of a branch and makes a sharp turn towards the left, one of her feet leaving the road for a moment. Her chest pounds, her lungs burn. She never did exercise much, or ever at all really. But was she really this out of shape? She knows that it''s absurd to run away from a chicken, but then again, she has never been chased by anything before and its beak did look pretty sharp, after all¡­ What if it has rabies? Can chickens get rabies? She doesn¡¯t know and doesn¡¯t want to find out. Her gaze turns back towards the crossroads just behind herself for only a second, but she sees the chicken just standing there, as if not willing to cross some arbitrary line in the sand. Then, as if having lost all interest; it turns and leaves to go back. But not before flashing her a look, that if anyone ever asked her, she would swear was one of cold judgment. The sweaty, frantically breathing girl leans forward to plant a palm against the trunk of a tree to catch her breath. She feels nauseous, winded. She knew that she was out of shape, but had no idea that it was this bad. Her head spins. But as she leans there, listening to the noise of the quiet spring day, clarity comes to her blood-rushed head and soon, so do the other sounds. - People. Voices. She looks to the side, down the road and her eyes go wide, as she sees the obvious sight that she had missed before, in her panic. The giant stone gate. Two large, regal statues stand near the entrance, as if guarding it. One clutching a fantastical sword; the other, a decorative spear. Their bodies are hewn of a pristine white, but time-worn, stone. The base of which is covered in overgrowth and creeping vines that apparently tried, but never quite reached their legs. Her breath leaves her and she straightens herself upright, slowly walking towards the gate, as the sun shines down brightly onto the pale, pinkish skin of her meager shoulders. ¡°This can¡¯t be real¡­¡± she looks down at her hands, but they¡¯re real. They¡¯re not vague or foggy like they would be in a dream. She pinches her fingers against her palm and feels the slight tingle of hurt. This is real. The heat of the sun, the warmth of the kind winds, the dewy sweat on her forehead and the ache in her lungs, the clinging of the fabric to her skin, all of these are too real to deny. She looks down at herself, the robe thankfully not made of the kind of material that becomes transparent when wet. Though¡­ she looks closer. Something is off. Her body feels different than she is used to it being. It feels¡­ her hands run over her upper body and shoulders - different. It feels different. Is this another world? Could it be? It has to be. She knows it. It''s too obvious to deny. This is it, this is finally it! She beams. This is the moment that her life would start, the moment that her real life could finally start. She¡¯s surprised in a sense, but also not. She supposes that years of lurking on dark corners of the internet had made her numb to just about everything. Even something monumental like this, the concept of being taken to another world in another body, doesn¡¯t phase her as much as it likely should. But, nonetheless. The warmth of the sun feels intoxicating. The laughter and the sounds of people, just beyond the walls, is intoxicating, they both pull her closer and closer towards the city. The girl¡¯s eyes shine brightly, brighter than they had shone in so many years. The sounds of marching and of the hustle and bustle of the city makes itself clearly heard to her heart and ears, emanating out from the plaza just beyond the gate. She walks towards it, but finds her pace quickening to that of a slight jog, then to a run, even if it does ache her throat to breathe this fast. This is it¡­ This is finally going to be it! After a whole life of nothing but being miserable, sad and lonely, this would be her chance to finally have a real life to live! Razmatazz *BAKAAAAAAW* Trivia - Crossroads In common folklore, an intersection (crossroads) represents the intersections of worlds, time, destinies or people''s paths over one another. This means these are particularly strong supernatural locations, where spiritual energies are rife. Crossroads are represented in many culture¡¯s mythos. From the Greeks, to the medieval English to the Kongo people of the Democratic republic of Congo, crossroads have strong spiritual connotations of parting ways, starting new lives, or burying that which is dead and unwanted. Uniquely, in American culture, the crossroads has become associated with demonology and the selling of one''s soul. Likely because of the 20th century blues music. Think of crossroads as man-made ''ley-lines''. They''re a point of energetic convergence where the big choices are made in life Chapter 3 Her pace slows as her chest starts to ache and burn from this next short dash, hurting already as she reaches the stone construction that is the giant gate. Placing a hand onto it, she leans forward, more than winded already. Apparently, she still hasn¡¯t recovered from having to sprint for all of ten seconds just a moment ago. Was she always this shaky on her legs? Her eyes rise up and she takes a deep breath, stepping through the shade of the large gate and entering into the vibrant plaza, which lies just beyond. It is full of life and sound. It is full of adventurers and laypeople, all of them clad in all sorts of colorful clothing and armor. They walk around everywhere, filling the city with vivid life, color and commotion. Men, women and others, who are more indistinguishable, dressed in robes and armor, carrying swords and staves and bags laden with impossible loads are all around the area, for as far as her eyes can see. Some of them head down towards a second large gate, which stands out in the far distance, towering over the back of the city. That one looks a little more ominous. Other people return from that direction, darting into strange shops and buildings which fill this lower market square. Vendors and hawkers cry out in all directions, sounding almost as naturally ambient as the early-year birdsong, which comes from the planted trees alongside the cobbled streets here. The combined sounds of all of their voices simply belong. A fantasy world. By the standards of the place she had come from, this is clearly what could only be described as a fantasy world. She looks around herself, scanning the people for any final confirmation of her theory, as if the massive swords and pointed hats some of them were wearing wasn¡¯t proof enough already. Then, she sees what she is looking for. A woman walks by with two long, pointed ears. The girl clenches her fists together in excitement, quietly squealing to herself, as her arms fidget and shake. This is really happening! The elf shoots a strange look at the particularly sweaty girl staring at her, their eyes meeting for an awkward moment, before the elf turns away to keep walking; perhaps a little faster than before. ¡°Ah! She probably thinks I¡¯m a creep¡­¡± mumbles the girl under her panting breath. Oh well. That doesn¡¯t matter. This is it! A new life! How many years has she been waiting for a chance to just start over? To just do it all again, but right this time? She steps forward, ready to embrace this new day, feeling the rays of the bright sun greet her as she crosses over the threshold into the city. As the soft sole of her boot gently taps out against the road below, the possibilities for this new day that has arrived seem beyond endless. She looks at a group of people passing by, all laughing together. They look like they were all close friends. Having spent perhaps literal years in front of a screen, she¡¯s not unfamiliar to the genre. What kind of fantasy world is this one? A game-like world? Or something more modern, something ¡®dungeony¡¯? Looking around at the fluid, free and unbound movements of the people here however, she decides to go with the latter hope. A so-called ''dungeon fantasy'' world could be dark-spirited, sure, but it could also be a literal paradise for someone like herself. If she becomes an adventurer, someone who earns their money by fighting monsters and plundering dungeons, she can perhaps do anything that she dreams of. She could have a real life with real ambitions, real goals, real friends. Her face glows as she looks around at the many colorful, strange things that surround herself and overload her senses. She has no money for any of these things however. All she has is the robe that she''s wearing and her mid-length hair, which sways before her eyes in the spring breeze, still somewhat damp. The gold locks bob to the bounce of her steps. - Gold? Her hair wasn¡¯t gold before. She pulls a strand down before her face. Her hair is different now too. She supposes that makes sense, since she had gotten a new body as well. She would have to inspect it closely later on, but maybe not out here in public. Being thrown into a new body could perhaps be considered shocking for most people, but in all honesty, she never really liked her old one. It was¡­ fine. But it never really ¡®did it¡¯ for her. Whatever that means. She smiles. This is going to be a good life. So what did she want to be? She could be anything, do anything. As she walks, she looks at the many people here all around herself. Great, giant hulking swordsmen lumber in all directions. Darker clad wizards and casters and even some who fit the priestess archetype, judging by their pure-white raiments and softer, unmuscled bodies. She likes magic, maybe that is something for her? Does she want to fight things? Or does she want to heal people? A woman passes her by with a large shield, nodding quietly to her as they exchange greeting glances. Or maybe she could get a shield like her and defend people? That would be a great way to make friends, right? Her eyes shine brighter still at that particular prospect. - Friends. She decides to look around a little more, but she¡¯s sure of one thing. Of one idea that burns hot in her core. Adventure. She wants adventure. Her heart had burned for it for the duration of an entire life and now that she¡¯s finally in a situation that could allow it, it burns hotter still. So¡­ how? How does this work? Are there ¡¯systems¡¯? Does she have any sort of¡­ menu? Or are the physics here more free-form? Does she have to choose a class, or does she just have to grab whatever implement seems right and start practicing with that? She smiles, humming as she walks, for the first time, not caring that she is surrounded by people on all sides. She would have never gone outside during the day, let alone humming, let alone wearing this and even less-likely so amongst this many people in her old life. But - She stretches her arms out to the sides, feeling a pop in her lower back as she stands in the middle of the road, basking in the glow of the bright, warm sun, whose rays gently stroke her face as she takes in that deep, long breath. - But this is a new life. A new her. She¡¯ll do it right this time. She will. She swears it to herself and to whatever deity could perchance be listening to her inner workings. Nothing will stop her from living that dream. No fears. No anxieties. No doubts. No dark forces conjured to the world by her own mind. Nothing. She¡¯s going to work hard and the first step to do that is¡­ The girl blinks, lowering her gaze to a stranger who was there next to her, watching her. Perhaps because she just stopped in the middle of the road. ¡°Excuse me,¡± she asks a small, green-clad figure. A white, wooden mask obscures their face, carrying a poorly painted on, smiling expression. They look up towards her. The stranger¡¯s height only reaches up to her midriff. ¡°What?¡± asks a nasally, sharp-toned voice from behind the mask that she can¡¯t distinguish as male or female. ¡°Is there a dungeon here?¡± asks the girl. The figure tilts its head, looking up towards her face, after scanning her plain robe and pale body. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah?¡± They point down the street, towards the giant, ominous gate in the distance on the other end of the city. ¡°You literally can¡¯t miss it, but -¡° ¡°Thanks!¡± shouts the girl, not needing to hear anything else, as she already begins to run down the way towards it; the excitement in her eyes shining brighter than the sun of this spring day itself. The burning in her chest she ignores, letting it be overpowered by this new, bright feeling that she feels. ¡°- Ah! Wait!¡± shouts the small, masked figure after her, but the voice is lost between the many other voices of the busy crowd. By the time she looks over her shoulder back towards them, the stranger has vanished. Chapter 4 The many winding streets of the city all blur together into a vivid collage of colors, sounds and smells. Wooden booths and bright, decorative banners dot the many ways, which are filled with high-spirited people, who move about them in all directions. The streets of the city are flush and flowing with life, as if they were the off-shooting branches of a landscape-nurturing river. Winded, sweaty, but determined, she breaches the final street and enters into the plaza on the far side. There, before her, stands a large, ominous stone gate. It looks much like the one that lead into the city. A blueish, cloudy aura seems to wave and sway around inside of it, contained by the construction¡¯s frame. This has to be it, there¡¯s no mistake. All around the circular plaza are run-down houses and tents, it looks far more dirty and worn down than the front market square of the city. This quarter appears to be a lot less prosperous in general, she notes with some surprise, watching as people move down towards the entrance to the dungeon, passing through the blue mist in groups; or sometimes, more rarely, alone. Others would walk past them and back out, carrying large sacks filled with items and grisly trophies. Some of those people look a little worn and worse for the wear, but satisfied. She wants that look too. A dungeon, huh? She ponders for a second, but still walks towards it, still a bit flustered. She doesn¡¯t have any equipment. She doesn¡¯t have any money for any and she doesn¡¯t know anything about this world at all. But if this is anything like any of the dungeon-fantasy worlds that she was familiar with, from the stories she had known in her old life, then she could maybe just go inside? There should be a first floor, right? Something easy, something for beginner adventurers like herself to sharpen their teeth. A ¡¯tutorial¡¯ area, for a lack of better terms, right? Maybe there would be some ridiculously easy monster types that she could¡­ uh¡­ she looks at her hands. Pummel? Punch? Kick? She doesn¡¯t feel very strong, but¡­ she is fairly confident that she could maybe take down something small, like¡­ uh¡­ what kind of monsters are there here? She looks around at the many people walking by, with their bags full of stuff and listens to the voices of those exiting the dungeon. Small globs of green goo held in glass jars and giant mushroom-caps are the most common thing that she sees. So¡­ slimes and¡­ some kind of mushroom creatures? Judging from old tropes, those seem like low-level beginner monsters. She¡¯s pretty sure that even she could take down something like a tiny slime. Even if she had never fought anything or anyone ever before. A tiny mushroom monster? She¡¯d just grab a rock and smash it. Yeah! The plan seems simple enough. It¡¯s too easy, too classic. It can¡¯t go wrong. She steps towards the blue mist, having crossed most of the plaza now. ¡°Did you hear, there was another murder-¡° whispers a hushed voice from a group walking past her. ¡°Another one?¡± asks a man quietly. ¡°Yeah¡­ apparently, people are saying tha¡­¡± the voices trail off, becoming indistinct as they distance themselves, vanishing into the noisy crowd. She stares over her shoulder for a moment, hoping to catch another word, supposing that things like that could even happen in a world like this. Some things never change. But some things will. She looks towards the blue mist. Behind this obstruction, just barely visible, is a single, gigantically large staircase which heads straight down into the world. She places a foot inside of the barrier. She¡¯ll make sure of it. She¡¯ll change it herself, swears the girl quietly under her breath. She will. Her heart beats hard and fast, her arms shaking in nervous determination as the strange, soft feeling of the mist envelops her. It¡¯s damp. Her vision goes entirely blue, before fading to a white that then lets out slowly, as she now stands beyond the wall of blue mist. Looking around herself, she doesn¡¯t see anybody. The dozens of people that had entered here together with her are now no longer anywhere to be seen. It¡¯s just her; just her and the slowly whirling mist behind herself, which leads back to the city outside. The staircase is extremely wide, easily wide enough for ten people to stand side by side at arm¡¯s length. Burning torches line the way down towards a single, flat floor, that she can already see from up here. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s a tutorial area¡­¡± she mutters to herself, stepping down the first steps, wondering if this is that kind of ¡®gamified¡¯ fantasy world. She supposes this will be the moment that she finds out. With any luck, there would be some sort of starting equipment waiting for her here. An old, rusty dagger, maybe some stale bread and an ugly hat? That was the typical trope and she¡¯d be happy with any of it. At least she has some boots that she likes. The sleeveless robe-dress-thing isn¡¯t ideal, though. Oh well, one problem at a time. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she looks around the perfectly flat, roundish room. It is entirely unremarkable. The walls are made out of an ancient stone brick-work and the floor is simply flattened, compacted dirt, from which grow some old roots out of sparse nooks on the walls. She looks around, a little confused. There¡¯s nothing here? It¡¯s just a room and the staircase that leads back up. Wait. No. There! On the far wall, there is another aura, like the first one up-top, but it isn¡¯t blue. It is a faint, warning-toned red. She steps towards it. Something presses against her front, stopping her from going further. ¡°Is this way blocked¡­?¡± she looks around, maybe there¡¯s something she has to do first, before the red fog would let her go deeper into the dungeon. Maybe there¡¯s a lever or a secret switch, or a block puzzle or something clich¨¦ like that? She probably has to ¡¯beat¡¯ the first floor before she can go to the second one and so on. Something rustles behind her. She turns around to look at the source of the noise. The source of the noise crawls out of a dark crevice, from beneath one of the large, gnarled roots covering a hole in the wall. A strange, shifting mass. It¡¯s¡­ a tiny mushroom creature. She looks at it, as its small, beady, black eyes focus on her from the distance across the room. It¡¯s minuscule, only maybe reaching her knees at best, though it is a little wide. The brim of its cap is easily thicker than her whole body is. That¡¯s fine though. She nods to herself, taking a deep breath. A low-level monster. It¡¯s exactly as she had expected. Everything is going to plan! Looking around, she grabs one of the torches from next to herself from the wall. Suddenly, something appears before her. ¡°Huh?¡± +1 DMG +1 FIRE DMG Apparently, there are menus after all. Good to know! But not the most important detail right now. Touching it, she notices it feels like a piece of cold glass. She swipes it away. The mushroom-creature has already almost reached her now, as it hops forward with rather silly looking bounces. Its eyes are sparkling. Its small, pouting mouth makes tiny squeaking noises. Its cheeks are flush and pink and puff in and out with every strained bounce towards her. Holding the torch ready as her weapon, she looks at the little monster, feeling a little sympathy for the small creature. It looks as winded and exhausted as she had felt running just a few meters before. It is kind of cute though, it makes her feel warm to look at. She narrows her eyes. She¡¯s going to kill it. Does that bother her? No. Not really. The fire of the torch burns in front of her eyes. She has never killed anything before, apart from the odd mosquito or fly. But nothing like this, nothing¡­ ¡®real¡¯. But - She plants her foot back behind herself to get ready, preparing her body to swing the torch as hard as she can in her first strike towards the future. The little mushroom is almost upon her now. Its adorable eyes are wide with the most fury that they can muster. Enough to maybe spook a small turtledove. - But she¡¯s going to do it. She¡¯s going to do this and she¡¯s going to work hard, to earn the life that she has always wanted! *NYAH!* squeaks the mushroom, with a comically high tone as it lunges with delightful anger at the intruder. With her heel planted firmly behind herself, with her eyes shining brightly, glowing with the same light as the fire in her hands, with her soul ready to run straight towards her destiny, she swings the torch to strike the creature in mid-air, with everything that she has, with all of the feelings that are inside of herself, burning so bright like this flame she wields. It trails through the air, leaving a streak of light as it thwacks against the face of the mushroom, who falls back down to the ground from the impact, squeaking in terror as the fire singes its face. *NYAAAAAaaaaah~¡­*? The dramatic squeal fades off rather quickly and the mushroom looks a little confused, staring around itself, not sure what just happened. It looks up to the new window that has appeared next to the girl. They both pause for a second to stare at it. ¡°What...?¡± she eyes it up and down, not sure if she is reading this right. Only one damage? It has twenty health-points though and she only has three. Did something go wrong? Her eyes nervously dart back towards the mushroom that is now staring back straight at her. Their eyes meet. It lunges. *NYAH!* Chapter 5 ¡°Where am I?¡± Everything is black. A menu appears. ¡°I died¡­?¡± she mutters, feeling both confused and disappointed, before her voice grows quiet for a time, as she begins to realize what her situation is. ¡°Oh¡­ So¡­ is this it? Am I¡­ Am I dead-dead?¡± She sighs. Oh well. She gave it a good shot, right? It looks like the universe, or the cosmos, or whatever it is that stretches between these different existences of hers; it looks like that thing just doesn¡¯t like her in particular. What can you do? Maybe now, maybe now that she has finally learned her lesson, maybe now it will let the darkness come to swallow up this last little bit of herself, so that she can go back to sleep? Maybe now she could finally re- *BAKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW* The girl jumps up in shock. Her eyes shoot wide awake, as she stares out at the world before herself, coughing and spluttering out the cold water from out of her lungs. She pulls herself out from inside of the fountain and falls down to the grass below, panting and heaving. Her body feels weak, her legs feel wobbly, as if she were a newborn fawn. ¡°Where- where am I?¡± she asks the world, already knowing the answer. She lifts her eyes to meet the rooster¡¯s. It is staring from the other end of the clearing, looking straight towards her. *Bak¡­* *Bak¡­* *Bak¡­* It takes slow, careful and methodical steps towards her, its body tense, its head turned sideways to always keep an eye on the girl. She rolls around, lifting a hand. ¡°Ah¡­ no! Stay there! Good rooster! Good uh¡­ boy! Good boy!¡± *BAKAAAAAAAAAAW*! The roster explodes into a flurry of feathers and kicked-up dirt, charging towards her. Scrambling, she jumps to her feet and runs down the path. How?! Why?! ¡°LEAVE ME ALOOONE!¡± shouts the girl, running around the familiar bend, crossing over the three-way crossroads. The rooster stops again as before, just at the edge and glares her way with venom in its eyes, before turning around to return down towards the clearing. She leans against a tree, panting, water dripping from her sweaty face and soaked clothes. She died. So¡­ did she come back to life again? Obviously. Between heavy breathes of the evening air, she looks at her shaking hand and squeezes it. The fist closes, but it feels weak and it tingles uncomfortably. She looks down the road, towards the city that the sun has already passed over, to set itself down for the night. So¡­ she did respawn, back here at the fountain. But it looks like time didn¡¯t reset. She left in the morning and now the sun is almost gone by the looks of it. That means she lost¡­ what¡­ a few hours, maybe? That made sense to her. Was that the only price? For literally dying? A few hours? No. There has to be something more. Something more precious that she has lost. ¡°Why? Why did I die?¡± she mutters, as she walks back towards the city. A vision of the menu returns to her mind¡¯s eye. Three ¡®HP¡¯, three health-points. The creature had had twenty, if she read that right. What does this mean? That was the first floor of the dungeon, wasn¡¯t it? Was this maybe a harder dungeon, placed somewhere in some more advanced section of the world? No. No, it couldn¡¯t be. That mushroom creature looked absolutely pathetic. There¡¯s no way that was supposed to be a difficult encounter. Her legs shake beneath herself from weakness. So is something wrong with her? That has to be the problem, right? The thought doesn¡¯t surprise her in the least, of course. But it does sting a little with an old, familiar pain. Some things never change, apparently. No matter what dimension you¡¯re in. She stands there, thinking and as she loses herself for a moment. A sound becomes vaguely present in her mind. The sound of the trickling fountain that she had just escaped from. ¡°Wait!¡± she gasps, realizing. The menu! The menu¡­ She thinks about it. If there was a menu in the fight, then surely she can activate it outside of a fight too, right? That¡¯s how these things work, right? She thinks about it. As if answering her question, a small chime catches her ears and she looks towards the direction, at the glass-panel that has appeared. This looks like the right thing! Maybe there¡¯s a hint here. STATUS: ??? OBOLS: 00 [INVENTORY] ¡°Fresh?¡± she mutters. Is that her new name? Fresh fidgets. That''s a weird name. What about the rest of this? These are stats for sure, like in some kind of game, but¡­ with no context, it¡¯s hard for her to say if these are any good. Perhaps more out of a spiritual ¡®muscle-memory¡¯ than anything else though, she thinks that they probably aren¡¯t. But¡­ why is her health so low? And why is this one stat, ¡®soul¡¯, so janky looking? Why¡­ She narrows her eyes. Her health. Her maximum health is down by a full point. She only has two now, instead of the three from before. Her gaze scans the menu. There has to be a mistake somewhere. Something that she¡¯s missing. The mushroom creature had beaten her in one hit when she had three health-points. What¡¯s she going to do with even less than that?! This was the price that she had paid. Death had cost her a full point of her maximum health, maybe even some of her other stats. She doesn¡¯t know, she hadn¡¯t seen them before. Fresh feels weak on her feet, but that could just be from literally being reborn twice in one day. She sighs, swiping the menu away and shuddering as she realizes how cold it¡¯s getting rather abruptly. The sun is starting to fade behind the horizon and the evening breeze begins to shift into a soft gale, which runs over her bare shoulders and wet robe, chilling her body. Clutching herself, she walks through the giant gate and into the city for the second time today. The city is much less lively now that the evening has come. The streets, which were packed full before, are now sparsely trodden at best. Instead, she sees a new sight. Heartfelt, shining, orange and yellow hues leak out of the many glass windows of the city¡¯s houses. Laughter and dulled voices carry out together with the shine, surrounding her with warm sensations that she isn¡¯t allowed to be a part of. ¡°It¡¯ll be night soon¡­¡± she says to herself and wonders what she is going to do. The wind picks up, seeping through the gate and flowing over her, now with a more frigid bite. Taking the hint and holding herself, she walks down over the empty plaza and then the following darkening street alone. Why didn¡¯t she think about this better? She was so determined to rush in, so blinded by her desires to be, to feel, that she had sabotaged herself yet again. As always. Nothing ever changes. Laughter and warm, muffled words ring out all around her as she walks along the main road. She isn¡¯t sure of what else to do, so she simply keeps on walking. Fresh doesn¡¯t have any money and now that it is getting late, she feels her stomach growling in protest at having been ignored all day. ¡°Guess I still need to eat¡­¡± she mumbles beneath her breath. The darkness is setting on faster and faster and with it comes a deeper cold that is surprisingly strong, given the very hot mid-day sun that was above the world just a few hours ago. Her body begins shaking wildly and her teeth chatter before she reaches the second plaza. Now what? She looks around herself. There is still nowhere to go, nowhere to find shelter. There is nowhere where she would be welcome, especially with no money. Some new life this is turning out to be. ¡°I miss my bed.¡± Her eyes fixate on the dungeon and she walks towards it again. Where else is there to go? She¡¯ll freeze out here. Hesitating for a moment, Fresh steps towards the blue-mist a second time and lets it envelop her; unaware of the small figure that was watching her in the distance from a window. Passing through, she sits down at the top of the staircase and leans back against the wall, beneath a torch. It isn¡¯t warm-warm, but it also isn¡¯t frigid, like it is outside either and there¡¯s no wind here. That¡¯s something, right? Her eyes wander down the staircase. Would the mushroom-monster attack her? She hopes not. Maybe if she stays up here, maybe it won¡¯t wake up then? ¡°Whatever,¡± she thinks and leans her head back against the wall. Even if it does get her a second time, what does she even have left to lose? Chapter 6 The growl of her empty stomach is the first sensation that Fresh feels as wakefulness returns to her stiff body, which has drifted in and out of sleep all night long. It appears to be daytime now. She can¡¯t see any of the people on the other side of the gate, but the aura of the foggy city, visible behind the dungeon barrier, is brighter now. It looks as if the morning sun were rising on the other side of it. Fresh stretches herself out, feeling a slightly painful pop down in her lower back as she looks around herself. Apparently, she had survived the night. Though, judging by the ache in her own body, she isn¡¯t so sure if it was worth it. With wobbly legs, she pushes herself up off of the wall and continues to looks around. Now what? Her stomach growls and she leans back against the wall, the torch next to her face. When was the last time she ate something? If her last life counts, which she doubts, since she had a new body and stomach now, it was maybe the third day now, worst case? Though maybe this body has just never eaten at all, ever. She feels weak on her legs, even weaker than before. Fresh sighs and ponders, wondering, what is there to do? She needs to eat something. To eat something, she needs money. To get money, she needs something to trade for money. To get something to trade for money, she has to have¡­ something. Some skill, talent or practice to sell or to use. But¡­ She looks down at her pale, shaky hands. - There isn¡¯t anything that she knows how to do. Not really. There are some vague things that she can think of on the spot, that could maybe be useful in a fantasy world like this. Things like the concepts of engines or electricity. But¡­ she has no idea how to make any of those things, so even if she knows of their existence, it¡¯s basically all pointless for right now. Ideas are worthless, if you can¡¯t apply them, after all. No. She needs something more concrete. Fresh looks down the steps again. The dungeon is the only way for her to make money. But she isn¡¯t even able to defeat the first and easiest creature here all by herself. There isn¡¯t a chance and she doubts that anyone would help her for no pay. So, now what? Her stomach continues to growl. At this point, she isn¡¯t sure if it¡¯s a new growl, or just the same one as before that has yet to stop. She could go out and beg? She¡¯s sure that she could get some coins or some scraps or anything. She doesn¡¯t need much. Her eyes look back towards the portal. But that¡¯s not what she had wished for. What she wanted. What she was sent here to do; if there even is any such a defined cosmic-purpose. Is there? She doubts it and looks back down the staircase, opting to walk down them instead, grabbing a torch again on the way. The same window from before pops up, telling her that she has the torch in her hand, which seems a little redundant, all things considered. But it is what it is. Standing at the bottom of the staircase, she looks at the rooted wall, where the mushroom creature had come out from last time. A soft voice is carried out of the dark hole. *Nyaaaaaaa~* Fresh narrows her eyes, the cooing sound reminds her of someone who is asleep. The girl looks around herself, wondering what to do. The torch in her hand glows brightly, the dancing flames catch her eye and she stares at it, mesmerized and lost for a moment. The roots? Could they be burnt? She stares at them, no. No, it¡¯s unlikely. The earthen walls beyond the stone bricks look damp and wet, so the roots are probably full of water. It¡¯s no good. She returns her gaze back to the dark hole, just below the roots. The one way tunnel. Wait. Wait! Her eyes shoot open as a plan comes to her. That¡¯s it! It could work! There are way more than enough! Jogging up the steps again, she grabs another torch in her free hand and then returns down to the bottom and creeps towards the hole. *Nyaaaaa~¡± Fresh quietly peers down, staring at the mushroom silhouette, leaned back in the hole, snuggly nested against the far wall. Its eyes are closed, still fast asleep. Her plan seems a little cruel, but¡­ it did kill her. So, it¡¯s only fair, right? Fresh nods to herself. It has to be done. She sets the magically burning torches down and then runs to grab another two more from the walls and then, after adding them to her pile, another two. The light is starting to come together, the thing inside the hole begins stirring *Nyaa-* It yawns *Nyaaaaah~?* Fresh grabs the torches one by one and hurls them into the entrance of the little knee-high tunnel, blocking it off with the burning flames that all meet together in the center. *NYAAAAH!* yells the mushroom creature, now wide awake and having seen the intruder. It looks at her knowingly, as if it could recognize her. She looks at it and nods. Their eyes meet, both filled with fresh morning focus and determination. It crawls forward, moving from the back of the crevice. Fresh grabs another two torches and stacks them on the front by the others. The creature backs off a bit, letting out another angry *Nyah!* as the flames, blocking the only way in or out of the tight tunnel, lick its exterior with an audible hiss. The battle window returns and Fresh stares smugly at the little mushroom monster that she has cornered. It can¡¯t escape, she has it now. She pushes the torches in further into the hole, wondering what fire-roasted giant mushrooms taste like? Her stomach growls. "I hope you¡¯re tasty, Mr. Mushroom,¡± she says, wagging a finger smugly at it from outside of the hole. *NYAAAAAAAAAH!¡± The mushroom creature screams and thrashes around inside of the death-trap. Its health-points steadily depleting, as the heat pushes its way inside, collecting as would heat in an oven and burning the trapped creature slowly to death. Fresh leans forward, staring at the little monster that looks back at her; its eyes shining in the firelight, as their gazes meet and lock over the flames. It isn¡¯t anything personal, they both know that. It just is what it is. But she does feel a little bad. Somewhat uncertainly now, Fresh pushes the torches in further. It screams and presses itself back against the wall, as its health-points slowly sink down to zero from the fire damage. *NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAH...~* Chapter 7 Fresh lets out a small burp and quickly turns her head away, covering her mouth in order to be polite, before taking another bite of the steaming, giant mushroom, which has been sitting over the make-shift cooking pit for a while now. She had made it, after the so-called ¡®battle¡¯. Though ¡®cooking¡¯ is also a bit of an exaggeration, she thinks to herself, looking at the small hole. She had dug it with her bare hands and filled it with magical torches. With all of the strength in her body, she rolls the dead creature back onto the flames, to let it cook some more. The fire hisses and she wipes away the wet from her eyes with the back of her wrists. ¡°Y- you really are delicious, M- Mr. Mushroom,¡± she lies, looking at the dead creature, as she swallows down another bitter mouthful. It seemed wrong to her to not only kill him, eat him, but then to also, as a final insult, to say that he tasted bad. She can¡¯t explain why, but she feels like she owes the monster that much, at least. Grabbing the mushroom, she turns it over again, hoping that maybe if it gets a little crunchy, that it might taste better. But as is, it tastes like dirt. Not even a little tangy or bitter. Just¡­ dirt. But at least it¡¯s hot and at least it fills her growling stomach. Crying, she leans in towards the mushroom creature, sitting over the fire and takes another bite, wincing as new tears form. As she chews, she looks with wet eyes at the creature, specifically at the orange cap adorning its head. She had seen people walking outside with these. So that means that it¡¯s worth something, right? That means that she could sell it. Through the sadness comes a bitter pride and she takes another bite from the side of the giant mushroom, before pushing him back onto the fire. She had gotten some experience points, apparently, from the fight. Not enough to level up though. But it¡¯s good to know she thinks, as she recalls the very simple screen that had appeared after the battle. The mushroom hisses and she turns him around, wondering if she should take the cap off? Probably, actually, if she¡¯s going to sell it. It would be no good burnt. The edges are already a little charred, actually. Reaching over the fire, she grabs the mushroom-cap, pressing one hand against the other side of his body and then, closing her eyes, pulls back to rip it off. It comes a little loose with a strange tearing sound, the noise akin to pulling glued paper apart. She winces and pulls again. ¡°Sorry!¡± The cap comes off and she falls backwards onto her bottom, holding it with wide, but damp, eyes. Her first loot. Her first item! Sort of. ¡°Torches don¡¯t count,¡± mumbles Fresh to the empty dungeon room. A tiny text window pops up. ¡°Neat,¡± she looks at it, spinning the round, saucer-like growth around in her hands, before setting it down to her side. Apparently, there isn¡¯t any ¡®black-hole¡¯ magical inventory, at least that she knows of right now. That would explain why everyone outside was carrying their stuff by hand or in giant bags. Wait¡­ didn¡¯t she see something about an inventory somew- Something hisses, Fresh looks back at the fire, staring at the burning mushroom creature for a second. ¡°AH!¡± she leaps forward to pull it from the flames below. Mr. Mushroom is heavy though, even with four bites missing from him and no cap. The window pops up again with a small chime, as she heaves him to the side of the pit again and away from the licking flames. Thankfully, even if his lower body was sitting on the fire, his upper is still only mildly warm. Panting, she sets the heavy thing down and looks. From the looks of it, there¡¯s a cooking skill? Fresh stares down at Mr. Mushroom, who looks back up towards her. Coughing once to herself, she grabs him and spins him around to get away from his eyes, before looking back at the menu-screen. Can she do anything with this? She taps the window, but it just vanishes a moment later. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± she ponders. ¡°There¡¯s got to be an adventurers¡¯ guild or something, right?¡± mutters Fresh. There has to be somewhere she can ask about things like this. ¡°Right, Mr. Mushroom?¡± She takes another bite from the back of the creature, eating a bit of the char. Now, he tastes like dirt and like ash. Great. Fresh coughs, hitting against her chest with a fist. Taking a second to breathe and to wipe away another tear, she leans in to take another bite. It¡¯s disgusting, she feels awful. But eating makes her feel better. It¡¯s risky, eating a mushroom that she had never seen before. It was even riskier, because that mushroom had never seen her before either, before this morning. Real stranger-danger. Fresh takes another bite, wincing and leaning back against the stone wall behind herself, as she looks with one eye down the way, down towards the wall of red-fog that has now vanished, opening up the path down to the next part of the dungeon. She swallows. Should she look? Or should she sell the cap first? If she dies again, will it get lost? She supposes so, doubting that she can carry it with her through whatever inter-cosmic gateway lets her come back to life. Fresh wipes her last tears away with her shoulder, before taking a final bite out of Mr. Mushroom. No. Her gaze turns to the staircase leading upward, in an effort to distract herself from the taste in her mouth. No. She¡¯ll go to town again, first. She should sell the cap. It probably isn¡¯t worth more than the equivalent of a few cents, being from such an ¡®easy¡¯ creature and just a single one. But it¡¯s all that she has. Besides - She swallows with a loud gulping sound. - Maybe she can find out something about getting a class? Maybe then¡­ Fresh looks at her meager, pale hands, which are almost translucent in the firelight. ¡°Maybe if I had some abilities¡­¡± she mumbles. With her low health, perhaps becoming a close-combatant is a bad plan. But¡­ what about something else? Magic! If she could learn some simple combat spells, like a tiny fireball, then she could work with that, for starters. She could stay at a distance, where it wouldn¡¯t matter how low her health is. Or maybe she could learn to heal? If she learned some healing magic, people would want her to adventure and fight together with them, right? She could make friends then. Fresh likes that idea a lot. ¡°What do you think, Mr. Mushroom?¡± she asks him, with excitement slowly starting to regrow in her eyes. Mr. Mushroom falls over and doesn¡¯t respond. Chapter 8 Daylight shines all around her with rich intensity as Fresh steps out of the dungeon with her singed mushroom-cap in hand, feeling much better than when she had entered inside of it the night before. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust. but then, after they do, she sees the familiar sight of the bustling city during the light of a new, early morning. Adventurers of all manner and type hustle around her, moving in and out of the dungeon-gate and swarming down the way towards the nicer market square, which is near the entrance. Is that where all the shops are, all the way down there? She looks around, wondering why there are none here, right next to the dungeon? Wouldn¡¯t this be prime real-estate for a store? But as she stands there, clutching the single mushroom-cap against her chest, she notices again that the buildings here are rather drab and poorly built, compared to the high-standards that had apparently been applied to the other end of the city. Maybe it just isn¡¯t popular to live by the dungeon? Odd. She wonders why and keeps walking, following a stream of adventurers down towards the entrance to the city. Looking around herself as she walks, she notices many things that she had simply walked past during her first two excursions down the road. Smiths who are busy at work, hammering on metal constructions out in the open, as if putting on theatrical shows of their craft. Fletchers weaving threads and spanning wood. A tailor measuring a hulking giant of a woman for a new dress. An alchemist and a broad-jawed swordsman arguing loudly about the strength of some potions or something of the manner. She wonders who she could sell her cap too? She wonders if the money is enough to even do anything with? Still. It will be a start. Even if it¡¯s only a few cents, a few coins that didn¡¯t even add up to a loaf of bread; it¡¯s a start and that¡¯s all she wants. If Mr. Mushroom can respawn too, like she did, then maybe she can get him again? If that works out, she could get one of these caps every day. That is assuming that she¡¯ll catch him off-guard each and every time. Fresh lets out an uneasy groan, she has her doubts about that plan. Mr. Mushroom recognized her, so if he respawns too, then he¡¯ll know about her trick now, right? The girl looks ahead of herself, a man in leather, carrying a large pack that is covered in dozens of the big orange caps, is walking just in front of her and turns into a small store, the door jingling as he enters. A sign outside reads ¡®Bits and Bob¡¯s.¡¯ She supposes that it¡¯s some kind of general store, perhaps? Stepping to the side, she watches the scene through the well polished window. The man goes to the counter and unloads his wares. The shopkeeper studies them for a second and then nods to the man, giving him a few assorted coins, before they part ways again, not a minute later. Fresh steps back, as the door opens and the man in leather steps out to continue on with his day. She hesitates for a moment. What if she makes a fool of herself? What if the man laughs at her for trying to sell him one dinky, little, burnt mushroom-cap? She gulps. It¡¯s all that she has. She has to try. Her hand catches the door just before it slams shut and she steps inside. The man behind the counter looks up to her curiously. He¡¯s past middle-aged, a thick, salt and pepper mustache adorns his sun-worn face. He¡¯s quiet for a moment and then stands upright, as if remembering a line he was supposed to recite. ¡°Welcome to Bit¡¯s and Bob¡¯s! I¡¯m Bob, how can I help you today, missy?¡± ¡°Uh, hi¡­¡± mumbles Fresh, stepping forward somewhat nervously. ¡°I¡­ uh¡­ I¡¯d like to sell this, please!¡± she says, holding the single mushroom-cap out towards the man and closing her eyes, expecting to be yelled at for her foolishness. ¡°Well, what¡¯ve you got there?¡± asks the man and she feels the large mushroom-cap being taken from her grip. ¡°Just one?¡± asks the shopkeeper, looking at the mountain of them already behind him. ¡°Mm¡­ we usually have a minimum purchase allotment of five. Time is money, you know?¡± he states, somewhat bothered. Fresh nods, clenching her fists. She was afraid of something like this. ¡°Yes. Sorry.¡± The man makes a puzzled noise and she finds that he eyes her rather suspiciously all of a sudden. ¡°It¡¯s burnt.¡± Fresh nods, slowly opening her eyes. ¡°Yes. Sorry¡­ It was my first time in the dungeon.¡± He lets out a groan, as if unsure and turns the thing around in his hands. He sighs and sets it down onto the counter, shaking his head. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t do this, but okay. I¡¯ll take it and I¡¯ll give you, uh, let¡¯s see¡­¡± he turns it around on the surface, leaning down towards it and inspecting it before looking up to Fresh again and then back to it. ¡°- three Obols.¡± Is that a lot? She has no idea. Probably not. Still. Fresh raises her hands in excitement. ¡°Yes, please!¡± The man tilts his head, somewhat perplexed at her spontaneous reaction, but then simply nods and digs down into his till and slides three small, bronze coins over the counter. He looks her up and down. ¡°Was this your first?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± cries Fresh proudly, taking the coins and clutching them tightly in her fist, pressing it against her heart. The metal discs feel cool and satisfying to hold. She earned these. These are hers. ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy, but I managed!¡± she says with a sigh of relief. She reopens her eyes and looks at the man staring at her, realizing she shouldn¡¯t talk so personally to the strange shopkeeper, who probably thought her much the same. ¡°Are you new to town?¡± asks the man, leaning back, stroking his mustache, almost as if he were suspicious of something. Fresh looks at him, now unsure. Is she allowed to talk to him about these things? Not like¡­ legally, but isn¡¯t it weird? Is she ¡®allowed¡¯ to say that she was literally born yesterday? She sighs, no. No more being afraid. This is a new life for her and she won¡¯t carry her old anxieties with her anymore. She refuses to. ¡°Yeah, I just arrived,¡± she says meekly. That¡¯s true, right? ¡°Ah! I bet you¡¯re from the south, eh? You got that look,¡± says the man with a bright smile shining out beneath his mustache. She isn¡¯t sure what that means, but simply nods. ¡°Mm!¡± A question comes to her mind. Should she? She still feels uneasy, talking to this strange man. ¡°Ah, this might be a weird question, but¡­ do you know where I can learn about magic?¡± ¡°About magic?¡± responds the shopkeeper, leaning forward against the counter. His gaze lowers to the mushroom and then to her bruised arms. ¡°Soft-skinned, eh?¡± He laughs. ¡°Just down the road here, near the gate. There¡¯s the adventurers¡¯ guild, they can answer any questions about that stuff better than I can. I¡¯m just a merchant.¡± He waves her off. ¡°And nothing else.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± That was kind of an odd statement, but whatever. Fresh clutches the coins tightly and turns to leave, realizing that she¡¯s probably being shooed away. ¡°Okay, thank you very much!¡± ¡°You¡¯re very welcome,¡± says the friendly shop-keeper. ¡°But next time, come with five and no burn marks, okay?¡± ¡°Okay!¡± She laughs and steps outside. What a friendly, non-suspicious man. Her shoulders drop as the tension leaves her body and she looks at the three small coins in her hand. She has been squeezing them tight enough to leave an indentation in her palm. Her pridefully-shining gaze rises up towards the bright blue sky above herself. Her first adventure has been a success! The first day of her new life was perhaps sort of a fiasco, but the second one is turning out to be it. It¡¯s turning out to be exactly what she had hoped for. One good morning is all that it takes to make the world seem so much brighter, apparently. She turns to the right to go find the adventurers¡¯ guild, beaming as brightly as the sun itself as she walks, unaware of the eyes watching her from behind, through the glass of the store¡¯s window. An adventurers¡¯ guild, of course! It¡¯s too obvious! She should have looked for something like that from the start! Fresh knocks herself on the head once, realizing that she has felt oddly silly and air-headed ever since having been reborn. Razmatazz Yay, everything is slowly starting to work itself out. Phew. Was afraid for a moment that I was going to make everything hard and sad again! Obols are a currency from ancient Greece that have a strong mythological connection. When the dead were buried, they would place an Obol into the mouth of the body. So that once the person''s spirit reached the underworld, they could then pay Charon to take them across the river Styx. Chapter 9 Fresh stands in the large market square of the entryway plaza, feeling the sun land on her back, together with the occasional glance of a curious passerby. She fidgets, somewhat nervously, wishing that she had at least a scarf or something else to cover her bare shoulders with. Even if it is a warm, bright day. This outfit is a huge change of pace for herself, in comparison with the old jeans or baggy, frame-obscuring hoodies that she would wear all the time. But she at least has to admit that the robe is comfortable, more-so than jeans would have been under the hot sun, as the fabric reaching her ankles is very loose and flowy and billows in the gentle, early-year breeze. ¡°Adventurers¡¯ guild¡­ adventurers¡¯ guild¡­¡± she mumbles to herself, looking around the city, as she stands in the center of the market-square. Stalls and vendors line the roads, all of which are bustling with the busy commerce of the new day, as hundreds of adventurers and also some more ¡®normal¡¯ looking people go every which way, their excited voices turning the city into a buzzing hive of activity and life. She feels inexplicably happy, hearing them all around herself, even if she can¡¯t distinguish any words in specific. It just feels so alive. It makes her feel so alive to just be here, surrounded by it all. It¡¯s nice to be outside, to be around people, even if nobody is talking to her. After her long seclusion, she had missed this in a way that she had never realized before just now. ¡°Looking for something?¡± asks a loud, booming voice from behind her. Somewhat startled, Fresh half jumps and half turns to look at the giant man, standing behind a small wooden stall, covered in baked goods. She stares at him for a second, somewhat panicked and lost for words. ¡°Ah! Uh¡­! I¡¯m looking for the adventurers¡¯ guild¡­?¡± she asks with uncertainty in her voice, as if perhaps this could have been something absurd to say. The giant man leans forward to look at her, appearing somewhat perplexed. But then he pulls back upright, crossing his huge arms and laughs jovially. ¡°It¡¯s right over there!¡± he says, pointing with a single finger that is the size of two of her own. Following the direction with her eyes, Fresh looks at the building nested behind a large sign that¡¯ swings from two chains above it. The sign plainly and obviously reads - ¡®ADVENTURERS¡¯ GUILD¡¯. Laughing meekly, somewhat embarrassed, she thanks the man who simply nods back to her. Sparing one, somewhat tense glance, she looks at the sign above a small loaf of bread adorning his stall. It¡¯s ten Obols. Wincing, she waves goodbye to the man and walks towards the guild. Well, it¡¯s no surprise. It was just one tiny, little mushroom monster. If each cap is worth three, then she¡¯d have to kill at least three more Mr. Mushroom¡¯s to be able to afford a single loaf of bread. Then again, she wouldn¡¯t need the bread if she just ate them instead. Although, maybe eating monsters is sort of a lowbrow thing to do? She is unsure, as she stands before the door to the guild. The loud buzzing ambiance of the hive behind herself is an all-encompassing noise that accompanies her thoughts and seems to drown them out entirely. As she stands before the door, Fresh feels nervous, uncertain. Her heart begins to beat a little faster than it should and her hand becomes a little shakier than it should be, as she grasps the iron ring handle. She was never good at stuff like this. Taking one deep breath in and then exhaling it out slowly, she pulls it open and steps inside. This is it. Immediately, there is a change of atmosphere as she steps inside of the somewhat darker building. There is an intense shade in here, as if the sun itself couldn¡¯t quite manage to reach through the hazy, yellowed windows. Nor can the buzzing candor of the outside world. She shuts the heavy door behind herself, feeling almost as if she had dove underwater. It¡¯s quiet. The noise of the city is cut-off entirely, as if it never was. All except for the single haunting voice that now makes itself heard all around herself. Enveloping her, as if it were the sound of a rushing current while she is pressed beneath a baptizing river. It sounds like the singing of a lamenting woman, high toned but somber. The crystal clear voice rings out throughout the room and Fresh looks around herself for the source. Is there some kind of entertainment? A band? There are dozens of people here. But there is nobody here that is singing, at least nobody that she can see. Directly in front of herself is a row of thick, wooden tables on both sides of the room, as if she had stepped into a restaurant or a tavern. Seated at each and every one of them are adventurers of all types and builds. Humans, elves and other strange things that she isn¡¯t able to recognize right away. All wearing their various, colorful, or sometimes less ornate, equipment. All of them look down somberly into their heavy mugs filled with amber and crimson liquids, as they all sit in quiet contemplation, listening to the eerily nostalgic voice crying around them; spellbound, as if they are all lost to the allure of its call. Some eyes rise to meet the girl as she enters, not out of curiosity, but seemingly more out of agitation, because her quiet incursion had interrupted their equally silent lamentations. What is this? This is the adventurers¡¯ guild? It feels more like she has walked into a funeral. The pressure in the air is heavy and tense. Her heart beats faster again, was this a mistake? Is she in the wrong place? Did she make a fool of herself already, like she knew that she would? Straight ahead, down past the rows of tables is a bar. Its keeper stands behind it, polishing a crystal glass with closed eyes, as she too listens to the doleful aria that has no clearly definable source. Fresh clenches her fists, uncertain. But it¡¯s too late to turn back now. Quietly gulping, she takes a step forward and walks towards the barkeeper, not sparing more than a passing glance at the very detailed sign, hanging to the left of the door. She considers reading it for a moment, but the pressure of being watched is too much for her to endure just standing here awkwardly. The eyes of the people around her now turn back away, as she steps further inside, their gazes returning to the reflections that they see in their cups, which they hold before themselves as if puzzlingly staring into vacant mirrors. The elfish woman behind the bar, oddly enough, wears what Fresh would have expected a high-class barkeeper to wear in her own old life. Simple black trousers with a leather belt showing above them, a tucked in, white-cuffed button-up with rolled up sleeves and a tightly closed black vest over it. Her hair is a dull, dusty blond that is pulled back into a loose, short tail on the back of her head. Two long bangs hang before her face, which has large patches of burn scarring beneath one eye and on her cheeks. She is hardly much larger than Fresh herself is. As the girl nervously steps before the bar, the keeper¡¯s eyes open and move up towards her. Not agitated like the others, but just blank. Expressionless, not filled with any particular sorrow or happiness. She¡¯s just blank. The look on her face almost reminds Fresh of that of an old bureaucrat, whose spirit has been painted gray by the repeated monotony of their daily life. Fresh opens her mouth to ask her where the guild is, or if she¡¯s even in the right place. But then she closes it a second later, as no words come out. It¡¯s hard to explain for herself, but apart from the singing voice, there is no sound to be heard other than the odd shuffle of a boot or a gulp from a nearly empty mug. It seems wrong for her to break the silence and so she stops herself from speaking. The elf looks at her, her expression changing to one of unusual curiosity. But as Fresh closes her mouth again, the woman nods as if understanding her present dilemma. Assuming this was a nod of greeting, Fresh nods back. Turning around, the barkeeper grabs a shot-glass and a bottle filled with a thick, black, gooey liquid and pours it inside, before sliding it across the bar to Fresh. She looks at it uncertainly, she can¡¯t afford this. She doesn¡¯t even want it. Sweat beads on her forehead as her heart begins to flutter. Something is going wrong. Raising a hand, she softly waves ¡®no¡¯ and quietly shows the woman the three tiny coins that she has. The keeper¡¯s expression doesn¡¯t change, she looks back to Fresh and slides the glass further towards her a second time with a single finger, teetering it on the edge of the bar. The black-liquid inside barely moves as the glass shifts. Its consistency is thick, like a heavy oil. What is this? What should she do? Her under-arms are feeling a tinge of wet as well now, as her legs become wobbly beneath herself. She never drank much before. Why is the woman offering her this? Fresh takes a step back, unaware of herself doing it. The singing voice calls out around her, never stopping to take a breath, never breaking its mourning. Its calming, numbing presence does little to alleviate this new angst that cuts through her like a sharp knife. Something nudges her, dully pressing into her waist. Surprised, Fresh looks down towards it. The small, hooded person with the mask, from the day before, stands next to her, also looking at the barkeeper, who prepares a second shot and slides it towards them as well. The childlike figure whose head reaches to about her stomach reaches up to the top of the bar and grabs it, subtly pressing an elbow into Fresh¡¯s leg again, as they rise up to the tips of their toes. What¡¯s going on? What has she gotten herself into? Fresh¡¯s hand takes the tiny shot glass and she looks at it uncertainly, before looking down at the small person accompanying her, who lifts the fully-obscuring, white, wooden mask only an inch from their face. They hold their tiny glass out towards her for a toast. Fresh, unsure of what else to do, feeling the weight of the stranger¡¯s and the keeper¡¯s eyes pressing down on herself, takes her own glass and quietly hits it against the out-held shot, before downing the black liquid all at once. *+-~ ??? ~-+* Fresh Chapter 10 Fresh lurches forward, her hand clutching the front of her chest as the heavy burning sensation courses through her throat. The thick, tarry liquid, oozing down into her gut, feels like it¡¯s setting her insides on fire. It takes everything that she has in herself not to start coughing and spluttering and retching everywhere. The taste is¡­ indistinctly metallic. It simply tastes like you would expect a shot of black goo to taste. Oily. A little like sucking on wet coins. It burns. Wincing and clenching her eyes tightly shut, as the muscles in her tense neck turn her head to the side, she swallows the last of it and sets the glass quietly back down onto the counter with her shaking hand. It hits her stomach like a brick and her body convulses, as if to try to push it back up and out of itself immediately. She presses it back down, ignoring the acidic taste rising in the back of her throat. The room is still deathly quiet, the air is no less tense, the voice still sings for a cause unknown. Her eyes raise up, but there is still no singer to be seen. It is as if there is simply a specter, a wailing ghost whose presence fills the room. Her eyes reach the small masked figure, their head covered by a burgundy-red hood. Fresh wonders, is this the same person? Weren¡¯t they wearing green? Oh wait, that was yesterday. Obviously people wear different clothes. Duh. She nods to the figure, who places their empty glass back onto the counter. The figure shakes their hands out into the air in disgust, as if the taste had disturbed them as well and then nods back to her. Fresh has no idea what¡¯s happening anymore. The barkeeper quietly takes both empty glasses, inspecting them, before setting them down and out of the way. Reaching back up, she slides a key across the bar, towards the small figure, who takes it and nods. Looking at Fresh, the stranger raise a finger, gesturing for her to follow, as they then turn and walk towards an upwards leading stone staircase, on the other side of the room. Fresh feels entirely lost now. Were they¡­ was this some kind of¡­ seduction? Drinks and a room? What? No¡­ No, she¡¯s being ridiculous. There¡¯s obviously something that the small figure wants from her and this is no place to talk, she realizes, watching the masked person who has reached the stairs. Plus that window that had appeared said they formed a party. So she¡¯s in a party now? That¡¯s great, isn¡¯t it? That¡¯s exactly why she came here! They turn and look back to her questioningly. The singing voice calls all around them, unperturbed by any of this, as it continues with its aria. Fresh clenches her fists tightly and steps towards the stairs, deciding to follow them. She wants to be brave. She wants to take risks. This is a new life. She had promised herself. No fear. No doubts. But, despite that wishful thinking, Fresh stops again in her tracks, feeling the coins in her hand and the burning in her gut. It¡¯s all she has. But¡­ it would be rude not to¡­ wouldn¡¯t it? She wants to do it right. She wants to do it all right. All of it. She won¡¯t miss any more opportunities to be the person who she wants to be. She wants to live right, she wants to live forthrightly. Fresh turns around once more towards the barkeeper, who looks back up to the girl, as she places two of her three coins onto the counter and slides them towards the elf, who stares back curiously. But then nods to Fresh, understanding the meaning of the gesture. Fresh nods back and heads towards the stairs and towards the hooded figure, holding her last coin, her lucky coin, tightly clenched in her fists. It wasn¡¯t a pragmatic decision, obviously. But it felt like the right thing to do. One for each drink. That feeling, that¡¯s how she wants to live. She wants to feel like she has chosen the right things with every choice she makes in this new life and as of right now, she does. Quietly as she moves to the stairs, she thanks Mr. Mushroom one last time for everything that he¡¯s done for her. For the good feelings that he has let her feel today. Oddly though, she feels more eyes on her now. As the gazes of some of the tables have returned to her for some reason. Yet none speak, whisper or murmur; daring not to break the spell of the siren song. The group before her, at the table just by the staircase, all look at each other with certainty in their gazes. As she passes them by, a woman in white with long, strawberry-brown hair, reaches out and gently grabs the side of Fresh¡¯s robe, to get her attention. Fresh looks at the woman, who appears to be a priestess of some kind. Her features are delicate and soft, she seems compassionate. But her mug is just as full as all of the other mugs here. She scoots to the side, opening a space at their table up. Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide. Were they¡­ were they inviting her to sit with them? Her? Really?! Her heart beats fast. Nobody had ever asked her to sit with them anywhere, ever¡­ Why? What did she do? She feels happy, as she looks to the rest of the table who all nod back to her, their expressions as certain and determined as the priestess¡¯. They want her. Fresh¡¯s mind buzzes with a joy that she quite can¡¯t put into coherent thoughts, the bewitching voice mesmerizing her, mixing with this unbridled feeling of warmth and giving it an oddly sad depth. She doesn¡¯t understand this at all, but - Something grabs her and Fresh almost yelps in surprise, as her thoughts are slashed in twain. But she keeps it down, as she looks at the small figure on the staircase who has grabbed her by the hand and drags her away from the table before she can react. Somewhat troubled and uncertain of what to do, she lets herself be pulled away, but somewhat sadly waves goodbye to the group at the table, as she is pulled up the staircase by the surprisingly strong figure, given their size. The group looks oddly disappointed at her leaving, which isn¡¯t something that she is used to seeing. But it doesn¡¯t feel bad to see either. Chapter 11 Once they reach the second floor, Fresh looks around for a moment, gazing around at the odd space that is above the tavern below. She had expected perhaps some sort of hallway lined with doors, or maybe a large quarter filled with beds for weary adventurers to rent. That was usually what these things were like, right? Instead, there is a single door right at the top of the staircase. Rising up to the tips of their toes, the small figure stretches and lets out an annoyed grunt as they stick the key into the lock and then turns it with some strained effort, before sinking back down and pushing the door ajar, stepping towards the blue fog that fills the crossing. She hadn¡¯t expected this. Fresh tilts her head, looking at the glowing aura. It looks like the kind of fog inside of the dungeon-gate. Unsure, Fresh turns around to look down the stairs one last time. What does the stranger want with her? They had helped her, or so she feels at least, so there is a speck of trust present in her now. But then again, she¡¯s about to go inside of a locked room together with them. Alone with the stranger upstairs. Obviously there¡¯s a squirmy connotation that she carries with herself in the back of her mind. She had never done anything like this before. Fresh shakes her head, getting those weird ideas out of her mind as the hooded figure steps inside, waiting for her. No. She¡¯s just being naive and misunderstands the situation. Surely it isn¡¯t about anything like that. She steps inside after them and looks around the new space, as the door is closed behind her. The singing, melancholy filled voice of the haunting spirit of the tavern below is cut off as soon as the door closes, as if it had never existed. It¡¯s cut off, just like with the noise from the outside-world when she had entered the adventurer¡¯s guild. It¡¯s as if a magic were sealing the spaces, keeping them separate from each other entirely. This new room is large and open, having the same size as the tavern below, but being mostly entirely void of furnishings. It¡¯s just a large, square, empty room. It is completely bare, except for one small table with two dinky chairs and a single, small bed in the far corner. Something sighs from behind herself. She nervously turns her head around. The small figure sinks down low to the ground, their back sliding down against the door as they drop down to the wooden floorboards. Their head lifts up towards her, the spring-shine eyes that tiredly shine through the wooden mask look up towards her with a judgmental expression. ¡°That was close, you know?¡± asks the figure and lets the back of their head thunk against the door behind themselves once. ¡°I guess we¡¯re both adventurers now,¡± it says, groaning a little, as if suffering from what Fresh considers to be a rather joyful revelation. ¡°Fuck me. I managed to avoid it for so long too.¡± Fresh has no idea what¡¯s going on. She rubs her bare arm somewhat uneasily. ¡°Um, hello¡­¡± They lift a hand, pointing at her. ¡°You might be bad-off, but are you touched in the head too?¡± asks the figure sharply, staring up at her somewhat incredulously. ¡°Huh?¡± squeaks Fresh, taken somewhat aback by the crude question. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing here? Are you from the south or something?! Idiot!¡± they snap at her. ''The south'', there¡¯s that question again. But Fresh¡¯s heart flutters as the stranger yells at her. She feels something cold and dewy on her skin, sweat. Her blood begins to race. She never was good with people yelling at her. Or being mean to her. Or actually, just talking to her in general. ¡°W- what?¡± is all she manages to stammer out, her eyes growing quickly damp. ¡®What is she doing here?¡¯ Isn¡¯t it obvious? What kind of question is that? ¡°I wanted to be-become an adventurer¡­¡± she mumbles, rubbing her arm. ¡°What?! You dumb fuck," they say, rolling their eyes. ¡°Why in the name of all that is holy¡­?!¡± The small silhouette grabs the sides of their head, their fingers clenching down on the hood in frustration for a moment. After a while, they lift their head again, a light having died in their eyes. ¡°Well, congratulations. You did it!¡° they grumble, rising up to their feet. ¡°Hope you liked the taste of that dragon¡¯s blood, cause there¡¯s not gonna be a lot of that in the future!¡± Fresh flinches. Is there something wrong? Apparently. The figure¡¯s gaze doesn¡¯t leave her. Wait. Dragon¡¯s blood? ¡°You have no idea, do you? You really are from the south,¡± they mutter, shaking their head. ¡°I can see it, you know?¡± they ask, very plainly. Fresh stands there for a moment. Not sure what they mean. But then she covers her body with her arms instinctively. ¡°Not that, you slime-brain!¡± they bark, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°I can see the curse,¡± they explain, stepping towards her. ¡°It¡¯s leaking out of you like you¡¯re a broken pipe. You¡¯re lucky that I¡¯m the only one of my kind in this town and that I¡¯m a nice person!¡± They groan and hit their head against the door again. ¡°Too nice for my own good. Damn it!¡± Fresh looks around. Curse? ¡°Ah¡­ excuse me¡­ but- I¡­¡± The eyes glare up at her and she flinches again as she feels their steeled gaze reach her. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± The figure shifts, its head rising up towards her as if it wasn¡¯t sure what to think anymore. ¡°Those fucks didn¡¯t¡­¡± they shake their head and snap their fingers once at her. ¡°Show me your menu,¡± they demand. Fresh, unsure of what else to do, opens it as she did before, the glass rectangle floats between them. STATUS: ??? OBOLS: 00 [INVENTORY] ¡°Wow. That¡¯s¡­ You didn¡¯t think that there was something wrong with this?¡± they ask, gesturing to the glass-pane with both hands. Fresh shifts. ¡°I mean¡­ sort of¡­?¡± ¡°''Sort of''?¡± they ask incredulously. ¡°You have two maximum health. Two!¡± yells the figure, pointing towards her again. ¡°I could stick my finger in your ass and you¡¯d die! And look at your soul-points, what even¡­? Fuck¡¯s sake! What is even going on there?!¡± ¡°I had three!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°You had... three?¡± replies the figure and even beneath the mask, Fresh can see their face drop to an expression that is even more disappointed. ¡°I had three maximum health, yesterday. But I lost one¡­¡± They¡¯re silent for a moment. The figure takes a deep breath, holding their hands out besides themselves, as they slowly inhale and then just as slowly exhale that breath back outward to calm themselves. ¡°Let me break this down for you, because I¡¯m about to cry at what I¡¯ve gotten myself into.¡± They look at her, locking their fingers together with their indexes raised to point towards her. ¡°You are literally cursed. Literally. I don¡¯t know who you ticked off, or what sacred temple you pissed in. But something put a heavy spell on you. Your stats are like a child¡¯s. Hell, I know children who are stronger than you.¡± Fresh rubs her head, she already knows that she is sub-par but she¡¯s willing to work on that. If that¡¯s all that the small figure has to say, even so rudely, then she¡¯s actually still feeling pretty good about this as a whole, in all honesty. Despite feeling shaky from being yelled at. The tension in her shoulders loosens, as she sighs in relief. She shakes her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know about any curses or anything like that. But I know I¡¯m weak. I¡¯m going to work hard though and I won¡¯t let that stop me,¡± replies Fresh, feeling her determination return to herself. She raises a clenched fist up into the air, rather theatrically. She¡¯s going to do this, no matter what. ¡°No. You don¡¯t get it, dumb-ass!¡± yells the figure stepping forward to her and pressing a finger directly into her stomach, rather painfully. ¡°Do you know how much money we owe the guild?!¡± That was a sentence Fresh understands. ¡°M- Money?¡± They stare at her for a moment, leaning in. ¡°You didn¡¯t read the sign, did you?¡± Fresh blinks, staring at them for a second as she recalls the piece of paper hung up by the front door of the guild. ¡°I didn¡¯t read the sign¡­¡± she admits, rubbing her arm. ¡°You should¡¯ve read the sign,¡± they say dryly. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says, looking away. ¡°Yeah. We became adventurers, officially. Don¡¯t you understand?¡± asks the stranger. ¡°By taking the initiation, you agreed to the terms,¡± they explain, poking her a second time. ¡°That shot was dragon¡¯s blood! Don¡¯t you know what that costs?!¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes widen. The small figure brashly grabs the cut of the front of her robe, pulling her down towards their masked face. ¡°TEN. THOUSAND. OBOLS.¡± They yell, yanking the single coin from her hand and holding it between their faces. ¡°TEN-THOUSAND,¡± they repeat and throw the single coin far across the large room. The coin rolls and strikes the far wall with a small clamour, before falling over. Fresh¡¯s legs feel wobbly now and now she stumbles, taken aback as she holds herself against the wall. ¡°What? Ten-thousand?¡± She could never pay that back. What did she do? She could never hope to pay that back, not in a million years. Not in¡­ her eyes fearfully look back at the figure. ¡°How long?¡± ¡°A year,¡± says the masked person quietly, turning around to look across the empty room. ¡°We have a year to pay the guild back. Ten-thousand each. Otherwise they own us. They own you. They own me,¡± they explain, waving her off with a hand. ¡°Otherwise after that, you¡¯ll probably have to squeeze into a mine or a brothel and pay them back within another year,¡± they state. They both stand there quietly for a time. Fresh¡¯s heart is beating fast and her body is shaking. But there is one thing she still doesn¡¯t understand. ¡°Why did you drink it too?¡± she asks the figure, who lashes around to point back at her in an instant, apparently angry. ¡°Because, dumb-ass!¡± they state. ¡°What do you think would have happened if one of those other parties took you in and saw your worthless stats?!¡± they bark. ¡°Best case, you¡¯d get left behind down in the dungeon to get eaten by a vampire, worst case, you¡¯d skip the year and get sold directly to the market,¡± they explain. Fresh recoils. That¡¯s pretty grim. ¡°Once the glass is poured, there¡¯s no taking it back. They wouldn¡¯t have let you leave after you went up to the keeper! Making a new party was the only way to get you out of it at that point!¡± ¡°I should have read the sign,¡± concedes Fresh, feeling her face grow bloodless. ¡°¡­You think?¡± The figure walks past her and out across the empty room, clutching their head tightly again and mumbling loudly about some ¡®other¡¯. Fresh¡¯s body shakes. What did she get herself into? She should have done some research before diving straight in like this again. It was the same thing. The same thing she did in the dungeon before. She had run straight ahead with her eyes closed and it got her killed and now, it might as well have gotten her killed again. It¡¯s just the second day of her new life and she¡¯s indebted beyond belief. She never has had any debt before, not even in her old life. How could she be so careless twice in a row? And how- ? How is she going to get ten-thousand Obols? With no health. With no abilities or skills. Wait¡­ Wait! She looks at the figure, apparently her very first party member, which does ease the pain a little, even if they are a huge jerk. ¡°What do we get out of joining the guild?¡± she asks the small person, who is halfway across the large, empty room. Maybe there¡¯s a new door open to her now? Maybe with membership, there¡¯s access to some teachers or somebody who could show her the ways of fighting or magic? Ten-thousand? She grips her fists tightly, steeling her resolve. She can get ten-thousand! If she learns how to fight, how to go through the dungeon and how to earn money. She can put in the hours. She¡¯s willing to do everything it takes. It¡¯s scary, but she¡¯s going to do it, she promises herself that. ¡°Huh?!¡± laughs the small hooded figure, turning back around to face her as they hold out their arms wide at their sides in a welcoming gesture. ¡°This is it! This is what we get! Welcome to our new home, Fresh!¡± Chapter 12: Plan of action ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks around herself at the empty, square room, obviously feeling somewhat lost. ¡°Joining the guild makes you an official adventurer, instead of just some schmuck from the streets,¡± explains the stranger. ¡°That opens some doors. But the guild is serious business, dumb-ass!¡± they exclaim, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°That¡¯s why everyone who joins has to take the shot. So everybody falls in line and makes an investment. Nobody wants to do business with a bunch of drunk wackos running around the city, rampaging out of control with their swords and magic!¡± The small figure sighs, defeated, lowering their arms and head as they walk towards the only furnishings in the room apart from the bed. A single table and two wobbly looking chairs. ¡°We¡¯re a party now, whether I regret my decision or not, so we get a cut-off space for ourselves,¡± they say, waving a hand to the room around themselves, as they climb up onto a chair. Their face flops down onto the table a second later. There is a loud thudding sound, as the two wooden surfaces meet each other. Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide as she moves towards the table. ¡°We bought a house?¡± she asks. ¡°We bought membership,¡± snaps the sharp voice in an incredulous tone. ¡°It just so happens to come with a party-space,¡± they explain. ¡°Only you and I are allowed to enter inside of here. It¡¯s like the dungeon, but only more miserable,¡± groans the figure, still not having lifted their head. Fresh stands next to them, holding her own arm nervously. What did she do? Her rushing in blind got her into a lot of trouble this time. Not just her, but someone else too. She looks down at the hooded figure. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± mutters Fresh, looking meekly away to the side and out of the foggy, yellow windows. Light shines in through them but nothing distinct can be seen of the outside world. ¡°- for helping me,¡± she finishes, feeling a deep shame at herself, at her own naivety. Did she use to be like this? She feels like since this new life of hers has begun, that her mind has become¡­ fuzzy. Sure, she was never smart. But she was also never this reckless and impatient, right? The figure sighs again, their shoulders falling deeply slack, as their upper body presses itself flat against the table, as if this was the last thing they had wanted to hear. ¡°So we¡¯re a party, now?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m looking forward to working with you,¡± groans the smushed face, muffled from down beneath the mask. ¡°What does that mean?¡± The wood of the mask scratches against the table as the figure raises their head to look back at her confused face. ¡°I¡­¡± they pause. ¡°It means that you and I are going to be working together to pay back our debt. Ideally, so that we can keep working together after that,¡± they say, staring at her quizzically. ¡°That¡¯s the idea at least.¡± They place a hand under their mask, rubbing the bridge of their nose. ¡°But let¡¯s not assume there¡¯s going to be an after.¡± Fresh thinks, sitting down. They could run? Leave the city. But¡­ she looks down at the table herself now. She doesn¡¯t want to do that. She doesn¡¯t want to run. Her fists tighten as her eyes meet the figure¡¯s. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks the figure, pulling back a little. She clasps her hands together. ¡°Please help me to learn how to do something useful and let¡¯s go to the dungeon together and get to work!¡± pleads Fresh, leaning in forward with a rather spontaneously generated amount of determination, towards the uneasy figure who pulls back a little, as their faces come uncomfortably close. They sigh. ¡°You have no health-points. If you die in the dungeon, which you will, I¡¯ll be saddled with your debt. That¡¯s obviously not going to work,¡± says the figure, crossing their arms. If she dies? Didn¡¯t she already die? Fresh thinks for a second. Do adventurers not usually respawn? If they died, is that it? Is she the exception? Her mind goes to the image of the babbling fountain. She closes her eyes and quietly thanks whatever spirit decided to have this mercy for her, despite everything else. ¡°What if I learn to heal and stay in the back?¡± she asks, still not willing to give up so easily. The figure lets out an unsure groan and thinks. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if you have any soul-points to cast spells to begin with. Besides, if you¡¯re cursed¡­¡± they look to the side before turning back to face her. ¡°The only healers around this city are from the church,¡± they explain. ¡°They teach adventurers white-magic and stuff like that for free, if you listen to their sermons in exchange,¡± says the stranger, shaking their head. ¡°That¡¯s how they hook you, at least.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes light up. The stranger lifts their hand to cut her off, seeing that she was getting hopeful. ¡°But¡­ you wouldn¡¯t want to go to the cathedral. They aren¡¯t fond of cursed people,¡± explains the obscured person. ¡°They take their existences rather personally, you know?¡± There was that word again. ¡®Cursed¡¯. ¡°How am I cursed?¡± asks Fresh, scratching her cheek. The figure shrugs, leaning back on their chair. ¡°Dunno? Shouldn¡¯t you know?¡± they ask. ¡°I can just see it. My folk are perceptive of these kinds of things,¡± they say, locking their fingers behind their head and looking up towards the ceiling. Fresh wants to ask what race or species they are or whatever the implication here is, but she stops herself. It somehow seems rude to ask and she doesn¡¯t want to insult her benefactor. Her eyes catch the coin on the floor, which has rolled towards the table. She leans over and picks it up. Her only coin. Does that make this one lucky? She laughs to herself quietly. Although, she stifles herself right away, feeling somewhat embarrassed, once she feels their eyes looking back towards herself. The coin was her last gift from Mr. Mushroom, apart from - Wait¡­ Fresh sets the coin down onto the table with an audible ¡®clack¡¯ as an excited look grows in her eyes again. ¡°What about crafting skills?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°If I can¡¯t fight then¡­ then what if you fight? What if you fight and I make things for us to sell?¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± repeats the figure, not changing their muddled tone. Their eyes gaze at her very skeptically. ¡°How much does a mushroom-cap sell for?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Uh¡­ an orange one? About five Obols, I guess?¡± they say. Fresh winces. ¡°What do they do with them?¡± she asks, not letting it get her down. ¡°They sell them to the alchemists. Or they grind them up or they make whatever else out of it. Fuck, I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m not a mushroom-person.¡± ¡°But they have to make a profit off of it, right?¡± she asks. ¡°Otherwise it wouldn¡¯t be worth buying?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°So.¡± Fresh leans in. ¡°Why don¡¯t we skip the middle-man?¡± The plan comes to her and her eyes lock on the unsteady gaze of the small person before her, who she now notices has a subtle, faded pinkish tinge to their gray irises; as if the spring morning sunlight were shining off of them, even inside this dingy room. ¡°You go into the dungeon and collect stuff. You give it to me and I¡¯ll craft it into something,¡± she suggests, lifting a finger. ¡°Then we¡¯ll sell that directly to the alchemists or whoever needs it. We¡¯ll get more money out of it that way!¡± she beams. ¡°A mushroom-cap has to be worth at least three times the buyout price, or else the street merchants wouldn¡¯t bother, would they? So we can both pay our debts, plus we¡¯ll have some extra!¡± she explains excitedly, not sure where this sudden spark of inspiration had come from. The legs of the chair fall back forward, as the hooded person leans in, now somewhat more excited. The changing of their expression is visible through the slits of the mask, where their eyes shine vividly outward, larger than before. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me from the start that you could craft things?!¡± they say, their palms striking the table as they lean in forward again towards her. Their knees on the chair like an excited child¡¯s. ¡°What¡¯s your profession and crafting level?!¡± Fresh scratches her cheek idly, smiling weakly. ¡°Ah¡­ well¡­ I have cooking at one?¡± The room is quiet. ¡°You have cooking at¡­ one¡­?¡± repeats the figure, as if not believing their ears. ¡°¡­and craftsmanship? Alchemy? Metalworking?¡± Fresh is quiet for a moment. ¡°Ah¡­ zero? Probably?¡± They fall back down, now entirely defeated. A pang of guilt flows through Fresh as she looks at the small figure who is clearly close to breaking down in some manner. She reaches forward, wanting to grab their shoulder and console them, but her fingers float in the air, as she isn¡¯t brave enough to push forward over that last gap. ¡°But I can raise it! I know some stuff!¡± she says, leaning in and lowering her hand back down to her own lap, not entirely sure if that was true. The figure doesn¡¯t bother raising their head anymore. ¡°So please, let¡¯s work together! I know we can do it!¡± The room is quiet. ¡°I know that I owe you, so I¡¯m willing to work hard to make this right!¡± says Fresh, leaning in further. The room is quiet. ¡°Please!¡± The room is quiet. Fresh¡¯s expression tenses, as she feels her own eyes grow damp, but she purses her lips and presses that feeling back down into her gut. Slowly, she leans back and sinks into her own chair again, about to sigh in defeat. ¡°I¡¯m Jubilee,¡± says the small voice. Fresh looks down at the mask and the very tired eyes that are staring back up at her own. The obscured stranger sighs. Their chin, which is pressed against the surface of the table, raises up an inch as they speak. Jubilee stands up. Fresh watches as they go and walk towards the door of the room. Stopping there, they turn back towards her. ¡°Are you coming, shit-for-brains? We have work to do,¡± is all they languidly say, as they step out into the mist, shaking their head. With wide and surprised eyes, Fresh jumps up and sprints towards and out of the door. Promising herself that this time, it will work. This time she''ll be careful, this time, she isn¡¯t going to blow it. Razmatazz *Makes you an offer you can''t refuse* Chapter 13 Fresh looks at the bluish cloud that fills the gate of the dungeon, which the two of them now stand before. It is later in the day now, the afternoon having started about an hour ago and the city is as busy and as full of bustling life as ever. People walk all around them, entering in and out of the dungeon on both sides of the two, who are standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the way. ¡°Stay up behind me,¡± instructs Jubilee. Fresh nods, willing to let them take the lead. ¡°You have to go in first though. I¡¯ve already been down a bit deeper this week, so we¡¯re better off taking yours, since you probably haven¡¯t done much.¡± Fresh isn¡¯t quite sure she gets their meaning, but steps inside nonetheless, letting herself become enveloped by the fog. She hears a pair of small boots coming in up just behind herself. The light in her eyes returns to a normal dim, dungeon shade, as Fresh finds herself atop the familiar staircase. Jubilee enters next to her and goes down the steps first. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t even let you step foot in here, honestly,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But if we¡¯re gonna do this, then we need to get some stuff and I can¡¯t carry it all by myself.¡± Fresh walks after them, down the stairs, still wondering if they¡¯re a her or a him. However, the small figure is heavily obscured and their voice is rather unidentifiable, though a little high-pitched. Fresh nods with a quiet ¡°Mm!¡±, wanting to agree with them, but not feeling brave enough to say or ask anything else; lest her brashness cause new trouble. They reach the bottom of the steps. ¡°The hell¡­?¡± swears the small figure, as they look together now at the first floor. A rather grayish looking, ironically moldy, blob sits next to the burning hole. All that remains of Mr. Mushroom. The torches which she had planted in the dirt are however, still burning as brightly as ever, the magical fire not subdued even a little. Jubilee looks at the bite-marks on the thing and then back towards her. ¡°Did you¡­ You didn¡¯t. Did you?¡± they ask in disbelief. Did she do something wrong again? Fresh pokes her index fingers together, looking away from the stern eyes facing up towards herself as she sheepishly speaks. ¡°I was hungry¡­¡± ¡°You¡­ wh¡­ - YOU GOO-BRAIN! You can''t just eat dungeon monsters,¡± scolds Jubilee, as they grab the sides of their own head again, their now-gloved fingers clearly digging into their scalp with immense pressure, as they tear at their hood. ¡°I really want to beat some sense into your empty head, but you¡¯d probably die.¡± They turn away from Fresh, their hands clutching their masked face. Fresh waits for them to finish, feeling nervous about this now too. ¡°Was that bad?¡± ¡°Only if you like being alive, which you apparently don¡¯t,¡± says Jubilee, violently kicking Mr. Mushroom¡¯s body over once. He rolls back into the fire. The fuzz on his body hisses as the flames scorch it away and singe his sides black. ¡°Monsters need to be carefully prepared. You can¡¯t just bite into them like some rabid animal,¡± they explain. ¡°Especially the mush-mushes! They¡¯re literally poisonous mushrooms!¡± Jubilee points back to Fresh angrily. ¡°How are you even still alive?!¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, but then shrugs. ¡°He didn¡¯t taste goo-¡° She stops herself, looking at the burning body. ¡°I mean, he tasted fine. But I don¡¯t think he was poisonous¡­¡± Jubilee stares at her and even though she can¡¯t see their expressions beneath the wooden mask, she still somehow reads it as ¡®lost¡¯. ¡°¡­He?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh raises a finger with a smile. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s Mr. Mushroom!¡± Jubilee stares at her, silently. ¡°Mr¡­ Mr. Mushroom?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do this,¡± says Jubilee and turns to walk down towards where the red-fog was, shaking their head, a hand planted onto their mask as they mumble a vague series of unintelligible words, complaining about some ¡®other¡¯. Fresh looks at them as they walk on around the bend. Did she say something wrong? But feeling that she is alone and has been left behind, she grabs a torch, ignoring the window that pops up and runs after Jubilee. She descends down the new, very wide staircase here. The second floor of the dungeon is already visible immediately from the top. It¡¯s another simple room, made out of a mixture of compacted dirt, roots and ancient brickwork. As Fresh reaches Jubilee, a small window appears before herself. Then a second later, it vanishes as they both look at it for an instant. Jubilee sighs again. ¡°You really are fresh.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, wondering in which sense the word was intended. But simply opts to silently nod ¡®yes¡¯. That seems like it could do no harm. She looks around, but there is nothing here for her to see. ¡°Are there monsters here?¡± she asks quietly, leaning downward and lowering her voice. ¡°Yeah. Floor two has some more mush-mushes, but¡­ it¡¯s just two. Not even worth the effort. These first ten floors are basically ¡®baby¡¯s first dungeon¡¯,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Though apparently some ¡®people¡¯ have actually managed to die here before. Sad fucks.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, laughing meekly. ¡°You stay up here. Always up the stairs, okay?¡± Jubilee leans in towards her. ¡°You NEVER come down a single step until I tell you, okay?¡± they ask. ¡°If you die, I swear to whatever god you pissed off, I¡¯ll sell your body to the necromancers!¡± Fresh nods, not liking being yelled at or bossed around. But¡­ what was she going to do to be of use anyways? She isn¡¯t useful. Fresh rubs her arm. ¡°Okay.¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°Good. I got the key, that makes me the party-leader. So I run this show, got it? You need to listen to me if you want to live.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, does that bother her? No. Not really. She was never the type to take charge of a group. She was never good with pecking orders or any of that. She just always wanted to be herself without other people making it weird. ¡°Okay,¡± she says again, plainly. If she keeps it simple, she can¡¯t say anything dumb. Jubilee nods and steps down a step, bending forward to grab a fist-full of loose dirt from below. Some sharp, crackling crystallizing sound can be heard from between their gloved fingers. Fresh watches on in curiosity, as the small figure walks towards the center of the empty room. She wonders where the mush-mushes are? There aren¡¯t any holes this time. Jubilee stops, two trails make themselves seen in the dirt, as some things are burrowing around the room from both sides, just below the surface. *NYAAAAAAAH~* cry out a duo of large mush-mushes, springing out of the dirt from both sides, with wide, open mouths as they lunge towards Jubilee. ¡°Ah! Look ou-!¡± shouts Fresh, taking a quick step forward. Jubilee throws the handful of dirt down at their own feet in that instant. It smashes against the floor and¡­ shatters? Some colorful sparkle catches Fresh¡¯s eyes, as tiny fragments of glass shimmer in the torch¡¯s radiating firelight, rebounding all of the colors around themselves like sparkling rain. It only takes a moment, but the world explodes into a flash of refractive light, as two prismatic spires burst out of the ground, shooting out faster than her eyes can follow. *NYAA-* Both of the mush-mushes are cut short in their cries, as the glass that shot out of the ground lances through their cores in an instant, skewering them and holding them aloft in mid-air, suspended by two long, razor-sharp crystals, jutting out of the dirt like jagged spears. [ You got {4/10} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {6/10} Experience ! ] (Party) The screams die off, the two mushroom creatures gurgle out their last breaths and Fresh looks on in awe, as Jubilee turns to keep walking down the next flight of stairs ahead of them without so much as a care in the world. ¡°Come down here and get those caps off.¡± ¡°That was so cool!¡± yells Fresh, running up to her party member. ¡°Was that magic?! Can you show me how to do that?!¡± she asks with excitement, holding her fists clenched tightly in-front of her. ¡°Just get the caps,¡± says Jubilee, somewhat agitated and confused, by the looks of it. ¡°Pleeeease~?¡± begs Fresh. Was this some kind of glass-magic? It seems really dangerous, but also really, really exciting! She wants to learn more about it. Jubilee waves her off. ¡°Don¡¯t cut yourself when you get the mushrooms down,¡± is all they say as they walk off, leaving Fresh there alone with the bodies, which are still skewered at head-height on the two crystal pillars. She looks at them, wondering how she¡¯s going to get them down. Then, a second later, just as she sees her own reflection in one of the glass towers, it all shatters, sending both of the monsters crashing down into the dirt, face first. Happy at the lucky break, literally, Fresh carefully steps forward and gets to work, eager to prove herself to her new and only party member. She hasn¡¯t given up yet, she¡¯s going to make this right and then some. Chapter 14 ¡°Hey, how do I get a class?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee looks up at her, eyeing her up and down. ¡°Eh... I don''t know if you''re cut out for it, really. Let''s just -¡± ¡°Pleeease~!¡± begs Fresh, clasping her hands and looking with a hopeful expression towards her only companion. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Fine, It''s your funeral. Think about what you want to do. Uh¡­ actually, think about what it is that you even can do and we''ll talk about it once we get out of here, okay?¡± they ask. ¡°Let''s just focus on our work, for now.¡± ¡°Really?!¡± asks Fresh, excitedly. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, take it easy,¡± sighs Jubilee, waving an idle hand at her and looking out towards the next dungeon floor ahead of themselves. Fresh bounces on the tips of her toes, her excitement returning to her expression again as she smiles a satisfied smile. Floor three of the dungeon is just about the same as the first two. By the looks of things, it¡¯s also just a small, compacted-dirt room. But now there are some slight differences. The floor isn¡¯t entirely just an open-space. Rather there are small, half-crumbled, waist-high walls scattered throughout the layout. The bouncing tips of orange mushroom-caps can be seen from just behind them, from up here on the staircase. Fresh stands there, her arms full with the two caps, which she is already struggling to hold in front of herself, like a large pair of stacked bowls. But there is something else moving around down there too. She only catches a glimpse of it at first as it moves around the decrepit, brickwork walls. The room looks like somebody had tried to make a labyrinth at one point, but had given up half-way through. ¡°It¡¯s a snail,¡± says Jubilee, following her gaze. Fresh nods, understanding. But also not really understanding. Snails? What kind of dungeon is this? Sure enough, it sloshes around a corner a moment later, lazily coming into their line of sight. A ¡®giant¡¯ snail, about the size of a medium-sized dog with a dark, marine-blue shell on its back, trails around the bend, leaving a bubbling streak of a vaguely viscous goo of the same color just behind itself. Listlessly, it looks at the two of them standing there on the stairs as it passes them by, its eye-stalks turning idly away a moment later in indifference. It does not respond to Fresh¡¯s eager waving of her free fingers towards it. ¡°Isn¡¯t it going to attack us?¡± asks Fresh curiously. ¡°Most of the easy creatures don¡¯t really mind us, as long as we don¡¯t step down from the staircases,¡± they explain. ¡°Deeper down though, they do get a little¡­¡± Jubilee shifts around. ¡°- bitey.¡± After a few seconds, the trail of snail goo dissipates as it soaks into the dirt and Fresh watches as the small figure steps down the staircase, grabbing a clean handful of the soil. The snail lazily turns its eye-stalks around to look back at the masked person, who is now down in its territory. It barely begins to narrow its eyes in anger, in the same instant as the magical glass splinters pierce straight through both of them, sending them flopping down to the ground like leaking water-balloons. Fresh winces and looks away for a moment, before turning back and observing the rather gruesome spectacle, feeling rather nauseous at the macabre sight. This was somehow more grim than with Mr. Mushroom. Maybe because the snail is bleeding profusely, spasming and spraying a thick, red blood on the walls, as it is still more than alive right now. A second skewer of glass comes out from below, burrowing through its soft underbelly before piercing out of its neck, killing it instantly, much to Fresh¡¯s relief. Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything. They just keep walking, looking rather bored as the next two mushrooms come around the bend with fury in their tiny, adorable, gazes. Their expressions are erased in an instant as well, as the glass cuts their lower bodies in half in a clean horizontal-arc that slices through their mouths. Jubilee, not even having broken their stride, heads towards the next staircase. As Fresh watches them, rather awestruck, she realizes that they¡¯re already too strong for these early floors. She¡¯s basically being carried right now. The thought makes her feel a little unwell. She wants to be useful too. A loud ringing sound explodes around her and Fresh jumps, dropping both of the caps down the stairs as she yelps in surprise. You got [10/10 Experience] ! (Party) [Level up! You are now LEVEL 2 ! ] {No-class} {Cooking: 1} STATUS: ??? OBOLS: 01 [INVENTORY] [ You got {2/15} Experience ! ] (Party) Jubilee looks back, stopping only for a moment. ¡°Oh. Wow. Level two¡­¡± They shake their head and keep walking forward, waving a hand idly back behind themselves. ¡°Great¡­¡± they sigh defeated. ¡°Congratulations. Get the mushroom-caps and the snail-shell. We¡¯ll do one more and then we¡¯ll go back out,¡± is all they say, before they vanish down the next few steps, just as the red fog dissipates. ¡°Ah, wait!¡± calls Fresh, wanting to ask what she should do with this new window. But Jubilee doesn¡¯t really bother to stop, likely not caring. Fresh looks at the menu that has appeared before herself, feeling rather thankful to the strange person for letting her get experience points so easily. Her life is literally being saved again. She¡¯s going to pay them back somehow, she promises herself that and looks at the menu which has appeared. It looks like some of her stats had automatically raised themselves. Also, much to her relief, her maximum health-points have also been raised back up by an entire full point, setting her back to where she was on her first day here. Some of her stats haven¡¯t though. Fresh isn¡¯t quite sure how this is determined, she¡¯ll definitely have to ask somebody. But just the extra health-point alone is reward enough. She smiles, looking at it. Her wobbly legs feel just a tiny, teensy bit sturdier than before. Though she does feel kind of exhausted still, despite that. Her body is frail in more ways than just in regards to her maximum health-points. But this window here¡­ she looks at it, apparently she gets to choose an ability? But¡­ there¡¯s only one thing here? *~+- PLEASE CHOOSE AN ABILITY -+~* [1] Choice Remaining [Cooking: 1] {Extra Crispy} +1 heat resistance. You are able to extract more nutrition from burnt food. ??? ??? She wonders for a second. But then she thinks she understands. Maybe since cooking was the only skill she had raised so far, she only has access to that ¡®pool¡¯ of choices? That makes sense. But it¡¯s a little defeating. She kind-of, sort-of likes cooking, but she never really did a lot of it. She''d have to make sure to try raising some other skills, especially something related to crafting. Still though - [ You got {2/15} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {4/15} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {6/15} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {8/15} Experience ! ] (Party) She yelps to herself in surprise. Jubilee must already be clearing the next floor without her, realizes Fresh, simply taking the only skill available to her, before going down to collect the items. The shell comes off of the snail surprisingly easily, with a disgustingly wet ¡®schlock¡¯. As she works, she tries not to look at the deflated eyeballs, filled with glittering fragments. Sighing, feeling pretty tired now, actually, she places the shell inside the stacked, upside-down mushroom-caps, of which she has four now, in total. Well. Which ¡®they¡¯ have, she corrects herself. Found: [MUSHROOM CAP (Orange)] x 2 ! Found: [SNAIL SHELL (Blue)] ! Fresh feels a little stronger now after her first level-up, but this load is becoming very, very heavy for her to carry just like this. The four caps alone are bad enough, causing her to strain greatly to keep them all aloft. But then the shell too on-top of that? She can¡¯t see anymore where she¡¯s heading with the tower of stuff obscuring her vision. Sweat beads on her forehead and drips into her scrunched eyes as she takes slow, labored steps. Kicking out with her foot to ¡®feel¡¯ the way out before herself. Her foot misses the first step of the staircase and she stumbles, yelping loudly. The items fly out of her hands, falling down the stairs together with herself in a flurried jumble. [FALL DAMAGE: {1}] [{2} HP remaining !] Her face thuds into the dirt. [FALL DAMAGE: {1}] [{1} HP remaining !] An angry voice suddenly lets out a series of loud, annoyed snarls. Fresh groans, pushing herself up slowly with wobbly arms and coughing out a mouthful of wet dirt as her vision looks up towards Jubilee, who has a mushroom-cap stuck on top of their head. ¡°Ah! Sorry!¡± shouts Fresh, scrambling up to her shaking legs to help Jubilee. Doing her best not to laugh at the sight of the figure trying to pry the cap off of themselves. Though that¡¯s easy enough, as she feels incredibly unwell and light in the head. Breathing seems difficult. It¡¯s as if she had run a marathon. Her skin is clammy and covered in sweat and dirt, which also stains her sleeveless robe. ¡°You idiot!¡± barks Jubilee back at her as the cap ¡®plops¡¯ off, leaving a rather stringy trail of an off-white goo stuck to the top of their hood. ¡°Dumb-ass! Watch your step!¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± apologizes Fresh again, feeling rather bad, getting ready to be yelled at some more. Instead, the figure just sighs, holding their hands out at their sides with the palms facing downward, as they slowly exhale to calm themselves down. They take a deep breath and then slowly exhale. ¡°¡­Are you okay?¡± ¡°I¡­ I think so,¡± squeaks Fresh, surprised that they¡¯re asking. The figure stares up at her for a moment, looking into her eyes. Feeling their gaze, Fresh looks away awkwardly, grabbing the side of her left arm with her hand. ¡°Stay here and get the stuff back together. I¡¯ll go get the rest,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Okay¡­¡± mumbles Fresh, as she watches the stranger go to collect the last of the loot. They come back a minute later, only carrying one single extra cap. Feeling Fresh¡¯s curious eyes on them, Jubilee sets the cap down on top of the stack and rubs the back of their head. ¡°I went a little overboard.¡± Fresh blinks, not exactly sure what they mean. She leans sideways to look behind them at the bodies of the freshly killed monsters laying there. A group of three snails, entirely eviscerated, with the glass spikes jutting through their destroyed shells. ¡°Oh¡­¡± says Fresh weakly, feeling a little better about her own mistakes now. It looks like all of the loot from this floor had been destroyed during the fight. Jubilee bends down and grabs three of their five caps, holding them rather awkwardly, given their smaller size. Despite that however, they¡¯re apparently very strong. ¡°Come on, you take the rest. Let¡¯s get out of here.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± agrees Fresh eagerly, watching the figure walk up the stairs to leave already. She¡¯s tired and hungry. Her stomach growls. Her eyes look up towards the body of the single, cap-less mushroom monster on the other end of the room. ¡°Chop! Chop! Let''s go!¡± snaps Jubilee from up above. Fresh jumps up to her feet, grabbing the rest of the loot. She runs up after them as they go to leave the dungeon together. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 15 Fresh¡¯s legs feel weak as their next task now stands before them. Her arms, strained, shake from the weight of the loot that she is carrying. The two of them stand together in front of the door to the adventurers¡¯ guild. She gulps, remembering the somber atmosphere inside. Will people look at them weird if they walk in carrying a bunch of stuff? Fresh looks around at the people walking over the market-square. She realizes that she really needs a bag of her own. Looking down at Jubilee, she notices that the small figure doesn¡¯t have one either. She wants to ask why, but stops short, as they open the door before picking back up their load and stepping inside. Quietly, Fresh hustles in after them, pushing the caps against the inside wall with her waist to grab the door and silently pull it closed behind herself. Again, the sound of the world is cut off, as if this space were distinct from the city. But there is no blue fog or any other separation, it simply seems that the gloomy aura itself suffices to bury the vibrant shade of the mid-afternoon sun outside. It could of course, also just be more mundane; the building likely just has good isolation. This time however, much to Fresh¡¯s relief, the tavern is mostly empty, save for the barkeeper in back, polishing what looks to be the same glass as before. They stand there entirely alone, apart from the haunting voice, which causes the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. Quietly, with her arms full, she hustles after Jubilee, who is already halfway up the staircase. The two of them enter the sealed-off room. Fresh sort of understands now. Apparently every party gets a key and everyone uses the same door, but it always leads to a separate space that only they and their party members could access. It¡¯s similar to how the dungeon works. Once the door closes behind them both, Jubilee loudly drops their, comparatively large, load unceremoniously down onto the ground and sighs, bending over forward with their hands on their knees. A little more carefully, Fresh sets her caps down next to the others and they look at their prize. Five caps were worth twenty-five Obols on their own. Add in the snail-shells, that are presumably worth about the same, then they¡¯ve already cleared thirty Obols. Fifteen each. But that isn¡¯t enough. Fresh¡¯s eyes are wide open, as she glows with excitement. And with those wide eyes, she notices the world coming closer all of a sudden. Her legs give out from beneath herself and she falls down onto her bottom, her back against the wall by the door. ¡°If you die in here, I¡¯m just gonna lock the door and leave your body behind,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m just a little¡­ a little wobbly,¡± explains Fresh, leaning her head back against the wall. ¡°Yeah, having one single health-point will do that to you,¡± says Jubilee dryly. ¡°Damn, what must life be like with two health-points? You must be like a baby fawn.¡± ¡°I have three,¡± says Fresh proudly. Not opening her closed eyes. ¡°I leveled up, remember? So I have three health-points now.¡± ¡°Wow. Great,¡± says Jubilee, rather dryly. Fresh doesn¡¯t open her eyes, but she¡¯s certain that the figure is rolling theirs. ¡°So?¡± ¡°So what?¡± asks Fresh. The room is quiet. Something presses against her skull with some pressure, she opens her eyes to see the single gloved finger, pressing in between her eyebrows. ¡°So, what can you make?¡± Fresh thinks for a time, letting Jubilee know with an audible ¡®Hmm¡¯. The materials are worth fifteen for each of their shares as raw resources. But she had to do something with them. Anything. That¡¯s her obligation. She has to carry her own weight somehow¡­ Mushrooms. Mushrooms¡­ What can you do with mushrooms? She never ate many mushrooms in her old life. Mostly just frozen fries and pizzas and the occasional bowl of cereal. She has a little, teensy knack for cooking now, apparently. Maybe she could cook them and¡­ no. No¡­ that doesn¡¯t feel right. ¡°Well?¡± asks the voice, clearly agitated. ¡°Wait¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. Mushrooms are associated with¡­ hmm¡­ witches? Maybe? Also with forests and potions and also-also some rather racy connotations, but those aren¡¯t very helpful right now for her situation. Uh¡­ Well, there are alchemists here. She remembers Jubilee talking about them. So, potions? Potions¡­ yeah! Fresh speaks. ¡°You said the vendors just grind them up to sell to the alchemists? Couldn¡¯t we do that too?¡± Jubilee pulls their finger back and Fresh opens her eyes to see them placing their hands on their hips, as they bend down to press their masked face towards hers. ¡°You goo-brain, you think it¡¯s that easy? If it was, then everyone would just do that,¡± they explain. ¡°There¡¯s some trade secret that the merchants keep to themselves, inside of their families.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. She doesn¡¯t want to let them down again, feeling an odd obligation to the still, more or less, stranger; despite their brashness and rude demeanor. ¡°Then we need to find out what it is.¡± ¡°Not. A. Chance,¡± says Jubilee, pausing between each word for emphasis. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna sneak around a merchant¡¯s place. They take this stuff seriously.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have to do any spying. We can just ask around, surely somebody knows something. Maybe w-¡± ¡°No, dumb-ass! If they catch wind, they¡¯ll literally make you disappear!¡± says Jubilee, gesturing with their hands. ¡°Poof!¡± Jubilee turns around and walks away. ¡°They¡¯ll probably grind up your whole body with the batches of mushroom-caps!¡± they warn. ¡°You don¡¯t mess with the street merchants, okay?¡± ¡°Are they that bad?¡± asks Fresh curiously, thinking about the nice man from before. Then again, he had paid her under-market value for her cap. Though¡­ it was also burnt and he had said he usually wouldn¡¯t take just one. So she¡¯s unsure of what exactly to feel. Jubilee tilts their head. ¡°Do you not get what kind of money this stuff involves? You think they¡¯d hesitate to make some two-bit adventurers, who asked too many questions, vanish?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s for sure happened before,¡± they say, before looking out of the opaque window. Fresh watches them standing there, with their back to her, their shoulders drooped. Can they even see anything through there? The window just looks like a colored wall, in a sense. The room is quiet. A shrill chime breaks the silence. Jubilee turns around to look. Fresh sits there, cross-legged, tearing small bits of a mushroom-cap off and crumbling it into coarse, mealy lumps, that she collects inside of the snail-shell. Feeling a yawn come on to her, she presses her dirty, sleeveless shoulder into her face to quiet it, before blinking the wet out of her eyes and continuing her work. She¡¯s going to figure it out. Razmatazz I''ve gotten some questions asking why Fresh is such a knucklehead. The answer is that she has next to 0 wisdom and int. So, yeah. Do you want stats to matter or not? Get off my back xD Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapters 16 + 17 For the first time since she was reborn, Fresh takes off her boots and sets them to the side, down by the door. Feeling a great sense of freedom and satisfaction coming over her tired mind, a yawn overpowers the smile on her face. Exhausted, she wiggles her toes and gets back to work, while humming a tune that she remembers from her old life to keep herself awake, as her head grows heavy and droops repeatedly. It''s been about two hours now, since they had gotten back. But Fresh still sits there, now alone. Jubilee had left silently, more or less, just after she had begun working. The girl rubs her eyes. She¡¯s really tired. Her stomach growls again and she sighs, feeling a little worn down in general. Her eyes go to the mushroom powder that she has been crumbling. Three caps have already been shredded apart, to the best of her effort. But it¡¯s hard without a mill or anything of that kind. Maybe just even a stone mortar and pestle. But with just her hands, it¡¯s arduous, crude work. What is she even doing, shredding these? She doesn¡¯t have a plan or any idea of what to do with the shredded material. It just seemed like the only thing that she could do. She didn¡¯t want to just sit there and do nothing. But even if she tears all of these apart, what will she do with them then? Maybe she just made things worse? Maybe they could have just sold the raw caps. Now the merchants for sure won¡¯t want them. She sighs, looking away from the mushroom-caps, opting not to eat any of it. She only has one health point left and doesn¡¯t want to risk it. Besides¡­ they aren¡¯t hers to eat. She rips off another fistful with a shaking hand and begins shredding it. These are pretty much all Jubilee¡¯s. All she did was carry them, hell, not even all of them. So, of the thirty some Obols worth of raw materials, how many are really hers? One? Maybe two. But not more than that, at least in her own eyes. She crumbles the last of the fourth cap apart into the snail-shell, which is now close to full. Fresh looks up to the window, feeling a little pride despite everything, as she looks at it. This was her second crafting level now. So apparently taking raw materials apart gives her¡­ experience, or whatever is used to calculate these sub-categories. So this means if she levels up again, that she¡¯ll have two crafting ability choices to choose from now? She smiles and grabs the last mushroom-cap, her weak hands tearing into it as she thinks. She feels unwell. ¡°I guess I¡¯m dying¡­¡± mutters Fresh to herself idly, laughing at the absurdity of that. She looks down at the cap in her hands. ¡°Wait for me on the other side, Mr. Mushroom,¡± she says in a sad, defeated voice. ¡°I¡¯ll see you again soon.¡± Her head flops forward and she sighs in exhaustion. It¡¯s tempting to go to sleep and the bed is right there, just across the room¡­ Fresh shakes her head, snapping out of it. ¡°Let¡¯s both do our best, Mr¡­ Mush¡­¡± she quietly mumbles beneath her energy-less breath, as she continues tearing into the cap, her head sleepily nodding down forward as she reaches her limit. ¡°Stop talking to the mushroom, dumb-ass,¡± snaps a voice from just beside her. Fresh perks up, her low hanging head snapping upwards in surprise towards Jubilee, who she hadn¡¯t even noticed entering back inside through her sleepy daze. ¡°Ah! Welcome home!¡± says Fresh, not sure why. It feels like the right thing to say in her tired mind. Jubilee tenses up and Fresh thinks she¡¯s about to get hit or poked again, maybe that was a too personal thing to say? But instead the figure just sighs and idly tosses her a small bundle that lands in her lap, walking past her towards the table. ¡°Shut up. Here.¡± Fresh looks at the small brown-paper wrapped thing in her hands. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to dignify that with an answer,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks at the paper in her hands and undoes the wrapping, revealing a piece of still hot, brown bread. Her eyes grow wide. ¡°Is this for me?¡± she asks in surprise. Jubilee looks back at her and shakes their head, before sitting down at the table to rest. ¡°No, I bought it for the mushroom. Dumb-ass.¡± Fresh laughs, feeling a bit more chipper now. ¡°Thank you!¡± Jubilee just grumbles in return. She looks at the bread, her first ¡®real¡¯ food since she had gotten here. Her first¡­ wait. Her eyes open wide. ¡°Didn¡¯t this cost a lot of money?¡± she asks, remembering the price of ten Obols. That was already a third of their haul. ¡°If you don¡¯t want it, then give it back,¡± sighs Jubilee. Fresh pulls the bread back away and takes a loud, audible bite of it and her tired eyes light up. It¡¯s deeply savory, the dark-brown bread still retaining a lot of oils and moisture from the seeds inside of it. All of it comes together with a thick, heavy rye flavor; the smell of which is carried up to her nose by the still warm air, rising up off of its crusted surface. Fresh¡¯s fingers squeeze down on the sides of it in delight. It¡¯s just bread. But it¡¯s delicious. Far more so than Mr. Mushroom ever was. She rips in to take another bite, it¡¯s the best. It feels like the best thing that she¡¯s ever eaten. Fresh wipes her eyes, feeling them grow wet. Again. She owes Jubilee for yet another thing. ¡°Thank you,¡± stumbles Fresh out, doing her best not to cry as she takes another bite. Her fingers scratch against the black, oven-charred end of the bread. ¡°It¡¯s just bread, shit-head,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°So? Did you figure anything out?¡± Fresh gulps, swallowing a large piece of it that she hadn¡¯t finished chewing yet and looks nervously towards her party-member, who still hasn¡¯t raised their gaze to look at her. Something hurts in her gut as she looks back to the bread in her hands. Her fingernails idly scrape against the char. The room is quiet. The girl looks at the black spot on the bread, scraping against it again with a fingernail, as she watches a bit of it flake off, the black crumbs falling into the mixture of mushroom powder. Fresh takes in a sharp breath, the idea coming to her. She isn¡¯t sure where it stems from exactly, her own imagination, or the faint sound of water that she hears come in from the outside world. Though she isn¡¯t sure from where that sound could stem from. ¡°I need to see an alchemist!¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee, looking over now, after raising their head an inch. Fresh jumps up to her feet, almost knocking the snail-shell bowl over as she jumps up. ¡°Jubilee! I have an idea!¡± she exclaims with a wide smile. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± exclaims Fresh, her eyes gleaming with excitement. ¡°Uh¡­? Like hell? Sit your pasty ass back down,¡± snaps Jubilee back at her. ¡°You aren¡¯t leaving this room until you have more than one health point.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat let down. ¡°Do you know the looks I¡¯d get, if you stumble over a chicken on the road and just die right there? No thanks,¡± says Jubilee in a deeply skeptical tone as they shake their head. Fresh holds the air in one of her cheeks and makes an audible groaning sound. ¡°I¡¯m perfectly capable of walking through town on my own!¡± She turns towards the door to leave, taking another loud bite of her bread in protest, as if that was supposed to make a point. She doesn¡¯t want to waste her time just sitting around here, she has a debt to pay back. A life to earn. The girl grabs the door and pulls. It doesn¡¯t budge. ¡°Ahem.¡± Fresh turns her head and sees the key swirling around on Jubilee¡¯s finger, as they lean back on the chair and spin it rather theatrically. ¡°Sit down and heal fir-¡± ¡°Ah! Kidnapper! Pervert! Let me out!¡± yells Fresh, pointing at Jubilee, her eyes growing wide at the realization that the stranger had locked her in a room with them. ¡°Huh wh-?¡± The remaining chunk of bread slaps against the forehead of Jubilee¡¯s mask and flops down to the dirtied floor at their feet. &"% / ($¡ì%) [(Fresh) hits (Jubilee) for 1 PHYSICAL DMG with {Dark-Seed Bread}(Normal)] The spinning key stops. The room is quiet. Jubilee now grips the key so tightly in their leather glove that Fresh can hear the straining creak of the material, from how tightly they clench their fist shut; even here, all the way across the room. Fresh stops and freezes, her arm is still outstretched from the throw, as she just now realizes the incredible rudeness of her act. She really did it now with her thoughtlessness, notices Fresh, now that her thoughts had finally caught up with her actions again. ¡°I¡¯m sor-!¡° ¡°You¡­¡± Jubilee bends down to pick the piece of bread, their voice hissing as they look at it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± says Fresh, staying where she is, lowering her gaze. ¡°YOU STUPID JERK!¡± yells Jubilee, slamming the piece of bread down onto the table, the legs of the other chair across from them rattling from the impact. Fresh winces as Jubilee jumps down from their chair. ¡°What is your problem?!¡± The sound of their boots thuds out as they march straight towards her. ¡°Ah, wait-¡° says Fresh, raising her hands. ¡°I wasn¡¯t thi-¡° ¡°Yeah! You weren¡¯t thinking, dumb-ass!¡± Jubilee grabs the cuff of her robe and pulls Fresh forward down to face them, their other hand held back aloft and Fresh winces, expecting to feel the slap to come. Nothing happens, Jubilee hisses between clenched teeth and lowers their gloved hand. ¡°Can you even think?! Because I haven¡¯t seen it happen once!¡± ¡°I¡¯m so-¡° They yank Fresh closer, their spring-tone eyes contorted with fury behind the slits of the mask. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it?! If you die, that¡¯s it! The end! If you just wanted to die this whole time, then you should have said so before I got involved!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°Which I only did because I was trying to do the right thing, by the way! So fuck me, right?!¡± Fresh flinches as they tighten their grip around the fabric of her robe. ¡°This is what I get for that! If I knew you were like this, I would have saved myself the money and just bought you a rope, so that you could hang yourself!¡± they bark at her. ¡°Then all of us would be better off!¡± Fresh pulls together, feeling her throat become tight. ¡°I¡¯m so-¡° ¡°SHUT. UP.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes grow wet. ¡°I don¡¯t know what cow¡¯s uterus you slipped out of, but I¡¯m not your mother. So grow the fuck up! Your actions affect other people too!¡± Jubilee lets her go, pushing her back upright as they turn around to walk back across the room, stomping loudly over the wooden floors as they fume away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± says Fresh, sniffling and doing her best not to cry. A loud metal clanging rings out and something hits against Fresh¡¯s boot. The key. ¡°I just wanted to go check something¡­¡± says Fresh, rubbing her eyes, feeling her legs shake. ¡°Because- because I¡¯m just trying to do it right!¡± Fresh clenches her fists and leans forward, stepping towards the small figure. ¡°Because I¡¯m trying to live right! I¡¯m trying to pay you back for helping me!¡± She leans forward, crying now. ¡°Because I¡¯m trying to become happy!¡± The room is quiet apart from the noise of the girl¡¯s attempt at suppressing her sobbing. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Jubilee watches her from the distance. ¡°Are you seriously crying?¡± ¡°No!¡± yells Fresh, clearly doing so and turns around, rubbing her eyes with her arm to wipe away the wet. ¡°Why did YOU even want to become an adventurer?!¡± ¡°B-because I¡¯m useless!¡± yells Fresh, gritting her teeth. ¡°I always was and I still am! But I don¡¯t want to be! I¡¯m trying! I¡¯M TRYING!¡± A strange, wet, squeaking sound escapes her throat, as she tries to gulp her emotions down and returns her gaze to Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m trying¡­¡± The room is quiet, Fresh rubs her eyes again. ¡°You need to speak to a licensed trainer,¡± sighs Jubilee, who is leaning back on the chair with their arms crossed, their gaze pointed upwards and away towards the ceiling. ¡°You need to be level five and then go to a trainer. They¡¯ll teach you about whatever particular class they¡¯ve learned.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee is quiet for a moment, Fresh looks at them confused. ¡°Pragmatically speaking, with your health, you need to do something with magic or distanced-combat. Wizardry, priesthood. But¡­ we still don¡¯t know if you have any soul points to begin with. Healing would be ideal, but we can¡¯t let you near the church. Maybe something druidic?¡± they think. ¡°Though I don¡¯t know if there are even any around here¡­ but they can heal an-¡° ¡°What about a crafting class?¡± says Fresh, stepping towards the table, her voice still breaking. ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee looks towards the girl, whose bright eyes stare back at them with the usual headstrong determination. ¡°I want a crafting class! So that we can work together!¡± Jubilee tilts their head, quiet for a moment. ¡°You won¡¯t be much of an adventurer if you want to just craft. You¡¯ll be next to useless inside of the dungeon. Which¡­ well, you know, is what you are now.¡± ¡°I know I already am! But are there any?!¡± ¡°There are. But, you can do some basic crafting without a specialized class.¡± Fresh clenches her fists. ¡°But if I have one, then I can learn to make better things! Then I can be useful!¡± Jubilee lifts a finger, pointing at her. ¡°Once you choose a class, there¡¯s no going back. It¡¯s a right pain in the ass to undo, to the point that it¡¯s basically impossible for schmucks like us,¡± they explain. ¡°Once you choose, you¡¯ve chosen for good.¡± ¡°I understand!¡± Fresh grabs Jubilee¡¯s gloved hand and pulls it towards herself. ¡°Please take me to the dungeon again tomorrow, so that I can become level five! So that I can choose a crafting class!¡± ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to try finding some magic cl-¡° ¡°I¡¯m sure! Please!¡± begs Fresh, pulling the hand closer to herself. Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches beneath the mask, but their posture loosens, as they let out a long, protracted sigh. The tension in their arms and shoulders lessens. ¡°Fine.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± Fresh howls as she pulls the, in-protest flailing, figure into a hug. A muffled voice comes up from her chest. ¡°Easy there. Let¡¯s keep it professio¡­ are you still crying?¡± ¡°Nooo~¡± cries Fresh loudly, squeezing the figure tighter so that they can¡¯t see her tears. Razmatazz -) Crazy! This story has hit the trending list in spot 32 (On RoyalRoad)! Thank you all so much! As a little ''thank you'', I''ve combined chapters 16+17 into today''s chapter, making it double length! =) (Patreon advance chapters will be adjusted later today accordingly) -) If you like the story so far, pleeeeease consider rating or even reviewing it! It would really be a big help! -) Early, low-level paths raise really quick, but the exp cost gets higher each time. Just like with levels. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 18 Fresh lays in bed with her eyes still shut, as the memories of the night before play through her mind. Jubilee had told her to go to sleep, so that her health would recover. They then yelled at her to take the bed, when she sat down in the corner to sleep. In the interest of keeping the peace, Fresh did as was ¡®asked¡¯ and fell down onto the hard mattress, falling asleep in an instant. The girl opens her eyes, stretching, as a lazy, meandering light shines in through the opaque windows. Lifting her head, she looks around the room. Jubilee isn¡¯t here, having slept wherever it is that they were staying. Fresh sighs, she had offered to share the bed, they could just sleep facing opposite ways. But Jubilee had called her weird and sick and told her to stop talking. Looking around, she notices that her new friend isn¡¯t here anymore. Her feet slap against the floor and she stretches, wondering where it is that she can get ready for the day? Putting her boots back on and ruffling her hair with her fingers, she shakes her head, rolls her shoulders and steps outside of the room, leaving their loot there for now. The singing voice comes to her immediately, calling to her with its quiet lamentation. It¡¯s a rather somber way to start an otherwise bright morning. Today is going to be a big day though! Jubilee had promised to get her all the way to level five last night, so she could choose a class. Plus she wants to see an alchemist¡¯s shop today. She had to check if her theory could be true. There¡¯s a lot to do, and daylight is burning already. Fresh quietly steps down the stairs and looks around. The tavern is rather full again, filled with an assortment of motley adventurers, staring down into their mugs, spell-bound by the siren call of both the song and their drinks. It seems that the busiest hours here are in the early morning and at night, for whatever reason. Quietly tip-toeing past them all, Fresh with tight, rigid steps, goes up to the barkeeper in a rather hurried pace. The scarred elven woman looks up towards her, the dusty-blond colored bangs in her face obscuring an eye, as she looks at the girl bobbing up and down in place before her with tense posture. Without a word, she points to her right, towards a door and Fresh thanks her with a nod and heads through it, down a stone staircase and into a surprisingly clean bathing and washing area, a sign above the door at the bottom of the stairs reads ¡°Adventurer¡¯s only¡± and Fresh, with a smug smile, walks through it to clean up and get ready for the day. A bit later, the girl goes outside and enters into the bustling city, feeling a great feeling of relief as the somber atmosphere of the guild is washed away by the bright, vivid sunlight and radiating faces of beaming, happy people going every which way. Jubilee is sitting there ahead of her, alone on a bench near the vendor¡¯s stalls. Leaned back as if taking in the sunlight. Which Fresh finds odd, because the small figure is as heavily obscured and covered as ever. Even on a bright, hot day like this one. ¡°Good morning!¡± she calls as she approaches, waving with an excited swing of her arm. Jubilee looks down and over towards her. ¡°About time you woke up.¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± laughs Fresh. ¡°I always sleep a long time,¡± she says, rubbing the back of her head. Her fingers running through her still damp hair. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Aren¡¯t you warm wearing all that?¡± asks Fresh, looking at them curiously. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± says Jubilee, staring back up to the distant sky. The voices of the crowd ring around them loudly, filling the air like the buzzing of summer cicadas. ¡°Oh. How come you wear all that stuff?¡± ¡°It¡¯s rude to ask people about their personal business,¡± says Jubilee dryly. Fresh meekly laughs and continues rubbing her head. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°Shall we?¡± ¡°Yes, please!¡± says Fresh with excitement sparkling in her eyes. Jubilee nods and hops off of the bench and the two of them start walking. Taking a moment as they pass, Fresh waves at the giant of a baker, who stands behind his stall. The large, seemingly kind man, waves back to her with a broad smile as bright as hers. What a nice city this is, the people here are really kind. Not much further, they go around a bend and stand outside of a small store. Depicted on the sign hanging above the door is a skull with a wide-brimmed wizard¡¯s hat, a glass flask filled with a green liquid held tightly in its clenched teeth. ¡°Me and the owner of this place go back a bit, I trust her. But not with my life. Be careful what you say,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t know if the alchemists and the merchants are in bed together, or if they¡¯re just doing business.¡± Fresh quietly nods and opens the door. ¡°Welcome to Wet-Thistle, home of the Wet-Sip! Th-¡° Fresh looks at the old woman behind the counter greeting them. Her face is aged and sun-worn, she has a long nose that Fresh would aptly describe as ¡®witchy¡¯, her white hair is pulled back behind her head in a soft bun, from which scraggly ends shoot out the sides of. ¡°Oh heavens! If it isn¡¯t the pitter-patter of little feet I hear! Jubilee! You¡¯ve finally made a friend again!¡± laughs the old woman. ¡°Donata,¡± says Jubilee rather dryly, walking past Fresh, ignoring her comment. ¡°Come in! Come in! How are you, dear? Are you hurting? Have you come back for more ointment?¡± The old woman leans over the counter, stepping out very slowly as she walks with a crooked back and small, weak steps. ¡°Scars do tend to ache!¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you,¡± says Jubilee with some annoyance, waving the old woman off. Fresh walks around the shop, as the two begin to make small-talk, reminiscing about the weather and all sorts of other idle chatter. Bottles adorn every wall, glass flasks that twist and turn in all shape and manner, filled with all sorts of matter floating around in their multi-colored liquids. A red one, which Fresh recognizes as the classic image of a ¡®health potion¡¯, catches her eye and she leans towards it to look. No, this isn¡¯t what she¡¯s looking for. She keeps strolling, until something else catches her eye. A dark-orange potion, free of any particulate. This is it! The handwritten paper label reads ''Minor Cure''. Fresh¡¯s eyes narrow, she has the information that she came for. Jubilee¡¯s voice comes to her attention. ¡°- so she wanted to learn a crafting class. But, she¡¯s weird, so don¡¯t mind her if she says anything stupid.¡± Fresh perks up, looking at Jubilee who is glancing her way, pointing over their shoulder towards her. The old woman¡¯s gaze rises up curiously to look at her and Fresh flashes a smile, walking towards them. The old woman leans in and grabs Fresh¡¯s arms. ¡°Oh my. This won¡¯t do at all!¡± she says, pinching the bottom of her upper arm. The old woman¡¯s hand moves to her stomach and pinches that as well. ¡°Oh my, oh my! You¡¯re as pale and soft as a mushy ghost, dear. Do you have a fever?¡± ¡°Ah! No, I just look like this,¡± says Fresh, laughing meekly. ¡°Hmm¡­ What can I do for you? Feeling under the weather? Stiff joints? Ah!¡± The old woman leans in knowingly. ¡°Something for a romantic evening perhaps? I have just the thing!¡± ¡°Ah! No! It¡¯s nothing like that,¡± says Fresh, waving her hands. ¡°Hmm¡­?¡± The witchy woman inspects her closely, squinting her eyes as she looks towards her. ¡°Too bad, you know, you could teach this one a thing or two about loosening up,¡± laughs the old woman, tilting her head to Jubilee whose eyes are clearly twitching beneath the rough wooden mask. ¡°Actually¡­¡± says Fresh, gathering her courage. She looks down to Jubilee who stares back up to her curiously. Fresh clenches her fist. She had promised she would be more careful, she promised she would think things through for the sake of this person she now considers a friend. ¡°I was wondering if you could tell me about alchemy?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± says Jubilee. The old woman stares at her curiously. Fresh expands. ¡°I don¡¯t have a class yet, but I was going to choose very soon. So I was hoping¡­¡± Fresh shuffles her feet nervously. The old woman laughs. ¡°Not cut out for the adventuring life, huh? I suppose spending time with this one here will do that to you,¡± laughs the old woman, walking back towards her counter slowly. She looks down to Jubilee who just glares idly back in return, their arms crossed in front of themselves. ¡°Can you vouch for them?¡± ¡°No. She¡¯s a worthless ditz and I¡¯m surprised she hasn¡¯t broken anything yet,¡± says Jubilee, not skipping a beat. Fresh laughs weakly, slouching down a little. The old woman eyes Fresh up and down. ¡°Are you willing to get dirty?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± says Fresh leaning in, clenching her fists. The old woman thinks and then nods, leaning down below her counter rather slowly, reaching for a piece of paper. ¡°Very well. I can always use young bodies, you¡¯re low level, yes?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± says Fresh, somewhat defeated. ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± says the old woman, as she hands a drawing of an odd, bulky flower to Fresh, who takes it in both hands and looks at it. ¡°Minor antidotes are flying off the shelves these days, but I can¡¯t keep up with the demand. My suppliers aren¡¯t bringing enough rootwood-flowers in anymore.¡± Jubilee groans audibly loud, as if having heard this before. ¡°You see, rootwood-flowers only grow in the early levels of the dungeon around here. But most people don¡¯t bother anymore. There¡¯s more money to be made down below. But people still get sick and I still need them for my potions,¡± explains the woman. ¡°Bring me as many as you can and I¡¯ll pay you for each bud. Bring enough and maybe I¡¯d be willing to show you a thing or two about alchemy¡­¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes light up. Is this a quest? Her first quest? ¡°Yes! I can do that!¡± Her eyes shine up to the old witchy woman who smiles back at her, pleased. ¡°Very good! Then come back when you have some. Oh and stay safe, yes?¡± She looks down to Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s a dangerous world out there.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Yes, thank you!¡± says Fresh, not noticing the tension in the air and holding the drawing tight against her chest. They turn to leave and she waves goodbye to the old witchy woman as they leave the shop. Once the door closes behind them, Jubilee lets out a deep sigh and bends forward. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°If all you wanted was a quest, we could have gotten a million better paying ones at the guild. That old crone is a slave-driver.¡± Fresh leans over to whisper in her ear. ¡°No! I wanted to look at the potions. I think I figured out how they process the mushroom c-¡° An elbow hits her in the chest. ¡°Shut up, dumb-ass!¡± hisses Jubilee, ¡°Not out here.¡± Jubilee pulls Fresh away from the store, neither of them feeling the eyes watching them both from behind the glass. Razmatazz o.o Next chapter we begin power-leveling, plus some drama as is tradition. The ball''s really starting to roll now! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 19: Power Leveling Fresh looks at the adventurers all around them, all carrying heavy loads in the large bags on their backs as they all walk towards the dungeon to put in a new day¡¯s work. ¡°How come you don¡¯t have a bag?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t want one,¡± replies Jubilee very dryly back to her. Fresh tilts her head, looking at her companion. ¡°Oh¡­ How come?¡± ¡°Mind your own business,¡± snaps Jubilee, as they move past a large crowd which is standing outside of a butcher¡¯s stall. ¡°Sorry,¡± Fresh scratches her face, not sure what she did wrong. ¡°Do bags cost a lot of money?¡± ¡°Not really, about a hundred Obols will get you a really shitty one.¡± Fresh winces at the, for her, incredibly high price. Jubilee stops, looking back to the girl, as they seem to be thinking. ¡°If you¡¯re going to be glued to my ass, maybe we should get you one.¡± Fresh waves her hands. ¡°Ah. I only have one Obol¡­¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Yeah, I saw. Come on, there¡¯s a stall right there. If you can¡¯t be useful, then you can at least carry things for me when we¡¯re in the dungeon. Which you¡¯re not going to be a lot, by the way.¡± ¡°Ah! No!¡± Fresh waves them off, not wanting to be even more indebted. She was starting to lose count of how much she already owed Jubilee and doesn¡¯t want to add anything else to it. Jubilee looks back to her. ¡°Look, we¡¯re in this now. So shut up and take the bag before I change my mind.¡± They slap a single large coin onto the counter of the stall and point up to a drab, brownish rucksack in the corner. The vendor nods and hands it down to them. Fresh just barely catches it, as Jubilee throws it over and keeps on walking down the street alone without her. Fresh looks at the bag in her hands. It¡¯s a shapeless, tough looking, light brown fabric. It isn¡¯t exactly easy on the eyes. Basically being a brown sack with a few straps. She looks at her gift and then up towards her benefactor, who has already vanished into the crowd. Fresh yelps, slinging the pack over her shoulders and running after Jubile A window pops up and she hears a few laughs from around her from some more seasoned looking adventurers as they see it, to which she responds with an awkward smile and a laugh of her own, vanishing as fast as she can, before the laughs can haunt her any further. Cheap Backpack A simple cloth rucksack, made out of roughly interwoven linen fibres. Cheap, but durable. Capacity: 15L Durability: Brand New [Adventuring: 1] {Fresh Start} The girl runs through the buzzing crowds filling the street, panting, wheezing and sweaty as she catches up to Jubilee not a minute later. ¡°Th-thank y- you,¡± says Fresh, gasping for air. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. I expect you to pay me back, so start making yourself useful. We¡¯re even further in the red than we were yesterday now.¡± Fresh feels woozy, but clenches her fists. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best!¡± Jubilee sighs and shakes their head. The two of them step into the dungeon. Walking down the steps, Fresh looks around the first floor, which looks just as they left it. Jubilee points towards the hole in the wall, where the mushroom creature slept. ¡°Congratulations on your newfound employment. Rootwood-flowers grow beneath roots. Who would have fucking guessed?¡± they say. ¡°Have fun, catch up when you¡¯re done.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks. Jubilee walks away, heading down deeper into the dungeon without another word. Fresh looks back to the hole in the wall, where the dirt was still pocked with scorches from her devious trap. Adventuring is dirty work, apparently. But that¡¯s fine, that¡¯s what she wants it to b Fresh breathes in and out deeply and gets down on her stomach, crawling into the small crevice. It¡¯s bright enough that she can see, thanks to the torches just outside, but the hole is cramped. She reaches the end where Mr. Mushroom slept, and looks around herself. Sure enough, just above her head, are several of the blossoms, growing out of the bottom of the dark roots that permeate the walls. She smiles and turns over onto her back, the empty bag compressing beneath her as she reaches up to grab the first one. It¡¯s firmly stuck, the flower feels oddly hard. Like wood, actually. ¡°Oooh¡­¡± says Fresh herself, realizing now why they had that name. She yanks again, twisting a little and the flower breaks off, coming loose. Some dirt from the compacted dirt above her falls down onto her face. Gathered: [Rootwood Flower] ! [Gathering: 1] {Tunnel Rat} ¡°Pthhhbt-¡° Fresh spits out the crumbling mess, blowing her lips and rubbing it out of her eyes as she reaches up for the next flower. Fresh doesn¡¯t think she really wants to focus on alchemy, it doesn¡¯t seem like the thing that really excites her in life. But¡­ it¡¯s good to know a lot of things, plus alchemy has a very strong foundation in the general topics of items, doesn¡¯t it? It would be good to know a little about everything, plants and powders and so on. She grabs a second flower, only barely managing to avoid the cascade of dirt this time. Looking around, she grabs a third and last one, already feeling the dirt stick to her very sweaty, cold skin as she flops back around onto her stomach and wiggles backwards out of the tight tunnel. She is thankful that she doesn¡¯t get stuck. Gathered: [Rootwood Flower] ! x2 Pulling herself out and sitting upright, she looks at the things in her filthy hands. The three tiny bulbs. She collected these herself. These are hers. She was finally managing to do something of value. Her eyes shine and she can¡¯t help but make an excited squeaking sound as her fingers clench the woody plants very tightly. Though, feeling spontaneously embarrassed a second later, she turns around to look if Jubilee had heard her. But Jubilee is already down deeper. Fresh takes her bag off and opens it up and tosses the bulbs inside, wondering if maybe there is any sort of¡­ magical inventory. The bulbs unceremoniously plop down to the bottom of the sack, thudding as they hit the dirt surface beneath. Apparently not. Oh well. Inventory¡­ inventory¡­ something about this word tickles her brain, but she can¡¯t quite figure out what it is. So, she just smiles as she looks at her bounty and rises up to her feet, slinging the bag back over her shoulders, before heading down after Jubilee. [ You got {10/15} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {12/15} Experience ! ] (Party) Ah, Jubilee''s already down there working. Fresh goes down the staircase, bracing herself against the wall this time as she hurries to catch up. She¡¯s thankful that she has someone so strong in her party. [ You got {14/15} Experience ! ] (Party) You got [15/15 Experience] ! (Party) [Level up! You are now LEVEL 3 ! ] {No-class} {Cooking: 1}{Crafting 2}{Gathering 1}{Adventuring 1} STATUS: ??? OBOLS: 01 [INVENTORY] [ You got {1/22} Experience ! ] (Party) ¡°Wow¡­¡± Fresh stops, looking at the new window that has appeared. This is going really fast. She looks at her available abilities. *~+- PLEASE CHOOSE AN ABILITY -+~* [1] Choice Remaining [Crafting: 2] {Idle Hands} Crafting your first item of the day restores your SOUL to full. [Adventuring: 1] {Fresh Start} Every day, a random stat is raised +1 for the duration of the day [Crafting: 1] {Hands On} You are more precise when working without tools. These all looked a lot more interesting to her than her previous choice. Her finger hovers above *Fresh Start'' . It seemed like the best choice, plus it has her name. A free stat, even if only temporary, could be worth its weight in gold for her. An extra max health point could save her life, or an extra point of luck could maybe brighten her day a little more¡­ ''Idle hands'' seems useless, as long as she doesn¡¯t know if she even has any soul points, which are apparently what magic costs in this world. [ You got {3/22} Experience ! ] (Party) Fresh stops, looking at the experience window that has appeared and her hand moves towards the entry level crafting skill [Hands On]. Jubilee is doing so much for her and if she¡¯s going to craft things, then she doesn¡¯t also want to ask for tools or anything more from her party-member. She looks down at herself, at this new body of hers. This is all she has to work with. But this should be enough, she wants it to be enough. She¡¯s going to make it be enough. Fresh selects the skill, promising that she¡¯s going to make something to thank Jubilee for their efforts and rushes, carefully, down the staircase and then the next, until she arrives on the fourth floor. Fresh looks at the window and swipes it away. Apparently new floors triggered her menu, but only every two floors? She¡¯s pretty sure she didn¡¯t get one last time. Though¡­ she did fall down the stairs. Maybe she just missed it? The girl looks around and flinches. A group of mushroom creatures are pinned against the walls in a rather gruesome display, impaled on long, jagged spears that hold them in place. Fresh steps down onto the floor that Jubilee isn¡¯t on anymore. As she comes closer and looks at the crystal shards, seeing her own reflection, they shatter apart in an instant just as they had last time in the second that she does so, as if this had triggered it. Fresh scratches her cheek curiously and shrugs. She sets to work, carefully ripping the caps off, before stacking them neatly inside of her new bag. She feels very proud of it, even if it was a gift. Found: [MUSHROOM CAP (Orange)] ! x5 [ You got {3/22} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {5/22} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {7/22} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {9/22} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {11/22} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {13/22} Experience ! ] (Party) She should hurry. Straining, she gets up and begins struggling forward. The load is a lot easier to carry on her back than in her hands and as a bonus she can see where she¡¯s going this time. In-fact, the loot seems to be a bit lighter than last time? Maybe because she¡¯s stronger, having leveled again. But maybe the bag has some kind of reductive effect on the weight? Fresh smiles, another blessing by the universe. But her smile changes as she hears something. What¡¯s that sound? It sounds like¡­ Carefully, she steps down the staircase, stopping near the top and looks at the horror unfolding below. Dead, eviscerated snails are scattered all over the rocky room, which doesn¡¯t shock her that much at this point. But something else in the center of the room still moves, still makes noise. Jubilee stands before it, looking up at the little, green hominid that is suspended in the air a meter above them, as it writhes in agony and terror. A large glass spear is on each side of it, pushing through both of its clearly broken elbows and holding the monster aloft. It kicks and makes a strange, screaming sound, as its own weight slowly makes its body slide down the length of the glass crystals, which grow thicker near the base. The slow movement splits its impaled arms further and further apart, the more that it struggles and kicks. Jubilee looks over to her and nods in approval, seeing that she hasn¡¯t stepped down the staircase yet. ¡°I saved one for you.¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers, a pinch of dirt held in their thumb flies out. The glass spears lower themselves down, the goblin¡¯s feet kick wildly as it writhes. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, paler in the face than usual and feeling a little sick at this sight. ¡°It¡¯s a goblin. They¡¯re disgusting, horrible little monsters and I hate them.¡± Jubilee tilts their head. A new spike shoots out of the dirt, cutting the goblin¡¯s left foot in half lengthwise and it screams, as the two parts flop around beneath it. Fresh winces, pulling back and covering her mouth. ¡°Stop!¡± she yells through her clenched fingers. Jubilee tilts their head another way as if curious. A second crystal emerges from the first. Fresh watches in horror as the other foot of the goblin simply flops down, no longer attached to the body that screams so loudly now. It screams in a tone Fresh has never heard before, she hears it in her core, she feels it in her heart as it howls. ¡°STOP!¡± ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee plainly and looks at her, shrugging. ¡°You can¡¯t just torture it! It¡¯s cruel!¡± yells Fresh, looking at the black blood oozing out from the creature. ¡°Didn¡¯t you burn that mush-mush on the first floor alive?¡± says Jubilee loudly and sharply to overtone the wailing goblin. ¡°I¡­¡± Fresh stops, not able to counter that. ¡°This is what adventuring is, dumb-ass! What do you think going down into the dungeon means?!¡± Jubilee points at Fresh. ¡°It means killing things! It means you kill them or they kill you!¡± Fresh starts. ¡°But you can¡¯t-¡° ¡°- I saw the scorch marks on the first floor! I¡¯ve seen em a thousand times, everyone burns the mush-mush alive at least once. It¡¯s basically a rite of passage!¡± Fresh winces, she did do that, but¡­ it was her only way to fight. It was a necce- ¡°It was necessary, right? That¡¯s what this is, dumb-ass! I need you to get it through your thick skull, once. Just once,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Dungeon work is dirty, disgusting, filthy stuff and I want you to see it. We¡¯re in this together?¡± they ask, nicking their head. ¡°Then come here.¡± Fresh hesitates. ¡°Why is this different from the mush-mushes and the snails?!¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s¡­ - ¡± starts Fresh, but is unable to finish. Because it has two legs? Because it¡¯s¡­ human¡¯ish? ¡°You want me to work with you?¡± Jubilee points at her. ¡°You want me to place my trust in you? You want me to go down into the dungeon, alone, to collect materials and risk my life, so that I can come up to help you fulfill some screwball plan, that will also risk my life?¡± They step forward, reaching down into the dirt, grabbing a fist full of it. Grains ooze from their gloved fingers as they squeeze down tightly. Fresh¡¯s legs shake as she watches the goblin languishing, as it bites down on its own tongue and black blood oozes out of the corners of its mouth, splattering on the side of Jubilee¡¯s hood. ¡°Then you need to show me that you mean it. You¡¯re trying your hardest? You¡¯re willing to do everything it takes to live a new life? Then prove it!¡± Jubilee clenches their fist, a long, slender prismatic shard appears in their hand and they hold it out to her. Fresh gulps and shakily steps forward, looking at the glass dagger as she approaches Jubilee. The goblin sinks further. Its arms are basically entirely removed at this point. Only holding on by the sinew on both ends of the elbows. With shaking hands, Fresh reaches out and grabs the piece of glass. It¡¯s rough. Jagged and elongated, save for the handle that is smooth. She¡¯s crying, the goblin still screams. She looks at it and it looks at her as it lashes out, gnashing in a rabid fury with its long teeth. Its yellow eyes shining with firelight and blood as it struggles, as it screams a wordless scream that never seems to stop. Blood gurgles out of its mouth. Its body leaks. Their eyes meet and Fresh clenches her teeth together, feeling her gut pull herself down forward. Why is she crying? It¡¯s just a goblin. It¡¯s just a goblin¡­ she tells herself. She wants to do everything in her power, right? Does she? Really? She wonders, staring at her shaking hands, the glass dagger flailing wildly around in front of her as she can''t keep her hands steady. Really and truly, no matter what that means? It¡¯s a mercy, right? She¡¯s just giving it mercy she tells herself, as her eyes open and meet its eyes. As her scream rings out to meet its scream and as she pushes forward, stabbing the glass crystal into its heart. It''s what she has to do, right? Whatever it takes. WHATEVER IT TAKES! She screams louder as the dagger scrapes along the bones in its chest. It screams louder, still not dying. She missed its heart. Fresh screams and pulls the glass back out, stabbing in again. The glass dagger scrapes against a bone on its ribcage and shatters on the sides, sending a strange, vibrating sensation up her arm as the glass cracks inside of the warm body. The goblin shrieks, black blood hitting her face and blinding her eyes, running down her cheeks, as she stabs it again, pulling the glass out and pushing it back in over and over and over, until finally, she notices that there¡¯s only one scream left. [Daggers: 1] {Heartstrings} Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 20 Gathered: [GOBLIN CANINE TEETH (small)] ! x4 Fresh cries while she pulls her hands back out of the goblin¡¯s mouth and drops the teeth into her open bag, sitting next to her. ¡°This is what I¡¯ll be doing every day,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks up towards them, wiping her face on her own shoulder as she sniffles, because her hands are black with goblin blood. ¡°This is what you¡¯re asking me to do, every day, because you can¡¯t fight,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°So if you want to craft or open some mercantile venture and I have to collect the materials, are you able to work hard enough for this to be justified?¡± Jubilee looks down to her. ¡°Do you have the resolve to get it done, no matter what we have to do?¡± Fresh gulps as she looks back down at the mutilated goblin. Its black eyes stare back at her vacantly. Her fingers dig down in the dirt beneath herself, scraping it up beneath her wet nails as she clenches her fists. ¡°If you don¡¯t, then tell me now,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Because this isn¡¯t the last time you¡¯ll be getting your hands dirty.¡± They point a finger at her forehead. ¡°We can work together. But you still need to be strong enough to survive on your own, you get it? No free rides.¡± ¡°Did you have to -¡° Fresh starts to say. Jubilee stops her, leaning in forward with their hands held at their hips. ¡°- If I wasn¡¯t here forcing your hand, would you have been able to kill that goblin?!¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes shoot open as the thought hits her. Would she have been able to? She looks at her shaking hands, lifting them up from the dirt. A sticky strand of blood connects her to the corpse. Assuming that even if she was strong enough physically¡­ could she have done it? Her shaking fingers and sore throat give her an immediate answer. The girl lets out her breath, releasing the air which she had held in her lungs for far too long. ¡°Why do you want to help me so badly?¡± asks Fresh, looking back up at Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m not really strong or smart or super useful¡­¡± Jubilee leans forward and flicks her forehead, Fresh winces, expecting her health to drop. But apparently that isn¡¯t enough. ¡°Because, dumb-ass.¡± Jubilee looks away to the side and mumbles quietly. ¡°- I¡¯m trying to do it right this time too.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, looking up to the figure with an averted gaze. A small hand reaches down towards her. Fresh looks at it. It''s covered in blood as well. She realizes that the black smears cover Jubilee just the same as they cover her own body. Fresh gulps, pushing her fears aside and grabs the wet hand being held out to her, wrapping her fingers tightly around it as she stands up. The blood on their palms intermingles, coming together again as it was before. ¡°If you¡¯re in. You¡¯re all in,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°This is the shitty world we live in. This is what it is. Are you still up for it?¡± Fresh swallows one last time, clearing her sore throat. ¡°I am.¡± Jubilee nods, satisfied. Their hands release. Fresh looks at the strange, distorted window. Jubilee doesn¡¯t seem to notice it. They are digging into their pockets, fishing out the iron key that the barkeeper had given them back in the adventurer¡¯s guild. They hold it out towards her. ¡°Here.¡± ¡°Huh? Why ar-¡° ¡°Shut up and take it!¡± snaps Jubilee at her and Fresh flinches, quickly taking the key from the wet hand. Jubilee sighs and turns towards the next staircase down. ¡°Don¡¯t throw it at me this time.¡± +( FRESH )+ ( JUBILEE ) [PARTY: 1] {Taking the lead} Fresh looks at the new windows curiously. Did¡­ did Jubilee not see this weird looking one? Should she mention it? And did Jubilee just make her the party leader? Why? She looks down at the key clutched in her bloody hands, as the windows all dissipate. Her fingers wrap around the rough metal and she closes her eyes after staring one last time at the mangled goblin down next to her. ¡°It is what it is, huh?¡± says Fresh to herself, exhaling out again, before steeling her resolve. Maybe she was being naive. But if Jubilee made her the party leader, that means that they¡¯re trusting her, right? Fresh doesn¡¯t know what she did, if anything to deserve that trust. Even if she thinks Jubilee is scary and cruel. They were still helping her, still trusting her, even after all of her stupidity. Nobody has ever trusted her, not to this degree at least. Why? She¡¯s still basically a stranger to the masked figure, just as much as they are to her. She bends down to grab the heavy bag from the bloodied floors and with great difficulty, hoists it back over her aching shoulders. Her boots, planted flat on the ground, barely manage to push her body back upright, as the great weight pushes down against her. ¡°Whatever it takes,¡± she strains out through gritted teeth and takes a step forward, heading towards the staircase. She¡¯s going to do whatever it takes. Her eyes narrow. She can feel the straps of her bag digging into her shoulders, rubbing the skin open raw. Is Jubilee cruel? Yes. Is she herself perhaps too naive and bright-eyed for this world? Perhaps. Maybe it¡¯s both. She isn¡¯t sure in the end though and shakes her head. But that doesn¡¯t matter. What matters is this. Her boot plants itself another step forward, the heavy bag threatening to topple her over as she takes another step and then another. Her boots crunch the wet rocks and glass shards beneath her. She¡¯s going to do it right this time, whatever it takes. Her hand presses itself against the wall and she begins to head down the next staircase. She only has two levels left and then she can get a class. She still needs to learn more about this world, what kind of crafting classes are there even? She doesn¡¯t think she wants to get into alchemy, not really too deeply at least. But maybe there¡¯s something¡­ something more direct. Something more useful. Maybe there are some magical-crafting classes. But - She strains herself and takes another heavy step carefully down the next step. - But does she even have magic? How can she find out? Jubilee is some kind of caster, so they must know. Right? Fresh grits her teeth and takes another step, halfway down the stairs now. The tight straps of the heavy bag digs into her uncovered shoulders and she can feel the area beneath the fabric slowly becoming damp. The girl, exhausted, lets out a deep breath. Sweat drips down her forehead. She slaps her cheeks to pull herself together, spreading old drying blood onto her face, as she takes another step further, another step forward. As she does whatever it takes. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 21 [New Floor: 5] Fresh leans back against the wall. It¡¯s been about ten minutes since her heart-to-heart with Jubilee. Her bag is entirely full, stacked full of mushroom-caps and snail-shells and more goblin-teeth than she is comfortable thinking about. The goblins were becoming more common now after the fifth floor, the little mushroom-creatures from the top, slowly waning in their numbers. Fresh pants, gasping for air, a torrent of sweat drips from her face and stings her eyes as she leans against a wall, entirely winded. Her legs shake beneath her. The girl drops down, reaching her limit. She had hoped this new level-up would give her some more strength, but it doesn¡¯t seem to have been the case. She sighs, realizing that her maximum health is also only going up by a single point each time she levels. Is that normal? She doesn¡¯t think so. Jubilee has a lot more health than she does and Jubilee is a caster of some kind. Fresh groans. Wiping the sweat out of her brow, she accidentally hits the bottom of a low hanging torch and it flies off of the wall, falling down to the ground next to her and rolling away with a loud clanking, as she pulls away from it in shock. Nervously, she looks around herself, hoping Jubilee didn¡¯t see her latest blunder. Why is she like this? She was never this clumsy or brainless in her old life. Is it because of her stats? That makes sense to her and she takes a deep breath in defeat, before bending back down to pick up the bag and to very slowly and arduously, continue on her way, her legs shaking from the exertion. But she¡¯s not going to quit. Fresh smiles as she rises back up to her shaking feet and aching legs. Her steps forward are a little quicker, but not much less strained than they were when they had been here the last time. Still, she smiles as sweat and grime drip down her lips and she goes down the next staircase. [New Floor: 6] A series of screams is cut short in an instant. [ You got {19/22} Experience ! ] (Party) You got [22/22Experience] ! (Party) [Level up! You are now LEVEL 4 ! ] {No-class} {Cooking: 1}{Crafting 2}{Gathering 1}{Adventuring 1} STATUS: ??? OBOLS: 01 [INVENTORY] ¡°Huh?¡± Standing on the stairs, Fresh looks at the abilities window. There¡¯s that weird ability again from a little while ago. It¡¯s the only one listed. But¡­ well, something is clearly wrong with it. Fresh looks at the janky looking menu. It seems distorted and wrong, as if it were breaking apart at the seams. Idly, not thinking, she just taps it, trying to ¡®fix it¡¯ like she would have done by tapping a defective computer screen or television. ¡°AH!¡± The window pops away, her ability having been chosen. Fresh stands there, wondering what she just did. Did she choose that weird looking ability? Quickly she looks down towards Jubilee, to see if they saw her mess up yet again. It doesn¡¯t look like it. Taking in a deep breath of relief, she goes down the last steps on wobbling legs. [ You got {3/35} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {6/35} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {9/35} Experience ! ] (Party) Fresh pants, holding her hand against the wall, looking at her party-member. ¡°Jubilee, I¡¯m tired¡­¡± The small figure, standing amidst a grisly display of five headless goblins, laying in a circle around them, speaks. ¡°What level are you?¡± ¡°Fooour~¡± sighs Fresh with a long exhale. ¡°Then tough it out, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to come back here twice because you need to take a potty-break,¡± they say, leaning forward with a rather annoyed posture. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s a boss just ahead. So we¡¯re almost done.¡± ¡°Okaaay, but I can¡¯t carry anything else,¡± says Fresh, tilting her head forward, her legs buckling under the weight of the bag as she flops down onto her bottom again, down onto the lowest stoop of the stone staircase. ¡°Huh? What kind of attitude is that?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m the one doing all the work here.¡± Jubilee snaps their thumb, sending out a new pinch of dirt that they had held. Five tiny glass-poles shoot out of the bloodied ground and five severed goblin heads fly towards Fresh. Their black, beady eyes almost fixated on her as they land at her feet. ¡°IAAAH-!¡± screams Fresh as she scrambles backwards, crawling up the stairs, as the heads land down before her. Though she doesn¡¯t get far and she ends up pressing herself into the backpack. ¡°See? You have plenty of energy, cry-baby! Get the teeth, they¡¯re worth an Obol each,¡± barks Jubilee, walking down towards the next staircase. ¡°Okay¡­¡± relents Fresh, trying not to cry as she looks at the pleading faces staring back up at her. Once Jubilee is out of earshot, she does take a moment to sniffle and wipe her eyes however; before setting to the grisly work before her, apologizing profusely to the dead goblins the entire time, as she cracks their teeth noisily free from their skulls with just her hands and a small rock laying nearby. Despite her shakiness, her hands seem to become pretty stable in the exact moment that she sets to her task. These goblins are different from the ones above. These are larger, the tone of their skin a little more blueish, than green. Is that why they were worth three experience-points each? Found: [GOBLIN CANINE TEETH (small)] ! x20 It¡¯s rather macabre, but as she works, Fresh marvels that the goblins didn¡¯t seem to have a single cavity between any of them. ¡°The dungeon must have a great dental plan,¡± she jokes to herself, trying to lighten the mood. Fresh packs the teeth into her bag, eternally thankful that they aren¡¯t much larger than a human tooth and didn¡¯t weigh much at all. Looking at them, she thinks. Goblin teeth are far more efficient to collect than the mushroom-caps. Mushroom-caps are cumbersome and large and only worth five each. But even if one goblin is ¡®only¡¯ worth four, if you get all the teeth, you could just put them in your pocket because they weighed next to nothing. [ You got {12/35} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {15/35} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {18/35} Experience ! ] (Party) Fresh does her best to stay chipper as she rises up again, just one more level and she can choose a class. Pushing herself up onto the tips of her toes, she raises her arms up and stretches her lower back. She stretches her body out, rising up to the tips of her toes, in order to test her new flexibility. ¡°Iah!¡± Something pops in her back and she buckles forward, her hand shooting out to grab the aching spot on her spine, beneath the heavy bag. Like an old witch, she stands there, hunched over. ¡°Ow¡­¡± groans Fresh quietly to herself, rubbing her sore spot, not sure what she¡¯s crying about specifically anymore, since there are so many things on the list now. The girl bends back upright and tugs on the straps of the heavy bag, wrapped around her bare shoulders. The skin there is already red and rubbed open in places, bleeding just a tiny bit here and there. It stings as it touches the tender spots. Fresh grits her teeth, presses her eyes tightly shut and grunts one last time, loudly, exerting herself with all the energy she has left, as she lifts the bag up higher and walks through the room and down the next staircase. Fresh pushes further, it hurts. Her legs hurt. She takes a step down. Her shoulders hurt. She takes a step down. Her back hurts. She takes a step down. She¡¯s tired. She takes a step down. She¡¯s hungry. Gritting her teeth tighter, she takes a step down and reaches the bottom. The reward for her efforts; three new goblin heads lay there, neatly arranged as if by hand, waiting for her, looking up towards her as if to welcome her. The girl feels her lips quiver again. [New Floor: 7] {Lucky number} ¡°Hey! Are you coming or not?¡± calls a voice from the distance, down the next staircase. ¡°I¡¯m coming, I just need to take these teeth out first!¡± She sighs. Getting ready to set the bag down again. ¡°I already did, come here! I¡¯m waiting on you.¡± ¡°Huh¡­?¡± Fresh looks down at the goblin heads. They¡¯re all missing their canine teeth. She has been saved once again. Her debt is slowly becoming unmanageable, she realizes, laughing to herself as she struggles further across the room. The dungeon rooms are slowly shifting in their designs, the deeper they go. The compacted dirt and roots above, which made up the rooms, becomes less and less present the deeper they go. Rather, the brickwork, laid some ancient eons ago, becomes more dense and coherent the further they push. The dungeon is becoming less of a cave and more of an actual dungeon, the floors are slowly becoming larger as well, each time. Fresh only notices that last detail because of her sorely aching feet, as she finally makes it to the other staircase. Jubilee stands at the bottom, near the edge of the staircase, leading to a small landing and a large, wooden door that is covered in ornately ghastly decorations. [New Floor: 8] {Bossman} Razmatazz Boss fight tomorrow. The dungeon mini-arc will be over in chapter 23. Then we can finally get our class at around chapter 25! <3 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 22: Boss Fight ¡°It¡¯s a boss room,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s one after every sub-section of the dungeon.¡± ¡°Sub-section?¡± asks Fresh, wanting, but not daring to sit down again, for fear of not being able to get up this time. ¡°Yeah, these floors were ¡®baby¡¯s first dungeon adventure¡¯,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Once we kill the boss, you¡¯ll have a short-cut in your dungeon that lets you skip those floors and come right down here next time, if you¡¯re so inclined.¡± They lean forward in towards her, tilting their head. ¡°Which you shouldn¡¯t be, bec-¡° ¡°-Because I¡¯ll die,¡± interrupts Fresh, not feeling that bad about the prospect right now. Her head hangs forward as the sigh leaves her mouth. At least then she wouldn¡¯t have this heavy bag anymore. Then again, she has the heavy bag because of what is inside of it. Because of what it represents. The items are worth money. The money is what will get her, get them¡­ get them what exactly? She doesn¡¯t know. But she knows that this work, this effort is the way forward, despite her inability to describe her exact reasoning. Fresh perks up and grabs the straps, pulling the bag higher as she does her best to stand up straight with the heavy load on her back. She needs this. They need this. If she can¡¯t fight, if she can¡¯t heal or do anything like that. She can do this. The determination returns to her eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s both do our best!¡± shouts Fresh, clenching her fists. Jubilee stares at her somewhat lost for words. ¡°¡­What?¡± The girl laughs meekly, pulling back a little and feeling rather awkward as she scratches her blushing cheek. She¡¯s not quite able to explain the reason for her motivated outburst in coherent words. Jubilee just as awkwardly rubs the back of their hooded head and turns around to push the doors open, stopping short as they budge open an inch. The masked figure turns back to look at the girl and her shaking legs. Before facing back forward and pushing the double-doors wide open without saying anything else. They swing ajar with a heavy creak and a bright light shines out from beyond, blinding Fresh for a moment. She raises her hands to shield her eyes as she steps forward, heading in after Jubilee. The light, which seemingly has no source at all, dies down; as if its only purpose was to allow a dramatic entrance into the boss-room. Reopening her eyes, Fresh looks, somewhat surprised, at the convergence happening here. The roots from above, which seemed to grow out in every direction are here and more plentiful than ever. But not just on and in the walls. No, great, thick roots go over the span of the entire floor. Knotting and curling in all manner of directions, until they disappear into the walls. Filling the entire space with gnarled hardwood. In the center of the room, hanging from the ceiling above, is a large, upside-down tree without a single leaf on it to be seen. Like an oak in a barren winter. But there are rootwood flowers aplenty, all of them hanging up on high, far out of her reach. ¡°Stay here. Don¡¯t touch anything,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You have¡­ what, four health now?¡± ¡°I have five!¡± corrects Fresh proudly, looking somewhat indignant. Jubilee rolls their eyes, once again not bothering, or simply not knowing how to respond to that, as they walk further into the boss-room. The roots shift, pulling themselves around with odd fluidity, as if they were great tendrils of some sleeping creature. The hard, woody plant matter crackles and groans as the old, hardened bark flakes and splinters apart, as it all begins to move. The massive roots down below part way, opening to unblock a new path forward, revealing a pair of two, particularly large, mush-mushes with bright-blue caps. *NYAAAA-* [ You got {21/35} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {24/35} Experience ! ] (Party) - Is all that they manage to gurgle, before Jubilee snaps their fingers and a glass spire shoots out from the ground, skewering both monsters at once on the same pole. Fresh rubs her arm, laughing nervously at the carnage. She really is being carried here, Jubilee is clearly too high level for this floor. Actually, what level is Jubilee even? What floor did their dungeon go down to? Fresh makes a note to ask them that, when she gets a chance. Maybe she could figure out if they¡¯re a boy or a girl too somehow? The roots shift, making way as the two guardians are instantly killed, revealing another small group of monsters behind them, consisting of a swarm of blue goblins. Fresh, not wanting to watch this new massacre, turns her head away and looks down to the side, staring at the pretty flowers. ¡°Oh!¡± The girl bends down, doing her best not to fall over with the bag as she looks at some of the flowers growing out of the dirt here. ¡°You¡¯re so beautiful!¡± she says to the flowers who, rudely enough, don¡¯t respond to her compliment. A harrowing scream is heard from the side. It sounds particularly wet. [ You got {27/35} Experience ! ] (Party) Fresh does her best to just stare at the flowers. They¡¯re pink with long, swooping petals. The screams continue. Fresh hums, staring at the little golden protrusions coming out of the head of their buds, between the petals. Tilting her head, she looks at them. They remind her of something. Something screams in the distance and is quickly silenced. [ You got {30/35} Experience ! ] (Party) She scratches her head, wondering what it is exactly that they remind her of. Something gurgles and splatters loudly. ¡°Ah!¡± She hits her fist into her open palm. ¡°You have the same color as Jubilee¡¯s eyes!¡± says Fresh, realizing what the similarity is now. Would it be weird if she gave Jubilee a flower? Not as a romantic gesture, but just to be nice, you know? Just to give something back. A token of appreciation. Is that weird? Fresh groans, unsure. Something screams. [ You got {33/35} Experience ! ] (Party) Do¡­ do people give flowers to their friends? Is that a thing here? Was it even a thing in her old world? ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She tilts her head. Maybe this is stupid. Fresh sighs. What if she makes more of a fool of herself? She¡¯s the party-leader now, so she has to be responsible. The girl¡¯s head droops. The roots shift around more. But¡­ so what if she looks stupid? She has a friend, sort of, and she wants to do something for them. Fresh¡¯s eyes narrow in determination as she looks back to the flower. She¡¯s going to do her best with everything, not just with working, but with people too. ¡°Mm!¡± Nodding to herself, satisfied with her mental pep-talk, she grabs one of the pink flowers and pulls it free. ¡°I¡¯m going to borrow you, okay Miss Petals?¡± she asks with a bright smile. Miss Petals does not respond. She hopes Jubilee will like it, maybe they¡¯ll loosen up a little more if she gives them a gift? Fresh beams with delight. She never had friends before, not really. Jubilee is a bit¡­ rough, but maybe there¡¯s something there? Fresh wonders. But maybe she just has Stockholm syndrome. She laughs quietly to herself. Gathered: [Pink Petunia] ! The room rumbles, the roots shift and Fresh looks to see what new wave of creatures has appeared before Jubilee. ¡°Some kind of wave fight, huh?¡± mumbles the girl. Maybe there are a bunch of trash-mobs like this and then the boss comes at the end. That made sen- ¡°IAH!¡± something tickles her bare ankle and she jumps up, brushing her hand over her foot to get rid of whatever spider, bug or other creepy-crawly had begun making its way up her slender leg. Her fingers brush the rough thing down below and she looks at it, somewhat perplexed. ¡°Huh¡­?¡± There¡¯s something wrapped around her ankle. A¡­ a root? She flails, trying to kick it off, swinging her arms around herself as she does a strange dance in her struggle to escape, but the root holds her firm and as she pulls some of it free from the dirt, it snaps up like an unearthed cable. She follows its length with her eyes. It winds all the way down the path, all the way past the corpses, all the way past Jubilee, who is waiting for the next ¡®door¡¯ to open. Fresh, gulps. Did she¡­ did she do something dumb again? The answer is obvious and immediate. She yelps in fright, falling down face first, as another root grabs her other ankle and they both tug at once. ¡°IAH-!¡± cries Fresh, clawing forward. But it¡¯s too late, the roots pull on her and she flies backwards as they drag her back along the ground, towards the far end of the room. ¡°JUBILEEEEEE~!¡± yells Fresh as her hands dig through the dirt, as she tries to hold herself in place, but the roots are far too strong. ¡°I¡¯M SOOOORRY!¡° cries Fresh again as she is dragged past the two giant mushrooms and a second later past the dead goblins, sliding through a pool of their black blood. ¡°YOU DU-¡° Jubilee is sent flying as the roots, sliding between their feet, pull Fresh through them, the heavy bag hits them straight on and sends them tumbling, as the next path opens up. Fresh leaves the ground, yelling and flailing as the plant-matter, holding her ankles, lifts her into the air upside down and begins to swing her around. ¡°I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING!¡± barks Jubilee, springing back up to their feet and adjusting their mask. ¡°I¡¯m soooorry!¡± howls Fresh, crying, as she is tossed around the air by the tendrils holding her aloft like a plaything, thankful that she has enough wiggle-room to hold her knees together to stop her robe from falling down. Blood rushes to her head as she begins to feel dizzy. The heavy bag pulls down on her shoulders, her back cracking again painfully from the odd stretching and whipping of her body as she is swung left and right. It¡¯s as if the roots were simply trying to shake her out; to get her to drop something. The dungeon rumbles, all of the large roots begin to pull themselves away, pulling out of the dirt and returning towards the center of the room, where they all converge, wrapping themselves tightly around the giant, upside-down tree, clearing the floor entirely. The ground shakes, all the holes from the unearthed roots fills with shaken dirt as everything collapses back together from the quake. Fresh continues flailing and shouting as the tendril roots bring her towards the tree as well. She lurches, falling a foot down towards the ground and screams again. Looking up, she sees that one of the roots has been severed, a long piece of glass is stuck in the ceiling above her, but the other one still has her tight in its grip. The rumbling stops and something opens up directly beneath the tree. A hole. A pit. Fresh raises her head and looks at the maw that she is being carried towards. Dirt rains down into the massive crater from the sides. Inside of it, there is a great squirming as something moves, as a thousand somethings move. A thousand whipping, lashing bright green tendrils, slapping around. The inside of the maw is filled with a strange, sticky sap that spans from one end to the other like strings of spit. Fresh screams horrified at the sight of the things reaching up for her, as she is lowered towers the opening, overpowering the voice that has been shouting at her from below this entire time. ¡°-AG! -BAG!¡± The things reach up out of the hole, dozens of them building a circle around her. ¡°BAG! TURN AROUND! TURN AROUND YOU DUMB FUCK!¡± yells a distant voice to her and Fresh spins around once, her back facing towards Jubilee as something warm and sticky touches her skin and she closes her eyes, not wanting to see what happens next. She is pelted from all sides, her body thudding forward as if something were slapping her on the back over and over. Something screams, the deep vibration rubbing through her, as the echo is carried through the giant plant-thing. Warily, Fresh opens her eyes and sees the flurry of glass shards flying past her, ripping the entire mass of tendrils apart, as if they were caught in some prismatic hailstorm. Something wet trickles down from her ankle towards the inside of her leg. The world shifts, her body janks as the thing lets her go and she falls straight towards the hole, still flailing and screaming as she tumbles through the air. [FALL DAMAGE: 2] [3 HP remaining !] Her body smashes against something hard and she tumbles down the smooth side of a long glass beam that juts out of the ground, tumbling and rolling down towards the edge of the pit, rather than into it. [FALL DAMAGE: 2] [1 HP remaining !] Fresh flops down to the ground, face first, the bag rattling as it presses her down into the dirt. Her world spins. The girl lifts her head to look back behind her, just as the giant creature rises out of the pit, rising past the glass bridge that caught her mid-fall. A giant, monstrous, pink flower sits beneath the upside-down tree, the green tendrils whip around on all sides of it and then lash out towards them both in an instant. Jubilee presses their hands into the dirt. Another hail of glass-slivers is sent out in a flurry, pelting the creature, tearing through its long, green stem of a body. Ripping holes into the giant, pink petals that are each the size of an adult man. The tendrils are shredded apart into thousands of bits of some slimy, white-green mixture which falls back down into the hole, converging into an indiscriminate goop filled with bits of glass. The glass doesn¡¯t stop flying though. Fresh¡¯s eyes go wide as she watches. More, more. Thousands of slivers and crystals and shards fly out just above her head. It never ends. It¡¯s enough to fill the entire space above her with a prismatic sheen, as if she were laying underneath a rainbow. You got [35/35 Experience] ! (Party) [Level up! You are now LEVEL 5 ! ] {No-class} {Cooking: 1}{Crafting 2}{Gathering 1}{Adventuring 2} -~+* [You may now choose a class!] *+~- STATUS: ??? CLASS: NONE [AVAILABLE] OBOLS: 01 [INVENTORY] [ You got {14/52} Experience ! ] (Party) The great body of the creature, what little remains of it, falls back down into the hole a second later, collapsing entirely into itself, as there simply isn¡¯t enough of it left to hold itself upright. There is more of it missing than there is of it remaining. A final, long groan escapes the sub-boss, as the ground rumbles one last time and all of the flailing tendrils fall down, dead. The room is quiet. Fresh looks up towards Jubilee, who looks down back at her, their eyes appearing rather angry, as they stand there with crossed arms and tight posture. The girl smiles brightly up towards them, scratching her own cheek with the free hand as she holds out her prize. ¡°I got you a flower!¡± Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches as they look at the flower, the stem of which is broken in half. But the blossom remains, more or less, intact. ¡°You have one health-point,¡± they say, their voice more than agitated, their finger tapping against their upper arm as they glare down towards her, furiously. ¡°But¡­ do you like the flower? It¡¯s not weird, is it?¡± Fresh looks somewhat concerned at the token of appreciation in her hand, wondering if this was maybe a mistake? Actually, it probably was, now that she thinks about it. She did it again, didn¡¯t she? The girl lowers her gaze, dejected. She messed up. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Fresh gets mentally ready. Jubilee is going to yell at her now. Jubilee sighs, placing their hand to their mask as if rubbing their forehead. Fresh winces and clenches her eyes tightly closed. Expecting harsh words to come, if not a strike against her face. Something tugs at her hand and she looks as they take the flower from her. Jubilee stares down at it and looks back to her, before walking away to let her get up on her own. ¡°Thanks.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes light up and she pushes herself up off of the ground and she turns to look at her newest abilities. She has leveled up to level five. Razmatazz I didn''t use the word ''tentacle'' once in this chapter and I feel like that deserves some recognition, haha??x) Trivia - Petunias Both the Maya and the Inca cultures thought that Petunias had a warding effect against monsters and spirits from the underworld and were used for protection. In the language of flowers, Petunias symbolise being comfortable with someone (or anger and resentment, depending on the context) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 23: Leaving the dungeon *~+- PLEASE CHOOSE AN ABILITY -+~* [1] Choice Remaining [Daggers: 1] {Heartstrings} When wielding a dagger: Allows you to sense where a monster¡¯s heart is located. [Adventuring: 2] {Flower Power} Gain an implicit knowledge of low level botanical items. [Gathering: 1] {Tunnel Rat} You can move faster on your stomach. Level five! Fresh¡¯s eyes shine brightly as she jumps up to her feet, looking at her new menu. Her legs are weak and shaky, but her body feels surprisingly light right now. Something thuds just behind her and she looks back down, curiously. Her eyes vacantly stare at the stack of mushroom caps and goblin teeth at her feet. Glass slivers are embedded into the sides of some of them. ¡°Huh? Where did these come from¡­?¡± she stares at them curiously for a moment, as the mental cogs slowly turn in her head. ¡°AH!¡± She rips the bag off of her back and looks at it, her eyes welling wet, as she sees the sight. The brand-new bag is entirely ruined. The material is sliced to shreds from the hailstorm of glass shards. The few slivers that managed to slide through, caught thankfully by the loot inside. Fresh looks up towards Jubilee, who is walking around in the distance by the dead boss, doing whatever it is that they¡¯re doing. Fresh can¡¯t really tell from here. She looks back down to the ruined bag. This is her fault too. She wasn¡¯t careful and because of that, her present is now broken after not even a few hours. Fresh starts to wonder if maybe she didn¡¯t have any friends, because she¡¯s just a bad person to have as a friend. With a sigh, she holds the empty, shredded fabric against her chest and looks back to the menu. There¡¯s a new combat skill at least, that seems neat. Though she isn¡¯t sure she likes the idea of being able to see still-beating hearts. It feels a little squirmy and grim to her. The next one though¡­ she looks at it, tilting her head. Implicit botanical knowledge? That could be just what she needs. Though, she scratches her cheek, do mushrooms count as ¡®botanical¡¯? She isn¡¯t sure. Still, if she¡¯s going to do this the way she has been envisioning, this is the clear choice. Unless she got into some kind of¡­ weapons or armor crafting somehow, plants could be generally useful for everything, from cooking to potions to miscellaneous items. Heck, there might even be some weapons and armor that use plants. It¡¯s a solid investment for her new future. Fresh nods and presses the button. ¡°I got your boss-drops. You ready to go back?¡± says a voice from just next to her, surprising her. Fresh jumps back with a yelp and looks down, quickly hiding the broken bag behind her back. Jubilee stands next to her and looks up at her with their arms at their hips. They tilt their head, beckoning with their fingers to her. ¡°Give it here.¡± Fresh smiles weakly. ¡°G-give you what?¡± ¡°Give me the bag, goo-brain.¡± Fresh winces and shuts her eyes, slowly holding her hands out before herself to put the ripped bag on full display. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. Lemme see that,¡± says Jubilee, yanking the bag out of her hands. A light shines through Fresh¡¯s closed eyelids and, her curiosity overpowering her fear of reprimand, she opens them carefully to take a peek at the source of the magical glow. Jubilee holds the bag in their hands, the material shining with a shimmering white-light, as the fabric strands pull themselves back together, like roots growing over a hole in the dirt. A second later, they hold the repaired bag back up to Fresh. ¡°Be more careful next time.¡± ¡°Are you some kind of wizard?!¡± asks Fresh excitedly. ¡°Teach me magic!¡± ¡°Do you have a slime for a brain? Mending is a tailoring skill,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re a tailor?¡± asks Fresh, looking at them curiously. They sigh. ¡°No, I just know a few things. Tailoring is my sub-class. I have to fix my clothes literally every day. Glass is sharp,¡± states Jubilee, waving her off and going to collect the pile of their loot back together. ¡°Thank you!¡± cries Fresh. She holds the bag up proudly into the air, before turning to help her companion pick up the loot and to pull out any shards of glass still stuck into the mushroom caps. ¡°Let me do it. You have one health-point. If you cut your finger, you¡¯ll literally die.¡± Fresh pulls back and listens, rubbing the back of her head. She wonders if she should tell Jubilee about her ability to respawn but¡­ maybe she shouldn¡¯t. Jubilee has been so worried about her and what if they think she¡¯s just gone crazy and is talking nonsense? She doesn¡¯t want to make more of a fool of herself. It sounds stupid. But it sounds stupid enough that it¡¯s reasonable. So, she looks around idly instead, waiting until Jubilee has finished cleaning up the loot. Looking down, she looks at the little pink thing tucked into the side of her companion¡¯s belt. Fresh¡¯s eyes light up and she lets out a high-pitched exhalation, as she sees the gifted-flower tucked in and hanging off to the side. A small window appears. Petunias are very resilient to extremely high temperatures, but quickly die in colder climates. A minimum of five hours of sunlight are generally needed for these flowers to flourish. [Pink Petunia]''s are only found underground and require no sunlight. They only grow in areas with above average environmental SOUL and thrive in areas with a positive energy. Petunias have a variety of uses from spirit and monster warding to potion brewing. Is this from her new ability? Fresh¡¯s eyes light up further as she sees it. This could actually be really useful! She beams brightly, finally she did something right! Fresh wobbles on the tips of her toes, excited to take another look at their mushroom-powder back at the guild. As she rises up to the tips of her toes once more, her legs give out and she thuds down onto her bottom, laughing meekly as Jubilee stares back at her with some annoyance at her childishness. Wanting to change the subject before she can be scolded, Fresh asks her next question. ¡°So what kinds of crafting classes are there?¡± Jubilee chucks a piece of glass off to the side and it clinks against some rocks. ¡°There are like a million, but it depends. The two big categories are dry and wet.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, lost. ¡°Non-magic and magic. It¡¯s adventuring jargon.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Fresh thinks for a second. ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee groans and gets up, spinning their finger to motion for her to turn around. Fresh does so, scooting in a semi circle to turn her back to Jubilee, who begins loading the caps into the bag. ¡°Dry-crafters use their hands and tools to make things. Magical-crafters, wet-crafters, use abilities to make things.¡± ¡°Is there a difference?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Eh, it depends,¡± says Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Not everybody has enough soul-points to become a decent magical-crafter. So they either leave the field and do something else or they take the hard way and do everything by hand,¡± they explain. ¡°Though, some snobby nobles prefer dry-crafters, because they feel the items are more¡­ ¡®authentic¡¯. Whatever the fuck that means,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh nods, this makes sense. ¡°Some dry-crafters charge a premium, because their items are handmade.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, thinking about it. That concept of authenticity is vaguely familiar to her, she was pretty sure that happened a lot in her old world too. Wait¡­ soul-points? Her eyes go wide. ¡°Wait! So I can¡¯t use magic to craft?!¡± she turns back to Jubilee who simply shrugs in response. ¡°Hell if I know what the deal with your soul-points is.¡± ¡°How do we find out? You use magic, right?!¡± says Fresh, leaning in towards them. Jubilee, pulling back a little to win some personal space, thinks for a second. ¡°I guess you just need to learn a spell and to try using it. Either it¡¯ll work or it won¡¯t.¡± They pat Fresh¡¯s bag, motioning for her to get up. Fresh purses her lips, taking in a deep breath and then pushes herself up back onto her shaking legs with great effort. It¡¯s heavy. As she stands back upright, her world spins just a tiny bit and the girl holds her head, as the blood seems to leave it for a moment. Jubilee grabs the rest of the loot. ¡°Come on, we¡¯ll take the shortcut. We¡¯ll be back out in a minute.¡± Taking a second to catch her breath, until her head feels more normal again, Fresh purses her lips and takes a step. The heavy bag digs into her raw, red shoulders again as they walk towards a large door. It looks much like the one they had entered this room through. As for her shoulders, she¡¯s quietly thankful that they just hurt and that the pain isn¡¯t taking her last health-point. ¡°Maybe I can give you an idea for a class. What kind of stuff do you like?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh thinks for a moment. What does she like? She isn¡¯t actually too sure herself. Weapons are cool, but so is armor, but so are magical-items, but so are strange potions and concoctions. She thinks, placing a finger idly to her cheek as she does so. Magical-creatures are a neat idea too, maybe there¡¯s some kind of¡­ magical-creature trade? Or what about tailoring, like Jubilee? Fresh bets it would be fun to hang around all of the casters all day who would come to buy their wares. Or maybe something relating to the dungeon, like oddities and curios? She rubs her hair as they walk towards the door. Food is fun too, though she isn¡¯t much of a cook. She bets it could be a nice life though, having a place that¡¯s perhaps more ¡®lively¡¯ than the somber adventurer¡¯s guild. The girl sighs. ¡°I like everything.¡± Jubilee lets out a simple. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°It all seems so fun!¡± she says, sighing as they stand in front of the door. ¡°Huh¡­¡± repeats Jubilee, not expanding any further. They simply push the door open wide. Behind it is no further passage, rather a simple wall of the nebulous, blue fog. Without another word, Jubilee steps inside and vanishes. Fresh pulls the bag up higher one last time and steps through it herself. A bright light blinds her as they step out of the dungeon. The noise of the bustling city, ready to settle down for the evening, comes to her ears. Fresh opens her eyes and looks around. They¡¯re standing outside of the dungeon¡¯s gate, in the center of the plaza. ¡°Heck of a shortcut,¡± she mutters to herself. ¡°Right?¡± says Jubilee, who Fresh forgot about for a second in her daze. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you out of here before a bee stings you to death.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± laughs Fresh, straining forward as she walks towards the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°Where are you going, dumb-ass?¡± Fresh stops, turning around with some effort to look back at Jubilee, somewhat confused. ¡°¡­The guild?¡± ¡°Like hell you are, come on,¡± says Jubilee and rather than walking down the usual way, they turn right from the gate and walk towards the ring of run-down houses, lining the plaza. Without turning around, Jubilee waves back to her, motioning for her to follow. Fresh looks at them curiously, but opts to follow them to wherever it is they¡¯re going. As she chases after the obscured figure, the girl can¡¯t help but feel like maybe she isn¡¯t really the party-leader just yet. ¡°Where are we going?¡± ¡°Here,¡± says Jubilee, pulling a key out of their pocket and unlocking the wooden door to the first ramshackle house, just outside of the gate. ¡°I¡¯m staying here.¡± Fresh looks around herself at the plaza. ¡°Are you rich?¡± ¡°Are you stupid?¡± snaps Jubilee back at her, not waiting for an answer before stepping inside. ¡°This place is a dump.¡± ¡°If you can afford a house here, don¡¯t you have the money to pay the guild?¡± asks Fresh curiously, as she looks back towards the dungeon. It was in pretty bad shape, but still. It is right outside of the dungeon. Surely it had to have cost something substantial? ¡°Okay, first off, it¡¯s rude to ask people about their finances.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°Sorry! I wasn¡¯t thinking¡­¡± she admits, stepping inside and scratching her cheek. Jubilee waves her off and walks towards the single wooden staircase that is in the back of the entirely empty downstairs room, nested against the wall. ¡°Yeah, I know. It was¡­ it was a group investment.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh. That made sense to her. She closes the rickety wooden door behind herself and looks around the space. Thick dust-motes hover through the air, rising up from the rarely disturbed floor that is thickly coated in the stuff. The windows, while being actual, functional windows, are so old and dusty that they might as well have been the opaque ones from the guild. There¡¯s nothing here, apart from the evening light that shines past the tattered, moth-worn curtains. Fresh pinches her nose, suppressing a sneeze as she breathes in the thick dust and follows Jubilee up the staircase. If there had been other people here once, there¡¯s certainly no sign of them now. Jubilee looks down at her from above the staircase and mumbles ¡°Welcome home¡­¡± before turning to walk away down a tiny, equally as dusty and depressing upstairs-corridor. Fresh looks their way, confused for a moment as she stands there on the stairs. But then a smile grows on her face and she hurries up to follow after her friend. Razmatazz Today was the finishing touch of some deeper worldbuilding. Next chapter will be some deeper Jubilee character development. Then 25 is the big day we get our class. Everything is coming along to plan nicely so far, it''s been a ride for sure so thank you all kindly for reading so patiently! <3 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 24: Mirror mirror Several doors line the dingy corridor that they wander down. All of them seem as forgotten and untouched as everything else inside of the dilapidated building. There are no furnishings in the upstairs hallway, just as with the downstairs area. There is nothing at all to fill the space, apart from the sounds of their dirty boots thudding out against the floors, apart from the floating dust particulate that is held aloft, suspended in vague streams of an evening sunlight, which lazily shines in through the windows, sneaking past the heavy closed, drab curtains. All of those bits of dust float gently downward, drifting down towards the creaking, wooden boards below at a meandering pace, falling so slowly that they appear to be stuck in time itself. Four doors line the hallway on the right side, all of them are closed. The thick coating covering the handles of most of them indicates that these too, are untouched and forgotten. A familiar feeling comes to Fresh as she sees the empty state of this place. ¡°Here, you can set the bag down here,¡± says Jubilee, opening the door at the end of the hallway. Fresh steps inside the room, feeling a strong sense of familiarity in herself at the sight of the dingy space. The single window is obscured by the same kind of ugly curtain that is everywhere else in here, the fabric is pulled as tightly shut as possible. The furnishings are simple and unkempt. An unmade bed, standing free in the center of the room, the sheets of which obviously hadn¡¯t been changed in weeks, if not months. The floor is covered in dirt and dust and old garbage. Fresh sets the bag down on top of a heap of old, brown paper. This might as well be her old room. Kneeling down as best as she can, she winces, as she slips out of the straps of the bag and rises back up to her feet. Her hands touch the tender, slightly bleeding spots on her shoulders. Jubilee drags a heap of green clothes and fabric off of a chair by the door, opting to throw them from the chair to the bed, rather than put them away anywhere in an orderly manner. ¡°Here, sit. Watch out, the legs are a little wobbly.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± says Fresh and drops down from her own wobbly legs onto the, fairly uncomfortable, wooden chair. But to her body, it¡¯s a gift from the heavens. The girl immediately droops downward, sliding down the back of the chair, her legs press out forward and she exhales, all of the heavy strain and tension leaving her at once. ¡°What a day,¡± she mutters, somewhat dreamily. ¡°What a day,¡± replies Jubilee back, somewhat less soft in tone than Fresh was. ¡°Thanks for helping me,¡± says Fresh, still leaning back with her eyes closed. Her arms drooping down off of the sides of the chair. The room is quiet for a moment. ¡°Yeah,¡± responds Jubilee rather dryly. ¡°So, this is your place?¡± she asks, trying to make some small-talk with her party member. ¡°Yeah," replies Jubilee, without much enthusiasm. ¡°It¡¯s nice,¡± lies Fresh to be polite. It''s quiet for a moment. Fresh feels the air becoming more and more awkward by the second. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± says Fresh, if only to make a noise. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± The room is quiet. The girl opens her eyes to look over at Jubilee, who is standing there on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall with crossed arms, as if thinking. Her vision is interrupted by the yawn escaping her own mouth, mixed together with the audible growling of her stomach. Jubilee lowers their gaze from the ceiling and looks back towards her. Fresh laughs meekly, she hasn¡¯t eaten anything since the bread that she wasted. But she isn¡¯t going to ask Jubilee for anything else. ¡°Sorry I yelled at you in the guild,¡± says Jubilee, looking back to the ceiling. Fresh tilts her head, sitting back upright, a finger idly scratching her cheek. ¡°It¡¯s okay, I was being a dumb jerk.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee dryly. ¡°You were.¡± Fresh lets out an uneasy laugh and winces. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to agree with me.¡± ¡°It is what it is,¡± says Jubilee and sighs. ¡°You want to eat something?¡± ¡°Ah, no! I-¡° Jubilee interrupts her, raising a hand. ¡°- You worked for it.¡± Fresh looks back at them, somewhat lost. Jubilee groans, seeing her vacant expression and explains. ¡°We have forty-four goblin teeth. Five orange caps and two blue caps. A boss-core. Oh, and these-¡° Jubilee digs in their pockets with their gloved hands, pulling out a bunch of the rootwood-flowers that Fresh had entirely forgotten to harvest from the boss. The girl¡¯s eyes light up at the sight of them. ¡°The old lady would usually only give a rookie like you one Obol for each of these, but since I know her game, she¡¯ll probably give you two per,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Together with the rest of the stuff, that means we¡¯re at about ninety-seven Obols total,¡± they say, before wobbling their hand in the air to signify uncertainty. ¡°Give or take.¡± Fresh jumps up, the chair scooting back against the wall as she springs to her feet, her eyes shooting open wide. ¡°Ninety-seven?!¡± Jubilee shrugs, as if that wasn¡¯t very impressive. ¡°Yeah, so half of that is yours. But if you want to keep some of the stuff to craft, then obviously it will be less than that,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You can¡¯t keep the orange caps though. We need to sell the whole bundle of five, otherwise they won¡¯t take them.¡± Fresh nods, excited. ¡°That¡¯s fine, the ones back at the guild should be enough for my tests!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t talk about that here,¡± snaps Jubilee at her. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh asks, somewhat perplexed, as she looks around the dark room. Jubilee leans in forward with some agitation in their eyes, present there perhaps because of her naivety. ¡°This house isn¡¯t cut-off,¡± says Jubilee, gesturing to the room. ¡°In the guild space, nobody can hear you, if they aren¡¯t inside with you. But if someone were so inclined to listen to us, they could do it here.¡± ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± says Fresh, understanding now. Her mind drifts back to the other topic at hand. If she has money now, then maybe some actual food would be a great idea. With a smile she looks at Jubilee. ¡°Will you come eat something with me?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Do you want to go eat something together?¡± asks the girl, beaming as she leans in forward with her fists clenched down low next to her sides. Jubilee tilts their head and looks at her. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± replies Fresh, somewhat let down. She rubs her arm and looks away. Was she being weird? Did she read the room wrong? ¡°Sor-¡° ¡°If you¡¯re hungry, I have some stuff you can eat here,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks back up to them. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t go outside with one health point,¡± they say, walking past her and out of the door, waving idly. ¡°Stay there.¡± They vanish down the hallway, heading into the first door by the stairs. Fresh looks around the room and sighs, it really does evoke familiar feelings in her, being in here. In a weird sense, it¡¯s making her nostalgic. She looks down at her pale hands that are shaking from weakness. It¡¯s hard for her to explain to herself, but she has been working so hard from the start to become someone else, someone better, that she had entirely suppressed this part of herself. In her frenzy, she had entirely forgotten who she was for so long, that person she was for so many years. But being here, here in this dark room brings back that old, familiar feeling. It makes her realize, in an odd sense, that she almost misses the sadness and melancholy that had been overpowering her for years. It had been a part of her for so long and in a sense it still was. Is that weird? She isn¡¯t sure. Something catches her eye as she looks around the room, trying to decipher Jubilee a little more. A faint glimmer of sunlight somehow manages to breach the darkness for just a second, as the curtain is shifted by some vague draft, seeping in through the thin walls. The sparse ray of light, that dies in a heartbeat, manages to bound off of the fragments of a broken mirror which is nested in the corner of the room. Jagged glass shards lay everywhere in the darkness, covered in a thick caking of dust that almost seems to absorb the light entirely, as if suffocating it. The curtain falls back into place and the darkness returns. Jubilee walks back inside, carrying a small tray. Fresh looks at the little pink-flower on their belt and blinks coming back to her new self. Even if that sensation of sadness was a part of her for so long, she¡¯s going to get rid of it. Even if it felt, in a sense, like cutting off a part of her own body, she was going to do it. She¡¯s sure of it. ¡°Here,¡± says Jubilee, holding up the tray to Fresh. ¡°Thank you!¡± she beams in return, as she takes it and looks at the bounty. Adorning a small, wooden-plate are a few slices of some old bread, some cured meats and an array of various colorful, apparently preserved, fruits that she doesn¡¯t recognize. She looks at it, realizing something. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to eat anything?¡± asks Fresh curiously. ¡°No. I¡¯m not hungry,¡± says Jubilee and walks off, going back to the same spot as before. A loud growl breaks the silence. Fresh looks down embarrassed, but realizes a second later that it hadn¡¯t come from her. Jubilee clears their throat and stands on the other side of the room again. Looking at them, somewhat lost, Fresh holds the tray out towards them. But they wave her off. She thinks for a moment, wondering why Jubilee doesn¡¯t want to eat. She looks around the room, somewhat unsure of what to do. ¡°Eat before you die. I¡¯ll get something later,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh narrows her eyes. If they were friends now, then that obviously won¡¯t do. Besides, as party-leader, it¡¯s her obligation to make sure her party is taken care of, right? Her eyes scan over the unmade bed in the middle of the room, before she looks down to the tray in her hands and thinks. ¡°Ah!¡± The idea hits her. Setting the tray down, quietly thanking the universe for giving her some extra brain power during her leveling, she takes the plate off of the tray and sets it to the side. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t answer, she takes half of the food from the plate and places it onto the tray. Getting up and carrying both, she sets the tray down by Jubilee. ¡°I told you I don¡¯t wan-¡° ¡°I won¡¯t look,¡± says Fresh with a smile as she raises a finger into the air. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee dryly. Fresh grabs her own plate and walks around the bed, sitting down on the floor on the other side of it, with her back leaned against it. Her finger waves in a circle in the air behind her head. ¡°I promise!¡± The room is quiet. Looking at the food with hungry eyes, Fresh picks up a piece of the bread from her plate. It¡¯s a little dry and old, but her face beams at the sight of it nonetheless. But she doesn¡¯t start eating, it would be rude to start before everyone is seated, after all. The girl kicks a shard of mirror glass carefully away with her boot. The bed shifts, as a small body pushes against the other side of the mattress, sitting down on the floor there with their back to it as well. Jubilee didn¡¯t want her to see their face, they didn¡¯t want to take their mask off. Even if they¡¯re hungry too. Fresh smiles and bites into her bread with delight, saying between chewy mouthfuls - ¡°Let¡¯s work hard again tomorrow, Jubilee!¡± ¡°Will you shut up and eat?¡± asks Jubilee, their mouth clearly full as well. ¡°We¡¯re going to get your class tomorrow, so you can finally start pulling your weight.¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 25: Something wicked this way comes Fresh tosses and turns, rolling around on top the pile of blankets down on the floor, as she uneasily tries to sleep. Jubilee had said that she could stay in one of the rooms here, but they hadn¡¯t mentioned that the rooms were completely empty and unfurnished. Fresh grabs one of the blankets that she¡¯s laying on top of and wraps it tightly around herself, shivering and huddling together into a tight bundle. It¡¯s cold in here. The walls stop the wind from blowing in from outside, but they don¡¯t do much more than that. Soon enough though, her exhausted body gives out and she falls into a deep sleep. As her mind drifts away to that dark place and her sense of self seems to be lost to the void, the girl can¡¯t help but notice the swaying sensation of her limp body, which seems to sink downward, as if she were being pulled deep down into the floorboards. Everything goes black. A loud yawn rings out around her. If she didn¡¯t know that she was sleeping right now, she¡¯d be sure that it¡¯s her own. Groggily, Fresh looks around, as she floats in the empty void. ¡°And? Are you enjoying the ride?¡± asks the voice, stemming from the fountain. Fresh isn¡¯t scared as she hears it ring out around her in the black-water ocean that she finds herself in. It¡¯s like before, when she paid it no mind because she thought it was just part of a weird dream. Though perhaps now, she does give its presence a little more credence. ¡°It¡¯s harder than I thought it¡¯d be,¡± answers the girl, sighing, as if this were the most natural event in the world. ¡°- But I made a friend!¡± she adds on with excitement, trying to clench her fists. But she doesn¡¯t have any hands. The voice clears its throat and sleepily talks, as if it were just waking up itself from a long nap. ¡°Good for you! Anyways, if it was easy then you¡¯d just get bored and end up like before,¡± it explains. ¡°The soul needs a struggle to fight against, otherwise it withers.¡± ¡°You could have at least made me a little smarter. I feel like my head is a bag of flour,¡± protests Fresh, trying to cross her arms. ¡°It almost got me killed like four times.¡± ¡°But it didn¡¯t and you made a friend. One point for me, zero for you. The method works,¡± quips the spirit of the water. The current pulsates and surges forward, carrying her bodiless form through the darkness, as the presence seems to float alongside of her. ¡°But what if I really did die? Or what if I got sold into debt-slavery?!¡± asks the girl, clearly frustrated. Her soul is jostled around, as the current takes her somewhere deeper and darker still, though seemingly for no concrete purpose. The entity just seems to want to ¡®walk¡¯ while they talk. ¡°Then you would have learned a lesson,¡± says the voice, indifferently. ¡°That¡¯s a really dark thing to say!¡± protests the girl, remembering all the horrible scenarios that Jubilee had described to her. The voice yawns again sleepily, going on. ¡°It would have been a dark lesson.¡± Fresh obviously finds this answer unsatisfactory. ¡°Our deal was that I give you a chance to earn happiness and money,¡± it explains. ¡°Since then, you¡¯ve made your own choices, since the very first second. Any darkness that might have befallen you, would have been brought by no-one but yourself. You chose to go left.¡± The water is quiet for a moment. Fresh looks around herself at the shifting darkness. ¡°Huh¡­? Left?¡± ¡°Sure! Remember when you ran away from the chicken and went left?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± answers Fresh, somewhat embarrassed that the entity knew about that. The voice goes on. ¡°What about the other ways?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± repeats the girl. ¡°The other ways. You could have gone right at the intersection, you know? That would have been a fun life for sure, really heroic, you honestly have no idea. Or you could have gone back and fought the chicken. That would have been a whole thing too, believe me. Real drama. Really romantic; not with the chicken though, mind you. But you chose to go left instead.¡± Fresh thinks for a second. ¡°I guess I did, but¡­¡± ¡°- But you don¡¯t know why?¡± asks the spirit of the water. ¡°Yeah, I just kind of¡­ went left. I never even thought about it,¡± responds the girl, pondering. ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh for the third time. ¡°Left is good too. I can work with left. We can make a whole thing out of it, you know? Really dig our heels into the underlying themes at play here. I might have just the class for that, if we''re gonna take a hard turn here.¡± The water is quiet. ¡°Huh?¡± repeats Fresh again, still lost. ¡°Give me a coin,¡± demands the voice rather suddenly. ¡°No,¡± says Fresh, her ¡®hand¡¯ reaches to hold her pocket tightly closed. But her ethereal fingers grasp at nothing but wet. The spirit responds, sounding somewhat snarky. ¡°Fine, see if I care if you get some dinky run-down, useless class. Maybe you can become an ornate glass-blower or a scented candle-maker for the church. I don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°What kind of class?¡± asks the girl suspiciously. The voice sounds annoyed. ¡°Do you want to go all in or not? Is this a new attempt at life, or is it just you half-assing it again and hoping something will change on its own?¡± Fresh fidgets. Her non-existent fingers fumbling around with an equally vague coin in her pocket. The spirit yawns, this time longer and louder than before, as if it were trying to make a point. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t made you as dumb as a bag of rocks, would you have gone left? Or would you have been stuck in your old patterns and grooves and just kept on wallowing, but only in a new body and place?¡± Fresh floats, unsure if she has an answer. ¡°I want to choose my own class though.¡± ¡°Did you choose your new body?¡± asks the spirit. ¡°No¡­¡± mumbles the girl. ¡°Do you like it?¡± ¡°I guess so,¡± relents Fresh, looking away. ¡°See? I have excellent taste! Give me a coin or let me go back to sleep and figure it out yourself. Time is money.¡± Fresh groans. The water begins to churn and her body begins to move away from the spirit. ¡°Okay, well, I offered. Good nigh-¡° ¡°-Fine!¡± yells Fresh, tossing the coin out into the darkness with some force. The coin spins down and away just in-front of her, having not flown as far as she had hoped. It lazily sinks down into the black-water, drifting and floating away, as it vanishes down into the murky depths below. The current still churns on however, as strong as ever, and her sense of self still spins around and around. The water begins to carry her away as well and as the darkness before her eyes begins to fade and grow lighter, some source of light makes itself present in the void. Sun-rays shine in through the rippling surface above her head. ¡°Great! Then it¡¯s settled. Anyways, I just wanted to check in now that your class is available, so I-¡° ¡°- Ah, wait!¡± interrupts Fresh again. ¡°Why am I cursed?¡± The water surges around her, pushing her away and off into the distance, further and further away, as if the spirit were shoo¡¯ing her out of the front door, so that it could finally go back to sleep. ¡°Because you went left,¡± explains the voice as it fades out; sounding far and distant, as it vanishes into the darkness of the murky waters. Fresh doesn¡¯t have time to respond anymore to the unsatisfactory answer, as her body spirals and surges, as the water carries her back and away to the plane of existence from which she had come from. The coins in her pocket, one light, rattle as her body spasms against the wooden floor of the house. The girl opens her eyes, half expecting to hear a crowing rooster. But the only sounds that she is greeted by are the sounds of a single chiming of her menu and the muddy sounding voices of people moving around outside the building, the early morning hours having come. Rubbing her eyes, Fresh stares past the dull morning sunlight, shining in through the dusty window of the small room, as she looks at the menu-screen floating just before her face. *~-+ CLASS CHOSEN +-~* Unique Class: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain Specialization: Maleficium Witch An old-world caster class that was once primarily found in the southern regions. They dwelled deeply inside of old forests, mountains and in the hearts of children, laying fearfully awake in the dark. Witches, unlike mages, directly serve old, primal forces, rather than simply being connected to them. As such, each witch is unique to their patron-entities¡¯ design and intentions. The class-name ?Witch¡® is therefore a disambiguation, as no two witches are alike; each witch carries the title of their contractor. Dwindling in numbers, there are only a handful left worldwide, as the old ways have been forgotten and forcefully erased entirely by the holy-church. Though dark memories of their presence still haunt the dreams of those who fear the light-less night. Title: - Of the Black-Fountain + [Curse Specialization] + [Hex Specialization] + [Jinx Specialization] Specialization: Maleficium The third branch of witchcraft specializations, Maleficium specifically revolves around the practicing of the dark-arts in order to damage or corrupt people, items and places. New Ability: JINX Channel negative energies into a person to lower their LUK in a value equal to your LOV for one hour. New Ability: CURSE ITEM Allows the user to imbue a curse onto crafted items. Curses may backfire if performed improperly. Curses can be stacked on top of enchantments. New Passive: MOONWATER Allows the user to imbue liquids with some of their own magical energies. The strength of the imbuement is dependent on the current phase of the moon. *~-+ SUB-CLASS CHOSEN +-~* Sub-Class: Craftsman Specialization: Generalism Craftsman Jacks of all trades, masters of none. Craftsmen fill the general positions between all of the specialized trades. Working in tandem with carpenters, smiths, alchemists, metallurgists and masons requires a very broad set of skills. Craftsmen fill this wide niche, supporting everyone through their general work. Though in turn, given their broad capabilities, they are not able to specialize in any manner. Specialization: Generalism Craftsmen are unable to specialize in any particular field. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh stares up at the menu and then back to the soaking wet book and black-handled dagger laying at her feet. A second later, she jumps up in shock. Her body runs out of the room, her mind preoccupied with being fairly sure that she just did something bad again. ¡°JUBILEEEEEE~¡± Razmatazz Bubble bubble ~ Trivia - The Left-Hand path In common western occult practices, there is a split between the so-called right-hand and left-hand paths. The left-hand path symbolizes darker practices such as ''black-magic'' and the leaving of common social conventions in order to acheive a desired result ''no matter what''. While the right-handed path symbolizies adherance to shared moral codes and values and is commonly connected with the term ''white-magic''. Though this isn''t to say that one is evil and one is good. Left-handed path occultists tend to see it as an acceptance of both the dark and the light of the world at the same time. Using ''unconventional'' tools to transform a bad situation into a good one. Nightfall is just as natural as sunrise, after all. What I''m saying is, Fresh probably would have been able to achieve her dream of becoming a beloved priestess if she went right at the crossroads. But she went left. Yes. It really is metaphors all the way down, haha. Trivia - Athame An athame is a specific kind of black-handled ceremonial knife that is the main tool used for several occult rituals. Primarily used by the Hermetic order of the Golden Dawn for banishing spells, it was later adopted by new-age wiccans, neopagans and satanists. Though the first appearances of the term ''Atha(r)me'' appeared in the ''Key of Solomon'', a grimoire about demonology that was written during the 15th century during the Italian Renaissance. It is said that athame''s are never supposed to be used to draw blood, but rather for creating sigils, circles and other spell-weaving preperations. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 26: In the water ¡°You did what?¡± Fresh clutches her damp hair, crying. ¡°I had a dream about being underwater and I paid a magical-spirit to give me a class because I went left!¡± shouts the girl a second time at the masked figure, who is standing there in the doorway that leads into their darkened room. A hastily gloved hand rubs the front of their mask to securely adjust it into place. Jubilee stares up at her, lost. ¡°What¡­?¡± With shaking legs, Fresh falls down to her knees and grabs their shoulders with both of her hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! Don¡¯t be mad at me!¡± Jubilee winces as she touches them. ¡°¡­What?¡± They repeat again, letting out a sharp breath and tilting their head, their voice still just as emotionally lost and confused. Blinking, Jubilee shifts their gaze downward, looking down at the wet spots on the Fresh¡¯s robe. ¡°Look. If you wet the bed, you can ju-¡° ¡°- I didn¡¯t! Look!¡± Fresh opens her menu and Jubilee stares at it for a moment, before looking back to her and then back to it. ¡°I thought you wanted a crafting class?¡± They ask her, somewhat confused and a tinge annoyed. ¡°Did you really sneak out in the middle of the night just to pick some -¡± They stare at the window again. ¡°A FUCKING WITCH?!¡± Jubilee¡¯s voice is loud and confused. They hush themselves a second later, their posture tightening as they eye her warily up and down. ¡°Where did you even¡­?! How did you -¡± ¡°- It was in the water!¡± Fresh holds her crying face as she looks at Jubilee who is backing off and moving a step away from her. ¡°It was the thing in the water!¡± yells the girl, placing her hands back onto Jubilee¡¯s shoulders as she shakes their small body, pulling them back closer. ¡°Please don¡¯t be mad!¡± cries the girl as she looks at Jubilee¡¯s deeply narrowing eyes and hand that is moving to the pouch of dirt on their belt. Jubilee inhales sharply, pushing her hands back off of themselves. ¡°So let me get this straight. You had a dream -¡± ¡°I did!¡± says Fresh with a nod, looking back up to them. ¡°- And in this dream, some ¡®thing¡¯ offered you a class, if you¡­ paid it a coin? In the dream?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°It did!¡± Fresh says, leaning in closer to Jubilee, who does the opposite. ¡°- And now you¡¯re telling me that your dream was real and that¡¯s why you have some obscure, evil, caster class from the ass-end of the world?¡± ¡°It iiis~¡± cries Fresh, slumping over Jubilee, who takes in another sharp breath and tenses up as she touches their clearly uncomfortable gestalt once more. ¡°Are you stupid?¡± ¡°I aaam, p-please don¡¯t stop being my frieeend~¡± howls Fresh, grabbing them tightly. Jubilee lets out another strange, sharp grunting sound as they inhale a single quick breath, just as Fresh clutches them. Somewhat agitated they push the girl back off once again and look back to the menu. Raising a gloved finger, they tap against it. ¡°Well, putting all that midnight-fuckery aside, at least you have a decent sub-class.¡± Fresh sniffles. ¡°I- I do?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Jubilee holds her palm out, to keep the girl at a distance. ¡°Craftsmen aren¡¯t really great at anything, but they can do a bit of everything, you know? Real all-rounders. I didn¡¯t think about it before but¡­ having a crafting sub-class isn¡¯t a bad idea for you.¡± They rub the bottom of their mask, where their chin is, as they think. ¡°Maybe combined with the witch-class¡­ hmm¡­ but, shit.¡± ¡°So you believe me?!¡± asks Fresh, clenching her fists at her chest. Jubilee makes an uncomfortable noise that spans somewhere between a sigh and an unsure groan. ¡°It¡¯s a stretch, but I guess cursed people have had weirder things happen,¡± they say. ¡°It makes sense that whatever cursed you also made you a witch¡­ I guess¡­? I don''t know.¡± They look down again, thinking. ¡°This is all fucked. But-¡± they repeat a second time now. Fresh looks at their troubled eyes. ¡°But what?¡± ¡°You¡¯re really pushing it, you know? It¡¯ll be a real problem if anyone from the church finds out a cursed person is in their city. It¡¯ll be twice as bad if a cursed witch is in their city and especially with this specialization¡­¡± Jubilee rubs their head in frustration. ¡°You really are trying to die, aren¡¯t you?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Huh? Aren¡¯t there casters everywhere?¡± ¡°Witches are all casters, but all casters aren¡¯t witches, dumb-ass!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Most of the casters in this city are more mainstream. Wizards, tower-mages, priests and so on-¡± Jubilee lets out a noise that sounds like a quiet scream which is trapped down in the bottom of their throat as they grab their head, turning around and waving her off to think for a second. ¡°Of course you¡¯d get a class that¡¯s going to be a pain in my ass!¡± Fresh gets back up, wiping her eyes. Is this bad? Witches were a common staple in her old life, at least in popular media while she was there. Though perhaps historically their reputation was problematic, to say the least. Seeing her confused expression, Jubilee relents, perhaps having expected nothing less and turns back around to face her. ¡°Look slime-brain, witches are real child-eating, cauldron-stirring, mushroom-picking forest dwellers. Okay?!¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°They were common enough that people still sort of, vaguely, know about them now. But not really!¡± Jubilee pokes a finger into her gut and Fresh winces. ¡°There¡¯s a real, justified stigma in the cities, especially up here in the north against witches,¡± they explain. ¡°Like, really rarely one gets called in from the most ass-backwards neck of the south. When some fat-ass noble gets an obscure hex or whatever put on them and then it¡¯s always a real hush-hush thing,¡± they say in a hushed whisper. ¡°Covered carriages in the middle of the night, armed escorts, veils, the whole deal. But even those witches are all specialized in primal magics or brewing. Those can be used for good things now and then.¡± Jubilee pulls their finger back and pokes it into her stomach again several times, perhaps just for the sake of watching Fresh wince and make a slight squeaking sound each time. ¡°But malificum is bad news! It literally only exists to make other people miserable, so as you can imagine, people-¡° their finger pokes into her again. ¡°Get-¡° again. ¡°A little-¡° again. ¡°- Antsy!¡± again, but harder now. Fresh squeaks one final time and pulls back, rubbing the sore spot on her stomach. ¡°And what the fuck is a black-fountain?! That just sounds ridiculously evil!¡± whispers Jubilee in venomous frustration. "What did you do?!" It couldn¡¯t be that bad, right? Laughing nervously, the girl scratches her cheek, trying to find something to hold on to. ¡°Is it¡­ is it at least a strong class?¡± Jubilee stands there for a second, not saying anything. They lean back against the door-frame, staring down to the ground, averting their eyes from her for a time. After a long, quiet, delay, they look back up towards her. ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell you. I¡¯ve never seen a witch in person. Do you have any abilities? You should have learned a spell or two?¡± ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes light up and she runs back to her room, coming back out a second later with the dripping book and the ritual dagger. ¡°A bunch! But I also got this!¡± ¡°A wet book and a dinky kitchen-knife¡­?¡± asks the obscured figure incredulously. Pursing her lips, Fresh puffs her cheek out and looks at the large old book in her hands. It¡¯s fairly heavy, especially since it¡¯s wet. The cover is rather plain looking, adorned only with the depiction of a chalice and the whole thing is bound with a dark, grayish-blue leather. She doesn¡¯t know what exactly the boundary between a book and a tome is, but she feels like this book is ¡®tomey¡¯. It¡¯s heavy and old. ¡°And your abilities?¡± asks Jubilee, sounding defeated as they get back to the point. ¡°Ah! I can steal people¡¯s luck!¡± exclaims Fresh proudly, as she explains her very first spell. Jubilee jabs a finger back towards her. ¡°That¡¯s really bad! Don¡¯t be proud of that!¡± Fresh purses her lips again as she scratches her cheek, thinking. ¡°¡­I can¡­ curse items?¡± ¡°That¡¯s even worse!¡± hisses Jubilee in new frustration, clenching their hood and pulling down on the fabric. ¡°Oh, and I can make moonwater,¡± says Fresh, remembering the passive ability. ¡°Moonwhat? What the fuck-?¡± asks the obscured figure, ready to give up entirely now. ¡°Moonwater,¡± says Fresh simply, her hands instinctively opening the grimoire which is held below herself, as she continues to stare at Jubilee. Her fingers peel the wet pages apart and she opens a specific page in the middle of the heart of the book. ¡°Huh?¡± The girl lowers her gaze now to look down towards it, only now realizing that she had opened the book at all, let alone to exactly the right page. Somewhat confused, she holds the grimoire out to Jubilee and repeats plainly. ¡°Moonwater.¡± Jubilee leans in. ¡°Of all the weird, cauldron-bubbling, forest bulls-¡° their eyes narrow as they read the lines of the hand-written text filling the pages, next to an array of occult illustrations that are all drawn in a thick, black ink. ¡°Huh¡­¡± The expression of their eyes and posture seems to soften a bit. ¡°This one seems surprisingly¡­ okay. So, it¡¯s like enchanting, but¡­ for potions?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But maybe we can use this! For-¡° she stops herself. ¡°For¡­ you know? The thing.¡± She winks. The girl looks around the dark hallway behind herself, half-expecting to see someone standing there and listening to them. Jubilee looks back up to her, thinking. ¡°Well. Fuck me, I guess.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat taken aback. Did she do something wrong? Well, she did, but¡­ ¡°You might actually have done something useful,¡± says Jubilee, relenting with a final sigh and a shake of their head. ¡°What a world.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes light up. That isn¡¯t what she expected to hear. ¡°Really?!¡± ¡°Maybe. But listen-¡± Jubilee leans in towards her again, shushing her, a familiar venom growing in their voice. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone about this, okay? Nobody. If anyone asks, tell them you¡¯re a craftsman. It¡¯s your sub-class, so you can probably get away with it.¡± ¡°What if somebody wants to see my menu?¡± asks the girl curiously. Jubilee parrots her in a mocking voice. ¡°What if somebody wants to see my menu~¡± They plant their hands on their hips. ¡°Then don¡¯t show them, goo-brain!¡± The small figure takes a second to breathe. ¡°Okay, lets see your craftsman stuff,¡± they say, waving with beckoning fingers. Fresh nods, but then just stands there idly. ¡°Well?¡± asks Jubilee, annoyed. The girl scratches her cheek. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to¡­ you know¡­? Do¡­ stuff.¡± ¡°Are you st¡­¡± Jubilee stops themselves and lets out yet another sigh. ¡°Wait there.¡± They turn around and walk back into the dark room, grabbing one of the large blue-caps that Fresh had decided to keep for their work. Jubilee hands it up to the girl, who sets her grimoire and knife down to take it. Though she''s not quite sure what to do with it. Tilting her head, she feels the idea come to her, though she also isn¡¯t quite sure from where exactly. Maybe it just seems obvious, or maybe it¡¯s because of the vague sound of flowing water coming from outside of the house from some unseen source. It almost sounds like a whisper in her ear. A glow shines out from her hands, like when Jubilee mended her bag. The light engulfs the blue mushroom-cap entirely. Her hands become empty, a heap of blue powder seeps through her fingers like fine sand and falls down to the ground, sending a wave of extremely soft, smooth particulate up into the air. The girl gasps, her face beaming. ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee! I used an ability! I have an ability! I have magic!¡± shouts the girl proudly, too loud, bouncing on the balls of her feet, as she looks down to her friend with her excited and shining eyes. Jubilee glares up towards her with a fuming expression. Their gaze clearly scowling through the heap of blue dust that covers their head. Razmatazz -) Sliiiight easter egg in this chapter for any Respawn Condition readers. -) Tomorrow, progress happens. Is such a thing even possible in this story? Apparently! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 27: Witch-Crafting The girl sits cross legged on the floor of their room, inside of the adventurer¡¯s guild. Her cheeks are puffed out as her hands hold the mushroom-cap which she hadn¡¯t finished shredding before her ¡®fight¡¯ with Jubilee during the last time that they were here. Her hands glow brightly as she focuses all of her attention onto the task before her. Fresh¡¯s face is flush and happy though, as she thinks about how she can finally surprise Jubilee in a nice way. She smiles, humming as she works. Maybe this strange class is a good turn of fortune after all? The orange-cap falls apart into a fine heap of powder, landing in with the rest of the, in comparison, very coarse mixture inside of the blue snail-shell. Looking up, Fresh looks at her menu which she had left open. Her soul-points however haven¡¯t changed at all. Not since she had gotten her class and not even after using her abilities. They¡¯re still the same strange combination of corrupted values. What does this mean, she wonders? Jubilee had said crafting abilities like this cost soul-points to use, that means that she has magic for sure. But¡­ if her soul-points aren¡¯t changing, then at what cost is she using her abilities? STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 06 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] Fresh shakes her head and sighs. But the sigh gives way to another new and even broader smile, as she stares at her handiwork laying before herself. Grabbing one of their other snail-shells, she pulls it towards herself. There¡¯s nothing left to do now but to wait for Ju- The door opens and she turns her head, listening to the sound of clinking glass. Jubilee walks in, carrying a small wooden crate, covered with a cloth. They shoot her a curious look. Fresh smiles. "I was just thinking about you!" Jubilee stares at her for a second, but then just shakes their head. ¡°I¡¯m not used to forming glass like this, so they¡¯re a little weird looking¡­ But here they are,¡± explains Jubilee, apparently ignoring her comment. ¡°Fresh out of the metaphorical oven but, you know these will break if you see a reflection, right?¡± says Jubilee, setting the box down next to her. Fresh nods. ¡°I saw that your glass does that in the dungeon. Why does it do that? ¡°It¡¯s magic, don¡¯t know what to tell you. Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± says Jubilee Fresh shrugs. ¡°I have an idea about that though,¡± she says, closing her eyes and lifting a finger to wag it at Jubilee. ¡°You look away too, okay?¡± ¡°Uh, sure. Whatever,¡± says Jubilee, shrugging indifferently and turning around. ¡°Just don¡¯t do anything weird.¡± Fresh reaches into the box, keeping her eyes shut as her fingers grab one of the slim, but very rough, elongated glass chunks inside. Jubilee had made these with their glass-magic. Carefully, she pulls it out of the crate, covering it back up again with the cloth, still keeping her eyes closed as she focuses on her crafting ability. ¡°That should do it¡­¡± says Fresh quietly and warily opens a single eye. The girl holds her arm back and away from her face, in-case the magical-glass in her hand explodes. Peeking, she looks at the matte, crooked and misshapen glass cylinder that is held in her hand. Light vaguely bounds off of its rough surface, but not in any coherent fashion. Carefully, she spins it around in her fingers to see if any reflection could be made visible on the surface of the tube. Nothing happens. ¡°¡­I think it worked¡­¡± mumbles Fresh. ¡°JUBILEE! I THINK IT WORKED!¡± The girl leaps up in excitement, holding the chunk of glass out to Jubilee who tilts their head back around to look at it curiously. ¡°Look! Loo- IAH!¡° Pressing herself forward, Fresh stumbles over the snail-shell, knocking it over. The glass tube flies out of her hands and she flies down to the ground. It flies down to the floor by the door, shattering apart into a collection of tiny shards. She lands by Jubilee¡¯s feet, still in one piece. [FALL DAMAGE: 1] [5 HP remaining !] ¡°You okay?¡± asks a very tired voice from next to her. Laughing meekly, Fresh lifts her face up off of the floor and looks at Jubilee, who is standing above her, gazing down with an expression that she isn¡¯t quite able to discern. ¡°It worked!¡± Jubilee tilts their head and looks at the box. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll admit. That was a surprisingly good idea for you to have.¡± Fresh puffs out her cheek, feeling a little insulted at the insinuation and lets out a slight grumble, pushing herself back upright to sit cross-legged in front of Jubilee. She clenches her fists and looks up to their mask with excitement. ¡°Jubilee! I have an idea!¡± ¡°You mentioned,¡± they say, looking around the bare room. ¡°Do I even want to know?¡± Fresh leans in towards them. ¡°I got some new crafting abilities with my class! I think being a witch could actually be really useful!¡± ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± asks Jubilee, sighing and walking back a few steps to win some personal space, fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably as Fresh moves closer towards them. Fresh narrows her eyes and stretches her hand outward, pressing her palm flat against the retreating Jubilee¡¯s front, another grumble leaving her throat as she stares at her companion through her squinting eyes. Jubilee looks down at the hand touching them. ¡°Do you mind?¡± ¡°I mind,¡± grumbles Fresh, letting go as she turns back to the box, a little indignant. ¡°Did you get the pot and the charcoal too?¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s in there too, but that was just about the last of your money,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh beams. ¡°Thank you!¡± Closing her eyes she digs into the box again, grabbing hold of the metal pot filled with cold water and pulls it out. Setting it down, she covers the box back up once more. ¡°So?¡± asks the annoyed voice. ¡°So what?¡± asks Fresh, looking over her shoulder with a vacant expression. ¡°So what are you going to do with it, dumb-ass?¡± snaps Jubilee, rolling their eyes. Fresh doesn¡¯t respond, she simply turns back forward and starts humming, as she begins to mix the orange mushroom-powder into the water, using her new knife to stir the pot. Grabbing a piece of the charcoal from the box as well, she holds it above the orange-tinged water. ¡°I was thinking -¡± says the girl as she works. ¡°- Oh boy,¡± interrupts Jubilee, who is quickly met with another narrowed glare and puffed out cheek in return. Fresh continues, clearing her throat and raising her nose a little. ¡°I was thinking. We wanted to make the processed mushroom-powder to sell to the alchemists, right?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± says Jubilee. The girl stirs the pot, mixing in the blackened-charcoal into the mushroom concoction. ¡°Well, what if we just skip them too, just like the merchants?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee, tilting their head. Fresh raises her free hand, bits of charcoal dust crumble down to the floor around her. Reaching into the box, slipping her hand beneath the cloth, she grabs another one of the hollowed out glass chunks. She then hollows it out, turning it into a long, tubular ¡®cup¡¯. Pulling it out, she inspects it to make sure that it doesn¡¯t break if her reflection shows on its surface. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to make stuff by hand this whole time, but¡­¡± the girl closes her eyes tightly, thinking about the three new recipes that she had learned, when she had gotten her primary class. ¡°What¡¯s with that face? Are you dying?¡± asks Jubilee sarcastically. Fresh ignores them and dips the glass into the pot, wetting her hand a little but filling the tube with the vaguely brownish mixture, in which heaps of coarse, ashy particulate float. Her hands glow as she focuses. But this time not with the bright aura of the crafting spells. Rather with a dim, dull purple haze. (Fresh) uses: [Witch-Crafting: Minor Antidote] [Witch-crafting: 1]{Cold brewing} Minor Antidote + Cures all minor ailments. + Removes all minor poisons. - ??? - ??? A small antidote potion, contained inside of a rough glass container. Used to clear minor status effects inflicted by low-level monsters and traps. Poor Quality Side Effects Chance: + 30% 180 mL Value: ?? The girl carefully opens her eyes and looks at the orange potion in her hands, entirely free of any floating substances or chunks. Though it does look a little darker than the ones at the shop. Beaming, she holds the wet glass ¡®tube¡¯ out to Jubilee. ¡°What if we just make the potions ourselves too?!¡± asks the girl, excitedly, her eyes shining with pride. Jubilee leans in forward, their hands on their hips as they look at the flask. ¡°What the¡­ where did you¡­?¡± Their eyes study the potion disbelievingly. ¡°It¡¯s my class!¡± says Fresh, raising her free finger. ¡°Real mushroom-picking, cauldron-stirrers, remember?¡± she laughs, spinning the finger through the air. Jubilee looks at her face, then down to the potion, then back to her again, as if they can¡¯t process what they¡¯re seeing. ¡°What the fuck¡­?¡± ¡°- Jubilee!¡± Fresh leans in towards them rather suddenly, causing them to jump back a step as her face rushes in theirs, her wide eyes shining as she presses herself uncomfortably close against Jubilee¡¯s mask. ¡°I have an idea!¡± ¡°How did you make that potion?¡± asks Jubilee, pushing her back once again and grabbing the potion at the same time. Spinning it around, they inspect it closely. Fresh raises a finger, pulling herself back upright. ¡°I have a magic-crafting recipe, thanks to my class. But the trick was to mix the mushroom-powder with charcoal!¡± exclaims Fresh proudly. ¡°Charcoal?¡± asks Jubilee, swirling the concoction around. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh excitedly. ¡°Charcoal binds poisons and toxins to itself, so the body can¡¯t absorb them anymore!¡± Jubilee looks at her then back to the potion. ¡°You know things? Where did you learn about that?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± thinks Fresh, placing a finger to her chin as she looks up at the ceiling. Her finger taps her chin several times as she thinks. Where did she learn that? The girl looks back to Jubilee and shrugs. ¡°I think maybe it¡¯s my class? Usually it¡¯s a whole process if you want to make this stuff by hand, because you have to strain it and boil it several times. But if I use my witch-crafting recipes, I can just make it like that!¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Jubilee, sounding pleasantly surprised. ¡°So what¡¯s the mushroom-powder for then?¡± Fresh taps the side of her head. ¡°For the great tangy flavor and a heavy dose of vitamins!¡± Jubilee stares at her, lost for words as Fresh grabs the potion back and downs it in a single chug. Letting out a satisfied sigh after she empties the rough glass vial. A single tear leaves Fresh¡¯s tightly shut eyes, as her fists grip themselves firmly together down in her lap, together with the empty glass. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Mushroom¡­¡± she hisses through her clenched teeth, trying not to break down in front of Jubilee, as the wet crystal droplets fall from her eyes. ¡°You really a-are d-delicious!¡± Jubilee stares at her. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡± The girl¡¯s eyes shoot open wide, her gaze as if possessed, ¡°JUBILEE! I HAVE AN IDEA!¡± She repeats once again, shooting forward towards her uneasy companion who can¡¯t back off fast enough anymore. ¡°Let¡¯s make the potions ourselves! Forget the powder! Forget the secret-mixture! Let¡¯s just do it all ourselves and sell them right to the adventurers! No middle-man, just you and me!¡± Jubilee looks at her, unsure, their body language more than unsettled. The girl goes on, her eyes still just as excited and wild. ¡°We can start with the potions! Then, maybe, I¡¯ll learn some new witch-crafting recipes, so I can process even more of the stuff you find! Maybe we can make all sorts of things and just sell them ourselves to the other adventurers! Like we said before, but different!¡± She grabs Jubilee¡¯s gloved hands and pulls on them. ¡°Pleeease?!¡± Jubilee pulls their hands away and shakes them out, before letting out an uneasy groan and turning around. Fresh¡¯s heart drops as Jubilee stands there quietly, their back turned around to her. They don¡¯t saying anything for a time. Did she just mess up? Did she do something wrong? The girl looks around unsure, only to look back to see Jubilee walking towards the door to leave. ¡°W-wait!¡± stumbles out Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t go!¡± ¡°Huh¡­? What?¡± Jubilee looks back to her, annoyed. ¡°Fuck off. I¡¯m going to check out what a merchant¡¯s license costs,¡± they explain. ¡°If we¡¯re lucky, we¡¯ll get a discount because we¡¯re already adventurers.¡± Jubilee opens the door and looks back to her one last time before leaving. ¡°See you later.¡± Razmatazz Trivia ¨C Brewing beer and the Witch-Trials In the historical past, since ancient Babylonia/Sumeria - 7000BC(!) - brewing beer was considered to be part of a woman¡¯s day to day household tasks. In Sumeria for example, women regularly brewed beer for religious rituals to honor the literal goddess of beer ?Ninkasi¡® who is said to have created the drink in order to foster peace between all men. Beer itself had a highly revered image in society, to the point of being seen as holy or a gift from the gods. It wasn¡¯t just a ?fun¡® thing like it is today. Given hundreds of years of experimentation, this led to many generations of women learning significantly about plants, especially in regards to cooking or creating medicine. This is one of the many roots where the arche-type of the ?forest-dwelling healing woman¡® stems from. Later, during the 14-15th century, brewing left the closed household and was overtaken by professional artisans and brewers. Unable to own their own property or workshops, common women quickly became unable to outbrew the big players and the practice slowly left the domain of the average person. Any woman who kept on brewing after that often used common household objects such as a cauldron. This is where we get the ?witches cauldron¡® from. Funnily enough, this is also where the ?flying broom¡® idea comes from as well. These ?indie¡® brewing women would hang brooms above their doors in order to let customers know that they were open for business. Cats were commonly used to keep grain safe from mice, and most iconically of all ¨C The famous pointed witches hat was worn when they went over the marketplaces. The iconic shape let them stand out from the crowds of other sellers. See how it¡¯s all coming together now? Things exploded though during the mid to late 1600¡®s when the witch-trials began. Many of these traditional brewing women became vilified. While societal/power-structure reasons were a large factor, especially given the strong power of the church over society, a particularly large reason for the witch trials could possibly stem from the ?Ergot¡® fungus. A fungal growth that commonly grows on the same grains used for brewing, that when ingested can cause severe (and heavily psychedelic) reactions. All of this came to a head by 1700 as of which there were next to no female brewers left in European society. The tradition and symbolism however lives on, as you more than likely know! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 28: Dungeon-Math Fresh hums as she works, her pale hands processing the small collection of glass vials. Making these potions uses more mushroom-powder than she had thought that it would, given their small size and poor quality. They have eleven more vials in total, after the one Fresh drank before. But there¡¯s still enough powder left for a few more potions after that. She does the math in her head, tightly pressing her eyes closed as she does so, so that she can think better. If mushroom-caps are worth five each, then these potions would have to be worth more than that by far. Assuming Jubilee could continue making their glass bottles for ¡®free¡¯, perhaps learning how to make them a little more¡­ refined. Then she could sand them down into a usable state. They could cut their raw material costs from the get-go. Some soul-points at the very most. So that means they save money there, right off of the bat. Plus if there¡¯s no middle-man and they somehow manage to sell the potions directly to the people, then they could split the money fifty-fifty. Right? She thinks. They would have to buy some caps for the vials. Some labels too, perhaps. Oh, that means they need something to write with and of course some glue to attach the labels to the flasks and most importantly, they need permission to sell things to begin with, as well as a location to do so out of. Fresh stops on that thought for a time. If Jubilee was being truthful in their frenzied whispers about how cutthroat the merchants here in this town are, then the two of them need to do things by the book. Would they come after them, if the two of them rocked the boat? And what if someone finds out that she¡¯s cursed? What if someone finds out she¡¯s a witch? Would they hurt her? Would they hurt her new friend? Would the church come after them? Fresh only just now realizes that she¡¯s never even seen the church here, despite their noticeably large presence in this city. She¡¯s always either only gone down the main street or been tightly glued to Jubilee. The girl fidgets, opening her eyes again to look at the filled vials sitting in the box next to herself. The old alchemist woman was selling her minor antidotes for twenty Obols each. But she¡¯s a trusted source in this town, her bottles looked professionally done and labeled. Would anyone even buy their dinky looking potions? They¡¯d have to sell them for a lower price to even have a chance, if they had to establish the people¡¯s trust first. So¡­ fifteen Obols each? Fresh fidgets. From five caps, she thinks she can make maybe another dozen potions more, give or take. Assuming the worst, that would be a total of¡­ she thinks¡­ fifteen Obols times twelve potions is¡­ One-hundred and eighty Obols? Her eyes light up as she double checks her math. Even if they split that half-way, they would still each get ninety Obols for only five orange mushroom caps. Compared to the twelve each from just selling them as is. Fresh¡¯s eyes shine brightly as she shifts around on the floor. Sure, there are some start up costs involved. She looks at her dirty hands. They need more charcoal too. But that¡¯s cheap¡¯ish. Plus food. Water. Clothes and all of the other day to day stuff. She groans, unsure for a moment, but then shakes her head. No! This can work! Even if a large chunk of those ninety Obols vanishes into costs, they¡¯re still making a profit of at least double the value of just selling the raw materials. There¡¯s no way that this couldn¡¯t be a lucrative idea, as long as they do it right. Fresh giddily squeezes her hands together and continues filling the rest of the bottles. She also still has two other witch-crafting recipes, though she isn¡¯t quite sure what to make of them just yet. Isn¡¯t there some kind of crafting menu? She¡¯ll have to ask Jubilee when they get back. But more importantly, maybe she can test her moonwater ability tonight? Maybe she can do something with the potions, to make them more valuable? Maybe her equations are already entirely off. Her bright smile never leaves her as she finishes her work and then covers the box back up with the cloth. The potions don¡¯t have lids, so it would be bad if something fell into them. She hits her fist into her free palm. They needed to buy corks as well. Another added cost. (Fresh) uses: [Witch-Crafting: Minor Antidote] Created: Minor Antidote (Poor quality) x10 Created: Minor Antidote (Low quality) x1 [Witch-crafting: 2] [Witch-crafting: 3]{Forest Remedies} Humming to herself, she gets up, wondering what she should do now to pass the time? She had given most of her money to Jubilee, to buy the things for this successful experiment, so she can¡¯t afford to go and eat anything and Jubilee is gone for now; who knows for how long? The girl looks around the empty room, not sure what it is that she is looking for exactly. Just something to pass the time. Anything. But there¡¯s nothing here except for the table and the bed. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh looks around herself as the idea comes to her. She looks at the collection of potions. The old alchemist woman had promised to teach her some things about alchemy if she came by again. Maybe this would be a good time to do that? Fresh thinks for a moment, actually, this might just be the perfect time for that! Beaming at her good fortune, Fresh walks towards the door, eager to set foot out into the sunshine outside and to continue her good day. But she doesn¡¯t leave. Fresh freezes, listening to the vague sound that fills her ears, the whispering of the fog behind it. It sounds almost like flowing water. She stops just before the door, her hand outstretched to reach for the handle. Though she¡¯s not sure why. Her body fidgets as she stands there. Her feet shuffle uneasily. Something is bothering her. What if she messes this up too? What if she says something she shouldn¡¯t? What if the old woman asks to see her menu? What if she¡­ What if she¡­ Horrified, Fresh looks down at herself, realizing the weight of the mistake she had almost just made. The front of her robe is entirely covered in streaks of a bright, orange powder from the ground up mushrooms. Her hands and arms are smeared black with charcoal dust. Her eyes go wide, her face pale. What did she almost do? Fearfully, the girl steps back away from the door, pulling her shaking hand away as she realizes that she almost did it again. She almost ruined everything again. This time it could have been fatal. If she had walked into the alchemist¡¯s like this¡­ The old woman would have caught on in an instant. Fresh is sure of that. The alchemist had a sharp look in her eyes. Would they have hurt her? Fresh¡¯s eyes widen. She would be fine if the worst happened, she could respawn. But would they hurt Jubilee too? If they found out? She just doesn¡¯t understand this world at all, anything could happen. Fresh steps back from the door, leaning against the wall behind her and slides down against it, falling to sit on the floor. She¡¯s not going to move. She¡¯s not going to move from this spot, not until Jubilee gets back. She¡¯s not going to ruin it this time, not now that things are starting to come together. Fresh promises herself that, having learned her lesson. Razmatazz Just a short chapter today, but It''s a very important one. Look at our darling, she''s growing up so fast ;_; Two more until the big day! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 29: F is for [——] ¡°Hey!¡± Something grabs her shoulder as she is jostled around. ¡°Goo-brain! Wake up.¡± Fresh groggily opens her eyes, lifting her arms to yawn as she looks at the small figure standing above her. ¡°There¡¯s a bed here, you know?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands back onto their hips as they stare down at the girl sitting on the floor. ¡°I was waiting for you to come back,¡± says Fresh, rubbing her eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to go outside without you~¡± she yawns. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee somewhat disbelievingly. ¡°You know? You sound really clingy and desperate sometimes,¡± they say, shaking their head and sighing. ¡°Sorry,¡± says Fresh. She laughs and rubs her fingers through her hair. Jubilee tilts their head, staring down at her strange expression, but then seems to relent, shrugging. ¡°Look. Go downstairs and get that mushroom gunk off of you before anyone sees it. The guild is empty now.¡± They turn around and go back to the door. ¡°Come meet me at my place. Make it snappy, we have work to do.¡± With that, they pull the door back open and leave. Fresh stares after them curiously, wondering what''s going on. She gets up and stretches, bending forward to unsuccessfully try to touch her own toes. Something pops in her lower back again and she winces, wondering if she didn¡¯t actually inherit the body of some old woman. Though, she had slept on the floor twice in a row now. Fresh sighs and slaps her cheeks, waking herself up. She heads to the door to go downstairs and wash up. Half an hour later, Fresh emerges from the adventurer¡¯s guild and steps into another bright, sunny day. She smiles, closing her eyes to let the sun touch her face for a while. Spring really is lovely here, there hasn¡¯t been a single bad day yet, weather-wise. Lucky for her, she realizes. Opening her eyes again, Fresh looks down at herself, at the same dress that she¡¯s been wearing every day for almost a week now. It still appears manageable, but she definitely needs to find something more robust and more¡­ obscuring. Jubilee knows about tailoring, maybe they can make her something? A shawl at least. The girl thinks, but then shakes her head as she walks with crossed arms to cover the wet spots on her front. She¡¯s not going to ask anything else of them, until she¡¯s paid everything else back first. Smiling to seal that promise into her heart anew, Fresh walks down the bustling hive of the city, heading down towards the dungeon and ignoring the sensation of any watching eyes that might happen to find their way towards her. Soon enough, she finds herself at Jubilee¡¯s house and knocks on the front door. It opens a few seconds later and Jubilee nods to her, beckoning her inside. An old, worn out broom is held in their hands. ¡°Hi!¡± says Fresh energetically, stepping into the dusty downstairs room. ¡°It took you long enough,¡± is all that Jubilee says with a very snarky tone, before they toss her the broom. Fresh fumbles, the broomstick tumbling between her hands as she just barely manages to catch it. Jubilee rolls their eyes and turns around to head back inside. ¡°What¡¯s this for?¡± asks Fresh, confused. ¡°It¡¯s a broom, dumb-ass. You can either shove the handle up yourself or you can use the other end to start sweeping,¡± explains Jubilee, waving her off in frustration. Fresh looks at the broom then back to them. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because the merchant¡¯s guild representative is going to be here tonight with the admission paperwork,¡± explains Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°If your hair-brained plan is going to work, then we need to set-up somewhere and we can¡¯t make a shop in the guild. So -¡° Jubilee holds their arms out wide, gesturing to the open space and doesn¡¯t say anything further. Fresh stares at them for a while, processing. Not quite sure what they¡¯re getting at. The obscured figure¡¯s vibrant eyes seem to die just a little more, as nothing comes back from Fresh. The fact that the wheels in her head are clearly still turning is visible in her vacant gaze, which stares down towards the broomstick in her own hands. Jubilee sighs in defeat and lowers their arms, shaking their head once again. ¡°AH!¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes light up and her fingers clench the broom tightly. ¡°You want to do it here!¡± Her eyes grow dewy as she realizes the weight of this new gesture. ¡°Th-that¡¯s a great idea!¡± She drops the broom to the floor, running towards Jubilee with open arms, her emotions overwhelming her. ¡°Thank yooou~¡± The figure darts to the side, quickly avoiding Fresh¡¯s lumbering grasp as they duck out and away from her arms, just in time. The obscured person glares up at the confused girl with wary eyes. ¡°If you try to hug me again, I¡¯ll cut you,¡± they threaten sharply, waving a piece of glass at Fresh, who chuckles meekly at the threat, not sure if it''s serious or not. ¡°- I¡¯ll cut you deep,¡± they promise, the eyes behind their mask going wide. It¡¯s serious. ¡°You¡¯re such a good friend, Jubilee!¡± laughs Fresh, smiling brightly, taking a moment to wipe the wet out from her eyes. They twitch as she utters the statement. Their body tenses up for a moment. But then they once again relent with a final, long and protracted noise that is somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Lowering their arms, they tuck the piece of glass back into a tattered pocket and avert their gaze. ¡°I know I am. Get to work, goo-brain.¡± [(Jubilee) has accepted your friend request!] [Friends] {It takes two} ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks at the little window, then back to Jubilee who has already turned their back to her and has begun to walk up the stairs. ¡°You do down here. I¡¯ll do the upstairs.¡± With that, they leave, leaving Fresh standing alone down in the dusty ground-floor room. Her eyes slowly go wide as the events run through her mind, as she realizes that she just officially made her very first friend. For real. Her fists clench tightly together and she finds herself bobbing up on her heels in joy as she makes a quiet, but excited squeak. This is it! This is what she¡¯s been trying to work for! Something feels warm inside of her chest. Sure, it isn¡¯t ideal. But that doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s going to make it become ideal. Determined, Fresh reaches down to grab the broom from the floor and with a steeled gaze, sets to work. Promising that she¡¯s going to make this place perfect. The bristles of the broom scratch against the boards as she sweeps. Fresh narrows her eyes. She¡¯s going to do it right this time. She takes a step forward. She¡¯s going to work hard, to feel this feeling that she¡¯s feeling right now every day. The bristles scratch against the boards again. She¡¯s going to do her best every day, from now on. Her friend is counting on her. Razmatazz +_+ Tomorrow. Stuff. Trivia - Friendship The ancient Greek goddess Philotes is the literal goddess of friendship. But the oldest actual mythological tellings of a ?friendship¡® go back much further than that, all the way to the earliest surviving notable literature that we know of. The epic of Gilgamesh, written in ancient Mesopotamia during roughly 2100BC. In the story (spoiler alert if you aren¡¯t caught up on your ~4000 year old literature) the king of Uruk, Gilgamesh, is confronted by Endiku. Endiku is a savage man who was literally created by the gods for the sole purpose of smacking the arrogant Gilgamesh around a little because he was a huge, stupid jerk and the gods were sick of his BS. Long story short though is that Gilgamesh wins their fight, but the two of them become super-bros because they duked it out. Together, the two of them leave the city on an epic bro-adventure after that, forming what we might consider to be the very first ?hero party¡®! The goal of their quest, you might ask? Slay the entity known as ''Humbaba the terrible''. Talk about a name for a demon-king, if there ever was one on this earth! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 30: The dotted line ¡°Names?¡± asks the portly man, his hands running an ornate pen over a large ledger that he carries with him. ¡°Jubilee,¡± replies the obscured figure, standing there with their arms crossed. ¡°Fresh!¡± beams Fresh over towards him. He raises his eyes, looking over the two of them, apparently unsurprised. ¡°Adventurers, eh?¡± His head turns, as he looks around the empty, but pristinely clean, space. ¡°What will you be selling?¡± asks the man curiously. Fresh looks down at Jubilee, they look back up towards her and nod. ¡°Miscellaneous goods. I¡¯m a craftsman, so I¡¯ll be making some odds and ends from the dungeon items that we procure," says Fresh. "Trinkets, processed materials and some other things,¡± she explains, reciting the text that Jubilee had ¡®encouraged¡¯ her to learn earlier, word for word. ¡°Mm¡­¡± mumbles the man indifferently. He walks around, making notes in his book. ¡°You are the owner of this structure? Are you up to date with your property dues?¡± he asks, with an odd glint in his eyes. ¡°I am,¡± says Jubilee. The man responds with another ¡°Mm¡­¡± and keeps walking around the empty space. He looks up the stairs. ¡°How many people are in your party?¡± ¡°Just us two,¡± says Fresh. The man looks at her, but then makes another note and another noise. Fresh fidgets, feeling like she just felt something off in his gaze. ¡°It¡¯s rather unusual to open a mercantile venture here, in this particular plaza¡­ you are aware of the risks, yes?¡± asks the man. Fresh tenses up. Risks¡­? What risks? She wants to look down towards Jubilee to ask. But a small, sharp elbow strikes the girl in her lower side, before her gaze can wander. Her attention shoots back to the portly man. ¡°Ah, yes! We¡¯re very aware!¡± lies Fresh. ¡°Super aware!¡± Another elbow jabs her and she stops, laughing meekly. ¡°Mm¡­¡± says the man indifferently, checking off some box in his ledger. ¡°Okay. Just remember that in-case of any ''events'', the merchant¡¯s guild will not participate in any liability payments. You understand, given the nature of the situation,¡± he says, as if reciting a well-rehearsed text. ¡°We do,¡± says Jubilee, waving the man off. Fresh looks around, somewhat confused. ¡°Mm,¡± he says again, sounding bored. The man looks around one last time, his fingers running through his thin beard. ¡°Are your dues to the adventurer¡¯s guild paid off?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh winces. The man lets out another mumbling noise. ¡°That¡¯s a problem. How do you plan to pay your licensing fees to the merchant¡¯s guild? We¡¯ll need some form of security deposit, that¡¯s separate from your sales-fees, of course.¡± The man thinks, pulling on his mustache. ¡°Purely as a safety for ourselves. You understand.¡± Fresh¡¯s heart drops. They didn¡¯t have anything. Or at least she doesn¡¯t, apart from six Obols and some very rough potions back at the guild. ¡°We can use the structure as a security deposit,¡± says Jubilee plainly. Shocked, Fresh looks down to them and gets ready to protest. Her cheek puffs out, as she angrily holds her breath in. She won¡¯t accept Jubilee putting that kind of investment onto the table. Not again. ¡°Mm,¡± the man looks around the room. But he has that odd look again. Like he was satisfied about something, but Fresh has no idea what it could be. Jubilee lifts a hand ,idly, pointing with their thumb to Fresh, just as the girl is about to speak her mind. ¡°- And you can have her,¡± they say, just as plainly and emotionlessly as when they offered the house. ¡°HUH?!¡± shouts Fresh, letting all of the air out of her lungs. Jubilee jabs an elbow into her side again. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine! Don¡¯t be a cry-baby! That¡¯s only if we can¡¯t pay them back.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± the man looks Fresh over, who crosses her arms in-front of herself. His gaze as if ascertaining her but then he looks away as she glares back at him. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± He opens his book up and flips through the pages, as if searching for something. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s kind of a gamble, us getting involved in a project like this.¡± Something glints in the man¡¯s eye as he says the sentence however. He looks back to the two of them curiously. ¡°...Are either of you betting types?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± asks Jubilee very warily. The man closes his book and sighs. ¡°Let me be honest, I don¡¯t think this is a good fit for us.¡± Fresh winces. ¡°But¡­¡± she opens an eye. ¡°It would be harsh of me to shut down two young, starry-eyed entrepreneurs, before they even start.¡± The man smiles out a bright smile, but something about it feels wrong to Fresh and she shuffles back a step unknowingly. It''s reptilian. Fake. ¡°Let me offer you a simple wager?¡± Jubilee and Fresh look at each other. The girl shakes her head no, not sure why exactly, but Jubilee turns back to the man. ¡°Go on.¡± The man digs into his pocket, pulling out a single Obol. Fresh narrows her eyes. It¡¯s not like the other Obols that she¡¯s seen before though. It¡¯s gold and somewhat larger and flatter. A skull is imprinted on one side of the coin. ¡°You adventurers like your verbal contracts, yes?¡± Jubilee nods. The man smiles brighter still, as if everything was coming together for him. ¡°The simplest game there is. We flip a coin. If you win, I¡¯ll accept your application for a merchant¡¯s license.¡± Jubilee adjusts their mask. ¡°And if we lose?¡± The man raises his hand to his beard again, as if he were thinking. But even she can see that he''s just pretending. The expression beneath the hand seems too certain already. ¡°Well, without a merchant¡¯s license, I suppose you won¡¯t need your security-deposit?¡± he says, his voice also too certain for this to be a spontaneous decision. She clenches her fists, narrowing her eyes. The man raises a hand lazily, sensing her shift in body language. ¡°- Just the structure, of course.¡± Jubilee shrugs, rubbing the back of their head. ¡°I gu-¡° Quickly, Fresh grabs them by the shoulders, interrupting them and pulling them a step back. Angrily, they swipe her hands off of themselves. Kneeling down before them, Fresh glares at Jubilee and hisses out a quiet - ¡°No! That''s crazy!¡± Jubilee tilts their head to the side and shrugs indifferently. ¡°Yes? So?¡± ¡°No!¡± whispers Fresh venomously, not expanding anymore on her thoughts. She isn¡¯t going to allow this. ¡°Yes,¡± replies Jubilee, poking a finger into her chest indignantly and turning back to the man. Fresh grinds her teeth, a low grumble in her throat as she tries to keep her frustration down. She can¡¯t let Jubilee do something this brash. Even she knows that this is a stupid idea. It isn¡¯t worth it. This is Jubilee¡¯s home, isn¡¯t it? How can they just risk it like this? On a fifty-fifty wager? If it even is one. Why is Jubilee like this? In her frustration, Fresh realizes only a second later that Jubilee probably thinks that about her a lot too. But they could figure out something else. There has to be another way to make this work. There has to be so- ¡°We¡¯re in,¡± says Jubilee to the man. He claps his hands together gleefully. ¡°Very good! Very good! I like that in some young people," he beams. "Some conviction can go a long way, you know?¡± He says, laughing loudly. But Fresh hates the look on his face as she glares up towards him from her still kneeling position in the back. He reminds her of a toad, or some frog. He was going to eat them. She feels it. This is a set-up. Something in her gut tells her that this is wrong, even though she can''t nail down what it is exactly. She has to do something. Anything. But what? But what? Fresh looks around the room nervously. The man sets his book down to the side, to make space for their wager. ¡°I¡¯m a fair man, here.¡± He holds his hand out, giving the large coin to Jubilee. ¡°Big choices in life should be made with trust. You may flip the coin yourself, if you like.¡± He grins. ¡°So that there are no doubts¡­ you understand.¡± Jubilee takes the coin from him and looks at it. Fresh¡¯s fists clench together tighter still as she rises back up to her feet, her heart thrashing fast, sweat pearling on her clammy skin. She has to do something. She has to¡­ Her eyes narrow as she stares at the representative of the merchant¡¯s guild. They were trying to shut them down. Did they know? Did they know about them? Or did they just not want any disturbances? Straining herself as hard as she can, she forces a single finger to rise up. The digit releasing from her own vice-like grip and subtly pointing towards the man, her hands held tightly down at her waist. (Fresh) uses: [Jinx] The window that appears when she uses her luck-stealing spell is different than what she is used to. It¡¯s oddly pale and translucent and it vanishes only a second later. Neither of the other two seem to pay it any mind, as if they didn''t notice it. A strange, tiny string of purple smoke crawls down the back of her leg as she stands there. She feels it running down her body, like a tiny serpent crawling over her bare skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as it vanishes into a crack, down into the floorboards beneath her. Fresh gulps, wondering if she maybe did something brash? Jubilee seems satisfied with the coin. ¡°So you¡¯ll sign if we win?¡± ¡°On my honor,¡± promises the man, holding his arms out wide. His smile is even wider. No. Fresh narrows her eyes. This was the right thing to do, this time. A purple string rises up out of the floorboards just behind him, pushing out like a worm coming from the earth on a rainy day. It flops around, feeling for anything, until it strikes his boot and begins to slowly rise up his leg. ¡°Well. Fuck me. Okay. Here we go,¡± says Jubilee without a care in the world. They take a step back and so does the man. Jubilee looks back to Fresh once, but then returns their gaze forward a second later. ¡°Tails,¡± calls out her party-member, as a single chime rings out in the air, as their thumb flicks against the heavy coin and sends it spinning upwards. ¡°Please¡­¡± whispers Fresh with a breathless utterance, as her eyes are fixated on both the shimmering coin that seems to be suspended mid flight, as if trapped in that time-frozen second and the little purple thread that is arching back like a viper, ready to strike. It shimmers with odd intensity, not usual for metal, as the glowing beams of sunlight catch it. The coin falls. The snake lunges, sinking its fangs into the man¡¯s leg. Her jaw hurts from the pressure she is pushing her teeth together with, she hates that look on his wide face. That smug expression. He already knows that he¡¯s won. He did something. He had something. Some trick, scheme, spell, something. She feels it. She''s sure. The coin strikes the floor and jangles loudly as it comes to a stop and all three of them stare down towards it. A rock drops in her gut. ¡°IAAAAH!¡± Fresh screams and lunges towards Jubilee, who ducks out of the way. The girl flops down to the ground, falling down onto her stomach. Her gaze rises up to look at the coin, which is laying tails-up between the three of them. ¡°We won!¡± shouts the girl. A small boot plants itself on her lower back. ¡°I did, goo-brain. You didn¡¯t do shit, as always!¡± Jubilee bends forward, picking up the coin. Fresh laughs meekly and looks up and towards the man, who hasn¡¯t said anything yet. Something is twisted in his expression. The smug smile from before is gone, leaving only a deeply sour look in his eyes which don¡¯t blink once. This was something he hadn¡¯t expected. He was confident that he would win. How? In a game like this? Fresh narrows her gaze, but is unsure. Suddenly, something shifts and a new expression grows over his old one, burying it where nobody on the outside can see it. But Fresh still does, she sees it in his eyes. The fury. ¡°Well! It looks like luck is on your side today!¡± he laughs jovially, bending over to take the coin from Jubilee. Holding it up to his face, he looks at it himself now, oddly close, before tucking it away again. He claps his hands together, still smiling brightly with that fake smile of his. ¡°Okay! Let¡¯s get everything ready!¡± He grabs his ledger, opening it up and taking out several documents. ¡°Please sign here. Here. Here.¡± He goes through another few sheets. ¡°Here. Here aaand- here.¡± Jubilee grabs the pile of documents and the wide fountain pen that the man holds out. ¡°You will be expected to pay five percent of every sale to the merchant¡¯s guild, before taxes, you understand? In addition to your dues, which I believe you were informed about when you made this appointment,¡± says the man to Jubilee. Jubilee nods indifferently, the pen running along the sheets of thick paper, filling the room with a scratching sound as they write. ¡°Mm¡­ What will your venture be called?¡± asks the merchant¡¯s guild representative, filling out some pages himself in his ledger. Jubilee stops writing, looking down to Fresh, who is still laying on the ground questioningly. Fresh wonders why, but then she realizes that they want her to decide. ¡°Ah¡­¡± Panicked, she looks around the empty room for a clue. But there is nothing to see, except for the light shining in from outside, from the bright evening sun which pushes just past the massive gate of the dungeon. Her eyes light up. ¡°The Dungeon Item Shop!¡± says Fresh proudly, looking up towards the man, clenching her fists tightly together in determination and pressing them down against the floorboards. Jubilee presses their boot down into her back. ¡°The what?! What kind of stupid, simplistic name is that?! You goo-brain! That¡¯s the du-¡° The man from the merchant''s guild slaps his book loudly shut, his face smiling again as he interrupts. ¡°Very good! The ''Dungeon Item Shop'' it is!¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± says Jubilee, looking back to him. The man snatches the papers and pen back from them and looks over them once. Bending down, he hands them to Fresh, smiling his wrong smile. ¡°Please sign here.¡± She looks at the document and, trusting that Jubilee had read everything, she grabs the pen from the man¡¯s hand, trying her best not to touch him and signs next to her friend¡¯s name, noticing only for a second that the black ink seems to shimmer with just the faintest glint of purple as the pen touches the paper. *~+- New Venture Founded -+~* ~ THE DUNGEON ITEM SHOP ~ (+FRESH+) (JUBILEE) Razmatazz The pact is sealed. -) I''ve entered this story into the RoyalRoad writeathon, which means I need to hit 55,555 new words before May 5th, 2021. So expect the chapters after 33+ onwards to be a little longer in general, by maybe 25% -) Merchant''s guild is sus -) <3 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 31: Moonwater Fresh sits on the floor outside of their front door, staring at the glowing dungeon gate which illuminates the plaza with a pale, cold glow that seems to amplify the chill of the night, tangible all over her body, but especially on her sore, bare shoulders. She shudders, and rubs her arms for a moment, wishing that she had a coat, before reaching down and pulling the box of potions closer to herself. It''s dark outside. Well after nightfall and the girl yawns loudly, as if to prove that to herself. ¡°Midnight, maybe?¡± she wonders aloud, gazing at the dark sky looming above her. It''s hard to say what hour it is exactly. After the man had left, she and Jubilee sat there for a while, talking about how to proceed. She had asked again what the man meant by ¡®risks¡¯. Fresh looks back towards the dungeon-gate, feeling rather ominous about it now. The unlimited potential it had offered on her initial sighting of it is still there, but now she knows why nobody seemed to want to live here, directly around it. Because it isn¡¯t just that adventurers go into the dungeon - Sometimes¡­ Sometimes on very dark nights, when the moon is particularly close and the stars are particularly bright, shining like a thousand watchful eyes from the heavens above; sometimes things would come out of the dungeon too. Dark things that would creep in through loose windows, shadows that would crawl through tiny gaps in the walls and under doors, sneaking towards the beds of the unsuspecting. This area is where the poor lived, the expendable. The gate is too valuable to not build the city around, it was a source of unlimited prosperity after all, in a sense. But that¡¯s why the merchants were further away. To protect themselves. To protect their wares. Fresh sighs and pulls out a single potion from the box. She really doesn¡¯t know anything about this world. It should have chewed her up and spit her out more than once by now. She got lucky is all. But she can''t count on that forever. She looks at the flask in her hand. These would need some more work. Nobody would buy these. They looked awful. She would have to refine it some more. The same with the potion. It¡¯s rough. But there''s something there to both of these things. They both just needed a little more work. Fresh smiles as she connects this thought to herself and her new friend. They both just need a little more work. She holds the flask up, the moonlight of the half-moon shining in lazily through the glass, bounding off and refracting in all manner of direction. Moonwater, huh? Fresh closes her eyes and focuses, wondering how she¡¯s supposed to use this ability? The menu had said that it was a passive trait, but it sounded like something that she had to actually make, so¡­ She¡¯s lost. Fresh wishes the black-fountain had given her an instruction booklet. Oh. She blinks, rubbing her tired eyes. Wait. Looking down into her box, she grabs the giant book that the fountain had literally given to her, her hands ruffling through the pages which somehow still feel just a little damp, as if they never dried. With an excited gaze, she stares at the first page that her finger lands on. [Witch] - [Moonwater] Moonwater is a spiritually charged liquid, usually water, that has absorbed the energetic properties of the moon. The strength of the moonwater depends on the current phase of the moon. The fuller the moon, the stronger the effect. Required: x 1 Liquid Medium Water serves as the best base, as it is pure. But other liquids can be used as well x 1 Container (Translucent) x 1 Moon x 1 You x 1 Spiritually important item Ideally something translucent, such as a crystal or gemstone, though any spiritually important item will suffice.*1 Instructions: *1 Please read ''Moonwater section two'' before proceeding Warning: Never make moonwater during an eclipse ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, staring at the page that she found immediately, as if she knew where it was. That seems easy enough. It seems like something that even she can do! Though¡­ she looks down at the box, her ingredients aren¡¯t ideal. Jubilee had said there was a fountain on the other side of the gate, if she got thirsty in the night. Fresh nods to herself, getting up and taking the box with her and walking out over the plaza. It''s the middle of the night and nobody is here. It would be fine if she just gets some water real quick. The girl walks towards the gigantic gate, and then walks past it, around to the backside that she just now realizes she has never actually seen before. The sound of trickling water catches her ear and she looks to her side, at the back of the construction. The backside of the dugeon-gate is an entirely smooth stone surface all the way up from bottom to top. Though sitting near the bottom, spanning the width of the gate is a gigantic fountain. Simple. But big. Several vaguely ornate figures adorn the centerpiece, water leaking out of their mouths and trickling down into the basin. The water looks clean and clear. Jubilee had said it was good to drink, so it should be fine for this too, right? Setting the box down, she grabs the empty pot and dunks it in, filling it with water and sets it down to her side. Bending down, she takes one of the potions and, grimacing, pours it out. Jubilee had told her not to drink any more until she found a way to reduce the chance of any side-effects. It was lucky that the first one hadn¡¯t killed her. Fresh sighs sadly, watching the orange droplets spill to the ground and seep away into the stones. Washing the glass vial out, she fills it up with water too and sits down on the far edge of the fountain. The pot at her feet. The flask in her lap. The moon shines brightly against her and she looks around, making sure nobody is watching. A spiritually important item, huh? Fresh thinks. She doesn¡¯t have anything except her dress and¡­ some Obols? Her first Obol. Her lucky Obol! The one she had left after meeting Jubilee. Of course! Her hand digs into her pocket and she fumbles around, but then stops as something else comes into her grasp. Fresh pulls out the iron key, to the door to the adventurer¡¯s guild and stares at it. It didn¡¯t seem very hygienic but¡­ somehow she feels like this is actually a stronger item for herself. It wasn''t just luck that let her get this. She had worked for it. She had proven herself to Jubilee. Sort of. Smiling, Fresh takes the key and sticks it into the glass with some effort. Not all of it fits into the vial, but she feels like it¡¯s enough to ¡®count¡¯. With a curious expression, Fresh holds the bottle out to let the moonlight envelop them both. Closing her eyes, she focuses. Channel the moonlight¡¯s energy? That sounds a little kooky even for her, but¡­ well, it''s a new world, right? She shakes her head, getting any thoughts of embarrassment out of it. There isn¡¯t time for her to be afraid of making a fool out of herself, she has work to do. With her eyes closed, she sits there and waits, her hands holding the glass in place. What does moonlight even feel like, she wonders? How do you channel it? Sunlight feels warm, right? She had felt it so many times now in this new life. Fresh keeps smiling, but her body shudders in contrast. It''s icy cold out here at night, especially in this outfit of hers. But that''s fine for now. Just a little longer. Just a minute or two and she could go back inside. She focuses. Something splashes behind her. The girl opens her eyes to look at the sound, breaking her focus. But Fresh see''s nothing there except for the vaguely moonlit water of the fountain-basin. As she stares at it, a new thought comes to her mind, interrupting her work entirely. Should she be doing this here? Outside? On the plaza? What if someone is watching her from a dark window? Her eyes shoot open to scan the darkness of the square. Thankfully, she finds nobody watching her. The girl gulps. She almost messed up very badly. Quickly gathering everything back together into the box, she picks it up and hustles back towards the house, vanishing into the door, which she pulls tightly shut behind herself. The swearing words, flying through her brain, pray that Jubilee isn¡¯t going to find out about her latest blunder. With a heavy sigh, Fresh leans against the door as she comes back inside and then goes towards the right, setting the box down on the wooden floor and opening the downstairs window. Rubbing her head in frustration at herself, she sits down on the floorboards, down where nobody can see her. Moonlight shines in through the open window and she tries again, rebuilding her focus on the glass vial with the key in it. Then she feels it. The moonlight. It¡­ it doesn¡¯t feel much different than the sunlight does, when it comes to touch her skin. It¡¯s just not as intense or as warm. But, in a weird way, that subtle feeling is still there, that sensation of light finding her body. Like a foggy presence, it feels¡­ distant. Cool. It stems from the same place as the daylight, but it¡¯s different. Softer. More elegant. The water of the fountain trickles on in the distance as she focuses. As she focuses on taking that feeling coursing over her body and pushing it all into one place through her fingers. Pushing it into the water. Something chimes and she opens her eyes and stares at the glass flask in her hand. It seems to glow ever so slightly. The crystal-water giving off a strange, cold, blueish white shine, as if it were radiating moonlight itself. [Moonwater](Unique) Moonwater has highly spiritually restorative and purifying properties and can be used in a variety of ways. From item-crafting to armor-smithing to cooking, moonwater can be added to any recipe that needs water and will imbue its mystical properties onto said item. Processing Moonwater: Moonwater can be used for any crafting recipes that require water. Additionally, moonwater can be used to anoint weapons and armor. The effects will vary depending on the criteria listed in "Moonwater section 3." Moonwater is safe to consume IF it has been processed into something else. If processed, moonwater will imbue moonlight-energy into the item, equivalent to the strength of the moonwater. Moon Phase: First Quarter Medium: Water Strength: 50% If drunk: +5% SOUL Regeneration - 12 Hours +10% SOUL - 12 Hours + Purges dark spirits Warning! Moonwater carries a tinge of the witch inside of it and, unless processed or purified, should never be drank by anyone not of their title! Please read "Moonwater Section 2" for clarification on purification. 180 mL Value: ?? Fresh beams. It seems a little vague, but this could be really useful! Giddy, she grabs a potion to repeat the process. But this time with an already finished potion instead of just pure water. Minor Antidote A small antidote potion, contained inside of a rough glass container. Used to clear minor status effects from low level monsters and areas. This potion is glowing with magical energies. + Cures all minor ailments. + Removes all minor poisons. +2% SOUL Regeneration - 8 Hours +5% SOUL - 8 Hours + Purges dark spirits (50%) ??? Poor Quality Side Effects Chance: + 25% 180 mL Value: ?? Fresh looks at the bottle in her hand in excitement. The potion is glowing, giving off a light in the dark room. More importantly, it''s just plain better than before, just with this! It lost an entire possible side-effect and the chance of getting any negative effects shrunk by a little. Plus it still gave some of the moonwater¡¯s properties! Not as much as with the pure-water, but still. She swirls the concoction around. This is significant for something that is ''free'', right? This had to bump the value of their potions up by something! Besides, this was an already finished potion that she had blessed with moonlight. What if she makes one from scratch using pure-moonwater? It would be stronger, right? If she can learn to make good potions, using pure-moonwater during the crafting process, then she can make them even better than this for sure. Maybe she can use the moonwater to imbue some items with magic? Some trinkets or something? Maybe even a weapon? Would the moonwater have some kind of effect if gave some to a smith, making a sword or an axe? Can she craft anything herself? Fresh racks her brain, thinking about her craftsman recipes and the items that they have left in their stockpile, to see if there was anything that adds up. There''s so much to do and the night is still young realizes Fresh, sitting there on the floor during the witching-hour. She beams as brightly as the moonlight and sets to work, deciding to first finish processing the rest of the potions, so that she can show Jubilee all of the things that she''s made, when they wake up in the morning. Fresh has a special idea too, not sure where exactly it came from. Somehow the trickling sound of the fountain outside has inspired her. She realizes that they still have the blue mushroom-powder and she just so happens to have a recipe for that. One that might just work out nicely, together with the moonwater. Razmatazz Trivia - Moonwater Moonwater has a very foggy history, given it''s easy creation. Some say that it was ''invented'' during the 1800''s by witches brewing love potions. Though others argue that given its incredible ease of creation that shamans and other ancient mystics have been making the substance for a long time before even that. Moonwater is actually a thing that people still make these days as well. Whether it''s ''effects'' are real or not is a can of worms I won''t open up here. Think of the water as a ¡®spiritual battery¡¯ though. If you''re interested in ''crystal woo-woo'' nonsense like I am and want to make your own, then just do as follows! 1) Fill clean water into a sterile glass container 2) Place a spiritually important item inside. Ideally a crystal or a gemstone or something translucent that the moonlight can shine through. But any ''important'' item will suffice. What matters most is how strong your feelings connected to that thing are.* 3) Seal the container tightly. 4) Wait for a night with a strong moon. The fuller and closer the moon, the stronger the effects are said to be. Don''t do it during an eclipse though, unless making cursed water is your goal. Which it might be, I don''t judge. 5) Set the jar out in front of yourself so that it can absorb as much moonlight as possible and focus on ''channeling'' the energy of the moonlight through yourself and pushing it all into a nice little condensed sphere inside of the container. 6) Retrieve your item back out and reseal the container. Wa-la. Moonwater. Now what do you do with it? Well that''s up to you. Some ideas - -Do you have a shrine or practice rituals? Use it for offerings or ingredients when concocting spells and potions -Add a spritz of it to your cleaning sprays to get that good moonlight energy in your home -Add some to your bathwater for some good vibes -Water your plants with it if they look particularly sad -Drink it. But only if the ''water'' is clean enough to drink anyways. Don''t drink week old, grimey moonwater, k? Bacteria and fungi don''t care about moonwater and any so-called ''mystical properties''. They''ll mess you up good and I won''t be held responsible because you drank some old jar water, haha Like a battery, moonwater will lose its ''charge'' over time and so also lose its potency. Sunlight will destroy moonwater''s charge as well, given the subdued ''softer'' nature of the moon. So maybe keep it refrigerated. *Adding an item to the moonwater is actually a step some people argue about. If this is too weird for you, then don''t place an item inside. But rather hold your hands to the water and state with strong intentions what you hope to achieve with it Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 32: I made this The bags under her eyes offer a stark contrast to the sparkling gaze which is held inside of them. This one here. This is the best one. By far. She had saved this one for last. Fresh swirls the single, low-quality minor-antidote around in her hands. She had spent the night carefully using her magic to smooth the glass down into a shape that is nearly perfect. This bottle looks like one that you could buy a ¡®real¡¯ potion in, down at the alchemist¡¯s. Well, apart from the fact that the crystalline-glass is matte instead of translucent. Also, it still doesn¡¯t have a lid. But that¡¯s a secondary problem for now. Birds sing in the trees outside on the plaza as warm sunlight shines in through the, once again, closed window. The warm rays gently stroke her back, as she sits there with crossed legs and examines every inch of the bottle to make sure that it¡¯s perfect. It has to be perfect. She wants to present it to Jubilee. She had blessed the contents with the moonwater-passive in the night before. It¡¯s a strange feeling, blessing the liquid. In a sense, it felt like she was draining her own energy to do it and it made her tired. But at the same time, energy from the moon came in to fill what was missing in her body. It was¡­ the same, but different. Like water from two different lakes not far apart from each other, meeting in a trench in the middle. These can sell, thinks Fresh. They really could. They just need a little more elbow grease and they¡¯ll be ready. But that¡¯s only one thing. The real seller, the real meat, she¡¯s still preparing. Though, it should have soaked through by now¡­ Fresh sets the bottle down and pulls the pot of moonwater towards herself, staring at the floating blue powder that she had sprinkled inside of it. The ground-up, blue mushroom-cap. She had spilled a lot of it, but there was enough salvageable for this. Fresh holds her hands above the metal pot, just as a pair of small boots make their way down the stairs. + Restores 20% of SOUL +5% SOUL Regeneration - 12 Hours +10% SOUL - 12 Hours + Purges Corrupting Spirits A minor soul-potion that restores some of a body¡¯s inherent magical energy if drunk. This potion is glowing with magical energies. Low Quality - No side effects - 180 mL Value: ??? ¡°You¡¯re up early,¡± says Jubilee, walking over to her and staring down at the pot. ¡°What the fuck is that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a minor soul-potion!¡± says Fresh. ¡°I got it as my second witch-crafting recipe!¡± Jubilee bends down to look at the blue, glowing substance inside of the pot. ¡°What? No it¡¯s not,¡± they say skeptically. ¡°Why is it¡­ why is it glowing? What are these extra values? What did you do? Soul regeneration? Corrupting¡­ what? What the fuck am I looking at?¡± Jubilee gets up, rubbing their eyes. ¡°It¡¯s too early for this.¡± Fresh raises a finger and bobs her head from left to right with a sing-song tone. ¡°Because of the moon-wat-er!¡± She leans in towards Jubilee. ¡°I think it¡¯s really good! Look!¡± she points to the stats-window that Jubilee was already, and still is, staring at. "It doesn''t even have any side effects!" ¡°Twenty-percent soul is pretty dinky. Really low level potion stuff,¡± they say, tilting their head and waving a hand idly. Fresh lowers her own hand and her gaze, disappointedly. ¡°Oh¡­¡± she turns her head to the side and rubs her arm. ¡°Sor-¡° Jubilee interrupts. ¡°But these other stats together? Soul regeneration and a bonus to max soul points for a full twelve hours? All together in one potion? That¡¯s good. It more than evens out.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°How much did this cost to make?¡± they ask, looking back to her. Fresh looks at them curiously. Cost¡­? ¡°The moonwater is free and you made the glass for the bottle. The only cost we have is one blue-cap.¡± ¡°Fuck me. How many can you make from the one cap?¡± Fresh thinks, rubbing her tired eyes. ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t know. I think they use up more of the cap if they¡¯re bad quality,¡± she says. ¡°My best ones are low-quality now. I think if I get lucky and only make them with low quality, then I can get three potions per blue cap?¡± she suggests. ¡°Maybe just two though.¡± Jubilee thinks, their stance changing to one that is more loose and broad. ¡°If we get some nice bottles and label these, they could really sell. Low-level casters will drool over this stuff! Usually soul potions are really expensive.¡± ¡°They are?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Oh, yeah, the alchemists got the casters by the balls,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Only the church gets a big discount on soul-potions. Everyone else has to pay out. A minor potion with thirty-percent soul will go for thirty Obols, easily. ¡°THIRTY?!¡± asks Fresh, leaning forward and almost knocking over the pot. That seems absurd, especially for a low level potion like these. Are soul potions really so hard to make? Or is there just an artificial inflation of the price here in town? ¡°Yeah, but since ours only have twenty-percent and we don¡¯t have a reputation, nobody will pay that.¡± They think for a second, looking around the room. ¡°But if we lower the price a little, then we could make it back in numbers. Especially with these bonus values and since we have next to no costs.¡± Jubilee begins to pace, clearly on to something. ¡°We¡¯ll do the math later, but¡­ fuck.¡± Jubilee looks back to her and nods approvingly. ¡°Good job. You might really have something here.¡± Fresh beams, clutching her hands together at the long-awaited praise. ¡°Oh! Look!¡± She hands Jubilee the low-quality antidote. ¡°I finished this one too!¡± They spin it around in their hands. ¡°Wow,¡± they say, holding it up to the light. ¡°You did good on the bottle. I really like it! It really stands out. But¡­¡± They sigh and walk to the door, holding their hand out and pouring out the low-quality minor-antidote. Fresh squeaks and clutches her hair in a panic. ¡°What are you doing?!¡± cries the girl. ¡°It''s impressive that you of all people made it, but nobody is going to buy a potion with these kinds of side-effects, dumb-ass. It¡¯s worthless.¡± They shake the glass bottle out and walk back to Fresh, waving her off as they see her quivering lip. Jubilee bends down and dips the empty bottle into the pot, filling it up with the soul-potion. ¡°The antidotes need some more work. But you did good with the bottle and you did great with the soul-potion. We might just be in business here soon.¡± They swirl the bottle of glowing blue liquid around. ¡°I know somebody who I can ask about this. Are you going to behave while I¡¯m gone?¡± asks Jubilee, getting up. Fresh relents with a sigh, accepting this as a partial victory. But a victory nonetheless. ¡°Okaaay~¡± In truth she¡¯s already thinking about going to bed. Maybe she can open her window upstairs and just fall asleep in the sunlight? That sounds nice. Fresh yawns. It was a long night. Being a witch is exhausting. Maybe she needs to become a night-owl if she has to be up at night so often? ¡°Can the moonwater be used for other things too? Like crafting equipment and weapons?¡± asks Jubilee, heading back to the door. Fresh nods and rises up to her feet, stretching and yawning. ¡°I think so, the grimoire said something about that too,¡± she explains, covering her mouth. She makes a note to herself to extensively read her grimoire, which she has neglected to do so far. ¡°You really might end up being useful after all.¡± Jubilee nods to her. ¡°Good night.¡± The girl smiles and heads to the stairs, waving goodbye to her friend with a happy smile. ¡°Good night.¡± A moment later she goes upstairs, walking past the many still sealed doors and enters the empty room that is hers. Fresh feels happy. Tired, but happy. It was a long night. But she earned her friend¡¯s approval. She finally did something right, she finally did something good. She can¡¯t help but let out another happy noise as she pulls open the window to feel the bright sun on her cold face and she feels a new joy at the prospect of finally getting some sleep. Fresh opens her eyes and stares out at the plaza. At the crowd of people all surrounding the fountain at the back of the gate. All of them wear robes and dresses and the usual caster fare. All of them babble like the fountain, as they talk excitedly, as they all hang around the mildly-glowing, sparkling water. All of them look at it and each other. Happy, excited faces adorning each and every one of them, as they readily fill pouches and flasks by the dozens. She jumps up in shock as a loud crash rings out from behind her. Jubilee stands at the door, their fingers straining as they clutch the handle tightly. Their eyes open wide in angry, furious exasperation. ¡°WHAT DID YOU DO?!¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, laughing meekly and taking a step back. ¡°I¡­ I made moonwater?¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 33: Publicity Stunt Jubilee and Fresh walk through the busy crowd of adventurers, which is bustling like an excited swarm, buzzing around a hive. Groups of them run back and forth from the nearby houses, filling up as many pots and cups and old, empty bottles from the fountain as they can. ¡°You think it¡¯s an event?¡± asks a man in heavy-armor, scratching his head. ¡°No¡­ there¡¯d be a menu then. Maybe it was the church?¡± whispers a girl in a hushed voice next to him. A tan-clad elf with a veiled face next to them interjects. ¡°It¡¯s clearly a blessing from the divine!¡± Fresh looks at an old man, who couldn¡¯t be more of a stereotypical wizard, eccentrically crying on his knees and staring at the fountain in joy. An annoyed woman stands next to him, patting his back with a heavy sigh and a tired expression that reminds Fresh very much of the look Jubilee always has in their eyes. ¡°Yeah. Yeah. I know. I know,¡± says the woman, rolling their eyes. Fresh looks away scratching her cheek meekly, feeling some d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Other voices whisper out. The crowd is absolutely buzzing with electricity. ¡°With this many soul-points, maybe we can finally beat that boss on floor sixteen?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to afford a soul-potion for a week,¡± cries a man dressed in black. ¡°It¡¯s not thaaat good, I mean maybe¡­¡± says a sharp voice from next to him. He points to them, angrily. ¡°For free it is! For what a soul-regeneration potion costs, you may as well just buy the real ones!¡± He waves the woman off. ¡°Besides, it was stronger an hour ago.¡± All of them argue and chatter, but the mood in general seems to be one of elation. At least amongst the casters. Their more heavily-clad companions, clearly swordsmen and warriors and fighters of all stature, seem less impressed. Though some do seem to take joy in the delight of their compatriots, if nothing else. Jubilee places their hands onto the fountain, ready to bend over and look at the water. They stop, their body tensing up and they step back a second later without ever looking at it. Fresh looks at them curiously, still scratching her cheek. She opts to do Jubilee the favor and look herself, now that they¡¯re standing at the spot she had sat at last night. How did this even happen? Wasn¡¯t she in the house when she made the moonwater? The girl looks over the rim of the fountain and stares into the shallow water below. Sunlight radiates off of its already shiny, glowing surface, giving it a more than holy appearance. Her eyes go wide as she sees the thing. Looking around to make sure nobody is watching, Fresh leans forward, sticking her hand into the water to fish out a single Obol that is planted down beneath the surface. Her other hand checks her pocket, fumbling through the coins. Sure enough. She¡¯s one light. She looks at the dinky coin, recognizing it immediately by the scuffs and scratches it has. This is her lucky Obol. The single one that she had had left after her admission into the adventurer¡¯s guild. Her hand clenches tightly around the wet coin, as she looks back towards the water. She does her best to ignore Jubilee, who is busy clutching their hood in frustration, mumbling something about how fucked they are. [Fountain-Water]{Holy}(Pure) If drunk: +3% SOUL Regeneration - 9 Hours +7% SOUL - 9 Hours + Purges corrupting spirits (80%) Huh? She looks at the little window curiously. It¡¯s different. The warning is gone. Didn¡¯t moonwater have to be processed though, to become safe to drink for others? Fresh places the wet coin into her pocket and takes the ever-damp grimoire out of her backpack, turning away from the crowd and carefully opening the pages to the section on moonwater and reads it once again. ¡°Unprocessed moonwater decays if left in sunlight¡­¡± mumbles the girl, finding the line on the second page. She reads on further, wondering if maybe she should have read this entire section before making the attempt, instead of just the recipe. Her finger taps her chin. Yeah. She probably should have done that. Her eyes read over a line detailing how moonwater can be made at a distance, as long as a strong spiritual connection is present. She closes the grimoire and tucks it back away, making a mental note to take a day to read through it entirely. Jubilee is glaring up towards her, but doesn¡¯t say anything. Fresh rubs her arm, feeling terrible, but she doesn¡¯t say anything either. What should she do to make this right, she wonders? ¡°Ah!¡± cries out a voice from the crowd. ¡°It lost another percent!¡± The crowd shifts. Fresh leans down to Jubilee, hoping to ease their nerves. Raising a hand to her mouth to cover her whisper. ¡°Jubilee. I think it¡¯s fine. The effect is vanishing on its own,¡± she says quietly. ¡°That¡¯s fine, but people are going to talk about this for months!¡± hisses Jubilee. ¡°Is there anything that ties you to this?!¡± they ask, pushing a finger into her forehead. Fresh thinks and looks around. Apart from the Obol that she fished out of the water, there was nothing that made them complicit. Sure it caused a little buzz, but maybe¡­ ¡°Isn¡¯t everything fine though?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s not like anyone is mad or upset, they all seem happy.¡± She looks around at the adventurers around them, who are all just excited, but in a good way. She looks back towards her friend¡¯s raging eyes and then down to the thing in their hands. The blue potion from before. Jubilee prods their finger into her again, knocking her off-balance. Fresh flails, trying to catch herself. ¡°You think the alchemists won¡¯t have our throats cut, once they hear about this?!¡± Fresh catches herself on the rim of the fountain and looks back to them, laughing meekly. ¡°But it¡¯s fine, we were going to sell potions anyways! Besides, we have a merchant¡¯s license now, right?¡± she ponders. ¡°Won¡¯t they leave us alone now, if we pay our share of every sale?¡± Jubilee looks over their shoulder, glancing at the large man from the day before. The merchant¡¯s guild representative who was also eying the fountain, together with some very shady looking men at his side. Jubilee grabs Fresh¡¯s hand, dragging her to a spot further away from the people. ¡°Listen, dumb-ass! We might be licensed and that means we¡¯re sanctioned by the merchant¡¯s guild to do business. But that doesn¡¯t mean that the other vendors won¡¯t have a problem with it!¡± They let go of her hand, swiping it to the side. ¡°Especially if you start giving away high-value products for free!¡± they furiously whisper. ¡°It steps on some toes!¡± Fresh winces, wondering if this is it. If this is the moment that Jubilee would finally leave her behind. Her mind races. She needs to come up with something. With anything to¡­ to¡­ Her eyes wander to the blue potion and the idea hits her. ¡°What if we don¡¯t?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee with clear frustration in their eyes. Fresh grabs the potion from them and gently swings it around. ¡°Jubilee! I have an idea!¡± says the girl excitedly, thinking that she¡¯s found her redemption. ¡°Do you trust me?¡± ¡°No!¡± says Jubilee very clearly. Fresh winces. She supposes she deserves that though. But she narrows her eyes and stands up anyways, determined to earn that back, if she ever had it at all. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asks Jubilee quietly with venom, as she walks back towards the fountain. Fresh turns and raises a clenched fist. ¡°I have an idea!¡± ¡°Stop having ideas! Get back here!¡± whispers Jubilee in vexation. ¡°Trust me!¡± says Fresh, turning her face forward and running into the crowd, ignoring Jubilee who is running after her. She clenches her fists. This is how she¡¯s going to make it right. They just had to get ahead of it. If they get in front of the situation, they can control it. If they did nothing and waited, it would come back to haunt them. This is risky, but it¡¯s the best move in her eyes. Besides¡­ with this many people¡­ She climbs onto the fountain. ¡°H-hello everyone!¡± shouts Fresh with a somewhat cracking voice. Some of the people near the front of the fountain stop their conversations to look at her. She waves awkwardly back to them. Sensing the silence, the people behind them grow quiet and turn their heads as well. The man from the merchant¡¯s guild is watching her now too. She looks over to the side, seeing Jubilee clawing at their mask in anger. Fresh clenches her fists and swallows to unclench her throat. ¡°We¡¯re glad to see that you¡¯re enjoying the fountain!¡± she says loudly. The crowd murmurs and she watches as the man from the merchant¡¯s guild narrows his eyes. ¡°Please continue to enjoy this free, once in a life-time, event!¡± she assures the crowd, though looks at the frog-like man from the guild as she holds out the potion. Sweat beads on her forehead and she feels her legs wobbling beneath her. She hopes they don¡¯t give out right here and now. ¡°- To commemorate the occasion of our newest, cheaper variant of the soul-potion!¡± A single, tiny scream breaks the silence. Fresh goes on, ignoring it and opening the window for the potion. ¡°Starting next week, you can buy these at the brand new ¡®Dungeon Item Shop¡¯, found right over there!¡± she points towards Jubilee¡¯s house. She has to seal the deal. She¡¯s sure of it. There are still some skeptical eyes in the crowd. She winks. ¡°- Only nineteen Obols each!¡± Another scream escapes Jubilee, this one more dire. She ignores it too, however. The crowd murmurs in excitement, looking at each other. ¡°That¡¯s pretty cheap¡­¡± says an elf near the front. A man in black armor next to her asks. ¡°It has fewer values than a normal soul potion though?¡± ¡°But it¡¯s like two in one!¡± argues a caster standing behind them. Fresh feels two deadly pairs of eyes on her. One of which she knows that she can placate. With this many people, with this many witnesses¡­ they have to get ahead of it. Fresh clears her throat, bringing back silence to the crowd. This is it. This is her deadliest strike yet. This is where her plan comes together and keeps them safe. She hands the potion to a red-robed, witch-hatted caster who is just in front of the fountain. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s glowing? That¡¯s cool!¡± says the red-wizard excitedly, examining the bottle. The group around them examines the matte, glowing bottle as well. Fresh winks with a smile, raising a finger. ¡°That¡¯s from our secret ingredient! Again. Found only at the ¡®Dungeon Item Shop¡¯, starting next week!¡± She rises back up to her feet, ready to complete the spiel. ¡°Of course, none of this would have been possible without the generous sponsorship of the merchant¡¯s guild!¡± She holds her arms out towards the frog-like man. ¡°The merchant¡¯s guild, alone, generously arranged for this fountain to be blessed for the day, at great personal expense!¡± she beams. ¡°So please be sure to thank them kindly!¡± says Fresh, tilting her head. The crowd bustles around the representative and he and his lackeys are quickly swamped by grateful, overly dramatic adventurers. Fresh lets out a sigh of relief, as most of the eyes leave her and all go towards the representatives from the guild, who are overrun by handshakes, pats on the back and hugs from the more eccentric types, of which there seem to be a lot amongst adventurers as a whole. Fresh wonders, placing a finger to her lip as she steps down from the fountain. Maybe eccentric people are just more likely to become adventurers to begin with? That makes sense to her. She walks over and back to Jubilee. ¡°Ah, wait, your potion!¡± says the red-wizard. Fresh raises a finger and winks. ¡°Consider it a free sample! See you next week!¡± and with that she walks back over to her very distressed friend. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 34: Ties that bind Fresh and Jubilee stand inside of the entrance to the dungeon. Jubilee had dragged her in here after her speech. Their eyes burn with the same intensity that they did when Fresh had thrown the piece of bread at them. They make a noise as they begin to speak, a finger raised to point at her from a shaking, tense arm. ¡°I¡­ -¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything else, but doesn¡¯t lower their arm either. Apparently entirely lost for words, but still angry enough to try. ¡°Sorry,¡± says Fresh, rubbing her arm. But then she looks back to her friend with a shine in her eyes. ¡°But it was the best thing to do!¡± She leans forward, clenching her fists. Jubilee still doesn¡¯t lower their arm, but their pupils shift. Fresh realizes that Jubilee hasn¡¯t blinked once yet. ¡°I messed up with the fountain! I¡¯m sorry!¡± says Fresh. ¡°But if we didn¡¯t get ahead of it, this would have come back to bite us later!¡± ¡°Why are you like this?!¡± yells Jubilee, finally managing to make a coherent sentence. Fresh ignores their question. ¡°Because we got ahead of it and thanked the merchant¡¯s guild, they get a boost in prestige and we have an entire swarm of adventurers who know about us and our connection to them now!¡± explains Fresh. ¡°That makes us safer than if we tried to keep it a secret!¡± Jubilee twitches, finally lowering their arm. ¡°Maybe. Or maybe we¡¯ll just die in our sleep tonight,¡± they say. ¡°That is if we aren¡¯t scooped up and tortured to death before we even get back across the plaza!¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°There¡¯s too much pressure on them now!¡± ¡°Huh?! If there¡¯s pressure on anyone, it¡¯s on us! Dumb-ass!¡± shouts Jubilee in vexed frustration. Fresh leans back, tapping her head. ¡°We promised to start selling the potions next week!¡± Jubilee glares at her for a while. But then takes a deep breath, holding their hands out at their sides to calm themselves down. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t already dead inside from what you¡¯re putting me through, I¡¯d be really depressed being around you. You know?¡± Fresh grimaces, scowling at her friend that obviously doesn¡¯t get it. ¡°People are going to talk about this. It¡¯s going to be all around town by tomorrow!¡± ¡°How is that relevant?! Shut up! Just¡­ shut up. Please.¡± Jubilee sighs and falls down to the steps, placing their head in their hands. Fresh crosses her arms, closing her eyes and ignoring the damp feeling beneath them. The two of them are quiet for a time. The only sounds present are the strange, dully howling ambient winds of the dungeon below and the crackling of the fire of the many torches lining the rock walls. Jubilee¡¯s head lifts from their hands, looking up ahead of themselves as they mumble. ¡°If we don¡¯t deliver¡­ then the merchant¡¯s guild will look bad.¡± Their head snaps towards the girl. Their eyes wide in shock. ¡°Their reputation will be ruined, at least among the casters¡­¡± Jubilee jumps up to their feet, scrambling as they point to her in disbelief. ¡°Did you think of this?! You?!¡± Fresh smiles tapping her head again. ¡°I¡¯m party-leader after all, I have to keep my party safe!¡± Jubilee clenches their hood in disbelief. ¡°What the fuck?!¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± Fresh leans in forward, her eyes wide again, happy that Jubilee has understood her plan. ¡°I hav-¡° ¡°-If you tell me that you have an idea one more time, then I¡¯m going to shove you headfirst in the mushroom¡¯s den and leave you there for the slimes to find!¡± threatens Jubilee, interrupting her. Fresh frowns, puffing out her cheek and letting out a grumble, looking to the side. ¡°¡­a plan¡­¡± Jubilee sighs and everything is quiet again. ¡°¡­Okay. Let¡¯s hear it.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat surprised as she looks back towards her friend. ¡°Your plan, let¡¯s hear it,¡± relents Jubilee, looking away and waving a hand at her. Fresh¡¯s eyes go wide in delight, seeing that Jubilee is willing to accept her ideas. ¡°You focus on farming the blue-caps for now!¡± she explains. ¡°The antidotes aren¡¯t worth much until I make them better, but the minor soul-potions are perfect!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°If we make enough to meet the demand, we¡¯ll make a bunch of money!¡± ¡°Go on,¡± says Jubilee, now interested, looking her up and down. ¡°We¡¯ll make our share and the merchant¡¯s guild will get their cut, plus the good will of the casters in the city!¡± beams Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s going to keep us safe. We¡¯ll just be too valuable to get rid of!¡± she says. ¡°If the merchant¡¯s guild is backing us from above, even the other vendors won¡¯t come after us!¡± Jubilee blinks, staring at her for a second. ¡°Fuck me¡­ did you get a brain with your class?¡± Fresh scowls at them again, grumbling just the same as before. Jubilee thinks for a time but then digs into their pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. ¡°Here.¡± ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she asks, taking it curiously. Jubilee waves them off and begins heading down the staircase. ¡°I was going to surprise you with it, but I guess I have work to do now,¡± they say, heading down towards the first floor. ¡°So go pick it up yourself, it¡¯s right next to the adventurer¡¯s guild.¡± Fresh looks at the slip of paper curiously. There¡¯s nothing on it but a handwritten number. ¡°Huh? For me?¡± she feels bad, why is Jubilee always doing things for her? ¡°Please stop giv-¡± ¡°-I¡¯m not giving you shit, goo-brain!¡± Jubilee yells at her as they vanish into the distance. ¡°It was your boss-drop from the flower, I just asked them to make it into something.¡± Her boss-drop? Jubilee had mentioned something like that before¡­ Fresh looks at the note in her hand. With that, Jubilee vanishes into the darkness below, presumably off to collect more blue-mushroom caps. Her eyes raise back up from the paper. ¡°Good luck! See you at home!¡± she shouts down into the dungeon. Nothing comes in response, she¡¯s not sure if Jubilee heard it at all. But she¡¯s glad that she said it nonetheless. Fresh turns and leaves. A moment later, she finds herself out on the plaza again. It¡¯s bustling with as much activity as ever, if not more, as more adventurers now make their way past her into the dungeon and others going around towards the fountain, being dragged there by their excited compatriots. Fresh smiles, seeing the buzzing, active world around her. The mood of the many people in the streets is more than befitting of the brilliant sunshine coming from above, realizes Fresh, as she walks down the main street, towards the plaza at the entrance gate. Looking around curiously, she sees the thing. This must be what Jubilee had mentioned. Her heart thuds just a little in a flutter of excitement as she looks at the window of the tailor¡¯s shop, which is filled with all manner of equipment and clothing for casters. Clenching her hands together, the note held tightly in between, she rushes in through the door. A tiny bell jingles out, welcoming her arrival. The vivid sunlight shining in through the large windows inside of the store silhouettes the many large dolls and mannequins adorning the space, all of them wearing all manner of cloth outfits which range from simple-dresses to ornate-robes to plain-trousers and button-ups. The air inside of the store is surprisingly cool and, while not damp, certainly on the edge of being called so. Fresh looks around the room, somewhat nervously, her joy from a second ago subdued by the two dozen odd, human-like figures that fill the room. The fake-people face all manner of direction, as if mimicking the busy crowd outside on the plaza. Some stand, posed as if talking to each other. Others sit alone in the distance, leaning against the backdrop like wallflowers. A strange smell of a sweet smoke fills the air, like slowly burnt wood from a cherry tree. Her boots thud out against the thick, red, decorative carpet beneath her as she walks up towards the counter, which nobody sits behind. ¡°Hello?¡± asks Fresh, looking around and then back to the note in her hand. This is the right place, she assumes so at least. Feeling a little antsy, the girl fidgets and looks around herself, back to the mannequins who she now notices all have one thing in common. A single, whisper-red string spans from each of them off to the next. A single thread that ties them all together, looping only once around each figure in a hidden place. Wrapping around their wrists just beneath the cuffs of the sleeves, over their throats just below scarves and wraps which bury it, as if to hide it from sight. Fresh scratches her cheek nervously, looking at them. One in particular stands by the window and is faced to look outside, towards the shining day being born anew. ¡°I¡¯ll be there in a second!¡± calls a voice from the back of the store, coming from through a small, curtained doorway, just behind the counter. Fresh¡¯s gaze turns towards it and she sighs a breath of relief. Apparently someone is here after all. A figure comes out from behind the curtain. Fresh cranes her neck to look up at them, feeling her legs get a little wobbly and her sense of relief leaving her immediately. The figure is extremely tall and, plainly put, rather ominous in their appearance. Their androgynous face is pale and indistinct, though Fresh leans towards guessing that the person is a man. A ghostly man, but a man. His limbs are long and spindly like the legs of a spider. He wears a long, gray, slim-fitted outfit. Pressed into his lips is a long wooden straw, at the end of which something burns. A cigarette? No. But something akin to it. ¡°H-hello,¡± she says nervously and holds out the slip of paper to him. The ghostly person takes the note from her and looks at it. ¡°Ah, yes. Hold on. We just finished this one last night,¡° he says, taking a draw of his pipe. The man vanishes into the back and the girl wonders what he means by ¡®we¡¯. Looking around, she sees nobody but herself and¡­ Fresh¡¯s eyes narrow as she looks at the mannequins. Weren¡¯t they all facing a different direction just a moment ago¡­? ¡°Here we are,¡± calls his voice out from in front of her and her head snaps back forward. She didn¡¯t hear him coming back. ¡°As agreed, we processed your boss-core into this.¡± The man holds out a black-cloth bundle and Fresh takes it from him, looking it over with shining eyes as it unravels in her hands. A robe woven out of plant fibres from a giant pink-flower. Offers little physical protection, but is sturdy and comfortable. (The springtide pink threads of this robe have been dyed a deep black.) +2 Poison resistance +2 Lightning resistance Durability: Brand New Value: 125 It¡¯s a robe. This one has actual shoulders and sleeves. A cheerful cry escapes her closed mouth as she looks at it in delight. The material is soft, but feels sturdy and airy. Was this made out of her dropped boss-core, whatever that was? She¡¯s not sure. Though judging by the name and description, she comes back around and assumes it is. The man speaks. ¡°Despite my protests, we opted to make the fabric black, as requested by the customer, so that, I quote -¡± The man looks over a ledger and clears his throat once, as he recites what is written on the page. ¡°She can get her fat hands dirty and pull some fucking weight, without being a constant embarrassment to me. Because she looks like she''s covered in shit,¡± The man lowers the ledger and Fresh looks at him uneasily. ¡°- End quote.¡± She laughs meekly. That certainly sounds like something Jubilee would say. ¡°Do I owe you anything?¡± she asks the man. The strange man looks back to her curiously and waves a hand. ¡°No, as per our agreement, we took twenty percent of the boss-core as our fee.¡± Fresh has no idea what that means, but nods to him. ¡°Can I try it on?¡± She asks eagerly, not that she was ever really big on clothes. But after a week in the same dress, the prospect of something new is more than exciting for her. The strange man points to the side, to a curtained stall. ¡°You may. But the measurements are correct. We¡¯re certain, we checked again when you came inside.¡± She stares at him blankly for a second, not sure what he means. She never gave anyone her measurements, not that she even knows what they are to begin with. Pushing that aside for now, she goes to the cabin and pulls the curtain shut to change, sighing as she escapes the creepy man and the feeling of being watched for just a moment. With some relief, she takes the old dress off and works her way into the new one, taking a second to look at her body that she now notices is covered in bruises, scuffs and sore spots. But if that¡¯s the only price of admission for this new life, then as far as she sees it, she¡¯s still in the clear. With a smile, the girl works her way into the new dress, setting the old one down to the side. It¡¯s a stark contrast to the white one that she had had on this entire time. But she likes it. In her old life, she only ever wore black-hoodies and sweatpants. Though in a sense, maybe that¡¯s why she liked the white dress too. Sort of. It was so radically different from her comfort zone that she was forced to adapt to it. But¡­ She rolls her shoulders and straightens the fabric there, pulling it taut. The robe really does fit perfectly. Fresh looks down at herself. But it seems befitting of a witch. Plus the white-dress did get dirty very easily. This color would be good, she realizes, especially if she does a lot of dirty potion-work and crafting. Or if she¡¯s being dragged through the dungeon by Jubilee. Besides, she grabs her collar, straightening the rim and pulling tightly on the little red ribbon that adorns the front. This was different too. She would have never worn something like this before. Looking up, she stares at a foggy mirror in front of herself and looks herself over once. ¡°Bubble-bubble!¡± says Fresh, not too sure why. But it just seems like the right thing to say when she sees the witch in the mirror. Her smile grows wider. She wishes she had a big, pointed hat. But maybe that¡¯s too on the nose? With that bright expression, she exits the cabin and spins around once proudly to show the ghostly man. But once she opens her eyes, she sees that he is already gone. Perhaps he was so confident in his trade, that he had already vanished into the back room, knowing that the dress would be perfect. Fresh rubs the back of her head, but then shrugs to herself. It is what it is. She looks around, still somewhat uneasily now though. With a quiet ¡°Hmm,¡± she packs her white dress into her bag and goes to leave. Fresh¡¯s hand clutches the door and she pulls it open, though her head turns one last time to spare a glance back inside of the tailor¡¯s workshop. She sees two dozen mannequins, all turned her way, all of them have a single hand up in the air as if to wave goodbye. All bound by a single red string. Fresh screams and runs out into the sunlight, slamming the door tightly shut behind herself. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 35: Montage The rest of the day has come to pass without any further events of note. Fresh sits inside of the house, processing the mushroom-caps that Jubilee had carried to the entrance of the dungeon for her to pick up and bring the rest of the way back, along with some other assorted loot. Fresh isn¡¯t sure how deep down Jubilee can go on their own, but apparently there are plenty of mushrooms down there, she realizes, looking at the stack of caps next to herself. Next to them are indistinct heaps on the floor, covered by blankets from her room. More unprocessed glass bottles. Fresh looks around herself and then down at her new robe, smiling at it, thankful that the black color did a good job of hiding the blue smears. She had thanked Jubilee earlier, but they just waved her off and told her to get to work. Fresh rubs her face into her elbow, getting some dust off of it, before rising up with the pot in hands to get more water. There''s still a lot left to do. Fresh looks around herself at the piles of ingredients. If they¡¯re going to open in a week from now, they need a large stockpile of potions and hopefully some other odds and ends as well. Jubilee had said there was no need to be secretive about some of her crafting, since her ''witchiness'' wouldn''t be obvious, as long as she doesn''t do anything dumb. If they worked in secret, it would just raise more questions than anything else, if anyone was watching them, which they surely are. So it¡¯s fine for her to work here downstairs in the store, by the window. Especially now that they¡¯re safe from the merchant''s guild. Eventually, the night ends and a new day comes. The pile of glowing, blue soul-potions is becoming larger and larger. Jubilee, after coming back, insisted that they bring them upstairs into the pantry, because the blue glow from all of the bottles was shining out of the window and attracting weird looks from the neighbors. Fresh isn¡¯t too sure anymore how many potions she had made so far. It¡¯s an exhausting process, but each night she goes out to fill several pots with fresh moonwater and so each day she has enough to make more potions. Given the varying strengths of the moonwater, depending on the current phase of the moon that a particular batch was made in, they all end up being just a little different. Jubilee seems to be slowly running out of caps to bring back, having said that they would need to wait until the dungeon resets again. But that¡¯s okay. Thanks to all of her work, her secondary skills have improved a lot. Her crafting has jumped by several levels, as well as her witch-crafting and with just about every upgrade, she gets just a little faster at making the potions and on some particularly lucky ¡®level ups¡¯ she learns a new recipe or two. This process goes on for another day, until all that Fresh has left to work with are other odds and ends from the dungeon. Her antidotes have gotten significantly better, but the side-effects are still too much. According to Jubilee, commercially bought potions are so good that they don¡¯t even have side effects. She¡¯s getting close though, but isn¡¯t quite there yet. Fresh stares at the heap of goblin-teeth, wondering what to do with them. But then the idea comes to her, though she does think that it¡¯s rather grisly. But what else is there to do? Following the new witch-crafting recipe that she¡¯s learned, she takes two dozen of them, not thinking about how many goblins those came out of and how wet some of them still are, simply opting to instead hold her hands above the heap of teeth and to focus on the recipe. As the glow leaves her hands, the teeth rise up into the air, collecting together. [Bone-Dagger](Normal) A small, but heavy dagger made out of a single piece of solid, dense bone. The sharp edge of the blade seems to glint with an unusually dark luster. 3 DMG + 1 DARK DMG Weight: 0.9kg Value: ??? The dagger falls back down to the floor with a loud clamber and Fresh scrambles back with a surprised squeak, trying not to get cut. She manages to make another three of them as well, before they run out of teeth. The girl ponders if she should try her ¡®item cursing¡¯ ability out. But Jubilee smacks her in the back of the head, costing her a health point after she makes the suggestion. Another day passes and soon, half of the week is over. Fresh looks around the empty room. Her crafting level has gotten ¡®okay¡¯ish¡¯ according to Jubilee, who is out right now, ordering wood. Apparently her class-leveling would stagnate a little now. They still need to make shelves and a counter. Fresh offers to make them herself. They would save a lot of money that way. Jubilee isn¡¯t convinced at first, but relents once the girl won¡¯t stop nagging and insisting on doing it herself, so that she could be useful. Another day passes. Fresh wipes the sweat and sawdust off of her forehead. Apparently, using crafting abilities on wood still makes quite the mess. She sighs, looking around at the floor that she would clearly have to sweep again. But¡­ her eyes raise up with pride towards the simple, large shelf which she had made all by herself. It¡¯s set against the right wall, by the window. This will be their potion section. Jubilee had changed their mind about the glowing bottles, apparently they¡¯re good marketing, as people would always stop by on the plaza in the evening to stare into their window with curious faces. Occasionally, the odd wizard or eccentric caster would come to press their face against the glass, a little too closely, to stare longingly at the bottles. This was always rather awkward for Fresh, who can only ever offer them a timid wave and smile from her side of the glass. Jubilee insists that they don¡¯t sell a single potion before the big opening, it would help build up some more hype. Another day passes. The shelves are done, Jubilee had bought more wood than they needed and so all around the room stands shelving now, as well some waist high bins in the middle of the space. At first, Jubilee asks Fresh what she is doing, building the store up like this. But the girl just winks and says to trust her. Jubilee plainly says ¡®no¡¯ to that statement, which stings a little, but isn¡¯t entirely unfair. She couldn¡¯t tell Jubilee that she had watched a documentary about supermarkets once in her old life though, that would be weird. But she could implement some of the strategies that she vaguely remembers. Curiously, those memories of her old life are becoming oddly nebulous though. Still, the ideas are there. Make people walk around to the entire store to get the staple goods that they need, so that they would pick other things up on the way. Put the cheaper items down on the lowest shelf and the most expensive ones on the eye-level shelves. Fresh explains these concepts as if they are her own and Jubilee stands there, dumb-founded. Fresh almost feels bad, as Jubilee approvingly praises her for using her brain. Once Jubilee leaves for the day to go to the dungeon, Fresh sighs and sets to work on the counter. She had asked if Jubilee could take her down again to get some more levels, but Jubilee had denied her for now. There was too much else to do, they said. Fresh knows that they aren¡¯t entirely wrong. She looks over to her grimoire, that even now after days is still damp. Apparently it just always is. She hadn¡¯t had a quiet moment to read it yet either. Fresh sighs and sets to work, making a counter, promising herself that she¡¯s going to make it good. Another day passes. Their ¡®inventory¡¯ is still rather plain and the shelves are mostly bare, save for the blue soul-potions that line a full wall, sorted by the strength of their effects, given the variance of the moonwater. The daggers make for good optics though and she had managed to make a few more now. Apparently they''re very decent beginner weapons, according to Jubilee. All of their other assorted ¡®left-over¡¯ goods from crafting, they opted to put into the bins in the center of the space, if only to fill them. Fresh smiles. Her antidotes are just about side-effect free now too and Jubilee had said that they could put the low-risk ones out as well. Each night after their work, Fresh loudly insists that the two of them eat together. Jubilee protests at first, but relents eventually after she starts loudly crying in front of the window. People were watching, after all. Another day passes. It¡¯s almost time. Neither of them heard word from the merchant¡¯s guild once during the week and she simply assumes that they''re in the clear, for now. Though occasionally, they feel a pair of prying eyes pressing themselves just a little too close against the window, staring a little too keenly with an oddly serpentine gaze. Fresh¡¯s crafting skills are fairly decent now and she is able to make their glass flasks in more or less with only a flick of her hand. But they still have the problem that they have a very poor selection of wares. Fresh stares at the block of matte sanded glass in her hands, wondering what to do with it. Bottles are always good, but people don¡¯t seem to want to buy empty bottles. Adventurers have more bottles already than they knew what to do with, since they buy potions so often. Glass bottles on their own are about worthless here, inside of the core of the city. The idea hits her and her eyes go wide. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asks Jubilee, standing there with crossed arms, as they watch the girl who is huddled over the large block of glass with a possessed look in her eyes. She shoots a quick glance over to Jubilee, but doesn¡¯t say anything as she returns to her work. Jubilee shrugs and goes upstairs, mostly indifferent. Fresh works, tears forming in her eyes as the glass takes shape. "It¡¯s beautiful," she mutters to herself. An hour later, the small boots come back down. Fresh raises her gaze and her eyes meet Jubilee¡¯s with fire as she holds out her arms, lifting up the heavy thing that she had spent an hour making. With a strong feeling in her heart, she leans forward towards Jubilee and shouts with a bright smile - ¡°BAKAAAAAAW!¡± Jubilee stares at the glass-chicken. ¡°What the fuck?¡± ¡°I made a chicken!¡± beams Fresh with pride clearly shining in her eyes. ¡°¡­Why?¡± they ask, incredulously. Fresh stops, taking a moment to turn the chicken around, so that it faces her and she tilts her head curiously as their eyes meet. Why did she make this? Lost, Fresh looks back at Jubilee, facing them together with the chicken once more. ¡°¡­Bakaw?¡± Jubilee groans and leaves. Another day passes, the final one having arrived. They''ll open tomorrow. The shelves are filling fast. Jubilee has brought some other curiosities back from the dungeon, but Fresh isn¡¯t too sure what to do with a lot of them just yet. On the final day, the two of them spend some time together, cleaning up the ¡®construction site¡¯ of the store. With some pride, Fresh sets to work on her final task, engraving a sheet of matte glass with the name of their store. Once the grooves are made, she takes a tincture made out of a very thick soul-potion and some charcoal and smears it into the rough pores of the engraved letters. It¡¯s a fragile construction, being made out of glass and goo, but it¡®s catchy to the eye because of the bright colors, the glass and because it glows all by itself and that¡¯s what¡¯s important. Fresh looks with pride at the glass sign, their name standing out and glowing with a dull shine from the hardened residue of the magical potion and Jubilee nods to her in affirmation again. This time she feels that she¡¯s earned it. The evening comes one last time and then so does the final night. The store is ready, or as ready as it can be. Jubilee has also brought back some more assorted items from the dungeon. Uncommon drops, apparently. Some clothes, some weapons, some trinkets. They would get more for them if they sell them themselves, rather than to a merchant. Night falls and as they say goodnight to each other, Fresh enters her room and flops onto the mound of blankets on the floor, opting not to make any moonwater tonight for the first night in a week. Fresh''s eyes fall shut in an instant and she sinks into a deep, well-earned sleep. Razmatazz Today''s chapter was written a little differently as you might have noticed since we ''time-skipped'' a week, given that the week was basically nothing but repetitive crafting and small stuff. This marks our first time-skip in this story and I would like to know how you feel about it. Are you in favor of skipping over ''idle time'' like this in the future, or if you would rather we don''t do it again and take the long way from now on? This chapter for example would have probably been about a few days worth of ''plotless'' content as it were, if we had taken the long way. So mostly character interaction, world-building and so on. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 36: Open for business Fresh stirs as the loud thudding comes from the other side of the door. Sleepily, the girl opens her eyes, feeling the morning light shine in through the dusty window. Looking up at the window from the pile of blankets, she realizes that she still hasn¡¯t taken the time to properly clean it yet. All of her work has been concentrated in the downstairs area of the house and when Jubilee had cleaned upstairs, they didn¡¯t do inside of this room. Fresh wonders if they actually even did any of the other rooms, apart from the pantry and the washroom, given that there¡¯s still dust on all of the handles. Jubilee had forbidden her from entering any of the other doors in the house though. The sharp knock comes again, louder now and clearly more agitated. ¡°Hey! Get up! We have to get ready!¡± yells Jubilee from the other side of the door. Fresh shoots upright in a jolt, her eyes opening wide. Today is their big day. She almost forgot! Jumping up to her feet, she only barely manages to find her balance on her wobbly, sleep-addled legs. ¡°Okay!¡± shouts Fresh, holding her head which feels a little dizzy from her sudden ascent. The girl stretches, rising up onto her feet as she reaches for the ceiling and then bends forward, making another attempt to touch her toes. Her lower back pops and she winces at this newest back-pain. She hopes that maybe Jubilee can find time to level her up a little more again. Fresh slips on her new robe with some pride and then meanders over to the door, pulling it open to look with her sleepy eyes at Jubilee, who is standing back against the wall with crossed arms. ¡°About time you woke up,¡± snaps Jubilee, tossing her a small, paper-wrapped bundle. Fresh looks at its contents. It¡¯s a still hot, flaky, buttery biscuit with some kind of thick sausage inside. It smells great. ¡°Good morning! Thank you!¡± beams Fresh, rubbing her eyes before opening them further in wide delight, as she stares at this latest bounty. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Jubilee waves her off and turns to go downstairs. ¡°You¡¯re eating me out of house and home, so eat that and then clean yourself up, because we¡¯re open in half an hour.¡± Fresh chokes on the bite that she was just starting to swallow and hits against her chest with her fist. Half an hour?! She looks around in a panic, grabbing her bag and then quickly pulls the door shut, eating her breakfast as fast as she can while she sprints to get ready for the day. Voices can be heard outside, signaling that the plaza is slowly starting to fill with the usual bustling crowd. The constant sunshine of the evergreen-spring has returned once again. Fresh wonders if spring is just always really nice here, or if she¡¯s just been lucky so far? Though now that she has a roof over her head and a book that she wants to read, she wouldn¡¯t mind there being a rainy day once in a while. Twenty minutes later, once she has finished washing up, Fresh stands in the middle of the downstairs space. Jubilee is straightening out the last few details and they stop to stare at one of the glass chickens that is standing on a shelf next to a dozen others and take a moment to adjust it an inch to the right, so that the light reflects just a little better off of its matte surface. Satisfied, they nod to it and turn around to stare as Fresh walks towards the window to look outside, walking with closed eyes and humming. It¡¯s a little embarrassing, but she¡¯s in such a good mood that she doesn¡¯t even care if Jubilee hears her do it. Feeling the sun on her face, she opens her eyes and reels back a step. ¡°IAH!¡± Fresh stares at the face pressed against the glass, watching her curiously. One of the casters. Though they seem oddly familiar. Taking a deep breath, Fresh calms herself and smiles an uneasy smile as she waves to the figure. A red-robed wizard. ¡°They¡¯re very excited¡­¡± she says to Jubilee, uneasily. ¡°Well, casters are usually¡­ mm¡­ well, it¡¯s complicated,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that hefting a heavy sword and armor around all day, covered in blood and guts, grounds you a little, character-wise.¡± Jubilee shrugs. Fresh turns her head to look back at Jubilee. ¡°Casters just kind of¡­ you know, use magic for everything.¡± They adjust the chicken again, looking at it curiously with their hand on their chin, as if trying to identify a problem. ¡°So they get a little¡­ airy in the head, you know?¡± They rotate the chicken back like it just was a second ago. ¡°Sometimes you just need a good punch in the face to help you become a more sensible person.¡± They turn the chicken one last time and step back a few steps, seemingly satisfied now. Jubilee looks back to her and points. ¡°Maybe a few knocks to the head would do you some good too.¡± Fresh laughs meekly, scratching her cheek and changing the subject. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± Jubilee walks across the room. ¡°The plan is, we open the doors, people come in and take stuff and then give us money for it.¡± Fresh nods, following after them to the counter. It¡¯s a good plan. ¡°What if someone wants to sell us something?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°What if someone wants to sell us¡­ you know¡­ dungeon stuff?¡± asks the girl curiously. Jubilee¡¯s eyes twitch as they look up to her. ¡°We only buy things that we can use. Mushroom-caps. Teeth. If you get offered anything else that you think you can make into something valuable, then let me know. Otherwise tell them to go down the street.¡± Fresh thinks, tapping her chin. ¡°What if someone tries to steal something?¡± ¡°What¡­?¡± She looks at Jubilee, raising a finger. ¡°You know, like a thief?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Look. The merchant¡¯s guild has a reputation, you know what that reputation is?¡± ¡°A bad one¡­?¡± guesses Fresh. Jubilee crosses their arms and shakes their head. ¡°No, dumb-ass. The people love the merchant¡¯s guild.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± Jubilee looks to the side. ¡°They don¡¯t know what you and I know,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re in deep and I knew a lot before this all happened. But most people don¡¯t. But you know who knows what the merchant¡¯s guild does with thieves?¡± Fresh thinks for a minute, but doesn¡¯t come up with an answer. Jubilee sighs. ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild.¡± ¡°There sure are a lot of guilds¡­¡± remarks Fresh. ¡°Isn¡¯t it against the idea of being a thief if there is a whole guild for it?¡± she wonders. Jubilee locks their hands onto their hips. ¡°Look, just don¡¯t worry about it. They have an¡­ understanding between themselves and we can leave it at that.¡± Jubilee looks to the door. ¡°Are you ready?¡± Fresh perks up, clenching her fists. ¡°You¡¯re gonna stay here today, right?¡± asks the girl, somewhat worried about messing things up if she¡¯s by herself. Jubilee waves her off and walks back around towards the door. ¡°Yeah, you think I¡¯d leave you here alone?¡± Wet wells in Fresh¡¯s eyes at her friend¡¯s statement. ¡°I can always count on you, Ju-!¡° ¡°I bet you¡¯d do something dumb if I left, like starting to giving away our stuff for free. Or burn down the house.¡± Fresh lowers her hands in resignation and rubs her arm, looking away. ¡°You could have just not been mean that time,¡± she says, with a somber expression. Jubilee stares back at her, a hand on the door. The room is quiet. But the buzzing of many voices outside gives the tension a very strange atmosphere. ¡°Sorry,¡± says a tense voice from the door. Fresh looks back up to them. They seem to be straining themselves to speak as they look away, back towards the door. ¡°Let¡¯s¡­ both do our best, okay?¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes widen and she places her palms onto the counter. ¡°Okay!¡± Taking a final breath, Jubilee opens the door. The world erupts into a burst of sunlight, colors and noise as the door swings open wide. Fresh stares in bewilderment as the crowd of colorfully-clad adventurers bustle and fight against each other. The red-wearing wizard-girl and a particularly large man fight each other to be the first one inside and they wedge themselves into the door-frame, the rest of the crowd pushes in from behind them. ¡°Get out of the way!¡± strains the wizard, doing pretty well considering her disadvantage in size against him. ¡°You get out of the way, pipsqueak!¡± growls the man ¡°Both of you get out of the way!¡± barks an older man in a white-robe behind them and barrels in between both of them. All three of them fall to the floor, just as Jubilee steps to the side to get out of the way. Fresh looks at the three of them, fairly certain she¡¯s seen them around town before. Or maybe in the adventurer¡¯s guild? She isn¡¯t sure anymore. ¡°Good morning, welcome!¡± calls Fresh out to the crowd, not sure what else to do, honestly. She¡¯ll leave any rough stuff to Jubilee if she can, decides Fresh, as she watches the tussle. The others behind them enter, thankfully not stampeding over the first three, who then rise up back to their feet and brush themselves off. The first of the crowd already makes a clear beeline for the potions, though some stop on their way to look at the other odds and ends that they had managed to procure for today. ¡°Ah! They¡¯re so cute!¡± says a giant of a woman, wearing leather and carrying a sword that is so massive, that Fresh is sure that she herself would never be able to lift it, even if she got to level one-hundred. The giant, that Fresh would at first glance call an orc, is leaned over forward, gushing over the glass chickens. Fresh beams. Clearly, the orc is a woman of refined tastes. While their companion is doing the same over the potions, sparing a moment to glance over to them. ¡°They¡¯re just chickens,¡± they say. ¡°They¡¯re just potions,¡± snaps the orc back at them in a sassy tone. A man stands near the door, looking at the daggers. ¡°How did they make this out of bones? It looks like one long piece? I¡¯ve never seen a dagger like this.¡± ¡°Maybe it¡¯s dry-crafted from a single giant bone?¡± asks a whispering voice next to him. ¡°That seems like a lot of work,¡± says the man as he looks at one of the bone-daggers. The woman next to him points out, looking at the menu of the item. ¡°Look! It does dark damage!¡± ¡°Huh? How did they¡­ It''s not even enchanted?¡± The man inspects it closely. ¡°¡­This could be really useful for floor thirteen¡­¡± Fresh can barely keep up with all the people walking around, looking at the assorted items. A girl walks up to the counter, the first of many, holding an armful of the blue, glowing flasks. ¡°Hello!¡± Fresh turns her attention to her, recognizing her as the same red-wizard she gave the free potion to a week before, the one who always had her face glued to the window, the one who got into a fight just now by the door. ¡°Ah! Hello! So you liked the potion?¡± she asks, as the wizard sets down the five bottles that she has onto the counter. The wizard nods excitedly. ¡°Yeah! With a days worth of soul-regeneration, I got really far down into the dungeon! I even beat the boss on floor eight by myself!¡± Fresh leans in forward herself, her own fists clenched in the same shared excitement as the two of them share the same body language. ¡°Really?! That¡¯s great!¡± She looks down to the five potions and thinks for a second. Nineteen each. Uh¡­ her gaze softens. ¡°That¡¯ll be ninety-five Obols,¡± says a voice next to her, as she feels an elbow jab into her side. Fresh laughs meekly, straightening her posture out and looking back towards Jubilee. With a nod the wizard slaps a single, large, silver coin onto the counter. Fresh stares at it curiously, but Jubilee takes it and slides five small, bronze ones back over in turn. ¡°Thank you!¡± says Fresh, waving happily to the wizard as she grabs the five potions and beams just as brightly, turning to leave the store. Not two seconds later, the old man in white comes with his own handful of potions and an antidote. The line seems to be growing longer very quickly as everyone gets their things. Coins clink in the bowl beneath the counter as the two of them work. The bowl is growing fuller by the minute, filling with more coins than Fresh has ever seen in her new life and people are still coming in and out of the store non-stop. Jubilee seems to be doing most of the work at first. But shortly, after a few minutes, Fresh seems to get a grasp on the numbers at play here and takes over the counter. Letting Jubilee go upstairs to get more things from their pantry to restock the quickly emptying shelves. The minor soul-potions are the real bread and butter of the operation so far. Sometimes an antidote will come across the counter as well and sometimes a bone-dagger. Fresh beams with particular pride in her eyes as the giantess comes with a glass-chicken under her arm. The two of them gush about it together, until Jubilee returns and nudges Fresh again, pointing towards the long line of agitated faces forming in the room. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing! =) The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us. Which means I can write more for you! You don''t even have to write anything, just clicking the stars here would already be a huge help! - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - My Amazon books Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 37: Dark Clouds Several hours have passed and it is now just beyond the start of the evening. Fresh looks at the gray-clad man, standing there with crossed arms, her face somewhat agitated as she stares at what appears to be their last customer of the day. "I''ll give you forty," he says, upping his offer from before. Fresh raises a finger, pointing at the bone-dagger with her other hand. "It costs forty-nine though." "Fine, forty-two." The girl rubs the back of her head and meekly smiles. "It costs forty-nine Obols." The man opens an eye and grumbles in agitation. An equally agitated voice calls out from across the room. "Listen you schmuck! This isn''t a bazaar! No haggling!" He shoots an annoyed glance at Jubilee, who stands there with their hands on their hips. Muttering under his breath, he slaps the last seven coins down onto the counter and takes the dagger with him as he leaves. Sold: 1x [BONE-DAGGER](Normal) - {49} Obols] ! "Thank you, come again!" calls Fresh after him, waving to the muttering man who doesn''t respond. Walking after him, looking around the ransacked room, she shuts the door and falls back down against it, holding it closed as she slides down towards the ground. A long, exhausted breath leaves her body, like the departing soul of a warrior, slain on a battlefield, wafting out of their mouth together with their final, dying gasp. It¡¯s late in the day. The hours had flown by with incredible speed. Fresh barely remembers any of it. She opens her eyes and looks around the store and at the mostly bare shelves. Apparently she had survived today, but she really doesn¡¯t remember doing so. It¡¯s just a flash in her mind¡¯s eye. A jumble of colors. Of voices. Of people. Even if she feels like she just came down the stairs ten minutes ago, that was more than ten hours ago now. A bunch of coins clink with a sharp jangle, rousing her from her dazed state of exhaustion. With tired eyes and a sore neck, Fresh lifts her head and looks up towards Jubilee, who is laying out a heap of coins onto the counter and sorting through them. ¡°Jubileee~¡± cries the girl. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m tiiired~¡± she sighs, letting her head tilt forward. ¡°Being a shopkeeper is harder than going into the dungeon.¡± Jubilee tilts their head, looking back to her. ¡°Well yeah, because you never did anything productive down in the dungeon to begin with?¡± they suggest, turning their gaze back to keep sorting the coins. ¡°You did good today, though.¡± Fresh beams with pride, her eyes closed, her fingers running over the cover of the damp-grimoire in her lap. She had brought it with her downstairs, in hopes of being able to read it in any idle times where nobody came by. But there wasn¡¯t a single minute like that today. From the second they had opened until their closing just now, the store was packed full of people. She looks around. The wooden floors which she had swept so meticulously are filthy, including the spot that she¡¯s sitting on. The shelves she had worked a week to stock are now mostly bare. Just about every potion they had was gone, even the antidotes. Just about every dagger was gone. The girl narrows her eyes in annoyance when she sees that most of the chickens are still there though. She sighs. ¡°Some people just can¡¯t appreciate art.¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, not bothering to look as they sort the pile of coins. ¡°Can we eat something?¡± asks Fresh, pulling herself up onto her shaking legs. ¡°I¡¯m starving.¡± ¡°We can,¡± says Jubilee, sliding another coin to a separate pile. Fresh smiles with joy as she walks up to her companion, who then expands. ¡°As soon as we¡¯ve finished.¡± Fresh winces. ¡°Finished?¡± ¡°Yeah. We need to get ready for tomorrow.¡± Fresh feels a pain in her soul. ¡°We need to clean again, the floors are filthy.¡± The girl stumbles, bending over to grab onto the counter. ¡°We bought a ton of loot that needs to be processed, which only you can do.¡± Her legs give out and she falls to her knees, falling forward against the counter. ¡°Plus the shelves need to be restocked. Which means you need to make more bottles too.¡± Fresh falls back down into the same position she was sitting in by the door, only now against the counter, next to Jubilee. Her eyes are damp with tears. ¡°Also, we need to figure out where to put this money. I¡¯d suggest putting most of it into the guild. One of the perks of joining is that they work as a bank,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m hungry~¡± Jubilee sighs and turns to look out of the window at the evening sun. ¡°Look, we¡¯re still going to need a few hours. But¡­ considering your shit stats, you really powered through.¡± Fresh beams and speaks with exhaustion. ¡°I tried my best!¡± ¡°I saw. Here.¡± Jubilee hands her a single coin, a silver one, like the one the wizard had paid for their potions with at the start of the day. ¡°This one is worth a hundred Obols.¡± Fresh stares at the thing wide-eyed, despite having seen dozens of them today. ¡°Is this my share?¡± she asks, taking the coin with gleaming, grateful eyes and shaking hands. One-hundred Obols?! She had never had this much money before¡­ (Fresh) got: [{100} Obols] Their companion stares at her for a second, lost, and then back to the mountain of coins next to them and then back to her, gesturing with open arms towards their obvious bounty. ¡°What? No, dumb-ass. We both made way more than this today, but we¡¯ll do the math once I finish sorting.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°If you want, the street vendors should still be open for another half hour. Go find us something to eat.¡± Jubilee turns back to the coins. ¡°I¡¯m getting sick of bread and dry fruit, so maybe see if you can¡¯t get something more interesting.¡± The prospect of something more nourishing than their dried staples is greatly exciting for her as well, overpowering the fact that she apparently had even more money than this. With new vigor, Fresh rises up to her feet, walking around the counter to grab her bag and packing her things in it. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll be back in a bit!¡± ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t do anything stupid.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t!¡± says the girl, smiling and feeling filled with a new determination. She clenches her shaky fists as she stands in front of the door, deciding that she¡¯s going to find them something nice to eat and then she¡¯ll help Jubilee finish the rest of their work, so that they can do this again tomorrow! She opens the door and steps outside. A waft of cool, dusk air comes to run against her body, touching the skin of her face with its damp chill. Thankfully, she as a whole feels much warmer now, thanks to her new robe and even though she still feels the cold through the cloth, it¡¯s far more bearable than it was in her old outfit, which she had stashed up inside of her room. With excitement in her tired eyes, Fresh turns right and goes down towards the plaza. Another draft of wind comes to pass by her as she walks and the girl can¡¯t help but turn her head, to look back towards the glowing gate of the dungeon that sits there in the middle of the plaza. Next to nobody is around the streets anymore at this hour, save for the occasional gestalt weaving in from one alley to vanish into the next. She stares at the dungeon, not quite sure why. But something draws her attention to it. Something¡­ indistinct. The trickling of water, coming from behind it? Maybe? Hmm¡­ Fresh can¡¯t place her finger on what it is that¡¯s bothering h- ¡°Oh, look at you!¡± says a voice from in front of her. Fresh jumps with a slight squeak, shocked awake from her drifting thoughts, as she stares at the old woman standing in front of her. Puzzled, she looks her over for a second but then recognizes her in the dim evening glow of the world as the old woman from the potion shop that Jubilee had taken her to. Donata, the alchemist. ¡°It seems you were serious about not wanting to be an adventurer,¡± says the old woman with an odd smile, tilting her head with closed eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve made quite a splash¡­ Those are quite the interesting wares you have¡­¡± Fresh stares at her curiously, but then smiles brightly. ¡°Ah! Hello! Thank you, it¡¯s been really hard!¡± The girl rubs her head. ¡°You scared me, how are you?¡± she asks, laughing meekly. Donata opens her eyes, narrowing them as she glares at the girl. ¡°Oh, you know. It was a slow day today, so I had a lot of time to think.¡± Fresh tilts her head, placing a finger up to her lip, not reading the situation in the least. ¡°That¡¯s nice! We were swamped, so I didn¡¯t have a second to breathe,¡± she sighs. ¡°Ah!¡± The girl leans forward towards the old woman, clenching her fists as her bright eyes shine. ¡°Will you still teach me about alchemy sometime, please?¡± A dog, or at least some creature that sounds like one, barks in the distance. It is the only audible sound on the quiet street, apart from the sharp crack that then shoots through the air like the strike of a whip. "DON''T TOY WITH ME, GIRL!" Fresh stumbles back, holding a hand to her stinging, red cheek, looking back at the old woman in shock and confusion, through her damp eyes. "-Teach you about alchemy?! I don''t know what your secret is, but -" A chime makes itself heard as her combat screen appears. Fresh¡¯s eyes go wide as the fearful realization dawns on her that the furious old woman is about to see her low health-points. Her distorted soul-values. She needs to stop her. Time seems to slow, as Donata, glaring with venom, begins to turn her head towards the right, towards the combat menu that hovers to their side. Fresh¡¯s hands shake as she realizes in that moment that she needs to protect her secret, she needs to protect their secret. But she¡¯s too weak. What would Jubilee do? What would¡­ her fingers lock themselves down tightly and a wordless shout leaves her mouth, as her fist flies out with a loud crack and she punches the old woman straight in the face with everything she has left in her weak body. The hunched-over, elderly woman stumbles and falls down to the ground, dazed, and Fresh quickly swipes away the now renewing combat menu, before she can reopen her eyes. Donata falls to the dirt, glaring up towards her. ¡°YOU USURPING LITTLE BI-¡° Fresh clenches her fists, she can¡¯t be Fresh now. She can¡¯t be herself now. She has to be someone stronger. Someone colder. Someone harsher. Is this what Jubilee was warning her about? Was the old woman trying to threaten her? Threaten them? She has to get out of here, before it escalates. What would Jubilee do? What would Jubilee say? What would¡­ Fresh narrows her eyes and plants the sole of her boot on the old woman¡¯s chest, pressing her back down into the dirt just as she starts to get back up. ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± yells Fresh through tears, channeling as much of Jubilee''s personality into herself as she can pretend to, as she pushes the elderly woman back down. She points down towards the old alchemist beneath her with a shaking arm. ¡°I don¡¯t know what cow¡¯s uterus you slipped out of, but if you cross the line one more time-¡° Fresh leans downward, her boot pressing against the old woman¡¯s ribs. ¡°I¡¯ll cut out your eyes, brew them into a potion AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!¡± she screams at the alchemist, her own nails digging into her palms and her eyes filling with a feigned malice that is foreign to her. The street is quiet, apart from the sound of the trickling fountain behind the dungeon gate, the splashing of the water seems to be unusually loud tonight, to be able to be heard this far away. Inhaling sharply, Fresh looks away from Donata and steps off of her to continue quickly walking down the street, before the old woman can see her cry. She hopes she didn¡¯t break anything or leave a bruise. She didn¡¯t want to be mean. But she had to. She had to. It¡¯s like with the goblin. It¡¯s like with the goblin, Fresh tells herself over and over. The pressing of her nails into her own hands begins to sting a little. Fresh ducks away into a side alley, leaving the sight of two separate pairs of eyes watching her from behind, as she leans against the wall and cries where nobody can see her do so. Five minutes later, once she has managed to calm herself, she peeks out of the alley and heads down towards the plaza. Still determined to get her friend and herself something nice to eat, despite her shaking legs and hands and heart. There¡¯s still so much work left to do and the night is still young. She looks up to the darkening sky and sees the thick, heavy clouds starting to come together. A storm is brewing in the dusk above her head. Razmatazz Wew. If you''re wondering about Donata''s actions, don''t fret, you''ll see soon enough. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 38: A brewing storm Thunder crashes loudly outside of the house, the barreling roll of the deep sound shakes the glass of the windows as it passes by. It isn¡¯t just raining, it¡¯s pouring in a torrential, sudden downfall that seems to have come entirely out of nowhere. Water crashes down from the sky and the dewy nighttime air manages to easily find its way inside of here, as it simply seeps through the thin, weak walls of the rickety house. Fresh shudders, wrapping her arms around herself, glad that she has actual sleeves now as well as a place to stay. Looking back, she stares at Jubilee who is finishing up the sweeping. It¡¯s about two hours later now, since they had closed and since Fresh had returned from her stressful shopping trip. Smiling, the girl shifts her gaze to the two empty bowls on the counter. She had managed to find a little tavern that made hot stews and for an extra few Obols, she even managed to convince them to let her take their bowls, so that she could bring it back home. Takeout isn¡¯t a big concept here, apparently. Maybe that could be an interesting avenue for the future, she wonders? But for now, all that matters is that it was real food. Thick, hot and nourishing. They had eaten together in their usual ritual, though today the two of them were separated by the counter, rather than the bed. It was her first real, satisfying meal since she had arrived. Assuming Mr. Mushroom doesn¡¯t count. She isn¡¯t sure if he does. Getting back to the pile of blue-mushroom caps that they had bought during the day, she sits back down on the, now freshly swept, spot and returns to her work, listening to the heavy rain outside that falls with such energy, as if it were trying to cleanse the world. She didn¡¯t tell Jubilee about her encounter with the alchemist. She isn¡¯t sure if she should or not. Obviously the smart thing to do would be to be honest and to tell them. But on the other hand¡­ Did she do something wrong? She had hit the woman and threatened her. But then again, the woman had more or less done the same to her first, if not perhaps with more subtle tactfulness. It was a dangerous situation, if the woman had seen her menu. But¡­ Fresh wonders if she didn¡¯t channel just a little too much Jubilee into her actions. She sighs and grabs a mushroom-cap, returning to her work and making more powder for fresh potions. Thankfully, she has moonwater left upstairs. During the last full moon she had opted to make a larger quantity and though it was losing its potency quickly, the full strength moonwater was still good for a while if kept in the dark. Besides - A crash of thunder shakes the world, Fresh flinches, squealing in surprise. - After the mishap with the fountain, she isn¡¯t sure if maybe trying to make moonwater in the rain is a bad idea or not? What if the rain itself got ¡®moonwatered¡¯? It would seep into everything. Maybe that isn¡¯t even possible and she¡¯s being absurd. But Fresh thinks that she¡¯d rather be safe than sorry this time. She wonders what would happen if she tried to make moonwater in a lake? Or in the ocean? Maybe it would be best not to find out. ¡°It¡¯s good that we can just buy the mushroom-caps,¡± says Fresh, trying to get rid of the thoughts that she¡¯s having. ¡°Then we don¡¯t even have to leave the building to get anything to make the potions!¡± She thinks, placing a finger to her lips. ¡°Except wate- *ptttbht* Fresh blows her lips, wiping her face on her sleeve as she gets some of the blue mushroom-powder on her tongue, which seems to tingle just a bit now. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s pretty efficient,¡± says Jubilee, agreeing with her as they finish sweeping the last corner of the store. ¡°So, listen. We made some good money today.¡± ¡°We did?¡± asks Fresh, more for the sake of asking than out of shock. ¡°Yeah. Look around, dingus, there¡¯s basically nothing left.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I made so many potions last week. We still have some upstairs in the pantry,¡± she says. ¡°Plus with these new ones, we should have enough. I can make a few more daggers too, they seemed popular,¡± suggests Fresh. Jubilee leans the broom against the wall. ¡°Yeah, we had a few low level adventurers looking at them, but I also saw someone from the thieves¡¯ guild buy one.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh perks up. ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild?¡± Jubilee waves her off, seeing her worried expression. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. They¡¯re always interested in new ¡®thiefy¡¯ things,¡± explains Jubilee. Daggers just so happen to be their favorite implements.¡± Jubilee grabs the two empty bowls. ¡°Besides, dark damage on such a cheap weapon? That¡¯s a cloak¡¯s wet dream. Though¡­¡± They look around the room for a second, gathering their thoughts. ¡°- the church won¡¯t be happy about it. But you know, fuck em.¡± Fresh scratches her head, getting in some of the blue-powder in her hair. ¡°Cloak?¡± ¡°Oh. Just some adventurer jargon for the shady night-types.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, watching the fully cloaked Jubilee walk up the stairs. Shrugging, she returns to her work, deciding not to point that out. It takes another few hours until everything else is finished. But with some effort, the shelves are once again restocked with fresh, glowing potions. New daggers are hung on the little mounts. The glass-chickens, having been only a handful short, aren¡¯t replenished, but at least rearranged by Jubilee to look orderly. [Crafting: 6]{Glassworker} [Witch-Crafting: 5]{Hex-Bags} Jubilee seems to have a real problem with the chickens and spent far too long trying to get them all to ¡®stand right¡¯ as they kept telling Fresh who was watching them curiously. Eventually, once everything else is finished, they go on to discuss what to do with the money. Fresh stares dumb-founded at the heap of coins laying in front of her. Clearly more than she could fit in her pockets, even in her new dress. Her eyes dart up to the sheet of paper that Jubilee is showing her, explaining their margins for the day. Minor Soul Potions: 19 Obols each - 241 sold = +4579 Antidotes: 15 Obols each - 64 sold = +960 Bone Daggers: 49 Obols each - 18 sold = +882 Odd and ends: ~40 Obols each - 11 sold = +440 Glass Chickens: 30 Obols each - 3 sold = +90 Mushroom-caps(Blue): - sold 0, bought 36 (6 each) = -216 Mushroom-caps(Orange): - sold 0, bought 61 (5 each) = -305 Total = +6430 ¡°The potions are the real hot-ticket items,¡± says Jubilee, tapping against the paper. ¡°But we need to diversify. Today we made a lot of sales. But the soul potions last twelve hours each. So the ones that people bought today will last for a while, especially if they bought a week''s worth, like some people did,¡± they explain. ¡°I don¡¯t expect we¡¯ll sell nearly as many tomorrow. But still, we cleaned up nicely.¡± They point down to the pile of coins. ¡°Technically speaking, we made over six-thousand Obols today.¡± ¡°Six-thousand?!¡± exclaims Fresh, planting her hands on the ground and leaning in towards Jubilee, who lifts their palm up to block her from getting closer. ¡°Yeah, but a lot of that was just because of the first rush, don''t expect this much every day.¡± They shake their head. ¡°Anyways¡­ take away five percent for our dues to the merchant¡¯s guild. Then take away twelve percent for sales taxes. Plus the hundred I gave you earlier for food. "But -" Jubilee lowers their hand. ¡°We should also consider putting some money away on the side every day too. Some of it for an emergency fund and some of it for upkeep and maybe some repairs. Is that okay with you?¡± they ask. Fresh thinks for a minute and looks around the room. It does have a little¡­ character, to put it nicely. Maybe it would be smart to have some things fixed up. Their image matters, after all. If the building is poorly maintained, it would reflect on their products as well. Fresh turns her gaze back to Jubilee and nods. ¡°Okay!¡± ¡°Okay. I¡¯d like to do five percent for each of those things. We¡¯ll keep the money in the guild. That leaves us with¡­¡± they think for a second. "That leaves us with about two-thousand-three hundred''ish. Each.¡° Fresh¡¯s eyes shoot open wide and she lunges forward, grabbing Jubilee by the shoulders in excitement as she realizes she¡¯s actually going to get that amount, surprised even if it is her fair share. ¡°TWO THOUSAND?!¡± Jubilee winces and pushes her back off. ¡°Hey! What did I say about touching me?¡± The girl tilts her head and then pulls back, scratching her cheek. ¡°Sorry. I get excited easily¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, no shit.¡± Jubilee rolls their shoulders, their eyes shifting uncomfortably. ¡°But yeah. Two thousand three-hundred¡¯ish. Do you get it now?¡± Fresh looks at them curiously. ¡°Get what?¡± The obscured figure groans audibly in annoyance. ¡°Why the merchants are so cut-throat?¡± Fresh flinches, her eyes nervously looking into Jubilee¡¯s. ¡°A top-tier, S-rank adventurer in this city can make maybe a thousand a day. But I mean, that¡¯s only the best of the best and in a strong party that gets down deep into the dungeon.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°The average low levels with no party can make maybe a hundred on a super good day, until they clear floor eight, that¡¯s after food, repairs, potions and all of that. Now do you understand? There¡¯s real money here,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Not noble-tier, but more than enough to put us far above the average schmuck with a sword.¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips and leans in forward towards her. ¡°And that puts a target on our backs. That¡¯s why the merchant¡¯s guild exists. So everyone plays along. Everyone plays nice. Everyone gets their cut. Nobody dies in their sleep.¡± Fresh nods, thinking she understands and looks back down towards the money. ¡°What do I do with it?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. The girl tilts her head, looking at the heap of coins. ¡°What do I¡­ what do I do with it?¡± ¡°Are you asking me what you¡¯re supposed to do with¡­ money?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head again. ¡°Yes,¡± replies Fresh plainly, nodding once. ¡°What? Just¡­¡± a small hand rubs their hood in agitation as they turn to walk away. ¡°I don¡¯t know, buy yourself something nice. Pay back some money to the guild? Maybe some furniture for your room? Or some tools for your crafting? Or maybe some frilly, silk underwear. I don¡¯t really give a shit,¡± says Jubilee, sighing. Fresh looks at them curiously as they walk away, carrying a batch of her potions upstairs to stow them away in the pantry. A smile dawns on her face as she realizes that Jubilee had just called it ¡®her¡¯ room. Thunder crashes outside and the girl flinches again, looking towards the window. She can¡¯t help but feel that it is somewhat ominous, how the loud crash of the thunder seems to roll and fade away beneath the roaring drone of the rain. Like a loud voice crying out in the night, like a scream being drowned beneath the surface of a pool of water. The splash of the downfall is like that of thrashing arms, trying to break free from the crushing pressure of a black-ocean pulling them deep down into its depths. A chill creeps in through the thin walls, rising up her spine and causing Fresh to shiver, now that she sits down here all alone, once again. But it¡¯s different now than the nights before. The room that was so full of life and energy all day today now almost seems¡­ haunting to her, in this contrast. There is something in the air. Something in the water of the rain. Some smell, carried by the storm. Some lonely feeling drifting through the deathly night. A bitter sadness comes to her, now that the sun is gone and she sits all alone in the darkness. Fresh looks down to the coins at her feet, all of them somehow not glimmering as brightly as they had done only a minute before. She scoops them all into her bag, before quickly running upstairs and out of the dark downstairs area, as if some midnight-demon were at her heels. (Fresh) got: [{2300} Obols] ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, coming out of the pantry and looking up at her. ¡°Can I sleep in your room tonight?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What¡­?¡± Jubilee stares up towards her, dumb-founded. ¡°No, you can¡¯t sleep in my room.¡± They turn around and wave her off. ¡°Creep.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a creep!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°I just don¡¯t want the demons to get me!¡± ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡± asks Jubilee, rubbing the side of their head as they turn back half-way towards her. There is an odd, surprised look in their eyes. Fresh clenches her fists and goes on. ¡°You know how when you lay in bed at night, you can¡¯t let your feet hang out of the bed because the demons will eat them?¡± ¡°¡­No,¡± says Jubilee plainly, lifting their arms to the air in a half-shrugging motion for a second. Fresh stares at them with a quivering lip, her fists still held before herself. She decides to ignore their rebuttal and to just explain further. ¡°Well since I don¡¯t have a bed, the demons can get all of me!¡± she says, gesturing to herself. ¡°All of me is hanging out over demon country!¡± ¡°Are you fucked in the head?¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Go to sleep, your goo-brain is leaking. If you want a bed, we can get you some wood and a mattress tomorrow and you can make one.¡± They sigh in exhaustion and walk towards their room, shutting the door behind themselves with some emphasis. Fresh turns around to look down at the dark downstairs area below, not sure what she is expecting to see, apart from the nothing that is there. Quickly she turns and dashes into her own room, shutting the door behind herself as well, wishing she had taken a torch from the dungeon. Razmatazz Trivia - A fear of the dark For as long as we have inhabited this world, humans have been afraid of the dark and for very good reason. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, or even just thousands of years ago, the things that want to eat us are very much active in the dark. Predators that routinely prey on humans, for example several species of the ''big-cats'', have outstanding night-vision. Combine this with the simple fact that everything is unknown in the night-time and that our most important sense, sight, is basically rendered worthless and you have a perfect stage for anything that creeps and crawls in the back of our minds. Even to this day, people are scared of the dark because of that little hissing lizard voice that tells us that we''re going to die if we stay out here. Obviously, this means that the nighttime has become connected to anything that creeps and crawls. Add in to that nightmares or even worse, sleep paralysis, and you have the perfect recipe for horror stories since the dawn of man. Even if there''s nothing there, your brain will certainly tell you there is. There are limitless paranormal explanations for why we''re afraid of the dark, but honestly, the pragmatic ones do tend to make more sense here. A severe fear of the dark is known as "Nyctophobia", which stems from the greek word Nyktos which in turn stems from the ancient Greek goddess Nyx, whose name literally means ''night'' as she is the personification of it. Nyx is a hard-core lady, so much so that her exceptional power and beauty even put the literal fear of god into old Zeus himself. Even the highest gods are afraid of the dark apparently, if ancient Greek mythology is to be trusted. Nyx is said to be a mother of many children. Most relevant for us - Thanatos, the god of death. Philotes, the goddess of friendship and in some other ancient tales, the goddess of witches Hecate is said to be the daughter of Nyx as well. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 39: Night Terrors The loud crash of thunder causes the single window of her room to rattle loudly at the same time as the unseen hand of the heavy winds outside press against it, as if the elements were testing its resilience. Fresh isn¡¯t sure what exactly it is that is bothering her. She isn¡¯t afraid of the dark, or at least she wasn¡¯t in her old life. She had spent days at a time shut inside of a light-less bedroom. Weeks. Months. She''s used to the darkness and she figures the darkness should be used to her by now as well. But something is different tonight. Something is different because of the storm. She looks to the window, feeling a chill on her skin. It¡¯s dark outside, not even the glow of the dungeon can pierce the veil of the thick downpour. Fresh ponders if she should go back outside to the pantry and get one of her glowing potions to keep as a night-light, but the thought of reopening the door, which her back is pressed against, disturbs her too much to let that be a plausible idea. Is she afraid of the dark? She doesn¡¯t think so. But¡­ this is a new body. Fresh wonders, looking down at herself. She never considered the logistics of it. But¡­ where did this body come from? Did the spirit of the fountain just ¡®make¡¯ it? And what does that imply? What kind of entity is the spirit of the fountain, if it can just make an entire human body from nothing? The hairs on her arms stand on end as she wonders what to do. Maybe she¡¯s just being stupid. Maybe this is just another childish perception, some recessed lizard-thought of her ¡®goo-brain¡¯, as Jubilee is prone to call it. Maybe it¡¯s just the stress of the day coming together to unease her, now that she¡¯s alone. Fresh lets go of the door and bolts over to the curtains, grabbing them to pull them tightly shut. A flash of lightning shines out, illuminating the world outside for just a brief moment and as it does, she is sure that some dark gestalt will make itself appear before her. Some haunting apparition in the glass of her window, staring back at her with hungry eyes. But nothing comes, save for more empty darkness and water and she wrenches the curtains shut. The little bit of light that had managed to find sanctuary in here together with her from outside, is now cut off entirely and she is immersed in total darkness. Fresh listens to the rain. She should sleep. But she doesn¡¯t want to. She doesn¡¯t feel¡­ safe? She looks around. No. She doesn¡¯t feel safe. Should she get Jubilee and ask them to come with her to the adventurer¡¯s guild? No¡­ they would never go for that. Fresh purses her lips and mutters to herself. ¡°I¡¯m not a creep¡­¡± She looks around the dark room and, seeing no other source of light, opts to open her menu. At least it''s something. Anything. STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 2327 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] She stares at the thing, looking over her values, a small smile managing to form after all on her face, despite her insecurities. ¡°It¡¯s all working out,¡± she says, beaming to herself as she sees the progress that she¡¯s made. The many steps that she¡¯s taken towards this new life, which she had yearned for, are shown here, printed undeniably for all to see. Seeing the numbers fills her with a warmth and a pride that seems to banish the night, just a little. Her eyes wander towards the right side of the menu. Towards the giant, bright yellow text labeled [Inventory]. She tilts her head, wondering why she never paid it any mind before. It¡¯s not that she hadn¡¯t seen it, it''s just¡­ She just never really thought about pressing it, is all. Fresh purses her lips, cursing herself, and lifts a finger to press against the glass of the menu. The glass-pane shifts into a single, wordless panel with a black, light-less hole in the center of it. The inside seems to swirl and churn and she stares at it curiously. The spinning movement is almost hypnotizing as the black current inside of the window spins like a meandering whirlpool. Not really sure what it is exactly that she¡¯s doing, Fresh lifts an arm and reaches towards the hole. It just seems like the right thing to do. As her fingers touch the glass of the menu, they don¡¯t stop this time and they sink in through the hole. Her arm feels as if it''s submerged in cold, icy water. She shudders. Something is thrust into her hand and the girl yelps, pulling back with a jump of her body and yanks her wet arm out of the hole. Water splashes everywhere around her at her feet and on her dress as she looks at the thing held in her hand. A stick, soaked through and sopping wet. The far end of it once burnt and charred is now dead and soggy. Fresh looks at it curiously and then recognizes it as a torch from the dungeon. She turns it over, examining it. The memory returns to her as she sees a small flake of orange-mushroom stuck on a jagged splinter. This is her torch, the one she had fought Mr. Mushroom with during her first attempt. Did it get put in this¡­ ¡®inventory¡¯ of hers, when she died? She looks at the black hole, suspended in the glass of the menu and it almost seems to look back at her, like a single iris-less pupil. Shuddering, she swipes the inventory away to return to her normal menu and looks at the dead torch, dripping with water, as if it had been submerged this entire time. Drifting idly in the light-less ocean. The thought makes her feel uneasy. Even she can tell that this is something unusual. If there was a magical-inventory system in this world, then Jubilee would have mentioned it a long time ago. A rock sinks in her gut as she realizes all of the things she could have used this for. Dozens of mushrooms-cap, snail-shells, goblin-teeth, her money. All of it, she could keep in here. She hadn¡¯t needed to carry any of it ever. Fresh sighs, cursing her inability to do anything right and rubs her aching back that had been hurting ever since she strained herself so hard down in the dungeon. But maybe¡­ She sits down, putting her back against the wall to Jubilee¡¯s room. Maybe this was for the best though. If nothing else, it helped cement her new work-ethic. She had hurt and sweated for every step she took, and that¡¯s what made them worth taking to begin with. ¡°That makes sense¡­¡± says Fresh, placing a finger to her lip and thinking. She drops the wet, long since extinguished torch and lets it roll away. Besides, the thought of having to reach inside of that light-less hole every single time makes her uneasy. What if one day, something reaches back out for her? The girl shakes her head, slapping her cheeks to wake herself up, just as another crash of thunder echoes around the world. This night was just feeling more and more frightening the longer it goes on. Her exhausted eyes look at the pile of blankets that make up her ¡®bed¡¯. She wants to sleep. She¡¯s beyond exhausted. Her head droops. The glass of her window shakes with a loud rattle. Fresh jolts together, waking up again as she turns her head to listen to the wind. To the witchy fingers touching her window, scratching it, trying to get in. Trying to get her. She wants to sleep. But she also doesn¡¯t. She needs to be rested for tomorrow. But something is keeping her on edge. Something is making her feel unwell and that feeling is fortified with every splashing raindrop that strikes against the glass of the window. Knocking. Pleading. A cooing voice at midnight calling softly. ¡®Let me in. Let me in.¡¯ Fresh glares at the window and points towards it. ¡°You¡¯re not getting me, demons!¡± Turning her head to the side with a determined ¡®hmpf¡¯, she grabs her grimoire from her bag and pulls a blanket up from her bedroll to cover herself with, to fight the chills and to keep the damp pages of the book off of her already cold and clammy skin. Fresh wraps the blanket tightly around herself, obscuring her entire figure as if she were wearing a hooded cloak. Mimicking her friend again, now that she''s dressed like them, Fresh mutters to herself and yawns. ¡°Goo-brain~¡± Scowling, she opens the book to the first page and begins reading by the dull light of her menu, the heavy rain continuing to pour outside. ¡°I¡¯m not a goo-brain¡­¡± [Grimoire of the Witch of the Black-Fountain] In the depths of dark oceans, in the halls of bleak dreams, in the black of all mirrors and behind all eye¡¯s sheen, in the void between heartbeats, beyond the breath after each whisper at night, in the minute past sunset and in the absence of light, I reside. Read not further, unless you carry my title or sanction. I will know. Fresh looks around, having recited the rather spooky poem. The rain rattles on, unimpressed. She turns the damp page and looks at the obscure drawing looking back to her. The page is covered in handwritten notes and text, all in different handwritings and styles. But all are written in the same black ink, all annotate the depiction of a fountain in the center of the page. Vaguely ornate and occultish decorations cover the decent, but not great drawing, but nothing too shocking. It looks like any old fountain she would have seen in any ¡®historic¡¯ park in her old life. The hand-writing interests her most of all though. Thunder roars outside. They all look different. Some of the printing she would describe as clearly elegant and some of it written more plain and simple, like a printed modern alphabet from her old life. Some characters she recognizes, but many she doesn¡¯t, as they belong to languages she is unfamiliar with. All of them, as far as she can decipher, say the same thing. As if a dozen hands had inscribed their message into this book. All of the people marking themselves into the page, as if to prove that they had existed, as if they all had a single, unified message to share with her from wherever they were now. ¡°Black-Fountain,¡± whispers Fresh, her voice drowned out beneath the rain. She turns the page, the wet pages sticking together a little as she pries them apart. Here, the pattern continues, but the ink is smeared and blurred. As if a hand had wiped over the wet of every message, distorting and destroying them before they could set. Only the depictions in the center of the page remain. Coins. All manner of coins. One or two she recognizes from her old life again and one she even recognizes as an Obol. The rest are foreign to her, as indiscernible as the smeared constructs that were once words. The next page that was once a long, detailed explanation, apparently, is entirely illegible. The entire page simply smeared, as if someone¡¯s fingers had wiped over a wet painting. With an uneasy, shaking hand, Fresh turns the page. *DHUNK* *DHUNK* *DHUNK* The girl yelps, jumping up to her feet and tossing the book down just as she turns the page. Bending, down, grabbing the dagger from her bag, Fresh looks to the door that had rattled with violent force. ¡°H-Hello?¡± she asks nervously. Nothing comes in response and she slowly walks towards the door, holding the dagger out in front of herself. Her tired eyes now wide with an unsteady angst. ¡°Jubilee? I- Is that you?¡± she asks with a shaking voice, looking at the vibrating door. *DHUNK* *DHUNK* *DHUNK* The rain continues to pour, thunder echoing out far in the distance, as if it had been carried off afar by the howling winds. ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh with a quaking voice, her heart beating fast, as her hand reaches up for the handle of the door, the dagger held tightly in a shaking fist. *DHUNK* *DHUNK* *DHUNK* Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 40: Creepy Crawly Fresh tears at the handle, yanking the door open wide and holding the wobbly blade fearfully out in front of herself. Out towards the dark hallway. Nothing is there. The girl quivers, tears forming in her fearful eyes. ¡°J¡­ Jubileee~¡± she whines through clenched teeth, not sure what else to do. *DHUNK* Fresh looks up, jolting at the sudden noise and then falls down, back into the room as she screams, as she sees the thing on the ceiling. A pale, distorted mass of paper-white flesh is illuminated for a brief second by the flash of lightning outside. Its body is simply a lumpy blob, out of which multiple rail-thin human-arms span in all directions, like the legs of a spider. A long, wormy neck protrudes from the mass, wriggling along its serpentine length. Fresh crawls back, not able to get up. her legs not responding to what she wants them to do. Not able to make noise. Her throat clenches shut as she sees it and she crawls further back in fear. The long, white neck of the thing reaches down, coming in through the doorway. Its body stays outside in the hall as its face comes closer. Its empty, misshapen face. A human¡¯s once, perhaps, but now it is as if skin had grown over the eyes, sealing them shut entirely. Its mouth is held open and filled with long, dagger-like protrusions that are coated in a wet, interconnecting slime. The wide slit of its maw goes from ear to ear, its jaw dislocated like a snake¡¯s. The neck stretches out further towards her, seemingly stretching out further and further as she presses her back against the wall by the window. The knife has long since fallen out of her hands and lays by the door. Instinctively, Fresh¡¯s hand grabs something and she swings it outward. Smashing the burnt-out torch against the side of the creature¡¯s face, smashing the wood into its cheek. Spittle flies out from its flat lips, as the stick cracks against the bones of its jaw. The head shifts an inch, but still faces forward towards her as the shaft of the torch breaks apart in her hands. "FRESH HIT SANGUIS-VAMPYRIS FOR 1 PHYSICAL DAMAGE!" It lunges, Fresh¡¯s other hand grabs the blanket and throws it over the long face, just as she drops down to the side. A loud crack rings out, as the head of the blinded creature smashes against the wall behind Fresh, as she begins frantically scrambling to her feet, hurrying to run out the door that the neck protrudes in through. Pale hands reach down from above, grasping and swiping through the air in the door-frame. Fresh screams again as something clutches her hair, yanking on it. The door next to her flies open. ¡°DUCK!¡± Fresh drops down instinctively, but the thing still holds her by her hair and she feels a deep tear, as several thick strands of it rip free. Glass flies above her head, just as she closes her eyes and covers her face. The girl falls to her knees as something holding her aloft is severed and she scrambles, still crawling, still running out of pure survival instinct. Ignoring the sound of something heavy flopping down behind her. Her heart thrashes, her chest heaves, her eyes are wet. She stumbles around, falling over again, out in the hallway, crawling back from her room as Jubilee throws a bag of dirt onto the floor. A jagged pane of glass shoots up from the dirt, sliding up the doorway, like an executioner''s guillotine. Two wet things fall down, cut in half, as the blade slices through the long, wormy neck. Fearfully, Fresh looks back at the horrible, mangled lump of a body that lays at her feet and she crawls away further, not able to get up again as the bony fingers spasm and twitch, as they still continue to reach for her. ¡°FUCKING SHIT!¡± Jubilee looks at the thing and then at her and runs by, grabbing her hand to get her to get up. ¡°Come on! We gotta go!¡± Fresh jumps up, letting herself be dragged away as they run down the stairs. Her mind races. Is this some nightmare? Is this some¡­ some creature from the dungeon? Some monster from some dark pit that had chosen her on tonight of all nights? They bolt out of the store, slamming the door shut behind themselves. The storm rages on and the night-air is heavy and damp, as the drone of thunder roars out in the darkness. The empty streets are illuminated by the flashes of heavenly lightning as they run through them, puddles splashing knee high, soaking both of them from below as the pouring rain does so from above. ¡°Jubileee~¡± cries Fresh, wanting to ask what was happening. Why are they running? Isn¡¯t it dead? Jubilee had cut its head off. Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything and they run through the rain, down the main road, down towards the adventurer¡¯s guild. Fresh turns her head around just as they leave the house behind and she can¡¯t help but notice the silhouette of a face pressing itself against the inside of her bedroom window. ¡°Do you have the key?!¡± ¡°No! It¡¯s in my bag!¡± shouts Fresh, trying to talk over the loud rain. Jubilee opens the door and they both step inside, closing it behind themselves. Fresh looks around. The tavern is empty now in the dead of night, save for the haunting voice that still sings, if only just for them now. The voice calls out as if lamenting the storm itself. Water drips down from her soaked body, creating a puddle where she stands, her back is still pressed against the door. Jubilee runs towards the counter and, as if having heard their coming, the same elf woman as always walks out from the kitchen behind the bar and looks at her curiously, before turning their attention to Jubilee who gestures the number two with their fingers, pressing the tips against their neck. The barkeeper looks at them and then up to Fresh curiously, but then nods and thinks for a moment, before holding out their hand with five fingers and pulling out a key from below the counter. Jubilee nods and takes it with a wave, gesturing for Fresh to follow them as they run upstairs and into the cut-off space of their room inside of the adventurer¡¯s guild. The two of them pass through the nebulous cloud in the doorway and barge into the room. Jubilee slams the door shut behind themselves and then falls down against it, sliding to the floor. Fresh stares at them, feeling an odd sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu as she looks at the small body down against the door. ¡°Jubilee-¡° Jubilee hits a fist against the door, their wet leather glove slapping against the wood. ¡°That old bitch!¡± Fresh stops. Jubilee looks back up to her. ¡°I didn¡¯t think Donata would go this far.¡± They rise up to their feet. ¡°FUCK!¡± Jubilee kicks the door with the sole of their boot and the wood rattles loudly. They look back up towards Fresh. Grabbing her arm, they pull her wet sleeves up to her elbows. ¡°Did it get you?!¡± ¡°N-no, I¡¯m fine,¡± says Fresh, hoping her jittering legs didn¡¯t betray her half-lie. ¡°Jubilee, what was that thing? What does -¡± ¡°It¡¯s a vampire,¡± says Jubilee, looking up to her with angry eyes. ¡°This reeks of that old witch.¡± Their gloves creak as they clench their fingers tightly down. ¡°No offense.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee walks past her towards the table in the center of the room, swinging their arms out to shake the water off. ¡°Congratulations. You just survived your first assassination!¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee. Vampire? Assassination? ¡°I should have known something was up when she made a move.¡± Jubilee pulls the chair out and flops onto it. ¡°I thought she was just pissed off because we stole her customers, but she must¡¯ve gotten some of your hair when she hit you.¡± They shake themselves out again. ¡°That conniving, crusty, old-¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes go wide. Jubilee knows about her encounter? ¡°When did you¡­?¡± begins the girl. Jubilee looks over to her. ¡°I saw.¡± They nod, approvingly. ¡°You did good. You have no idea how long I wanted to see someone deck her.¡± Fresh steps forward, lost and confused. ¡°Were you following me?!¡± ¡°No, goo-brain! As if I don¡¯t see enough of your pale ass all day!¡± Jubilee crosses their arms and looks away. Both of them are silent for a while. They sigh, relenting. ¡°...I thought I¡¯d go with you, to celebrate our first day of work. But when I rounded the corner I just saw you absolutely thrashing that crippled, elderly woman, like a mob-boss collecting protection-money. Nice punch by the way!¡± They nod approvingly again, looking up at the ceiling. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had it in you. Don¡¯t be afraid to hit old people. Sometimes they¡¯re the ones who need to be hit the hardest!¡± Fresh looks around, water dripping from her body and soaked robe that clings to her clammy skin. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t tell you,¡± she rubs her arm. ¡°I thought I messed up and I didn¡¯t want you to be mad.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°No, if you hadn¡¯t stopped her from seeing your menu like that, then¡­¡± they look over towards her. ¡°We would have had to resort to more drastic measures.¡± ¡°Huh¡­?¡± asks Fresh, taken somewhat aback. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡± Jubilee slams a fist onto the table and points to her with the other one. ¡°She literally sent a vampire after you to kill you in your sleep! How many times do I have to tell you what this game is that we¡¯re playing?!¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t we safe? Why would she do that? Isn¡¯t the guild going to¡­?¡± Jubilee shrugs, loosening their posture. ¡°Donata is her own woman. She¡¯s not afraid of the merchant¡¯s guild.¡± They shoot a glance back at her. ¡°She should be though. The barkeeper is going to notify the church, they¡¯ll take care of it within the hour, knowing them. Exorcists are a hardcore bunch, those creepy hymn-chanting fucks.¡± Jubilee runs their fingers through the edges of their hood. ¡°But a vampire in the city isn¡¯t going to be kept secret. The merchant¡¯s guild is going to hear of this, if they haven¡¯t already.¡± Fresh walks over, sitting down on the other chair. ¡°Isn¡¯t it¡­ dead? You cut off its head.¡± ¡°It was dead before you opened the door. Which you shouldn¡¯t do, by the way.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh again. ¡°Vampires can only come inside if you let them in,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. ¡°But I guess I can¡¯t have expected you to know that. Shit¡­¡± they lean back on their chair. ¡°It probably could come into the store because it¡¯s an ¡®open¡¯ space now. Lots of energy from all of the people today, you know?¡± They say, staring up at the ceiling. ¡°But your room is a personal space. Vampires need permission to cross boundaries.¡± Fresh thinks for a while as they sit in silence. Vampires? Obviously she remembers the term from her old life, but those memories of them are more¡­ flamboyant and dramatic. Less¡­ meaty, grotesque and toothy. ¡°What now?¡± she asks Jubilee. They look back at her. ¡°We¡¯re safe here. Well, you are. It just wants you. She probably gave it some of your hair and it followed the scent. They¡¯re very goal-oriented creatures, vampires. Gotta give em¡¯ that.¡± They cross their arms behind their head and sigh. ¡°It¡¯s five hours until sunrise, until then we stay here, while the church and the merchant''s guild do their thing.¡± ¡°Should we¡­ should we tell them? That it was her?¡± ¡°Do you have any proof?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh looks away. ¡°No¡­¡± ¡°Me neither,¡± they say, shrugging. ¡°But, I wouldn¡¯t worry about that. These things¡­¡± they fidget uncomfortably, which bothers Fresh somewhat. ¡°These things have a ¡®way¡¯ of working themselves out. We¡¯re not going to get involved any more than we have to.¡± Fresh sighs. Tired. Exhausted. ¡°So it¡¯s not dead-dead?¡± ¡°Nope. It¡¯s probably sniffing outside the guild this very second. Crawling up a wall or something. I fucking hate vampires. Disgusting, long-necked shits,¡± says Jubilee with some venom. ¡°The church will take care of it. They hate them. They hate everything, honestly, but in this case I tend to agree with their views.¡± Fresh looks up to Jubilee. ¡°¡­Are they going to look in your house?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°The church, are they going to look for it in your house?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ maybe? I don¡¯t know. It should be around here, but gods know what they''re going to want to snoop through while figuring out where it came from.¡± The girl rubs her arm. ¡°My grimoire is still there.¡± The legs of Jubilee¡¯s chair fall forward. ¡°Your what¡­?¡± They stare at her. ¡°My book¡­ It just looks like a normal book, but if any of them open it and read it¡­¡± she rubs her arm. ¡°It''ll be kind of obvious. That I¡¯m a witch.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± Jubilee stares at her. ¡°FUCK!¡± they jump up and run to the door, pointing a finger back at her. ¡°Don¡¯t leave this room until the sun shines through that window or until I come get you!¡± With that they bolt out of the door, leaving Fresh sitting alone in the giant, empty room once again. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 41: Day to day Jubilee doesn''t return. The sun rises, though it mostly obscured behind the heavy clouds that still linger overhead and Fresh, not knowing what else to do, leaves the adventurer¡¯s guild to go to the store. They have to open today, after all. If the vampire was outside before, it¡¯s gone now. Her eyes are heavy and tired. She hasn¡¯t slept a wink, but Fresh forces herself to keep going and as the sun rises up higher into the sky, she feels just a bit more awake with every ray of light that reaches her exhausted body. Her dry eyes watch the streets which are slowly starting to fill up with the converging energy of a new day¡¯s crowd, but there are no signs of a scuffle anywhere to be seen. There is nothing. She looks up at the store. There is nothing here either. The doors are fine. The windows are fine. Everything is fine. Fresh opens it up and looks inside, seeing that the space looks as if nothing had ever happened. ¡°Jubilee?¡± she calls out. No response. Fresh heads upstairs. Save for some broken glass by her door, there is nothing out of place here either. The girl peers inside of her room. Nothing. Her bag is gone. Her book and dagger are both gone. A rock drops in her gut. Did the church come here? The merchant¡¯s guild? Did they confiscate it? Did something happen to Jubilee? The vampire just wanted her, right? It didn¡¯t go after her friend once they left, did it? Fresh doesn¡¯t know. *DHUNK* *DHUNK* *DHUNK* She yelps, jumping at the sound and quickly runs downstairs, looking at the front-door. A few casters stand in front of it. Fresh clutches her face. It¡¯s time for the store to open. What should she do? If Jubilee is missing, then she can¡¯t just sit by and do nothing, but at the same time¡­ No. Her friend is counting on her, wherever they are. Fresh narrows her eyes and grabs the handle of the front-door. She has to hold down the fort, even if she¡¯s alone. ¡°Good morning! Welcome!¡± She lets in the casters who make a straight line towards the freshly restocked soul-potions, exchanging some idle greetings with her and Fresh retreats behind the counter, her foot tapping nervously against the floor. ¡°These are the kind Tae had,¡± says a wizard, pointing at the bottles. ¡°Huuuh? They really do glow!¡± says their partner. ¡°I like the bottles,¡± they say, running a finger over the matte glass surface of a potion. More people begin to enter the store. Not as many as yesterday, but still quite a few and they begin to scatter around. The more physical looking types, who accompany their casting party-members, mostly diverging to either look at the daggers or at the chickens, while their companions ogle the potions. The first of them make their way to the tired girl, standing behind the counter. She looks at their potions and begins calculating. ¡°Fifty-seven Obols, please.¡± They place the coins down and Fresh takes them, thankful that Jubilee left a bunch of normal coins down in the bowl below for change. Sold: 3 [Minor Soul Potions](Normal) for [{57} Obols] ! They turn to walk away, just as a man approaches with a dagger. ¡°See? I told you it isn¡¯t haunted!¡± says a voice from the back of the store. ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s daytime, dummy. Besides, that was years ago,¡± replies someone else. The voice from the back rings out again. ¡°No! Jade says he heard it again last night!¡± There is an audible sigh and two people leave through the door. The man standing before her, with the dagger, clears his throat and Fresh snaps back to attention. ¡°Ah, sorry! Forty-nine Obols, please.¡± Sold: 1 [BONE-DAGGER](Normal) + [{49} Obols] ! People come and go the entire time and Fresh does her best to keep up with them. There are certainly fewer people here than yesterday, but still plenty enough for her, especially all by herself. During an idle minute, Fresh supposes that Jubilee had a point; since most of the casters had bought multiple potions yesterday, they would probably wait a few days before coming back again to get more. Something heavy thunks down onto the counter. Fresh picks up the heavy shield, barely lifting it up off of the wood. This is one of Jubilee¡¯s procured items from the dungeon. The girl tilts her head. She has no idea what this is supposed to cost. ¡°Uh¡­ forty Obols, please?¡± she guesses. Thankfully, the man seems rather indifferent and slaps a few coins onto the counter, taking the heavy shield out of her hands like it was nothing at all and walks to collect a priest who came inside with him. The priest is still staring at the wall of glowing potions. Sold: 1 [Steel Shield](Normal) for [{40} Obols] ! A tall, gray-skinned giant of an elfish woman comes inside, carrying a load of blue-mushroom caps in front of herself and Fresh waves to her, recognizing her from yesterday. ¡°Working hard, I see?¡± she asks the elf. ¡°You know it! Here you go," says the woman proudly. She drops the stack of caps down next to the counter and Fresh counts them. ¡°Nine.¡± She looks back to the elf, noticing that they carried them all without a bag. ¡°Wow, you must be really strong!¡± Perhaps this remark is only true in comparison with Fresh¡¯s own body, but the elf takes the compliment, taking a moment to smirk a sharkish smile and flex her bicep with an audible grunt. Laughing, Fresh hands out the coins to her, sliding them over the counter. ¡°Here you are, fifty-four Obols.¡± Bought: 9 [Mushroom Caps](Blue) for [{54} Obols] ! ¡°Thanks, see you tomorrow!¡± says the fighter, who Fresh has figured out is a dark-elf of some kind. Though, that was perhaps obvious given her appearance. Is there any real difference between elves and humans and dark-elves and¡­ whatever else there is? She isn¡¯t sure. She wants to ask, but at the same time¡­ it seems like a rude thing to ask? So she just drops it. Time flies and soon enough it feels to be about noon. The store is mostly empty now and Fresh flops forward, planting her face down onto the counter, her arms dangling limply over the front end. ¡°Jubileee~¡± whines Fresh beneath her exhausted breath, having now a second more to worry about her friend. She has the store under control and they¡¯re making good money. More than once, she considered shutting the doors early for the day to go walk around and look for her party-member. But where would she even go? The church? What if they wanted to see her menu? No. The girl sighs and clenches her fists. She has to stay here, to keep things running for when Jubilee comes back. Her eyes feel heavy, her head feels heavy, her heart feels heavy. Fresh yawns, feeling her body sag just a little from the weight of all of those things combined. ¡°Rough night?¡± asks a voice from before her. Fresh jumps up with a frightened yelp, flailing with her arms as she stands back upright. The girl looks at the dusty-blonde haired elf standing in front of her, her face heavily scarred as if by old burns. In shock, Fresh slaps her palms down onto the counter, leaning in wide-eyed towards the barkeeper from the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°YOU CAN TALK?!¡± she shouts. Fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably and taking a step back, the elf tilts her head, a strand of hair from her bangs falling down past her face. ¡°Yeah?¡± Turning her head away somewhat nervously, the woman rubs the back of her neck and places a bottle down on the counter. Fresh stares at it for a second, before realizing it''s one of her own potions. ¡°Ah! Uh¡­ that¡¯s nineteen Obols please.¡± She scratches her cheek. ¡°Sorry. I was just surprised to see you here.¡± The woman shakes her head, placing the coins down to pay for the potion. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I get that sometimes. I only work five days a week in the guild. The rest of it is me-time.¡± Sold: 1 [Minor Soul Potions](Normal) for [{19} Obols] ! Fresh sighs. ¡°That must be nice¡­¡± The girl¡¯s eyes perk up. ¡°Ah, wait. About last night-¡° The elf quickly raises a hand, gesturing for her to be quiet. Looking around to make sure the store is empty, she nods to Fresh, taking her potion as she turns to go. ¡°It¡¯s taken care of.¡± The girl stares vacantly as the barkeeper leaves out through the door. ¡®It¡¯s taken care of¡¯? What kind of a vague, nebulous sentence is that? What¡¯s taken care of? Where¡¯s Jubilee? Fresh flops back down to the counter, planting her head against a coin and doing her best not to cry. That would make for terrible optics for the store. The sound of a pair of boots comes in, walking towards the shelf and then up to her. Fresh raises her head again, her sleepy eyes looking at the figure. The girl perks back upright, tilting her head in curiosity. ¡°Back for more already?¡± she asks with a smile to the red-wizard who had bought five potions just yesterday, the one who had gotten her free sample at the fountain. Fresh laughs nervously. ¡°You didn¡¯t drink all five of them, did you¡­?¡± ¡°Yeah! They¡¯re really good!¡± says the wizard, leaning in with excitement. Fresh wants to share her energy, but is just too tired today and looks at the blue bottles on the counter and then looks back up the sparkling eyes of the caster. ¡°How¡¯s the dungeon coming along?¡± ¡°Really great! I¡¯m already down to floor ten by myself!¡± she proclaims, putting down another large, silver Obol. Fresh gives her five small ones back as change. Fresh wonders about something, thinking for a moment. Sold: 5 [Minor Soul Potions](Normal) for [{95} Obols] ! ¡°Alone? Don¡¯t you have a party? You can find one at the adventurer¡¯s guild.¡± Grabbing their potions, the red-wizard smiles back, laughing. ¡°No, thanks! You¡¯d have to be a real dope to sign up for that package. The dungeon¡¯s free, after all!¡± Fresh laughs meekly, waving goodbye as she heads out the door. Taking a moment, Fresh runs upstairs to grab some bread for herself and some new potions for the shelf. Another hour passes and rain starts to fall again outside as she sits behind the counter, twiddling her thumbs. Eventually, the pace picks up again, as several people come inside to get away from the rain and begin perusing their wares to pass the time. ¡°I want a chicken!¡± says a giant of a man. Fresh tilts her head, realizing that the man is an orc. Do orcs just¡­ kind of like chickens? ¡°You can¡¯t have a chicken,¡± says an annoyed, human priestess standing next to him, not even half of his size. Her long, strawberry-blonde hair is wet from the rain and sticks to the inside of her white hood. The giant, like a child begging for a toy, clasps his hands together. ¡°Pleeease?!¡± Staring at him, dumbstruck, the priestess purses her lips, crossing her arms and looks away. ¡°No! We need the money for the potion! We don¡¯t have enough for both!¡± ¡°Pleeease?!¡± continues the giant, grabbing her shoulders and begging. Fresh isn¡¯t sure, but she feels like the towering man is about to cry. Agitated, the priestess lets her head fall back and groans loudly for emphasis. ¡°FINE! We¡¯ll get you a chicken!¡± Fresh does her best not to laugh, the priestess seems fairly irritated. Walking up to the counter, the orc clutches a glass chicken close to his chest, his face beaming with a smile that¡¯s filled with absolute child-like wonderment and joy. The priestess, in contrast, digs through a very empty sounding satchel on her waist and pulls out a few coins. ¡°One¡­¡± Her eyebrow twitches. ¡°One chicken, please,¡± she says, almost hissing out the words like a deflating balloon and placing the coins down onto the counter. Fresh looks up at the orc who is spinning around in delight. His behavior is in stark contrast to his frightening, rough, battle-scarred exterior. She wonders if this is how she and Jubilee look together. Sort of. Fresh tilts her head and takes the coins. Sold: 1 [Glass Chicken](Normal) for [{30} Obols] ! ¡°Thank you! Come again!¡± says Fresh. The orc holds his prize out proudly before himself as he turns to leave. Fresh rubs her arm. ¡°Ah, wait!¡± The two of them stop. Bending down, she reaches beneath the counter and pulls out one of her minor soul potions. ¡°Here.¡± She hands it out to the priestess. ¡°On the house,¡± says Fresh with a smile. The priestess takes it from her, looking at her curiously. ¡°Thanks¡­¡± ¡°Come back soon!¡± says Fresh waving goodbye to the two of them as they leave. Several more hours would pass and soon enough, evening falls as the sun vanishes once again. Once the last customer is gone, Fresh closes the door and leans her head against it. Exhausted. Drained. ¡°I did it,¡± she sighs in exerted relief, sliding down to the floor with her back against the door. What should she do now? It¡¯s getting dark. She has to get the store ready for tomorrow. But¡­ is the vampire still alive? The barkeeper had said ¡®it¡¯ was taken care of. Does that mean she¡¯s safe outside now in the dark? Or should she go back to the cut-off space in the guild? Fresh rolls her head left and right, against the wood of the door as she thinks. She is pressed forward as the door opens. ¡°Ah- we¡¯re clo-!¡° she looks back at the small, wooden mask staring at her. Jubilee nudges the door further, signaling for her to get out of the way. ¡°JUBILEEE~¡± Fresh falls down and howls, grabbing Jubilee who snarls in protest at being touched. Razmatazz Trivia - Vampires, Identification Do you also hate vampires like I do? Do you want to keep yourself and your loved ones safe from the disgusting wretches that are the Strigoi? The only good vampire is a dead vampire, obviously. No exceptions. So if you share my beliefs, then you¡¯ve come to the right place! Vampire sympathisers should consider themselves politely, but firmly asked to leave. For today¡¯s trivia, we¡¯ll just discuss how to identify them. An ounce of prevention beats a pound of cure, after all. So, first off then, how do you identify a vampire? Ignoring obvious things like having vampire teeth, levitating, and so on, we¡¯ll talk about a few easy things. Well, some of these methods are obviously more complex than others. The first one would be to throw seeds at its feet. Or grains of rice. Vampires are said to suffer from Arithmomania, so the disgusting thing will have to stop whatever its doing to count each and every kernel. Another tried and true method is to simply dig up the suspected gravesite. If the resting body is plump and looks healthier than expected, well then you got yourself a vampire! Of course, the biggest and most obvious sign is that they die if they go into sunlight. So be sure to drag your friends out into the sun every now and then, just to be sure, you know? More modernly, it has been said a vampire¡¯s reflection can¡®t show in a mirror and they hate the lack of sight of it. Similarly there is also the myth that a vampire can¡¯t cast a shadow. Though note that these are both culture dependent. In Greece, the vampiric offshoot ''Vryklokasas'' are capable of exactly such things. So don¡¯t rely on these two methods exclusively, as they have been warped by modernity and Hollywood. It¡¯s a vampire trick to lull you into a false sense of safety! Don¡¯t fall for their games! One of the more interesting ones, if not exactly practical, is to take a virgin boy and to set him on a black-coated virgin horse (Don¡¯t ask too many, questions, okay?) and lead them through a graveyard. The horse will get antsy and balk when you get to the right grave. Note that if you live in Albania, the horse should have a white-coat. Again, don¡¯t ask. It just is what it is. Finally, though obscurely, a vampire will refuse to eat pork from a pig that was killed on the 17th of October, which is the day Saint Ignatius is celebrated. Why? Who knows. You''ll have to ask them. Lastly, if the entity reacts to warding. Though by warding, I mean so-called Aporopaics, which are items with protective properties against evil spirits. Warding can be anything from a crucifix, to garlic, to a running river or even just a boundary like a closed door. We¡¯ll go deeper into detail here next time! Until then, trust no one. The vampires aren¡¯t coming, they¡¯re already here. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 42: It’s taken care of Jubilee pushes her off of themselves, before dropping her wet bag unceremoniously at her feet and walking into the store, closing the door behind themselves. They sigh heavily and their shoulders droop as they cross the threshold. Her party-member looks around at the mostly empty shelves. ¡°Did you run the store by yourself?¡± Fresh nods, leaning in enthusiastically, glad that her friend is safe. ¡°I did!¡± Jubilee walks past her, waving her off with a tone quite the opposite. ¡°Good job.¡± ¡°Are you okay? What happened?¡± asks Fresh, picking up her bag and looking inside. Her grimoire and dagger are both there, together with her coins from the day before. ¡°Like I said. The adventurer¡¯s guild told the church. The merchant¡¯s guild¡­ well, they probably already knew.¡± Jubilee sluggishly walks up the staircase. ¡°Let me get some fresh clothes. I¡¯ll help you with the rest of the work in a few minutes.¡± ¡°What about the vampire? What about Donata?¡± asks Fresh, following them to the foot of the stairs. Jubilee looks back down to her, saying only one thing before vanishing towards their room. ¡°It¡¯s taken care of.¡± Fresh stands there in silence, unsatisfied with the answer and instead looks around the store, opting to set to work to get her mind off of things. There is still so much left to do anyways. Throwing her bag behind the counter, Fresh stops as she sees the wet, red smear on her hands. Blood. Running out to the door, she holds her hands out into the rain, washing the stain off of her skin as best as she can. Once Jubilee returns, Fresh doesn¡¯t have the courage to ask anymore what exactly was ¡®taken care of¡¯ and how. She just wants the night to be over. She¡¯s happy that her friend is back. She¡¯s happy that she survived the work-day all on her own. Jubilee says they¡¯re safe now and she believes that. The two of them work in silence for the next several hours, cleaning up the store and restocking the shelves. ¡°Should we hire someone?¡± asks Fresh, breaking the silence as she works on the last batch of soul-potions for the night. Her witch-crafting level has gotten fairly decent and she regularly makes normal-quality potions now and only rarely the occasional low-quality variants. Jubilee had said she¡¯s at a stagnation point now though and that it will take a lot of time and effort to get better than average. Jubilee looks at her. ¡°We¡¯ve only been open for two days. Anyways, I¡¯d rather not talk about it now.¡± Fresh tilts her head, shrugging and returns to her work. Jubilee is probably exhausted too, she figures. An hour later, everything is finished. The shelves are restocked, the floors swept, the blood washed away. With a drooping head, Fresh sits there, her face hovering above her empty pot as her eyes fall shut to the hypnotizing sound of the drizzling rain that hisses on outside, as a deeply relaxing white-noise. The dark feeling from the night before, when the storm had arrived in full force isn¡¯t present now. Whether that is simply due to her exhausted perceptions or to the vanishing of some unseen threat in her subconscious mind, she isn¡¯t sure. Jubilee shakes her awake. ¡°We¡¯re done. Come on, let¡¯s go to bed. Tomorrow¡¯s another day.¡± Fresh nods, getting up and rubbing her eyes. ¡°Jubileee~¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee with a tired groan. ¡°Can I sleep in your room tonight?¡± Jubilee stares down at her, already half-way up the stairs. ¡°No.¡± Fresh whines, running after them as they retreat down the upstairs hallway. ¡°But what if something knocks on my door again?!¡± Jubilee shrugs, sighing with a deep exhaustion as they step into their room. ¡°Then don¡¯t open it.¡± The door slams shut with some force for emphasis, leaving Fresh standing out alone in the hallway. A piece of broken glass from the night before crunches under her boot, as she turns her head to look at the door to her own room. Her lip quivers as the memory of the misshapen, long-necked creature returns to her. Even out here, outside of her room she can hear it. The sounds from the other side, from the spot she¡¯s standing beneath now. The tapping of the rain against her window. The tapping of a thousand little fingers, droplets, like the legs of a swarm of spiders trying to get in. Trying to get her. The door next to her opens again and she jumps in shock at the noise, flinching and flailing with her arms as a tired Jubilee stares up at her. ¡°Fine. But we¡¯re putting up a mattress as a separator and you¡¯re sleeping on the floor.¡± They step inside. ¡°And only this once. Next time you get scared of the dark, you can sleep in the dungeon.¡± Grateful and with the usual tears in her eyes, Fresh grabs her bag and runs inside of Jubilee¡¯s room, slamming the door shut behind herself before she has to hear the things in the darkness any longer. The night passes without any disruptions, both of them sleeping deeply as soon as Fresh sets up a ¡®wall¡¯ using the smelly mattress and some left-over planks to keep it upright. She sleeps rolled up on a bundle of blankets on the floor, her back pressed to the mattress and Jubilee on the bare box-spring on the other side. Soon enough, morning comes and the two of them get ready for a new day, once again having another meal from their dried provisions. Fresh makes a note to go to town when she finds time, to buy them a whole stockpile of ¡®easy¡¯ foods. Perhaps things that were more exciting. She had gotten a couple of cooking recipes with her witch-crafting class, but the girl feels like Jubilee would get mad at her if she tried to feed them any of that. Besides, most of it was made with mushrooms, which they needed for their potions. In the hour before they open, Fresh tries out her antidotes again and, much to her delight, finally manages to make one with a zero percent chance of side-effects. Her eyes sparkling with joy as she sees it, she shows her creation to Jubilee with pride. Jubilee only makes a vague remark that it¡¯s good and that¡¯s it. The town is going to have a short supply of antidotes for a while, so they¡¯ll have a monopoly in the inner-city. The girl doesn¡¯t pursue the topic any deeper, afraid of what lies at the bottom of it. Jubilee suggests doubling their price though, given the situation. But Fresh scowls, pursing her lip. ¡°We can¡¯t scam people for the antidotes! What if someone gets sick?¡± she protests. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Then they¡¯ll buy the antidotes?¡± ¡°But what if they can¡¯t afford it?!¡± asks the girl, crossing her arms. ¡°If they¡¯re really sick, they¡¯ll find a way to get the money,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. However, Fresh sits there with crossed arms, glaring and grumbling at Jubilee long enough and eventually, they relent. ¡°Fine! We¡¯ll keep selling them as is. Even if we¡¯re leaving money on the table. Cry-baby.¡± The day begins and now, well-rested and with Jubilee back again, the work is smooth and easy. There are once again fewer customers today as well, now on the third day where the hype apparently really has worn down a lot. Everyone who needed their minor soul-potions had some already, the same goes for their daggers. Though occasionally an antidote is still taken by a particularly worried or pale looking person who thanked them for it. Each time after they leave, Fresh smugly looks down to Jubilee, who simply rolls their eyes. ¡°There¡¯s not much going on today. We need to diversify. I¡¯ll take care of things here if you want to go upstairs and see if you can¡¯t think of anything else to make.¡± Fresh tilts her head curiously, but then looks around the empty store, before nodding and heading upstairs to their pantry. The pantry is a small room, shaped like an upside-down letter ¡®L¡¯. From the door it is maybe three long steps to the window and on both sides of the room and in the little nook are shelves and boxes and much to Fresh¡¯s delight, a single barrel that looks just like she had always imagined a barrel looks. Thinking about it, she realizes that she never actually saw a barrel in her old life, outside of cartoons and television shows. Rain dribbles against the foggy glass of the window, but only gently as it falls in a drizzle outside. The shelves are messily filled with all manner of dried provisions, loot from the dungeon and crafting materials. Fresh sits down on the floor. She rather likes it inside of here, in the pantry. It¡¯s quiet. Cozy. She looks around at the items lining the shelf. What should she make? She racks her brain, trying to think about her new recipes and which of them are feasible. Jubilee said to diversify so¡­ they had potions. They had a weapon. Maybe something¡­ she taps her chin, thinking - ¡°Something equipment¡¯ish?¡± she ponders, thinking about the recipes that she has. Reaching over to the shelf on her right, she grabs a gray metal ingot. A simple bar of iron that she had bought from an adventurer the day before. As a craftsman, she could use this to make simple items like actual daggers or nails or metal fastenings. But those were all rather unexciting, Fresh wants their store to have interesting things. If people wanted pragmatic, simple items, they could go to the hardware store. Though¡­ she thinks for a moment, wondering if such a thing even exists here. Shrugging, she grabs the metal brick and strains with both her arms to set the small ingot down on the floor in front of herself. She then holds her hands above it, closing her eyes and focusing on her latest craftsman recipe. (Fresh) uses: [Craftsman: Small Iron Chain] x 6 A heap of tiny necklace chains falls down onto the ground, clattering together and she looks at them, inspecting them. The metal is a little uneven here and there, but all in all they look like nice little chains you¡¯d find in any old flea-market. Not exciting, but they¡¯ll serve their purpose. Thinking of what to do next, she looks at their shelves. The light shines in and bounds off of the little basket, full of shimmering objects. Matte glass. All of the scraps and odd bits of lumpy glass she had opted to keep in this basket. Carefully reaching in, she grabs a piece and processes it. (Fresh) uses: [Craftsman: Sand{Round}] Smiling, she looks at the almost¡¯ish perfectly round matte-glass marble in her hand and then places it onto a chain. (Fresh) uses: [Witch-Crafting: Magical Talisman - Glass] This small necklace consists of an enchanted glass-bauble, attached to an iron necklace. When worn, it raises some resistances. Light seems to shimmer with an odd intensity when striking the glass. During the day: +1 Poison resistance +1 Dark resistance +1 Water resistance +1 Ice Resistance During the night: +1 Fire resistance +1 Lightning resistance +1 Physical protection +1 Holy resistance Fresh beams, staring at the thing in her hand. She looks at the necklace with some joy in her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s so pretty,¡± she whispers to herself excitedly, holding the thing out. It¡¯s a little crude looking, being just a glass marble on the end of an iron chain, but its simplicity is somehow also its best feature. Humming she sets to work making the rest of them. (Fresh) uses: [Witch-Crafting: Magical Talisman - Glass] x 5 ¡°Jubilee is going to love these!¡± says the girl, looking at her treasure-trove. Once again, Jubilee¡¯s glass as a ¡®free¡¯ resource is putting them ahead of the game. All they have to do is get some iron, or maybe even some other kind of metal? She had paid twenty Obols for this one ingot, but got six talismans out of it. With these stats¡­ Fresh looks at the necklaces, setting one to the side for herself and one to the side for Jubilee, she would give it to them as a present later. Her hands grab a third one and she holds it up to her eyes, inspecting it closely when the idea comes to her. The girl fidgets nervously, looking around the pantry, as if someone might be watching her. Should she¡­? Her eyes return to the necklace. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t¡­¡± mutters the girl. But doesn¡¯t lower her arms. The rain continues to drizzle outside, tapping against the glass of the window. She takes a deep breath, having made up her mind. She shouldn¡¯t. But - (Fresh) uses: [Witch: Curse Item] on [Magical Talisman - Glass](Normal) Fresh looks at the necklace in her hands. The glass bauble seems to shift and glow, as if a droplet of black-tinged water was trapped inside of the glass sphere. A chill runs up her fingers, through her arm and causes her body to shiver. The light shining into the glass shifts and suddenly, the swirling thing inside of it disappears. The necklace stops glowing with its dull, purple energy and now looks like any other. Fresh yelps as the door to the pantry swings open. ¡°Hey! I need you downstairs, come on!¡± says Jubilee, running back down. Nervously, Fresh grabs the bunch of necklaces and looks around the pantry. Down by the leg of a shelf is a small hole in the floorboard and without thinking, she stuffs the cursed necklace down into it to hide it. She¡¯d deal with it later. For now, the girl runs downstairs to help run the shop for the rest of the day. Razmatazz Trivia - Warding vampires So, now we know where the vampyric scum originates from and we know how to identify them. There are only two topics left. First of all, how to protect ourselves from the disgusting wretches and secondly how to kill them. Today we will be discussing the former topic. As discussed in the last trivia, there is a class of objects known As apotropaics. Apotropaics is a form of magic that is used to chase away or to harm evil influences in the world. Whereas a ?good luck charm¡® is intended to make the wearer lucky by blessing them, an apotropaic is the ?offensive¡® version of that and protects the user by directly damaging or threatening a dark entity, rather than blessing the user, thereby not allowing it to reach the user in the first place. Apotropaics can be anything, from the Nazar, an anti ?evil-eye¡® painting, to magical amulets, talismans or even something as simple as a gesture. (Crossed fingers, knocking on wood, etc) There are many such ?evil-averting¡® symbols throughout ancient history. The Greeks for example used the Gorgon as a common symbol, or the evil eye. Catholic churches used grotesque imagery such as gargoyles to scare away demons and witches. How does this round back to vampires you might be wondering? Well, vampires have their own weaknesses, if you will. Garlic is the most common example. Why do vampires hate garlic? Back in ancient Egypt, garlic was believed to have great healing powers, making it antithetical to the undead. From there-on over the ages, it spread to the northwest to the slavic regions, where the meaning turned to a protection against witches and the plague. Garlic coincidentally is a blood purifier as it¡¯s an incredibly nutritious food with strong anti-microbial effects, it contains the chemical Allicin, that has been proven to kill mosquitoes. Furthermore, it can be used in pickling foods, the reasoning here would be then, if garlic could keep food from decaying, it can stop people from doing the same. Another common one is consecrated ground, such as churches or temples, as these are holy spaces filled with an ?energy¡® that would overpower the creature if it intruded into them. This is where the ?vampires can¡®t enter your home without permission¡¯ thing comes into play. Home is where the heart is after all and so, assuming you have a strong feeling of home where you live, a vampire is unable to break into this sacred space without explicit permission. By welcoming the vampire in, you are tarnishing the hallowed ground and breaking the seal, thereby removing the consecration of your home. Vampires are also unable to cross running water for the same reasons. Though note that this is rooted in modern fiction and has little historical precedence. The whole running water thing might just be another vampire scheme to have us drop our guard. If it were true though, the logic would be the same. In the west, water is seen as a cultural symbol for purity. Running water especially so, as it nourishes life and washes away dirt and grime and sickness. Add in to that, the fact that rivers are natural borders that have separated us from ?the other side¡® for a long time and you get all sorts of spooky mythology. Imagine living in a small village a thousand years ago, standing on the edge of a large river and looking at the dark forest on the far side. The river would have a protective feeling for you. The crucifix comes into play as well and is said to ward vampires, but I wouldn¡¯t trust this one either. The crucifix warding off vampires is likely just religious dogma and while it certainly has a theatrical flair to it, there is no basis for this belief other than the church saying so. How heavily you trust that belief, I¡¯ll leave up to you. But perhaps there is something to be said for this though, along the same lines as before. Perhaps if you believe, the crucifix can have the same apotropaic effect as a ?feeling of sanctuary.¡® Of course, the best way to protect yourself from a Vampyrus-Immortuos is just to kill it, which will be our lesson for next time. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 43: Healing Minor Soul Potions: 19 Obols each - 48 sold = +912 Antidotes: 15 Obols each - 12 sold = +180 Bone Daggers: 49 Obols each - 3 sold = +147 Odd and ends: ~40 Obols each - 2 sold = +80 Glass Chickens: 30 Obols each - 1 sold = ~30 Mushroom-caps(Blue): - sold 0, bought 41 (6 each) = -246 Mushroom-caps(Orange): - sold 0, bought 28 (5 each) = -140 Total (Gross) = +963 5% Merchant¡¯s guild deduction = -46 12% Taxes = -111 10% Savings and upkeep = -93 Deductions = -251 Obols Total (Net) = +682 Obols Earnings = 341 Obols each Fresh tilts her head, pursing her lips. ¡°It¡¯s a lot less today.¡± Jubilee shrugs, pulling the paper back to look at it again. ¡°Well yeah? It¡¯s like I said. Until everyone burns through their stockpile, they won¡¯t come back.¡± Jubilee points at her. ¡°Assuming they don¡¯t all die down in the dungeon because of your freaky witch-potions.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not freaky witch-potions!¡± argues Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°I make them with a lot of love!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Jubilee looks at the necklaces. ¡°These are good though,¡± they say. ¡°The day-night thing is a little weird, never seen that before. But one to all of these resistances? The low-level adventurers will be crawling over each other for these.¡± They spin it around on their finger, the glass bead swinging through the air. ¡°Our shop is becoming a little unusual, but we¡¯re going to corner the entire low-level market if we keep this up.¡± Fresh places the broom against the wall, having finished sweeping. ¡°Unusual?¡± ¡°Oh, sure.¡± Jubilee sorts their coins for the day. ¡°Most things have been pretty cut and dry here for a while. Potions? Go the alchemist. Weapons? Weaponsmith. Trinkets? Jeweler. And so on and so on. Everything was cut into little pieces.¡± They slide a heap of coins to the side. ¡°But we have a little of everything.¡± They look back towards Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s an unusual idea for a store, but you know¡­¡± they nod to her. ¡°Maybe you really do have a knack for this sort of work.¡± Fresh beams, raising a finger. ¡°That makes sense, it all started with a single coin when I arrived here.¡± Jubilee tilts their head. ¡°Huh?¡± The girl blinks, lowering her finger and looking away. ¡°Ah! Uh¡­ nothing! Just¡­ you know me! Haha!¡± Fresh knocks on her head and turns around towards the window, humming as she walks away. Should she tell Jubilee about how she arrived here? Would Jubilee even believe her? If there¡¯s anyone she trusts here, it¡¯s Jubilee. But¡­ maybe this particular secret was best kept for now. Besides - She looks back to Jubilee who has returned to their work. - It¡¯s not like she knows anything about Jubilee¡¯s past either. Actually¡­ Fresh realizes, she¡¯s never even seen Jubilee¡¯s menu, did it even appear during their fighting in the dungeon? What level is Jubilee? What class? Where are they from? Are they human? Or something else? Are they a boy or a girl? Fresh looks out of the downstairs window at the reflection, in the glass, of Jubilee¡¯s back. But maybe it¡¯s all just none of her business. Jubilee is her friend and sometimes friends keep secrets from each other. That¡¯s fine. She has her own secrets too. Smiling, she looks past the reflection and out of the window. Still. If they kept this up, even if every day was a ¡®slow¡¯ day like today, they¡¯d be able to pay the guild back before the year was even close to over. Heck, they¡¯d probably manage before the end of spring with some elbow-grease. Fresh smiles. Maybe everything is turning out alright after all? She sighs in relief. She was so worried about everything after the initial disaster of her arrival, but now everything is slowly coming together. The smile on her face widens, as she realizes her good fortune and, watching the rain-droplets splash against the window, she silently thanks the fountain for having given her this bounty. Something shifts in the dusk outside and her eyes open wide, as she sees the figure moving towards their door. ¡°Uh, Jubilee, I think someone¡¯s coming.¡± ¡°We¡¯re closed, tell them to fuck off.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek meekly as she watches the white-robed man walk up to their door. She expects him to try and open it. But he doesn¡¯t, instead something slides down beneath it and she watches him get up and walk away. Looking down, Fresh bends over to pick up the letter. ¡°We got mail,¡± she says, staring at the plain envelope, sealed shut with a thick, red-wax seal. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We got a letter,¡± says Fresh, waving it at Jubilee, who is walking over to her to take it. Snatching it from her, they look at the seal. ¡°Fuck,¡± their fingers rip the side of the envelope open and they pull out the letter, reading it to themselves, muttering under their breath. ¡°Fuck! Nothing good ever comes in a letter!¡± Fresh tilts her head curiously and Jubilee holds the page out to her. ¡°We¡¯ve been ¡®invited¡¯ to a meeting with the fucking cardinal,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Shit! I fucking hate this city.¡± She takes the letter and looks at it. ¡°Is that bad? It seems like a real privilege,¡± she says. ¡°The priests all seem like nice people and maybe we can make some connections?¡± ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you?¡± groans Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s only one reason the church would want to talk to us.¡± Fresh racks her brain and her eyes go wide. ¡°Do¡­ do they know that I¡¯m¡­¡± she looks around. ¡°You know?¡± ¡°What?¡± Jubilee stars at her. ¡°No. If they knew that, the only letter you¡¯d get would be the letter ¡°X¡± that they¡¯ll brand onto your forehead, before you get locked away underground for the rest of your very short life. This is worse.¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes and Fresh can¡¯t help but feel a shiver run down her spine. Worse? What could be worse? Her friend walks away, back towards the counter. ¡°With Donata gone, their supply of soul-potions has been cut off. They want ours -¡± Jubilee looks back to her, the letter crumpling as they clench their fist down tightly and hiss with disgust at the very concept that they now utter. ¡°- for a discount.¡± Fresh, having been caught up in Jubilee¡¯s rant, clutches her cheeks and shouts. ¡°Nooo¡­!¡± The girl¡¯s voice trails off as she stops and thinks. ¡°Huh?¡± She looks around. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound so bad, though?¡± Her finger taps her chin. ¡°Like I said, the priests seem to be really nice. I wouldn¡¯t mind helping them. I bet they do a lot of good here in town!¡± ¡°- And by discount, I mean basically free.¡± Jubilee kicks the counter. ¡°Fucking Donata, even now that old hag found a way to fuck me over.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing we have such low costs. Maybe we can still squeeze this somehow.¡± They shake their head. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s finish up and then let¡¯s go to sleep.¡± The girl¡¯s lips quiver as she rubs her fingers together meekly. ¡°Jubileee~¡± Seeing where she is going, Jubilee glares at her. ¡°No! You got one freebie. Go to sleep in your own room, weirdo,¡± the snap at her. ¡°Are you scared of the dark because of one little vampire?¡± Jubilee places the necklaces into a bin. ¡°There are hundreds of them down in the dungeon.¡± They wave her off. ¡°Your half of the coins are on the counter. Tomorrow should be a slow day, so you run the store. I¡¯ll take care of the church business.¡± ¡°Can I go too? I really want to see it!¡± asks Fresh, scooping up her coins and running after Jubilee. before she has to stay down here alone in the dark. ¡°Pleeease?¡± ¡°Can you please just use your head? No, you can¡¯t go to the church! Goo-brain!¡± ¡°You never take me anywhereee~¡± whines Fresh. ¡°What? If you want to go anywhere, go yourself, dumb-ass. You¡¯re an adult!¡± Jubilee shakes their head as they walk up the stairs. ¡°Maybe not mentally, though.¡± Fresh pouts, however she has no choice but to give in. Jubilee slams their door shut and, despite standing outside of it in the dark hallway nervously for five minutes alone, it doesn¡¯t open again a second time for her. Scared, Fresh runs into her own room, but not before getting several of her potions to place inside of it, their glow acting as night-lights. Somehow the rain still continues, the storm never quite seems to pass, even after this many days. But there is no more thunder, it¡¯s just a constant drizzle that never ends. Blocking the door with a bunch of junk that she can scrape together, Fresh falls down onto her pile of blankets, making a mental note to finally make a bed tomorrow and maybe something to bar her door and windows with. The night comes and her eyes fall shut, as the rain lulls her to sleep. The droning rattle of its splashing outside humming like a midnight lullaby to soothe her fearful mind. Soon enough, the next day comes and Jubilee is already gone by the time she gets up, and has left a note to remind her that they went to the church. Fresh gets ready for the day, taking a moment to read another few pages of her grimoire, which isn¡¯t nearly as spooky to read in the morning as it is during the night. Somehow, the sun helps to repel those bad feelings, even if it is only sparsely visible through the thin rain-clouds. The rain seems to have mostly stopped today, but the clouds still linger overhead. An hour later, she stands behind the counter and watches the first people enter for the day. Somewhat nervously, she watches as a giant of a man barges inside, tears streaming down his face as he storms to the counter, something clutched tightly in his arms. The familiar orc howls and drops his arms down onto the counter. ¡°Pleeease, save him!¡± he screams. ¡°Huh?¡± Somewhat nervously, given the towering, howling, green man before her, Fresh looks down at the counter. At the glass chicken, its head separated from the body. She scratches her cheek, looking back up at the orc. ¡°You didn¡¯t cut yourself, did you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± He slams his palms down onto the counter, the wood vibrating as he leans in forward with surprising tenacity and lowers his head. ¡°Please!¡± Fresh looks down at the decapitated chicken and thinks for a second. Her eye catches a glimmer of an orange-antidote down below the shelf. She isn¡¯t sure why the orc is taking this so seriously, but if nothing else, she understands his strong emotions. Clenching her fists, she narrows her eyes and nods to him. ¡°Okay!¡± It takes a while. She uses a mixture of the glue for their potion labels and her crafting skills to put the pieces back together. The cracked glass can¡¯t be fixed to look like it was before, it never can if it breaks once. But despite that - The priestess from the day before barges in, stomping as she rushes towards the howling orc and yanks him away by his ear, as she profoundly apologizes to Fresh for her ¡®idiot party-member¡¯ bothering her, a somewhat fearful glint in her eye as she does so. Fresh tilts her head and waves to the angry, strawberry-blonde haired priestess that it¡¯s okay. There¡¯s nothing else going on today anyways. There had hardly been any customers at all today. - She spins the chicken around on the counter, inspecting it as she finishes her work and with a satisfied smile, hands it over to the orc who takes it and cries as if holding his own newborn, saved from the clutches of the reaper. A man walks in from outside. ¡°I¡¯ll die for you, Chicken-priestess! Thank you~!¡± screams the orc as he holds the ¡®healed¡¯ chicken aloft. Fresh scratches her cheek, feeling somewhat embarrassed, as the man who had just walked in turns around sharply to leave again. The orc¡¯s priestess companion smacks the giant across his side. ¡°You big jerk! I¡¯ve literally sewed your finger back on!¡± She crosses her arms and lets out a ¡®hmpf¡¯. The orc stops his dramatics to look at her, as if not sure what she was getting at. She opens an eye to stare at his confused face. Her expression clearly becomes more and more annoyed. ¡°You never say ''thank you'' to me!¡± she argues in a huff, her posture shifting as she jabs a finger into his chest. The orc tilts his head, as if he doesn¡¯t understand the problem. But then he looks back to his chicken and he holds it out to face her, the battle-scar on its neck proof of its endurance. ¡°Bakaw?¡± asks the orc and the priestess clutches her hood in frustrated exasperation as she turns to leave. Fresh can¡¯t help but laugh as she rubs the back of her head, feeling a very strong sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. ¡°Sorry for all the trouble,¡± says the woman to her before leaving. ¡°We¡¯ll pay you for the repairs soon. I promise,¡± swears the priestess, fidgeting with her sleeve. ¡°It¡¯s fine, please come again!¡± laughs Fresh, waving her off. She looks to the orc and makes a stern face, pointing to the chicken but then also to his companion who is already walking out of the door. ¡°Protect them both with your life!¡± The orc straightens up and slams a fist against his chest, nodding once, before turning to leave after his party-member. The rest of the day passes with less excitement, initially, but soon enough the new necklaces get noticed as well and the single metal-clad adventurer in the store takes a look around the shop. ¡°These are really good, are these new?¡± ¡°Mm! I just made them last night,¡± says Fresh, happy that someone finally saw them. The man looks back to the talisman once more before walking to the counter and paying for it. ¡°Can you put four of these on the side for tomorrow? My party will love these.¡± ¡°Of course!¡± says Fresh with a smile, giving the man his change. She waves as he leaves. Maybe if he tells his party about them, then they will tell others too? Word could spread fast, especially in this city, where such things seem to spread all of their own accord somehow. Word of mouth is a real driving force in the economy, apparently. She has an idea about exactly that as well, one that she thinks Jubilee will like a lot. The girl formulates a plan, thinking about how she''s going to convince her party-member to help her with it tomorrow. Soon enough, evening breaks, putting an end to their slowest day yet and soon after that, Jubilee returns, carrying a parcel of food for them both, just as Fresh is about to close up once more. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 44: Branding Minor Soul Potions: 19 Obols each - 12 sold = +228 Antidotes: 15 Obols each - 5 sold = +75 Bone Daggers: 49 Obols each - 1 sold = +49 Odd and ends: ~40 Obols each - 0 sold = +0 Glass Chickens: 30 Obols each - 0 sold = ~0 Mushroom-caps(Blue): - sold 0, bought 11 (6 each) = -66 Mushroom-caps(Orange): - sold 0, bought 8 (5 each) = -40 Iron-Ingots - sold 0, bought 3 = -60 Magical Talisman(Glass) - sold 1 = +51 Total (Gross) = +237 5% Merchant¡¯s guild deduction = -12 12% Taxes = -28 10% Savings and upkeep = -24 Total (Net) = +173 Obols Earnings = 86 Obols each Jubilee sighs, looking at the calculation before throwing a single coin down into the change bowl, down below the counter. ¡°Slow day. Well¡­ that¡¯s fine,¡± they mutter. ¡°They¡¯ll come back in a few days, once their potions run out.¡± They look over the sheet of paper once again. ¡°You didn¡¯t get many mushroom-caps today?¡± Fresh nods, thinking as she sweeps. ¡°I think we bought most of them, at least until the dungeon resets,¡± she says. ¡°When is that, by the way?¡± Jubilee looks over to her and then back to the ledger. ¡°With the new moon. Everything resets in the dungeon. But you still have your shortcuts, so you can skip the trash at the top, if you have any unlocked.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says the girl plainly. ¡°So, how was it?¡± asks Fresh finally. Jubilee hadn¡¯t spoken a word about their day yet, opting to quietly help her with the evening work instead and Fresh didn¡¯t want to pressure them, as they seemed rather stressed. ¡°You¡¯re going to need to buy more mushroom-caps," they say. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, setting the broom down to start restocking her soul-potions. ¡°The church wants our soul potions, even if they¡¯re weaker than Donata¡¯s, she isn¡¯t supplying anymore. That means we¡¯re the biggest game in town. And they want to play.¡± Fresh turns around, rubbing her arm. ¡°Jubilee¡­¡± they look back to her. ¡°What happened to Donata?¡± Jubilee stares at her for a moment and then returns their gaze back forward to the piece of paper that they had already finished reading a long time ago. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Fresh steps forward, pouting. ¡°I want to know!¡± ¡°Drop it,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. Fresh marches forward, grabbing Jubilee and spinning them around to face her with an unusual hardness in her eyes. ¡°It was me she went after! I have a right to know!¡± Jubilee swipes her off with a hiss, flinching as the hands leave their body. Fresh lowers her gaze, feeling bad about having been so rough just now. ¡°Is she¡­?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to know,¡± says Jubilee plainly, calming themselves with a deep exhalation. Fresh locks her eyes onto Jubilee¡¯s again. ¡°I want to know! It¡¯s my business!¡± This time Fresh raises a finger, poking it into Jubilee, who lets out an agitated grunt. ¡°We¡¯re friends, so tell me the truth!¡± Something shifts in their eyes, the hardness weakens just a little, but only to seemingly fortify itself elsewhere. Jubilee wraps their hand around her finger, the leather glove clenching tightly, as they pull her hand off of themselves. ¡°Stop. Touching. Me,¡± they hiss and the two of them glare at each other for a while. After what feels like a minute, Jubilee lets go of Fresh¡¯s finger and walks away to straighten the chickens. ¡°The merchant¡¯s guild was pissed because she went too far and almost ruined their newest cash-cow,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The church was pissed because she summoned a vampire in their city.¡± Jubilee stands in front of the shelf and grabs a chicken, twisting it a few inches to the side. ¡°Apparently, she had some black-market summoning scroll. That¡¯s just like that old hag, to have creepy shit like that.¡± They turn the chicken back again halfway. ¡°Having one of them mad at you is bad enough, but both?¡± Jubilee looks back towards her, turning only their head to look over the shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that they¡­¡± they turn back to the chicken. ¡°¡­They split the difference.¡± Fresh rubs her arm uncomfortably at the insinuation. ¡°So¡­ she¡¯s dead?¡± ¡°By now? I sure hope so. For her sake.¡± Fresh rubs her sleeve and looks down the pile of coins on the table, as both of them stand there quietly for a while. The only audible noise is the rubbing of the feet of the glass-chicken shifting over the wooden shelf. Jubilee walks back to her. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s make your bed.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks over to the obscured figure. ¡°We still have some wood left in my room,¡± says Jubilee, going up the stairs. Fresh watches them ascend, deciding not to push the line of questioning any further. Her glance simply falls down to the pile of coins below her down on the counter. To the eighty-six Obols that were her earnings for the day and she picks one of them up, looking at it. ¡°It¡¯s all for this, huh?¡± ¡°Are you coming?¡± barks a voice from upstairs. Fresh jumps and runs up after them. In truth, she doesn¡¯t even need Jubilee to help her make the bed. But, she appreciates the gesture and as the two of them sit together quietly in her room, stacking lumber and gathering a few odds and ends from the pantry, she can¡¯t help but feel a warm feeling in her chest, one that she isn¡¯t quite too sure what to do with. As the joy of her friend¡¯s efforts mix in with the darkness that seems to be lurking everywhere else in this world. Jubilee tells her about their visit to the church, which was apparently less of a meeting on equal footing and more of a lecture on ¡®civil responsibility¡¯. The short version is that the merchant¡¯s guild had obligations to the church, which in turn means that they have obligations to the church, at least as far as the cardinal saw it. The end result is that they would be selling a fixed amount of potions to the church directly for their stockpiles. One hundred a week. The pricing was left open for them to decide. ¡°Huh? Isn¡¯t that good?¡± asks Fresh, as they set the sideboard against the rest of the frame that they had constructed. ¡°We¡¯ll just charge them a little bit less than normal and say they¡¯re getting a discount,¡± suggests Fresh. ¡°We¡¯ll still make a profit because of our low costs,¡± she says, fastening the plank onto the construct. ¡°No, dumb-ass. They said we can ¡®decide¡¯, which is just them giving us rope to hang ourselves with. If we don¡¯t support them, they¡¯ll ¡®discourage¡¯ people from buying from us,¡± says Jubilee, sighing. ¡°The priests do a lot of good in this city, I won¡¯t lie to you. The day-to-day types are decent folk, they basically hold this whole whatever good is left of this city together. But upper-management?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°It¡¯s all politics up there, just like everywhere else.¡± They let go of the board, seeing if it will hold. ¡°None of those red-robed fucks has laid hands on anything other than gold coins in years. That¡¯s all they care about.¡± Between their work, she takes a break to go make a fresh batch of moon-water. Jubilee watches her curiously as she does so. Soon after, they return to their project. Fresh crafts several thin, springy boards out of the longer planks, lining the inside of the frame with them, as they discuss their plan. Soon the bed is finished and Fresh looks at it with delight, asking Jubilee if she can hug them. The answer of course, is a resounding no and another accusation of her being some odd-ball degenerate. She doesn¡¯t have a mattress yet, but two old blankets on top of a box-spring is a luxury compared to sleeping on the floor. She¡¯d figure out the mattress later, when she had time to explore town again. As for the potions, they agree, much to Jubilee¡¯s anguish, that they¡¯ll ¡®sell¡¯ their hundred minor soul-potions a week for a token price of only a single Obol a piece. It isn¡¯t great economics on paper, but they need the sanction of the church and a hundred a week is a bargain for that, as Fresh explains it, much to Jubilee¡¯s shock. Their supply of blue mushroom-caps is running tight though, especially if they want to keep up with the adventurer¡¯s demand as well, but Fresh is optimistic. ¡°I¡¯ve learned a lot of new stuff with my class so far, but I have a new idea though! Something not witchy!¡± she says, raising a finger, but then covers her mouth to let out a loud yawn. ¡°But I¡¯ll tell you about my idea tomorrow.¡± Jubilee nods, not too interested in any more of her ideas now either and they both go to bed. Fresh lays there alone in her room, surrounded by glowing potions, as she lays atop of the hard bed-frame. It isn¡¯t ideal, but she smiles, pulling the blanket up higher to cover her shoulders and neck, her eyes gazing one last time at the dark corner of the room, beneath the window as darkness falls around her. ¡°You aren¡¯t going to get me, demons¡­¡± The morning comes soon enough and the girl, demon-free, rises up to get ready for the day with a bright smile. Time flies, and soon enough, she finds herself sitting downstairs behind the counter, hunched over forward and drawing on a piece of parchment paper. ¡°So?¡± asks Jubilee, placing a cup of what apparently is some kind of bone-broth down in front of her, together with a roll of sturdy looking fabric. Fresh takes the cup with a smile, thanking Jubilee and opting not to ask which bones in particular it was made out of. She takes a sip, it has a deeply rich, fatty flavor that is very satisfying. If not a little heavy for these early morning hours. ¡°Thank you,¡± she looks down at the paper in front of her. ¡°Wait. I almost got it¡­¡± she looks back up. ¡°Can we take a day off, by the way? Sometime, so I can get one or two more levels?¡± She clasps her hands. ¡°Pleeease?¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°We can, but let¡¯s just get everything stabilized here. We just opened, so we can¡¯t just stop now.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, happy with that compromise as she holds her hands above the things laying there. ¡°So, I was thinking. We¡¯re selling a weapon, we have some potions, we have a piece of jewelry. So that means we¡¯re missing one big category!¡± she exclaims excitedly. ¡°Well¡­ two if you count food.¡± She taps her chin. ¡°Should we start selling food?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee plainly. ¡°I saw the bite-marks in that mush-mush. I¡¯m not eating anything you cook.¡± Fresh puffs out her cheek. ¡°It was a survival situation!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± They wave her off. ¡°So? What are you making?¡± Fresh wags her finger and her head from side to side, as she finishes her preparations. ¡°You mean, what are WE making?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee quite dryly as Fresh unwraps the fabric. ¡°It¡¯s your house. So I think you should have something in the store too!¡± The girl smiles. ¡°It¡¯s a good feeling, making things that people like.¡± She lifts up the fabric, holding it up. ¡°I¡¯m not a crafter,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. ¡°Besides, people bought the stuff I got from the dungeon.¡± Fresh purses her lips, narrowing her eyes as she glares at her friend. ¡°That¡¯s not the same! And you are!¡± She hands the fabric back to Jubilee. ¡°Your sub-class is tailoring!¡± ¡°Just to fix my own clothes, I¡¯m not really¡­ I¡¯m not really good at it,¡± they explain, holding out their tattered sleeves as if to emphasize their point. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°My potions were low quality too, but people liked them!¡± A small hand waves through the air as Jubilee takes a step back. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to make anything really.¡± The girl grumbles and pushes the fabric against Jubilee, forcing them to take it. ¡°I told you, that I have an idea, so will you try?¡± She leans over the counter with wide eyes towards an uneasy Jubilee. ¡°Pleeease~?¡± Jubilee groans in annoyance, but then relents. ¡°Fine! What do you want me to make?¡± Beaming, Fresh holds out the drawing to her friend. ¡°This!¡± ¡°¡­A bag?¡± Fresh sways the drawing from side to side. ¡°Not just any bag!¡± Jubilee stares over the paper as the girl goes on. ¡°An official Dungeon-Item-Shop tote bag! We can write our name on the side of the fabric and then, whenever somebody buys a lot of stuff, we can put it inside of one of these bags for them to carry easier!¡± She winks. ¡°For a few extra Obols, of course!¡± Jubilee rubs the chin of their mask, as if thinking. ¡°They do tend to buy a lot of potions at once¡­¡± But then they shake their head and then rise back up. ¡°But adventurers already have bags most of the time. So nobody will go for it.¡± ¡°True! But haven¡¯t you noticed?¡± she says, leaning in excitedly, giddy about finally having won one over on Jubilee. ¡°Most adventurers don¡¯t carry their bags with them all day!¡± she explains. ¡°A lot of the time, when they walk around town and stop in to our store, they¡¯re bag-less. Which of course, makes buying a lot of things at once a pain.¡± She clutches her cheeks. ¡°Isn¡¯t it lucky that we¡¯ll have just the right solution to that problem though?¡± Fresh smiles brightly. ¡°Plus, it¡¯s free marketing! If every bag has our name on it, then they¡¯ll carry us around the city and pay us to do it!¡± Jubilee stares at her, somewhat lost for words and they both stand there in silence for a while. Fresh¡¯s determined expression softens, as she feels her party-member¡¯s wary gaze eying her up and down. The strain of the silence becomes too much, she breaks eye contact and looks down to the side. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Rubbing her arm she goes on. ¡°I thought you¡¯d like the idea.¡± The room is quiet. A bright light shines out and Fresh looks back down just in time to see the small cloth bag being flung into her face. ¡°You take care of the writing, I always make a mess with ink,¡± says Jubilee to her. The bag flops down to the counter. Fresh beams, setting to work. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 45: Shopping "Stop wasting the product!" barks Jubilee back at her. Fresh sticks out her blue tongue in protest. "Bleeeh~!" Business is slow today again, though a tad faster than it was yesterday. But most of the time, Fresh just ends up twiddling her thumbs. ¡°If you want, you can go take a walk,¡± says a voice down from next to her. Fresh looks at Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s a slow day, you need to go order a mattress anyways. So go knock yourself out, I¡¯ll take care of things here.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± asks Fresh, but Jubilee just waves her off. Smiling, the girl thanks her friend and grabs her heavy bag, filled with coins, lifting it over her shoulder. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll be back in a bit!¡± Jubilee tells her where to go to find a mattress, though Fresh isn¡¯t happy about the prospect as she hears it. But at least they apparently would deliver it and Fresh walks out of the door, stepping outside of the store and into the bright day. The sun somehow seems to manage to find its way back into the forefront of the world once again, as if all the rain-clouds had been banished entirely from this plane of existence, leaving only a pristine blue sky behind. It¡¯s a hot, spring day, but the damp air from the previous days seems to linger just a little, as there is a distinct lack of a breeze. Smiling, she takes a deep breath, rising to the tips of her toes to stretch. Something pops in her lower back and she winces, letting out a defeated sigh as she turns right towards the plaza. It really is time to get a new mattress. Her bag, heavy from all the coins filling it, jingles just a little as she makes her way towards the market-plaza, by the front gate. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she enters into the somber building, diving right into the sad atmosphere and does her best to not let the melancholic wail of the mourning song distract her as she marches straight towards the counter. The barkeeper, polishing a glass as always, looks up to her with an expression that seems just a little more familiar now. Fresh nods to her with a smile, opening her bag and laying down two large gold coins onto the wooden surface and sliding them over to the scarred elf. She picks them up, inspecting them and then looks at Fresh, nodding. Eight-thousand left to go thinks Fresh with a smile. Repaid - [{2000} Obols] ! -{ 7998 Obols Remain Due}- Exiting the guild, having deposited about half of her money, Fresh looks around the busy plaza and opts to go to the baker¡¯s stall and makes small-talk with the baker, before buying a small loaf of a seed-cake to take back with her for her and Jubilee to share. Though she can¡¯t help but notice that the broad-shouldered giant of a baker seems oddly¡­ meek, in her presence today. His loud, jolly nature seems somewhat suppressed. The girl scratches her cheek, a curious expression on her eyes and leaves, wishing him a nice day. ¡°Maybe he isn¡¯t feeling well?¡± she wonders, before turning towards the tailor that she had gotten her new robe from. Gulping once, she steels her resolve and steps inside. A tiny bell jingles out as the door pushes it aside. The sweet, smoky air of the heavily drab inside of the tailor¡¯s shop surrounds her and the girl stops as she feels twenty-four faces turned her way, all of them looking straight to the door. Straight at her. ¡°H-hello¡­¡± says Fresh meekly to the mannequins. They say nothing in response and nervously, she walks towards the counter. The strange, lanky man steps out from behind the curtain, taking a long draw of his pipe. ¡°Hello. Back so soon?¡± he asks her curiously. Fresh explains why she¡¯s there, though she finds it rather odd that a tailor would make mattresses, but in a weird way it also makes sense to her. The tall man nods, writing everything down in his ledger. They discuss the material and firmness and Fresh explains how she''s been having some back aches lately from all of her work. The man nods and continues to write, saying that he has just the thing. ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t know what size it is exactly though¡­¡± says the girl, scratching her cheek. The tall man slaps the book shut, taking the coins she slid over the counter. Bought: 1 x [Single Mattress] {Flower-Fiber and Harpy Feather Blend(Medium Softness)}(Normal) for [{400} Obols] ! ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We know what size your bed-frame is,¡± he says, nodding to her before waving goodbye, as he returns to the back-room. ¡°It¡¯ll be there before you get home.¡± Nervously, Fresh looks around herself at the full room, opting it best to not think about either of these implications and she quietly backs out and away towards the door, certain that every time a mannequin leaves her field of vision, that it shifts ever so slightly, as if to watch her with wary eyes. Fresh retreats back out and quickly closes the door behind herself in one sweeping motion. She sighs a breath of relief once the rays of the sun come to touch her skin again. Now that it is so warm again, she actually kind of misses her old robe. It was embarrassing for her to have so much skin showing, but at least it felt nice when the sun warmed her body. Still, Fresh perks back up, having had three successful stops so far. She supposes that this had been everything that she wanted to do today and so, she begins walking back towards the store. It¡¯s getting close to the afternoon-hours and that¡¯s when business usually seems to pick back up a little again, so she shouldn¡¯t leave Jubilee alone for too long. Besides, she''s spent most of her money now, going down from over three-thousand Obols to ''only'' roughly three-hundred-fifty¡¯ish. Which in her eyes is still a fortune, but she needs to make more. A lot more. Happy, with her bag considerably lighter, Fresh begins to walk back, having decided that it¡¯s time to go home. She stops in her tracks, thinking about the word she just thought. ¡®Home¡¯. A finger taps her chin and she smiles. ¡®Home¡¯, huh? Apparently. Walking just a little faster now, with a little more spring in her step she hurries back, eager to see her home again. But despite that, her eyes can¡¯t help but wander as she passes the side-street. She stands at the start of the little passage that leads down past a few houses, the little road at which sits a single alchemist''s shop on the far side. No light burns behind the dark windows. The girl fidgets uncomfortably as she looks at Donata¡¯s store. Her head turns left, to look back down the main road. But then it turns back right again to look towards the dead windows. She gulps and walks down the side-street, her curiosity getting the best of her once again as she heads towards the dark building. Razmatazz Just a fun-little-quiet-moody chapter today to set up some future dominos. Next time, we''re taking a peek inside of Donata''s (spooky) house... =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 46: What has to be Fresh presses her face against the glass of the window of the dark alchemist¡¯s shop. Despite the brightness of the day outside, little light seems to make its way inside of the shop which is nested down at the end of this little alley. As far as she can see, nothing stirs inside of the building. No light shifts. No movements break the darkness. No sounds shatter the quiet. Nothing. All she hears is the vivid life of the city around her, coming into stark contrast with the empty void that seems to lurk just beyond the thin, glass windows. The heavy presence of a black murk fills the inside of the building, almost seemingly threatening to push the glass out with the sheer pressure of its non-existence. She gulps. Though, maybe she¡¯s just being a little over-imaginative. ¡°It¡¯s just an empty room¡­¡± she mutters to herself and presses herself off of the window, turning her back to the store to walk away. She doesn¡¯t get far though and simply stands there, a few meters outside of the door, watching the people run by left and right down the main street, outside of the alley. Only she¡¯s down here, standing alone outside of the door. As if everybody else in the city already knows that Donata, the alchemist, isn¡¯t open for business anymore. She finds her head turning around and before she knows what she¡¯s doing, her hand is on the handle of the door. It¡¯s locked. Sighing a breath of relief now that she¡¯s freed of the burden of trying to snoop any further, she once again tries to leave. But this time her eyes catch something different, though she really wishes that they didn¡¯t. Down on the corner of the building, near the adjacent wall, is a small, elongated, rectangular basement window. She wants to go, to just go back to the store and to tell Jubilee about her successful outing. But as she thinks the thought, she is already knelt downward, her hands pressing against the glass. The unsecured window, set down only a foot above the road, swings open, creaking quietly, as if whispering to her, giving her the okay to come in. ¡®It¡¯s fine. Nobody is watching. Come in. Come in¡­¡¯ Not sure why she¡¯s doing this and at the same time wishing that she wouldn¡¯t, Fresh takes off her bag and squeezes herself through the window with some difficulty. The shape of her new body is not exactly accommodating of the act of squeezing through tight spaces. She lands on a wooden table not far below, several books flying down to the floor. Fresh reaches out to grab her bag, pulling it in behind herself and leaving the window open just a crack. Just a tiny smidge. Just enough so that she can get back out quickly, if she has to. Fresh looks around the basement room. It looks to be some kind of alchemical-laboratory of sorts. The basement is about the size of Jubilee¡¯s bedroom, but is filled with shelves that are lined with glass vials, beakers filled with all manner of liquids and floating substances, dead plants suspended in some unidentifiable goo. Fresh fidgets uncomfortably as she sees a single eyeball hovering in a clear liquid. She isn¡¯t sure if it''s a human¡¯s, but she doesn¡¯t look close enough to find out either. Suspended through the room are dry plants of all manner, hanging from the rafters. On the far side of the room is a door and she quickly makes her way towards it, crinkling her nose as the oddly dusty smell fills it. Something crunches beneath her boot and the girl looks down at the broken glass at her feet. Kneeling down and carefully inspecting a shard, holding it up to the light of the window, she recognizes it as one of theirs. This is her and Jubilee¡¯s glass. Fresh looks around, seeing them now. The faintly glowing potions stacked in the corner of a table in the back. Her very own minor soul-potions. Her minor-antidotes. Had Donata been trying to figure out how they were made? She gulps and drops the glass back down, heading towards the door and carefully pulling it open, slowly peeking her head out to the staircase behind it and listening for any sounds coming from above. There are none. All she hears is the muffled activity of the hive buzzing outside. But inside of here there is no-one. No-one but her and the heavily looming darkness that seems to stand atop the staircase, waving with a single finger, calling her allure. Fresh gulps again a second time, shaking her head to remove the imaginary specter and quietly creeps up the staircase. Being careful to avoid going near the windows, she inspects the back room of the alchemist¡¯s shop, still not too sure what exactly it is that she¡¯s doing or looking for. Hasn¡¯t she technically broken in? Isn¡¯t this illegal? If she gets caught, who knows what kind of punishments they have for burglars here in this world? Jubilee had more or less told her of Donata¡¯s fate, so - The girl looks around the dark space. - So why is she here? What is she looking for? She isn¡¯t sure, but that lack of purpose doesn¡¯t change her mind and she keeps going. It just feels like the right thing to do. As if something - Her eyes scan the dark room of the back area behind the store-front. - As if something in the darkness was whispering to her, telling her in words she can¡¯t quite hear, but still understands. ¡®Look. Look. Seeing is believing.¡¯ The wood of the stairs creaks as she heads up to the next floor above and pushes open the door, revealing a bedroom that is lined with bookshelves on every wall, save for the window facing the street outside. Potted plants fill every nook and cranny, their leaves drooping low as if all of them were in mourning. ¡°They¡¯re just thirsty,¡± says Fresh quietly to herself, rubbing her eyes and stepping into the bedroom. In the center, across from the door is a single bed, obscured by cloth drapes. She sighs a breath of relief as she sees that the bed is empty. But something catches her eye. Something obscured by a blanket, something that catches a dull ray of lazy light meandering through the bedroom window to her side, hitting the hidden thing from just the right angle to make it shine. Curiously, she slowly walks towards it and picks it up, pulling it free from the blanket covering it and holding it up towards the light. Fresh looks at the piece of prismatic glass in her hand and her shade-bathed reflection looks back at her. It shatters and falls into dust and she yelps, springing back a step as the crystal fragments fall to the floorboards. She looks down at them, as she turns to leave, her curiosity satiated. That hissing lizard voice in the back of her mind is satisfied now that it had seen for itself. ¡°It¡¯s taken care of¡­¡± mutters Fresh, as one final confirmation, as she leaves the dark room to sneak back downstairs and back out of the basement window. For a brief moment, she considers watering the plants in the bedroom, or even taking them with her. But what if somebody comes back tomorrow and sees that someone had been here? What if somebody recognizes her with them? It¡¯s too dangerous. She closes her eyes and apologizes to the plants as she steps outside. Hurrying, she hustles back through the crowd, heading towards the shop. A smile comes to her, washing away the cool expression from her face, as she sees several people walking by, carrying their tote-bags. ¡°Took you long enough,¡± barks Jubilee at her as the girl wanders back into their store, looking around. Fresh laughs meekly and lies. ¡°Sorry¡­ I got lost.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s a straight road,¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips and tilting their head. Fresh doesn¡¯t respond and just looks away. Jubilee sighs, apparently not questioning the narrative in the least. ¡°Whatever, it¡¯s been slow anyways. I heard some work going on upstairs in your room, so I think your mattress got delivered.¡± Fresh looks at them curiously. ¡°You think? Didn¡¯t¡­ didn¡¯t they have to come in and carry it upstairs?¡± Jubilee waves her off. ¡°The mannequins don¡¯t work if you watch them.¡± The girl rubs her arms. ¡°They¡¯re kind of creepy¡­¡± Fresh stares down at Jubilee, tilting her head as she notices something. ¡°Jubilee! I just realized,¡± she says, not thinking, leaning forward over the counter. ¡°Your mask makes you look like you have a mannequin face!¡± Jubilee glares at her through the slits of the wooden mask. ¡°Are you picking a fight?¡± they ask, prodding a finger against her. ¡°I¡¯ll strap a bell around your neck and sell you to a dairy-farm!¡± Fresh pulls back. ¡°That¡¯s so mean!¡± ¡°You started it,¡± snaps Jubilee. Fresh scowls, but then her face softens and she leans back. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I wasn¡¯t thinking,¡± she admits, scratching her cheek and feeling bad now. Maybe that was insensitive of her to say. ¡°Ah!¡± She opens her bag and pulls out the seed-cake. ¡°Here! I got this for us to share later!¡± She puffs out her cheek and looks away, embarrassed. ¡°If you want to¡­¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Sure. I¡¯d like that.¡± The two of them stand there in an awkward silence for a moment. Jubilee clears their throat, cutting through the tension. ¡°But first things first, we have a new business opportunity.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks around the empty store. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yeah, look at this,¡± Jubilee grunts as they lift a fairly simple, but heavy looking sword out from beneath the counter. Fresh looks it over, staring at the edge of the blade. It is clearly nicked and worn and even has a shattering scar running through the top end of it. She feels like it¡¯s vaguely familiar though. ¡°A broken sword?¡± she asks Jubilee, who nods in return. ¡°Yeah, some giant lummox of an orc ran in here crying and threw his sword down on the counter, asking about a -¡± Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches as they glare at Fresh in agitation. ¡°- a chicken¡­ priestess¡­¡± Fresh smiles with a vague smile, pretending she doesn¡¯t know what Jubilee is talking about. ¡°Huh? Is that so? How strange.¡± They sigh. ¡°Anyways, apparently he wants you to fix this. I told him to get bent and to go to the weaponsmith down the road but¡­¡± Jubilee shakes their head, shrugging. ¡°He insisted. So, here you go.¡± Jubilee extends their arms, gesturing over the sword. ¡°You¡¯re officially a repair-worker now too.¡± Fresh looks over the sword. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to repair swords though.¡± Jubilee shrugs indifferently. ¡°You¡¯re a craftsman, figure it out, goo-brain. They paid in advance, though his priestess wasn¡¯t happy about it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°So we¡¯re obligated now. No refunds.¡± Fresh groans uneasily, looking over the well worn weapon. Jubilee continues. ¡°Look, we need to diversify. We can¡¯t just sell two kinds of potions, a dagger and a necklace -¡± ¡°- and the chickens,¡± amends Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Whatever. We need more offers, or we¡¯re going to run out of customers,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°They¡¯ll be back soon for more soul-potions, but we can¡¯t rely on those alone. Repairs could be a steady stream of income, especially since we¡¯re the first stop outside of the dungeon.¡± Fresh lets out a strained grunt, trying unsuccessfully to lift the sword off of the counter. ¡°It¡¯s too heaaavy~¡± ¡°It¡¯s just a sword?¡± asks Jubilee, crossing their arms and shaking their head. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want you to swing it, I want you to fix it.¡± Fresh pouts. ¡°What about what I want? I thought I was the party-leader?¡± Jubilee tilts their head, looking at her curiously. ¡°And? What does the party-leader want?¡± they ask sarcastically. The girl looks around the empty store and then to the sword and then to Jubilee and then to the seed-cake on the counter. The answer to the question is the shared connection that all four of those things have. Fresh sighs, she isn¡¯t able to open up enough to tell Jubilee about that strong feeling in her heart directly however. She smiles. What is she scared of? This is just another step that she has to take. Just another step forward towards this new life of hers that is slowly coming together, piece by piece, fragment by fragment. ¡°Okay! I¡¯ll do my best!¡± she exclaims, nodding. Razmatazz Well, doesn''t look like anything went wrong today. I''m just as surprised as you are =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 47: A Moonless Night *Dink* Fresh taps the sword with the small, metal hammer. Not for any specific purpose, she just doesn¡¯t know what else to do with it. *Dink* The girl groans. How is she supposed to repair a sword? She¡¯s never done any metalworking in her life, apart from the few craftsman sub-class recipes that she has used. But none of them are of any help to her now. Could craftsmen even do repairs on equipment like this? *Dink* Her shoulders droop as she sighs and looks at the sword laying on the counter-top before her. No more daylight shines in through the outside window, as it is the middle of the night now. Only her potions, lining the sides of the counter, fill the room with a vague light, giving her enough to see her ¡®work¡¯, which so far consisted of nothing but sighing and idly tapping the sword with the hammer as she thinks. She doesn¡¯t even know why she has the hammer. It was just the first thing that came to her mind. Isn¡¯t that how blacksmiths made swords? They hit them with a hammer. But¡­ She looks down at the blade and supposes it has to be hot for the metal to bend. She doesn¡¯t have any way to accomplish that though. Fresh rubs the back of her head and finally sets the hammer down on the counter. Jubilee had long since gone to bed and she sits downstairs alone, her fingers running along the nicked side of the metal sword as she thinks. Looking down beneath the counter, she picks up her grimoire and places the damp thing onto her lap. It¡¯s rather uncomfortable, as the fabric of her robe becomes wet, but she opts to leave it there. Not that anybody was looking through the window now, as far as she can tell, but¡­ better safe than sorry. Her fingers flutter through the pages. Wasn¡¯t there something about moonwater being able to enchant weapons? Or bless them? Or something like that? Maybe that means there¡¯s something else in here too. Something¡­ Her eyes narrow as her fingers flip through the damp pages, seemingly knowing directly where to go, even if she doesn¡¯t herself. Fresh¡¯s hand stops, her finger pointing to the title of a page as if she were showing it to herself. ¡°Cauldron of rebirth¡­¡± mutters the girl, tilting her head as she looks over the depiction. The wet ink shows an image of a single, large cauldron sitting on a pile of dead wood. Strange vapors rise from the picture, the nebulous fog creating a rather morbid image of something akin to a rising soul, as it coalesces above the opening. Sitting inside of the cauldron is a resting skeleton, holding itself in a loose embrace with one arm, the other lifted to raise a single finger in front of its mouth, as if to shush the reader. ¡°A magical cauldron that is able to revive the dead¡­¡± Fresh purses her lips and looks at the skeleton. ¡°This seems kind of shady,¡± she mutters, lifting a hand to scratch her cheek. But how is this supposed to help her? She wants to repair a sword, not practice necromancy. Besides¡­ She looks at the skeleton and it looks at her. This seems like something Jubilee would get mad about her doing. Still¡­ her eyes scan the page, reading the muddy handwriting. A magical cauldron that is able to revive the dead. 1) Place the body of the departed into a cauldron filled with moonwater from a full moon, during the next moonless night 2) Add the second branch of a tree 3) Channel your energy to activate the cauldron Once activated, the cauldron will continue to work until emptied or as long as the light of the sun doesn¡¯t reach the water. Fresh tilts her head curiously. Is that all it takes? Resurrecting the dead seems pretty easy. She wonders how the church would feel about this? Probably not great. Her eyes narrow, her suspicion of such things having grown over her time here. She scans the pages for the catch, but most of the text is smeared and obscured as well. Only single fragments of a few sentences remain here and there. [illegible] only half of him came back. Took his eyes- No tongue- Spiritus- She sighs and slams the book back shut. This seems like a bad plan, even she can see that much. Her eyes wander over the sword. Besides, would placing the sword in such an ominous cauldron even do anything? Does repairing a broken sword count as a resurrection? Then again¡­ It is just a sword. It¡¯s not like it has eyes or a tongue¡­ and her body brought her to this page for a reason, right? It hasn¡¯t led her astray yet. The girl thinks, tapping her wet finger against her chin. ¡°Has it?¡± she mumbles, wondering. No, so far things have been going pretty well for her. She has a friend. She has a home. A life. All things considered, it¡¯s going pretty well as far as she sees it. Her eyes rise towards the window. Tonight is a moonless night¡­ What a lucky coincidence. Maybe¡­ The girl gets up. Maybe she just needs to have a little faith. ¡°Besides¡­¡± she mutters to herself as a smile grows on her tired face, as she thinks about how impressed Jubilee will be with her when they come down in the morning and see that she¡¯s succeeded in fixing the sword. They¡¯ll be really happy with her and the thought of that makes her happier than anything else. Friendships are complicated and a lot of trouble, but Fresh promises herself to go above and beyond to put in the time and effort. She hums and sets to work, collecting everything she needs. Her first and only friendship is worth the effort. She¡¯s going to do whatever it takes to make it good. Her friendship, her life, her home; she¡¯s going to do whatever it takes to make it all good. This time¡­ This time she¡¯s going to get it right. She¡¯s not going to waste a single second or opportunity to be the person she wants to become. As she hums, she can¡¯t help but notice the vague, oddly loud sound of trickling water, splashing out from across the plaza outside. The fountain really does get loud sometimes for seemingly no reason. She sets to work, preparing the ritual. Hours later, morning comes. ¡°Well. Fuck me, I guess,¡± Jubilee looks over the sword, turning it around on the counter to inspect the other side. ¡°I wasn¡¯t actually expecting you to manage. I was hoping you¡¯d take it as an opportunity to learn something new. How did you do this?¡± they ask incredulously, inspecting the perfectly sheen and smooth metal before looking back up to Fresh who stands there with tired, but happy eyes. Fresh winks, raising a finger as she explains. ¡°I used the power of our friendship!¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± asks Jubilee dryly. Fresh coughs, clearing her throat and lowering her voice. ¡°And maybe¡­ some¡­ witch-craft.¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes and looks up to her. ¡°Okay. I don¡¯t want to know.¡± They look over the sword, holding it up at a slight angle. ¡°Can you do it again?¡± Fresh thinks, tapping her chin as she looks at the large pot of water sitting down behind the counter, covered with a cloth. It isn¡¯t exactly a cauldron, but¡­ well, a cauldron is just a big pot, right? Same difference. The entire sword hadn¡¯t fit in the pot, just the tip of it. But apparently that had been enough to ¡®count¡¯. ¡°I think so, but don¡¯t take the cloth off and uh¡­¡± the girl fidgets nervously. ¡°Don¡¯t touch the water, okay?¡± Jubilee eyes her suspiciously. ¡°Did you do something stupid again?¡± Fresh straightens up, raising her hands to deny the questions and feigns an uneasy laugh. Jubilee sighs. ¡°No. No. I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t want to know.¡± They shake their head. ¡°Can you repair other things too? Armor? Clothes? What did this cost?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°It didn¡¯t cost anything. Just the moonwater.¡± ¡°Fucking moonwater¡­¡± grumbles Jubilee. ¡°This is going to come back to bite me in the ass one day. I can feel it. But for now, it¡¯ll have to do.¡± They look up back towards her, setting the sword down. ¡°Good job. I¡¯m really impressed.¡± A warmth runs through Fresh¡¯s face as her hands clench together in excitement at the long-awaited praise. She fidgets, lurching forward, but stops herself. ¡°Can I hug you?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee places their hands on their hips, leaning in forward towards her. ¡°Depends, how many fingers do you want to wake up with tomorrow?¡± Fresh stops, lifting her hands to look at her fingers, lowering them one at a time. ¡°Uh¡­¡± a moment later she looks back up to Jubilee. ¡°Ten?¡± ¡°Did you really just¡­¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes and walks away. ¡°Never mind.¡± Fresh purses her lips. ¡°So¡­ no?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee dryly, walking up to the pantry. Fresh looks down to the pot behind the counter and grabs the heavy thing. It would be best to leave it upstairs where nobody could go near it. The moonwater had taken a strange tinge after she activated the spell and she doesn¡¯t feel comfortable having it down here around people. ¡°Can I put this in one of the other roo-¡° ¡°No,¡± snaps Jubilee before she can finish. Fresh looks up the stairs, staring at their hard gaze curiously and the two of them stand there in silence for a while. Jubilee turns away. ¡°Just put it in the pantry or in your room.¡± The girl sighs, straining herself to walk up the staircase with the heavy pot of water towards her own room. She doesn¡¯t want to put it in the pantry, Jubilee might run into it there. Fresh can¡¯t help but stare at the dusty door-handles of the many doors she has never attempted to open, but she shakes her head and returns to her room. It isn¡¯t her place to ask. Returning downstairs a few moments later, a new idea comes to her and she grabs a bottle of pure moonwater from the pantry. ¡°Jubilee! I have an ideeea~¡± she says with excitement as she runs past them with the bottle, rushing back down the staircase. ¡°What are you doing now? We¡¯re opening in five minutes, don¡¯t make a mess!¡± barks Jubilee, going down after her. ¡°I won¡¯t!¡± she says, not quite sure if that¡¯s true. Fresh stares at the sword on the counter and at the bottle of full strength, full-moon, moonwater in her hands. She certainly isn¡¯t going to curse the orc¡¯s weapon. But moonwater is free. Maybe she can do something extra for him? He was nice and besides, he was their first customer in this new avenue of their business. More pragmatically than that, he has a priestess as a companion. Everything they can do to get in the good graces of the church is a bonus and will only help their business in the long run. ¡°It¡¯s good to have friends in high places,¡± explains the girl to Jubilee. ¡°Huh? What are you babbling about?¡± The girl uncaps the bottle of moonwater, trickling it over the length of the sword laying on the counter. ¡°What are you doing? Stop making everything wet, you goo-brain!¡± snaps Jubilee, walking up to her. ¡°Moonwater,¡± says Fresh plainly, not expanding any further as she sets the bottle down, holding her hands out over the sword. A dull glow escapes her fingers and Jubilee lets out an annoyed yelp, quickly turning to the window at the front of the store. Thankfully, nobody is standing there watching. ¡°Not down here! Not during the day! Idiot!¡± they hiss at her. The glow envelops the sword, the water that had pooled on the surface of the blade, soaking into the metal, like water from a spring rain sinking into thirsty dirt, quenching it, nourishing it. Moonwater Blessing Blessed by a holy light, this sword deals an additional 10% of its damage as holy damage. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Fresh smiles, lifting a finger and explaining to Jubilee. ¡°Moonwater!¡± Razmatazz Here''s another thing that may or may not haunt us in the future. But I wouldn''t worry about it... Trivia - Pair Dadeni, The Cauldron of Rebirth You ever see ''The Black Cauldron'' by Disney? Well that''s based off of Welsh mythology. Originating from a Welsh story telling of ''Pair Dadeni'' (Eng: Cauldron of Rebirth). Welsh mythology has a number of cauldron stories. As their main ''mythological story'' is the Mabinogi, which is multi-branched prose. In-fact, it''s the earliest in the history of written literature of Britain. Though in truth, it''s an oral telling since long before that, the tradition of which dates all the way back to the 11th century! The cauldron of rebirth was said to be a magical cauldron that was able to revive the dead. Simply place the body of a slain person into the cauldron and they will be revived. It was said that the Irish used such a cauldron to reanimate their warriors on the battlefield. Though there was a slight issue with the process. The issue being that the revived would return being unable to speak and with a particular dullness to their eyes. Almost as if... almost as if their souls had left their reanimated shells behind. Spooky. There are several magical cauldrons in Welsh and Irish mythology, though for now, only this one is relevant to us. The ''real'' Pair Dadeni was said to have been destroyed by a man named Efnysien, who pretended to be dead so that his body would be thrown into the cauldron, where he then sacrificed himself to destroy it from the inside. So if you ever wonder why we don''t have zombies, thank the Welsh for stopping the zombie apocolypse sometime between 1001 - 1100AD. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 48: Smile and wave ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t drink that many!¡± says Fresh, feeling somewhat exasperated as she looks at the red-clad wizard who has returned once again. The wizard tilts her head curiously, looking down at the potions and then back up towards her, shrugging. ¡°Why? Is there something wrong with them?¡± ¡°I¡­ No. It¡¯s just¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, looking at them. ¡°I don¡¯t know, are you sure you should drink five a day?¡± The wizard waves her off. ¡°It¡¯s fine! Besides, I need the soul-points to go down into the dungeon to earn a living.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Aren¡¯t you spending all of the money you make on potions though¡­?¡± she asks, scratching her cheek. ¡°Ow!¡± She winces as a small boot stomps down onto her toes. ¡°-For which we are very grateful, is what my idiot party-member is trying to say in so many words,¡± hisses Jubilee, going the extra mile to elbow Fresh in her side as well. Jubilee snatches the coin from the counter. ¡°Do you need a bag?¡± ¡°Yes, please,¡± says the wizard, somewhat confused. Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Huh? Didn¡¯t you buy one last ti- OW!¡± The girl steps back away from the counter as Jubilee kicks her leg. ¡°That hurt!¡± ¡°Here you go, your potions.¡± ¡°Thanks! See you tomorrow!¡± says the wizard, waving as she leaves. Fresh scowls, looking down at Jubilee who scowls back up at her. ¡°We¡¯re trying to run a shop here, what¡¯s your problem?¡± snaps Jubilee at the girl, who is leaning against the wall and holding her leg up to rub the toe-cap of her boot and to press down on her sore feet. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean we have to be unethical though!¡± she argues. ¡°What if it¡¯s dangerous to drink that many? Or what if they¡¯re addictive?¡± asks Fresh, wincing as she sets her foot back down. Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°Then we¡¯re either going to have a very terrible or a very lucrative business venture. If you wanted to be ethical, you should have become a priestess, you bonehead!¡± they bark. A voice coughs loudly from in front of the counter. They both turn their heads to look at the woman in white standing there. ¡°It may not be too late for that, if you¡¯re so inclined,¡± says the priestess, unaccompanied today by her orc party-member. Jubilee walks away, waving her off. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want her, trust me, she¡¯s not cut out for church work.¡± They shrug as they go upstairs towards the pantry. ¡°A real deviant. Total creature of the night.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± says the priestess, somewhat taken aback as she looks over Fresh. ¡°Huh?! That¡¯s not true! Liar!¡± exclaims Fresh, leaning over the counter and sticking her tongue out at Jubilee as they leave. She scowls, puffing out her cheek and looking back to the priestess. The girl clears her throat and stands back upright. ¡°Hello! Welcome! How are you today? Where¡¯s your friend?¡± The priestess shrugs, sighing as she shakes her head. ¡°I told him to wait inside the dungeon,¡± she laughs. ¡°He¡¯s only going to cause a scene if I bring him back in here.¡± Fresh laughs. ¡°It¡¯s okay, he seems nice.¡± The girl thinks for a second, wondering what the priestess wants. ¡°Ah!¡± She leans down, grabbing the handle of the sword and straining herself, pulling it up a few inches as she grunts. Her grip loosens and the sword falls back down onto the lower shelf of the counter. ¡°Do you need some help?¡± asks the priestess. Fresh laughs meekly, scratching her cheek. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t have a lot of strength¡­¡± ¡°Oh, are you sickly?¡± The priestess looks at the deep bags under the girl¡¯s eyes. ¡°May I?¡± She raises a hand and a warm light streams out of it and envelops Fresh before she can answer. Raises Strength by 4 for one hour Fresh clenches her hands, looking down at them, as the warm aura encapsulates her sleep-deprived body. It feels like sitting in the sun on a warm summer day, like having a hot tea during a spring shower. The spell enveloping her radiates a deep heat into her body. ¡°Thanks¡­ Is this holy-magic?¡± asks Fresh, watching as it dissipates. The light and the feeling of warmth both evaporate away, leaving only the strong feeling in her bones. ¡°I¡¯ve never felt holy magic before.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks the priestess curiously. ¡°That¡¯s unusual. Weren¡¯t you blessed as a child? Everyone born in the city is.¡± Fresh stops, realizing that she has made a mistake. Idly, she stares at her hands for a second. ¡°Ah. Uh¡­¡± she bends down, grabbing the sword again and lifts it up. Still somewhat strenuously, but far easier than before and lays it down onto the counter-top. ¡°I¡¯m uh¡­ I¡¯m from the south,¡± she lies. ¡°Ah-¡° says the priestess, her eyes opening wide and her posture shifting to something stiff, as if suddenly everything made sense to her all at once. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I had no idea,¡± she says with a solemn, somber tone. Fresh shrugs, laughing meekly. ¡°It wasn¡¯t so bad.¡± She pushes the sword towards the priestess, in an effort to change the topic before her lie is uncovered. A hand presses itself down onto hers and Fresh looks up towards the priestess, somewhat taken aback by her sudden forwardness. ¡°Things are better here,¡± says the priestess, her hand resting on top of the back of Fresh¡¯s. She nods affirmingly, like a reassuring mother. ¡°Huh? What?¡± asks Fresh. The priestess shakes her head, closing her eyes. ¡°I understand, you don¡¯t need to say anything. If you ever need to talk, you can find me at the church during the evening hours.¡± Fresh tilts her head curiously, not really too sure about what¡¯s currently happening. ¡°So¡­ Do you like the sword?¡± ¡°Huh? Oh.¡± The priestess looks down at it, taking her hand off of Fresh¡¯s, who pulls her hands back and holds them behind her back. She leans in, looking over the surface. ¡°Wow¡­ this is really good. I don¡¯t see any hammer marks or anything¡­ It looks like it¡¯s brand new.¡± They look up to her. ¡°Did you do this?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± ¡°That¡¯s excellent work for a craftsman¡­ you¡¯re very talented,¡± says the priestess, lifting up the sword and holding it into the air fairly effortlessly. Fresh beams brightly, having received praise anew today. ¡°Thank you! I was up all night.¡± ¡°In your condition?!¡± asks the priestess somewhat taken aback. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll reprimand my idiot party-member once I get back.¡± Fresh leans forward, waving her now free-again hands. ¡°No, no! Please, I had a lot of fun doing it. I like working.¡± The priestess looks to her and then back to the sword, before narrowing her eyes. ¡°Huh?¡± she leans in, pulling the sword closer to her face. A menu pops up. ¡°This isn¡¯t an enchanted sword¡­ huh?! Ten percent?!¡± She looks back to Fresh, somewhat shocked. ¡°Did you do this too? How?!¡± She looks to the sword then back to her then back to the sword. Fresh scratches her cheek meekly, fidgeting uncomfortably as she does so. ¡°I uh¡­ I like working¡­?¡± she repeats. ¡°It keeps my mind off of things,¡± she lies again. Though only partially this time. The priestess makes a somber expression as she looks at Fresh sadly, but then her expression changes to one even more somber than that, as she lowers the sword back down. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to pay for an enchantment. Did he ask for this?!¡± She clutches her hood with her free hand, obscuring her eyes as they grind their teeth. ¡°He¡¯s going to be the death of me!¡± Fresh tilts her head, looking down at the empty little brown satchel strung to the priestess¡¯ waist. If there were any coins in it, they were hardly enough to make themselves noticed through the whisper thin fabric. Are enchantments really so expensive? Or are priestesses just not paid well? Maybe it¡¯s both. Fresh rubs her arm. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± ¡°¡­Excuse me?¡± the priestess looks back at her, letting go of the fabric of her hood. Fresh smiles, flashing her wink as she raises her finger. ¡°It¡¯s on the house. Consider it a donation to the church.¡± The priestess looks away as if feeling deeply ashamed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, we¡¯re very much indebted to you.¡± She sets the sword down and pulls out her money-pouch, tilting it upside down to let all of the coins fall out into her palm before she sets them down onto the counter. ¡°I promise we¡¯ll pay you back for both repairs.¡± Fresh looks down to the handful of coins. There are hardly ten Obols. ¡°Things are¡­ things are tight right now.¡± From the looks of things, it¡¯s all the money the woman has left. Fresh ponders telling her to just forget it and to just take the sword and that everything is fine. Worst case, she¡¯ll just pay for it out of her own pocket. She has the money. But¡­ She looks back up to the priestess¡¯ determined eyes. There¡¯s something in them, some spark that she doesn¡¯t want to quench. With a smile, Fresh takes the coins. ¡°Okay! I¡¯ll be waiting here.¡± She nods. ¡°Do your best!¡± Repaired: 1 [Large Broadsword]{Holy}(Normal) for [{8} Obols] ! The priestess looks at her, something on her otherwise sharp stony face quivering as she takes the sword and leaves without another word. ¡°Bye! Come again!¡± calls Fresh. The room is quiet. ¡°You handled that well,¡± says a voice. ¡°IAH!¡± Fresh jumps up in shock, springing to the side in surprise as she hears the voice ring out from just next to her. ¡°How long have you been standing there?!¡± ¡°Long enough to see you giving away our products for free, you jiggling worm-brain!¡± Jubilee shakes their head, crossing their arms. ¡°But in this case you were right to try to win her over. Too bad for you that priestesses are outside of the dating market.¡± ¡°Huh?! I wasn¡¯t trying to do that!¡± protests Fresh, clenching her fists. ¡°I was just trying to be nice!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear her? She slipped up.¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Fresh, blinking curiously. Fresh¡¯s party-member raises their hands, gesturing with air-quotes. ¡°¡¯Excellent work for a craftsman.¡¯¡± The girl thinks for a moment. ¡°Isn¡¯t that just a compliment? She seems really nice, I bet she¡¯s trying really hard,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I bet orcs eat a lot. Food must be expensive for them.¡± ¡°I feel her pain,¡± says Jubilee without any emotion to their voice. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, not understanding. Jubilee groans. ¡°Have you ever told her or the orc your class?¡± ¡°No, of course not.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, but then her eyes go wide as she understands. ¡°Exactly,¡± says Jubilee, picking up a crate of potions and walking away to restock the still mostly full shelves. ¡°The two of them are snooping around. They¡¯re probably just some disposable lackeys sent to investigate us. Be careful what you say and do around them. Play nice. Smile and wave. Everything is fine.¡± Fresh straightens up, looking out through the empty store towards the open door, half expecting to see someone standing there and watching her this instant. But there is no-one there. Razmatazz Spooky. We''re going to see more of unnamed priestess in the near future :o Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 49: Hustle and bustle The rest of the day passes without any further excitement. Fresh eventually goes upstairs with gleeful eyes, opening her door to run into her room and to jump onto her new mattress with open arms. She lands down on top of it, face first, kicking her feet into the air in excitement. ¡°Jubilee! I have a mattress!¡± calls out her muffled voice, her face pressed down into the fabric. ¡°Yeah¡­? That¡¯s what happens when you buy something. You get it,¡± says someone Jubilee, very snarkily. Fresh looks up, wobbling her body back and forth. ¡°It¡¯s so soft! Come here! Try it out!¡± she calls out. Jubilee sighs, shutting her door for her. ¡°Creep.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a creep!¡± shouts Fresh after her friend as the door slams shut behind them. Her head falls back down onto the soft mattress. The night passes and then the dawn of a new day breaks. Fresh, deciding to get them both something to eat before the store opens today, leaves early to go into town. Stretching and yawning loudly she stands outside, at the plaza near the entrance to the city and leans against a tree. The girl stares curiously out through the open gate, down the length of the road beyond it, the road that leads off towards the distant horizon. She isn¡¯t sure why she stopped here. It just felt like the right thing to do. Somehow, the bird-song calling from the crowns of the trees above her head, the busy, shuffling feet of the people walking this way and that, the gentle touch of the morning sunlight, shining through the dewy air, all of these things made her want to just stop and just stand here for a while. As she looks out through the gate, listening to the sounds of the awakening city, Fresh realizes that she really doesn¡¯t know anything about this world at all. Where does that road go? Does it go to ¡®the south¡¯? And what does that mean to begin with? Her eyes follow it down its entire length, until it fades into the dawn-tinged sky and she wonders what her new life would have been like if she went towards the right at the intersection, back then? She could do it now. She could walk straight out of the gate with her bag on her back and just follow the road to wherever it went. It wouldn¡¯t be the same compared to if she had done it back then, she has a class now, a place to live now. But this is a brand new world and she hasn¡¯t really seen any of it. She hasn¡¯t learned anything about it. Hasn¡¯t she metaphorically just locked herself into her room again? Though, all things considered, the city is a lot bigger than her old room. Fresh taps her finger against her chin and looks down as the black of her sleeves catches her eyes. Her new robe. She smiles and turns away from the gate, walking around the plaza. She wasn¡¯t really thinking about leaving. It was more of a random thought that suddenly came to her, a call to adventure from some voice in the back of her head. A whisper that wasn¡¯t saying that she should, but that she could. If she really, really, really wanted to. But - Fresh hums as she walks. - she doesn¡¯t want to. She likes it here, despite the city¡¯s flaws. She¡¯s found a place to call home. Sure, it needs a little work, but so does she. She¡¯s also found a friend. Fresh stops, scratching her cheek. ¡°Jubilee needs a little work too.¡± But that¡¯s fine. So does she, she repeats in her mind. Fresh nods to herself, accepting that they¡¯ll both just have to work on themselves together. She has about an hour left until they open and she circles the plaza, looking down the many side-streets, which she has never ventured through before. In order to subdue that tiny flame of adventure in her heart, decides to go down one of them today. The road that she chooses winds on in all manner of directions, curving in a rather serpentine fashion that feels oddly organic in comparison with the straight, trimmed path that is the main road. However, here too, the still fairly broad street is filled with adventurers and people heading every which way, some down towards the dungeon, talking loudly about their plans for the day, without a care in the world, others darting from shop to shop in a hurry to get their morning shopping in before the crowds grew. Fresh walks by a group of three people walking past her, average adventurers by the looks of them. ¡°- hear about the murder?¡± ¡°Yeah. They found another body,¡± says a man. ¡°Again? Wasn¡¯t there one just one a little while back?¡± ¡°That¡¯s why I only sleep in the guild!¡± The girl watches as they vanish into the crowd. Wasn¡¯t she here on the day that happened? She vaguely remembers someone talking about that. Actually, wasn¡¯t that on her first day here? Or was this a new murder? Fresh shakes her head and keeps walking. The city really is a dangerous place, despite its well kept appearance. On her way, she finds an open air stall with a man spinning an arrangement of different vegetables and meats, skewered on long sticks over an open flame. Fresh stops, smelling the deeply rich flavor in the air, intermingling with the smoke. Seeing her interest, the man flourishes with his hand and a puff of fire shoots out, coming together into a coil and wrapping itself around the skewers. ¡°Good morning, Missy, you hungry? Only twenty each!¡± says the man, waving her over as the fire dissipates. Satisfied, Fresh smiles brightly and collects their breakfast and then hurries back before it gets cold. She had paid an extra five Obols for two small sweet-rolls that the man had as well. Sure, she could be frugal and use every coin she had to pay back the guild. But they had time and what good is money if you can¡¯t use it to get anything you want? (Fresh) bought: 2x [Red-meat kebabs](Normal) 2x [Sweet-rolls](Normal) for [{50}Obols] ! A long wooden skewer, adorned with fire-scorched pieces of juicy red meat and dark, wet, bitter vegetables. Weight: 0.190 kg Value: 20 A sweet bread-roll with a very flaky crust Weight: 0.075 kg Value: 05 She walks into the shop, half expecting to see the red-wizard standing outside, waiting to buy more potions. But their usual first customer of the day isn¡¯t there yet. ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± ¡°Took yo-¡° Jubilee looks around. ¡°Actually, no, you made good time today.¡± Fresh smiles. ¡°I don¡¯t know what these are, but I thought they looked nice so I bought them!¡± Jubilee looks at her, adjusting the glass-chicken they are standing in front of. ¡°That¡¯s one way to live your life, I guess¡­¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Here you go!¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± says Jubilee and they head to the counter. Fresh falls down to the floor, leaning back against the front and Jubilee sits on the inside, leaning against the back. ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We¡¯ve saved up some money already, right?¡± she asks. ¡°I want to fix up some things in the store. I think we should put in some new locks.¡± She bites into her bread. ¡°Are you still crying about that vampire thing?¡± ¡°Can I?¡± asks Fresh, not wanting to get deeper into it. Jubilee sighs and relents. ¡°Well, fuck, I guess that¡¯s what we were saving the money for to begin with,¡± they say. ¡°Okay, the next time things are slow you can take care of that stuff.¡± ¡°Thanks!¡± smiles Fresh, taking a bite of her skewer and feeling a lot better. The charred, green vegetable that she bites into has a somewhat bitter taste, but it¡¯s not entirely unpleasant either. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to sleep in one room?¡± asks the girl, just to be sure. ¡°No, I don¡¯t want to share a room. What? What kind of fucked up life have you had to make you so clingy?¡± asks Jubilee, taking a bite of their food, talking as they chew. ¡°Seriously. You have the stats of a child at your age and not a scar on your pasty ass. Are you some kind of noble¡¯s daughter on the run or something?¡± Fresh takes a bite of her bread, ripping into it loudly so that Jubilee can hear her eating, so she doesn¡¯t have to answer right away. Having bought some precious time to avoid the topic, she swallows a little while later. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡± She looks at her skewer. ¡°What about you?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°What about you?¡± repeats Fresh. The room is quiet. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Fresh, dryly. ¡°Yeah,¡± repeats Jubilee with the same lack of tone. Fresh turns her head around, looking at the solid wooden counter between them. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± they ask. ¡°Thanks for being my friend.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± is all that comes back in an awkward tone. The two of them eat in that newly awkward silence, before getting ready for the day, not talking about it any further. Soon enough, it¡¯s time for them to open up and Fresh unlocks the door and looks out of it, expecting to see the wizard. But she is nowhere to be seen. Instead however, a group comes bustling past her, walking right to the potions. ¡°These were pretty good!¡± says a man with a chipped metal-spaulder. The priest of the group rubs his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know about the taste, though.¡± ¡°Really? I liked it,¡± says a caster next to him. Fresh pushes past the people surging in. Today is going to be a busy day, apparently. Jubilee seems to have been right, in that they would all come back once they drank all the potions that they had bought last week. ¡°What¡¯s with these necklaces?¡± ¡°One to all resistances?! Hey!¡± calls the man and Jubilee looks over. ¡°What?¡± ¡°What do these cost?¡± he asks, pointing to the necklace in his hand. ¡°It¡¯s on the sign. Fifty-one Obols," says Jubilee, clearly annoyed already. ¡°For this?!¡± asks the man in shock, looking at the necklace again. The crowd shifts, buzzing as they move away from the rack of soul-potions, heading towards the bin of necklaces that Fresh had filled up. Fresh retreats behind the counter as the mass of people and curious faces grow exponentially. The man with the chipped spaulder grabs four and heads to the counter. ¡°That¡¯ll be two-hundred and four Obols.¡± Jubilee looks up at his shoulder. ¡°You need that repaired? We do it here in-house, it¡¯ll be done by tomorrow morning,¡± they say. ¡°Ten percent less than the standard rate, since you''re our first customer of the day. Payment on pick-up.¡± The man thinks for a second, his hand pushing the shoulder armor around to see if it isn¡¯t still good enough. Apparently it isn¡¯t, as he then sighs and grabs it, unstrapping it and setting it down onto the counter. ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± He slaps the coins down and Jubilee takes them, tossing them down noisily into the bowl below. The line starts to move quickly as soon as the man leaves and Fresh sets to work. The minor soul-potions, which were their original hot-sellers, still do well, but the necklaces are the real attraction today, much to Fresh¡¯s surprise. Are they that good? Apparently, yes. Though, the girl realizes as she runs up the staircase for the fourth time now, carrying a load of armor into her room to repair tonight, her robe from a boss-drop only gave her two different resistances. So four? For their price? It¡¯s a deal that really is too good to pass up. Jubilee had yelled at her that the price was far too low, but she insisted that by building good-will with the adventurers, they would secure a long-term customer base far easier. It¡¯s a small loss in profits now, but for a long-term gain in repeat customers. She wipes the sweat off of her brow, pushing her door open and dropping the armor down onto the growing pile of the rest of it. Apparently repairs are going to be a big business opportunity too. Fresh sighs in exhaustion and runs down the stairs again. It¡¯s going to be a very busy day. Razmatazz Tomorrow... some city exploration and a familiar face Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 50: Friends in high places Minor soul-potions: 19 Obols each - 221 sold = +4199 Antidotes: 15 Obols each - 36 sold = +540 Bone-daggers: 49 Obols each - 8 sold = +392 Odd and ends: ~40 Obols each - 0 sold = +0 Glass Chickens: 30 Obols each - 0 sold = ~0 Mushroom-caps(Blue): - sold 0, bought 68 (6 each) = -408 Mushroom-caps(Orange): - sold 0, bought 55 (5 each) = -275 Goblin Teeth - sold 0, bought 112 = -112 Iron-Ingots - sold 0, bought 12 = -240 Magical Talisman(Glass) - sold 32 = +1632 Tote Bags - sold 38 = +190 Repairs (Various) - sold 27 = +621 Total (Gross) = +6526 5% Merchant¡¯s guild deduction = -326 12% Taxes = -783 10% Savings and upkeep = -652 Total (Net) = +4796 Obols Earnings = 2381 Obols each Fresh falls over the counter, exhaling an exhausted breath which stems so deeply from her chest, that it almost appears as if her soul were attempting to leave her body. ¡°Jubileee~¡± she complains. ¡°I¡¯m tired.¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t answer, sighing with the same exhaustion in their tone as they slide the coins to the side. ¡°It was a big one today. Told you.¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t respond in any coherent words, opting to instead make her displeasure at the ache in her body known through a single pitiful sounding, long and guttural whining groan. ¡°At least I don¡¯t have to make any potions tonight,¡± she says in relief. ¡°We still have so many in the pantry.¡± She sighs. ¡°Will their quality ever get better than normal? I¡¯ve made hundreds of them¡­ Jubilee shrugs. ¡°I told you, crafting abilities stagnate at normal,¡± they explain. ¡°Most people craft ¡®normal¡¯ things. That¡¯s why it¡¯s called ¡®normal¡¯, you know?¡± They rub the part of the mask over their chin, as if thinking. ¡°If you get your act together though and make some real soul-potions and not these ¡®minor¡¯ ones and maybe even with a higher quality, then we could raise the price.¡± Fresh groans. *Thwick* ¡°Ow!¡± Fresh jumps up, scowling as she looks at the finger that flicked the top of her head. ¡°We have work to do, you can sleep later.¡± She relents, drooping her shoulders. ¡°Okaaay~¡± ¡°Since you don¡¯t need to make any potions tonight, you can go upstairs and do the repairs, they all need to be done by tomorrow.¡± Jubilee looks around the ransacked store. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of everything down here.¡± ¡°Okaaay~¡± says Fresh, getting up, her upper body drooping slack. ¡°We should hire someone, Jubilee. It¡¯s becoming too much if I have to craft and repair everything alone.¡± Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°You make a strong argument.¡± They lift a finger. ¡°Counterpoint. Who can we hire who isn¡¯t going to freak out about your¡­¡± Jubilee tosses some coins down into the change bowl. ¡°¡­way of ¡®doing¡¯ things.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Exactly. Only you can make your blend of potions,¡± they say. ¡°Only you can make the bone-daggers and the necklaces and only you can do all of the repairs without an actual forge, tailor¡¯s workshop or any of that.¡± They shrug. ¡°At the best, we can consider hiring someone to help run the day by day down here,¡± they consider. ¡°That would maybe give you more time to do your thing.¡±Jubilee opts to take their turn to sigh, exhausted. ¡°But it¡¯s risky¡­ if they see you¡­¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Let¡¯s just finish up for tonight, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow.¡± ¡°Okaaay~¡± says Fresh, yawning as she goes up the stairs to begin her repair-work. Thankfully it¡¯s pretty easy. All she has to do is close the curtains to keep the room dark, apart from the somewhat mystical glow of her potions, that she keeps in there for light, and then she dips the equipment into the pot while channeling her energy into it. She still has the same stick as before, floating in there and the wood has become soggy and seems to be unraveling a little. But it still works fine and she¡¯s too exhausted to want to make a new batch. Besides, the recipe only works on a night with no moon, so it has to last until the next one anyways. The work goes quick enough and the twenty-seven pieces of equipment strewn around her room, ranging from metal-plate armor, to bent chain-mail to some softer fabrics and robes and even the odd dagger and staff, are all repaired within the hour. It¡¯s a highly efficient process, the hardest part for her is just lifting the especially heavy or larger pieces into the pot, especially without tipping it over, to which she comes dangerously close a few times. Once she¡¯s finished, she lets Jubilee, who is also just finishing, know and the two of them call it a night. Feeling blessed to fall asleep on a mattress two nights in a row, Fresh falls asleep quicker than ever before, a tight pull running through the muscles in her lower back as they finally relax. [+1 Strength] ! [+1 Dexterity] ! Morning comes soon enough and Fresh wakes up, feeling noticeably more energetic than the day before. Having woken up early again, she gets ready for the day and heads out to town again, towards the adventurer¡¯s guild to pay back some more of her debt. Though only with half of her earnings today, so she has some spending money left over. Repaid - {1000} Obols] ! -{ 6998 Obols Remain Due}- Smiling, Fresh waves goodbye to the barkeeper who was slowly becoming a familiar sight to her and who, much to Fresh¡¯s surprise, responds in the same manner back to her. As Fresh leaves, she can¡¯t help but wonder what it must be like to stand inside of there the entire day. She wonders if it¡¯s depressing, or if you just get used to it after a while? The next time the elf comes to their store, she should ask her about herself and about the guild. Fresh nods, making a mental note to do just that as she goes to explore the city in an attempt to find some new breakfast and to kill the morning hours. Fresh finds a place that sells bread-rolls filled with sausages, the same kind Jubilee had gotten her for their first day of being open. This is pretty far out of the way. Fresh beams, realizing that Jubilee put in the effort to come out here for her. Having some extra money, she buys a couple extra, asking them to be wrapped in paper so she can put them in her bag. She never has any lunch, so it would be nice to have something she can just eat ¡®on the go¡¯. (Fresh) bought: 4x [Buttermilk-biscuit sausage rolls](Normal) for [{72}Obols] ! A thick, juicy sausage wrapped inside of a flaky buttermilk biscuit. It is adorned with pickled vegetables and a sweet, thick vegetable paste. Weight: 0.136 kg Value: 18 Though, Fresh thinks as she walks, she could always just go upstairs to the pantry. But that¡¯s just all dry bread and dried meat and dried fruit. The thought comes to her that that¡¯s basically the exact same as what she has just bought, but¡­ It¡¯s different. It¡¯s just different. The road widens up further and she keeps walking. She sees another plaza open up ahead of her. The houses here seem very expensive. Nothing like the rundown shacks that surround the dungeon and not even like the well-kept mason-work of the main shopping-street. These are immaculately crafted, timber-frame and white-stone constructions that reek of money and a lot of it. The ringing of bells catches her attention and the girl looks up as she enters the plaza, staring at the towering cathedral on the far side of it. The massive stone structure spires high up into the air. Colorful stained glass windows reflect the sunlight back out in all manner of resplendent colors and high up atop the tower, sits a single bell that rings loudly, the sound echoing throughout the entire city. A grand, half-circle staircase leads up towards the elevated cathedral. She watches as all manner of people stream into it, they don''t look like priests. They look like normal people. Adventurers, shopkeepers, crafters and families. Apparently all of them are worshipers. Fresh fidgets, her curiosity getting to her as she starts walking towards the giant building and her eyes follow the staircase up towards the large, wooden doors that are open welcomingly wide, as the sound of a singing choir rings out from beyond. Her foot stops, as her toes touch the edge of the lowest step. She shouldn¡¯t. ¡°Curiosity killed the cat,¡± mutters Fresh, doing a sharp turn back around, not thinking about it any further. It¡¯s nice to have seen it, but she¡¯s not going to go inside. What if the church has some kind of¡­ magical anti-witch field or something? Obviously, she has no idea if such a thing exists and is just making up things. But at the same time, if there was such a thing, it would be here. ¡°Hey!¡± calls out a voice from above and the girl¡¯s shoulders twitch together, as she turns around to look at the priestess coming down the steps towards her. The orc¡¯s companion. It takes her a few very long, awkward moments to get down the staircase as Fresh just fidgets, wondering how she¡¯s going to get away. ¡°Good morning,¡± says Fresh, waving with a meek smile. ¡°Good morning! Nice to see you here!¡± beams the priestess, taking a moment to catch her breath now that she¡¯s reached the bottom. ¡°Have you come for the sermon?¡± she asks excitedly, though Fresh notices that her sun-tanned skin is rather pale today. Fresh takes a step back, waving with her hands. ¡°Ah. Uh¡­ No, I¡¯m just walking around. We¡¯re opening soon, so¡­¡± The priestess looks around them to see if anyone is nearby and then leans in towards her, whispering with one hand at the side of her mouth. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you, just between you and me?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Total snoozefest,¡± says the priestess, rolling her eyes and Fresh can¡¯t help but laugh, but then thinks for a second. ¡°What about you? Shouldn¡¯t you be inside?¡± The priestess leans back, waving her off with a hand. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s not mandatory and I¡¯d rather enjoy the morning, you know?¡± She shrugs. ¡°Besides, I¡¯ve got to make some money today. I''m heading to the dungeon soon.¡± A loud audible growl makes itself heard between the two of them and the priestess coughs loudly to overtone the noise. ¡°You hungry?¡± Fresh reaches into her bag to pull out one of the bread-rolls and holds it out to her. The priestess¡¯ eyes go wide and her fingers twitch, but she coughs again and pulls herself together, standing back upright with a strict and elegant posture. ¡°Thank you, but it wouldn¡¯t be proper,¡± she says, with a somewhat pained expression on her lips. Fresh narrows her eyes and thrusts the roll towards the unsuspecting woman, who grabs it, if only out of surprise. Grabbing her bag to take out a second one, Fresh sits down on the steps, biting into it audibly loud, as she stares up at the confused priestess who looks back down to the roll in her hands and relents, sitting down on the stairs next to her. ¡°Thank you.¡± Fresh swallows her bite. ¡°Mm! It¡¯s hard, trying to earn money when you have no money to start with. And if you¡¯re hungry, it¡¯s double-hard and you might do something dumb down in the dungeon,¡± says the girl, laughing meekly. ¡°Speaking from experience?¡± asks the priestess, somewhat sarcastically. ¡°Well¡­¡± ¡°Ah!¡± The priestess straightens up again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that was rude of me. I wasn¡¯t thinking.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± says Fresh, waving her off. ¡°It¡¯s true though,¡± she laughs quietly. The priestess looks down at the roll in her hands uncomfortably. Fresh has already eaten half of hers. ¡°Why are you always giving me things?¡± The white-robed woman fidgets. ¡°The potion, the enchantment and now this? You know I¡¯m not¡­ you know¡­?¡± Fresh tilts her head, not sure what she is talking about and thinks, placing a finger to tap against her cheek at the very familiar question. ¡°The only reason I¡¯m starting to become better is because someone went out of their way to help me,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°Even though they didn¡¯t have to.¡± She takes another bite of her breakfast. ¡°I actually wanted to become a priestess when I came here, you know?¡± she explains with a hand in-front of her full-mouth. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Because I thought I could make people happy and they would like me then.¡± Fresh laughs. ¡°I guess that¡¯s really selfish? But you know what?¡± ¡°What?¡± Fresh looks up towards the bright morning sky above them. ¡°I still want to make people happy, just so that they¡¯ll like me.¡± She smiles. ¡°It¡¯s really selfish, but it¡¯s true.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says the priestess and looks back down at the roll. ¡°I¡¯m Basil,¡± she says, taking a large bite from the roll in her hands. ¡°Mm,¡± says Fresh, as she stares up towards the sky and thinks, realizing that she still wants to make something for Jubilee to show her gratitude. Razmatazz Wew, chapter 50! I hope you''re having as much as I am. Please consider rating/reviewing if you haven''t! x) Trivia - Basil The Basil herb has many different associations and is used in a variety of rituals and beliefs. Also, it¡¯s delicious on pizza! In old Europe, centrally around northern Italy and the western Balkan regions, Basil was traditionally placed in the hands of the dead to ensure a safe journey to the afterlife. Funny how that constant theme seems to play out over and over in different regions with different items. Very similarly, in the Indian subcontinent, Basil leaves were placed in the mouth of the dying to ensure that after their passing, the person would reach god. These two ideas seem to stem from our old friends, the ancient Greeks and the ancient Egyptians. Though it is hard to say who had the idea first. They both believed that the Basil leaf was the key to opening the gates of the afterlife. It is possible that this shared idea originates from a cultural ancestor that both empires shared, though we¡¯re moving into nebulous territory here. Worth noting though, is that for the ancient Greeks at least, Basil also represented hatred and poverty in some contexts. This of course makes their use of it ¡®easing the passage to the afterlife¡¯ take a somewhat darker turn. Actually, Basil has acquired quite a few evil connotations in many regions, given its use in so many burial rituals and thereby association with the dead. Which makes it, spiritually at least, a very complicated topic. As the opinions are split on the matter. In some other places it is seen as a very kingly and highly blessed herb, especially in the west, for example in medieval France. Tulsi is the name of Ocimum tenuiflorum, a plant more commonly referred to as ¡°Holy Basil¡±, which is an ayurvedic herb with high significance in Hinduism, as it is worshiped as the avatar of the goddess Lakshmi (¡°She who leads to one¡¯s goal"). Lakshmi is the Hindu goddess of fortune, beauty and joy. On an even more fun note, Basil was held to be a potent, feverish, absolutely sweaty aphrodisiac that was commonly used in love potions and spells and in tests of sexual fealty and loyalty. Is that related to this story? Let¡¯s hope not. I don''t want to have to update the tags¡­ =) DIS MERCH is now available! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 51: Putting in the work Fresh sits on the floor of the shop, eating her second breakfast with Jubilee as she tells them about her encounter. ¡°You goo-brain!¡± Jubilee is quiet as they take another bite of their food. ¡°I want to be mad since you went out of your way to be an idiot this time, but¡­¡± They sigh. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s fine, it¡¯s just like we said last time. Friends in high places.¡± Fresh sighs a breath of relief, happy that Jubilee isn¡¯t mad at her this time. ¡°Mm! It¡¯ll only help us if she tells the church good things! But also, she just seems really nice, but¡­¡± She thinks for a moment. ¡°Do priests not get paid a lot?¡± ¡°Priests?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Eh, not really. They get a bunk and a dress from the church, but their bread and butter they have to find themselves. Same with their class training, all out of pocket. Officially there¡¯s no fee to become a priest. Unofficially, they¡¯re ¡®encouraged¡¯ to make a¡­¡± Jubilee coughs. ¡°- ¡®small donation¡¯. Usually they join adventuring parties down into the dungeon for a cut.¡± Fresh finishes her roll, looking around to see if anyone is watching before wiping her fingers on her robe. ¡°And of course, they¡¯re also ¡®encouraged¡¯ to give a cut of that cut to the church too. So they don¡¯t come out with much in the end,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Priests can¡¯t do much on their own, they aren¡¯t really offensive types, so they¡¯re reliant on having a group to earn money. No way around it.¡± ¡°Huh¡­ but with a two-person-party, she¡¯d still make fifty-percent, right?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ probably? You¡¯d have to ask her what they arranged. But a low level priest and whatever the orc is, a fighter maybe, they aren¡¯t getting further than level twelve¡­ maybe thirteen now that he has an enchanted weapon,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I doubt she can get rid of ghosts at her level. So they¡¯re probably making a little over a hundred a day. Split that in two and then take away a chunk for their donations and you¡¯ve got your end total.¡± Jubilee stands up, adjusting their mask. ¡°It¡¯s not something you do to make money. It¡¯s something you have a calling for.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Whatever the fuck that means.¡± Fresh gets up as well. ¡°Do ghosts drop items?¡± ¡°Sure? Why wouldn¡¯t they¡­?¡± asks Jubilee. The girl blinks vacantly. ¡°Where do they keep them?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°The ghosts, when they die, where do the items come from? Do they have ghost-pockets?¡± Fresh thinks, raising a finger to her chin. ¡°And if they do, why does the item become touchable if the ghost dies?¡± She looks towards the side of the room, thinking. ¡°Actually¡­ How does a ghost die? Isn¡¯t it already dead?¡± ¡°¡­What? Ghosts drop ectoplasm. It¡¯s ghost-goo.¡± Jubilee leans in. ¡°Which should be familiar to you, since it¡¯s the only thing floating around in your head.¡± Her finger taps against her chin. ¡°Can we buy some?¡± ¡°What are you going to do with it?¡± asks Jubilee suspiciously, their eyes narrowing. The girl¡¯s eyes light up. ¡°I want to make something. I have an i-!¡± Jubilee raises a hand, stopping her. ¡°I never want to hear that sentence again. Yes. If anybody offers us any, we can buy it, if you think you can make something out of it.¡± They sigh. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s open up.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± The morning starts as usual after that. There were quite a few people standing outside already. Not as many as the day before, but still a lot. It appears to Fresh that the pattern of their customers seems to be repeating itself week after week. There¡¯s a large surge, then it slowly dies down until the next boom a week later, once all of their potions had been used up. The necklaces and the daggers are big ticket items and draw people in too, but each customer only needed one of each and then never again. Jubilee¡¯s idea with repairs seems to be their first ¡®constant¡¯ stream of income, the way things are developing. Repairs come in every day, even if nobody wanted anything else, they were still making a profit. ¡°This is really good work!¡± says the man from the day before, as he rotates the piece of shoulder armor around in the sunlight to look at it. ¡°There¡¯s no cracking or hammer marks or anything!¡± ¡°It looks like it did when it dropped,¡± says his caster companion, staring up at it with him, somewhat bewildered. ¡°Yeah,¡± says their priest, turning over to Fresh who is standing with a prideful smile behind the counter. ¡°How did you do this?¡± Fresh lifts a finger, winking. ¡°Magic!¡± The crowd moves along, as the other twenty-six people from the day before come to pick up their equipment too, all of them just as awed to just as varying degrees as the party before them. Just as many and then some others too opt to leave some equipment with them. Jubilee takes care of the pricing for the repairs, as Fresh has no idea what it costs. Each individual piece has a different price, depending on the size and the material and the damage. For a while, the girl considers asking why they don¡¯t just offer a fixed price to keep the math simple, but soon enough she realizes how suspicious that would be. At the price she has in mind, some of the repairs would be obvious profit losses, considering the damage they have. People would ask too many questions. Much to her dismay, the chickens don¡¯t move as often as she¡¯d like. But everything else gets carried out every so often by adventurers coming in for repairs. Fresh feels a little stronger than she did yesterday, but running up and down the stairs to stow away the armor and weapons they were leaving behind is deeply exhausting work and there are clearly more of them today than yesterday. The entire free wall of her room is lined with weapons and armor and equipment of all manner. Fresh leans against the wall, panting as sweat drips down her forehead, as she drops the latest robe down onto the heap below herself. This felt harder than going through the dungeon. To her delight at least, when she comes back downstairs, Jubilee informs her that they had purchased some ¡®ghost-goo¡¯. Fresh looks at the little jar of translucent chalky, glowing, argent liquid and smiles, thanking Jubilee and taking another trip up to her room, this one feeling less exhausting than the others before. As the day spans further onward towards the late afternoon, Fresh can¡¯t help but notice that the red-wizard hasn¡¯t come today either for her soul-potions. Maybe she was finally sick of them? Fresh supposes that that¡¯s what happens when you drink the equivalent of a box of them in three days. The rest of the day goes on like this, not eventful, but busy and soon enough the evening comes and the two of them, exhausted, shut the door for the day. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± cries Fresh, falling down back against the counter as her legs give out. Jubilee doesn¡¯t argue today and simply sighs, relenting as they fall down too, leaning against the counter next to her, just as exhausted as she is. ¡°Okay. We¡¯ll hire someone. We can probably get away with paying them fifty Obols.¡± ¡°An hour?! That seems really high,¡± exclaims Fresh, somewhat surprised. ¡°What? No, a day, ding-bat,¡± groans Jubilee. ¡°Oh¡­¡± Fresh taps her finger to her chin. ¡°That seems really low.¡± ¡°So? If they¡¯ll take the job for fifty, it¡¯s only in our best interest to let them.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°You get what you pay for. Minimum wage. Minimum effort.¡± Jubilee turns their head towards her and stares for a while. Fresh fidgets. ¡°What¡­?¡± asks the girl nervously. ¡°Have you been reading books? Ones that aren¡¯t wet? That¡¯s the smartest thing I¡¯ve ever heard you say.¡± Fresh just laughs meekly, not able to tell her friend that she was just parroting something she had heard somewhere in her old life. It takes a lot of arguing, but Fresh ¡®convinces¡¯ Jubilee that instead of a fixed sum, that they should offer a clean percentage of their daily profits, that way their worker has an incentive to work extra hard. Though her arguments are mostly fueled by tearful begging and emotional pleas and Jubilee is clearly just too exhausted to want to fight about it, so they relent. The two of them set to finish the rest of their work, splitting up like before so Fresh can finish her mountain of repairs and then, much to her suffering, make a new batch of minor soul-potions and antidotes, as their pantry is running low. All of them turn out normal quality, much to the girl¡¯s dismay. She really wants to make better ones. Minor soul-potions: 19 Obols each - 110 sold = +2090 Antidotes: 15 Obols each - 24 sold = +360 Bone-daggers: 49 Obols each - 2 sold = +98 Odd and ends: ~40 Obols each - 0 sold = +0 Glass Chickens: 30 Obols each - 0 sold = ~0 Mushroom-caps(Blue): - sold 0, bought 41 (6 each) = -246 Mushroom-caps(Orange): - sold 0, bought 30 (5 each) = -150 Goblin Teeth(Small) - sold 0, bought 48 (1 each) = -48 Iron-Ingots - sold 0, bought 3 = -20 Magical Talisman(Glass) - sold 17 = +867 Tote Bags - sold 19 = +95 Ectoplasm - sold 0, bought 1 (13 each) = -13 Repairs (Various) - sold 27 = +874 Total (Gross) = +3867 5% Merchant¡¯s guild deduction = -193 12% Taxes = -464 10% Savings and upkeep = -386 Total (Net) = +2822 Obols Earnings = 1411 Obols each Later, well into darkness, exhausted, Fresh drags herself upstairs and falls into bed. The next day comes and repeats itself much like this one, though the repairs slow down too, as the bulk of them are done for now. But still, there is an occasional trickle of people coming in solely for repairs. Some of them even leave with a potion or a necklace as well. As it¡¯s a slow day, Fresh, with Jubilee¡¯s blessing, sets to work in securing the building a little more. It¡¯s still an old, wooden structure at the end of the day, and there is only so much she can do without digging deeper, but even some superficial work would go a long way for now. Fresh sets to the task, dragging some of the left over lumber downstairs and using her crafting abilities to slice it into planks. She tears out some of the old boards down by the wall and replaces them with the new ones, pressing them tightly and snuggly together. This does little for physical-security, of course, but in her mind, stopping the constant cool draft that enters the house counts too. ¡°It¡¯s spring now, what¡¯s it like in winter?¡± mutters the girl, thinking about the freezing nights she¡¯s experienced here and promises Jubilee to have this place sealed up and warm in no-time. They just shrug ¡°Why bother? You can just wear a coat,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh puffs out her cheek and turns back to rip the next board out, placing the old, time-stained wood down next to her to grab a new piece. She obviously doesn''t have enough wood to do the whole house, nor enough time. But if she does this little patch beneath the window now, then that¡¯s a spot taken care of. Bit by bit, she can fix it up. Soon the wall is done and she gets to her next idea. Rubbing the sweat off of her forehead, she leans over, holding her hands above one of the heavy iron-ingots that they had bought today and slices off a long horizontal strip, setting it to the side. From the rest, she makes a hollow rectangle that is open on both ends, as well as a small chain. Getting up, she goes to the front door. Holding her hands against the door, she secures the ¡®tube¡¯ into place on the wood above the handle and then grabs the rectangle, sliding it in and affixing it to the chain. Jubilee watches her from behind the counter. ¡°A chain-lock? The door already has a lock though?¡± they ask curiously. Fresh turns back to them, raising a finger. ¡°Now it has two!¡± ¡°Uh¡­ sure,¡± says Jubilee, tilting their head. They lift their finger, pointing to the spot next to her. ¡°You know there¡¯s a giant window literally right there¡­ right?¡± they ask. ¡°If anyone wants to come in, they¡¯re not going to bother with the door anyways.¡± Fresh ignores that statement. ¡°Can I go into your room? I want to put locks on our doors too!¡± ¡°Huh? Why¡­?¡± asks Jubilee suspiciously. The girl shrugs, before she bends down to pick up her materials. ¡°So the demons don¡¯t get us in our sleep,¡± she answers plainly. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 52: Night-light Fresh smiles, feeling deeply satisfied as she finishes the lock on her door, having already finished the one in Jubilee¡¯s room just before. Happy, she looks around the room that is in exactly the same state of disarray as it was the last time she was in here. Jubilee never cleans their room much, apparently. She wonders if she should get rid of the broken glass? She doesn¡¯t want Jubilee to hurt themselves. The girl ponders, looking over towards the broken mirror. Though she feels a warm feeling in her chest as she sees the small, dried pink flower sticking out of one of their empty potion bottles, sitting on the dresser next to it. The flower is the one she had given Jubilee down in the boss-room on floor eight of the dungeon. Was this here last time, when she spent the night? Fresh tilts her head, wondering if Jubilee had hidden it away before letting her inside. She shrugs and returns to her work. What else needs to be done? Well, the walls all needed to be patched up to stop the constant draft that always seeps into the entire building. The windows could use some shutters maybe, especially the large storefront window downstairs. She taps her chin, looking around for more things. The stairs could use a hand-railing, just to be extra safe. She hasn¡¯t fallen down yet, but the girl doesn¡¯t want to end up scaring Jubilee if she falls down and breaks her neck and dies in front of them. It would be really awkward when she walks back in the door ten minutes later. The floors are pretty worn out and they needed to be redone too. But that isn¡¯t so much of a safety issue and more of a cosmetic one. Maybe a few rugs would help patch that problem in the meantime? Plus it would help keep the building a little warmer. Fresh nods as she walks towards the pantry to put the scraps of her materials away, that all makes sense to her. Maybe she should make some night-lights? She taps her chin again. Maybe a few glass rectangles, filled with her potions. If she gets some wood, she could make a little frame for them and they could put a few in the hallway. Sort of like¡­ a lantern, but with no fire. Actually - She stops mid-step. ¡°That¡¯s a really good idea,¡± she says, surprised at her own ingenuity. If she can find a way to make the potions glow a little brighter, they could sell magical-lanterns that never died. As a bonus, if she seals the glass to be airtight, they could even work under shallow water or in the rain. ¡°They¡¯ll love them!¡± she exclaims to herself, realizing how popular such a thing would be amongst adventurers, hitting her fist into her open palm. Torches are free down in the dungeon, but they burn out, especially if they ever get wet, obviously. She returns to her room, flipping through her grimoire for anything to make her potions glow brighter. Instinctively, her fingers dart through the book, peeling apart the damp pages until she stops on a page near the end. ¡°Brewing alterations¡­¡± her finger runs along the text. ¡°¡­Modifying potions.¡± She tilts her head, trying to read the words below that someone had gone to great effort to write in gigantic letters, but they¡¯re smeared away and illegible now. She shrugs, her eyes following her finger which moves down towards an entry near the middle of the page. ¡°Ferns¡­ Ferns symbolize magic, particularly in regards to the concept of shelter. Smoke from a fern will repel and exorcise corrupting forces,¡± she reads aloud. She looks at the line for a while. ¡®Shelter¡¯ sounds sort of like what she is looking for, though she isn¡¯t sure how this is going to help her make her potions brighter? But the book hasn¡¯t led her astray yet. Fresh nods to herself and runs downstairs. ¡°¡­A fern?¡± asks Jubilee as she tells her about the idea. ¡°Mm!¡± ¡°What kind of fern?¡± ¡°Huh? Oh, uh¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. Obviously Ferns aren¡¯t a specific kind of plant, they¡¯re a group of a type of plant. She knows this thanks to her botany knowledge. She taps her chin, thinking which one would be the most suited. ¡°Something with a budding flower.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Fresh smiles, raising a finger. ¡°Because I need to burn it.¡± Jubilee stares at her. ¡°¡­What?¡± Fresh clasps her hands together. ¡°Can you get it? Pleeease~?¡± Jubilee groans. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll ask around if I see someone who looks like they¡¯ve been to floor fifteen. There are plenty of ferns down there. It gets a little swampy.¡± They nod to her. ¡°It¡¯s a good idea though.¡± They think for a while. ¡°There might be more to this than just the adventurers,¡± they say. ¡°Magical lanterns are expensive, enchanted items. But if we can make some cheap ones¡­¡± Jubilee looks around the shop, seeing how far away the customers perusing their wares were. ¡°There might be some big names interested in them. The church for sure, maybe even the town-guard. Hell, maybe even the military.¡± They look up towards her. ¡°It¡¯s a good idea, but why are you always thinking of weird shit that might get us killed?¡± Fresh isn¡¯t listening, instead she stands there, lost in her thoughts, wondering what color she should make the light for Jubilee¡¯s room? The day goes on and Fresh sets to work, going to town to where Jubilee told her to go to order more wood, stopping by the guild on the way to pick up some of their saved money for the materials. The man at the counter of the store nods and tells her they¡¯ll have it delivered in a few hours as she pays for the material. (Fresh) bought: [Construction Lumber]{50kg}(Normal) for [{440} Obols] ! Fresh returns to the city, running around to collect bits and pieces on the way. Her next stop is to get some more dried food for their pantry. She sighs, wishing that they had a kitchen. It would be nice to just eat something substantial, even just a hot breakfast once a day. Sure, they had food from the vendors now and then, but sometimes she just wants to eat something boring and home-cooked. Plus she quietly hopes that Jubilee would be interested in cooking together with her. They could spend time together that way. The girl wonders why Jubilee never wants her to go into the other rooms? Surely they could use one of them for something like that? But she shakes her head. It¡¯s Jubilee¡¯s house and she¡¯s just going to have to respect their privacy, even if it bothers her. Her curiosity isn¡¯t strong enough just yet to want to betray her friend¡¯s trust. Walking through the stalls, the girl buys a load of various breads and dried fruits and meats. Her attention falls on a weaver¡¯s stall, the man behind it selling rolls of various fabrics. Looking at them, she buys a few in different colors. Maybe they could start making their bags in more than one color? Something eye-popping. Or maybe they could even do something seasonal? The girl taps her finger against her lips as she walks, adjusting her bag with the other hand. ¡°Green for spring, red for summer, yellow for fall and maybe white for winter? Hmm¡­¡± She looks around, wondering if people in this world liked ¡®gimmicky¡¯ stuff like that. Returning towards their home, she stops, taking a moment to look up towards the dungeon. The grand gate is just as awe inspiring to her now as it was on her first day here. She wonders who built it? What¡¯s the story behind it? Did people make it? Or did people find it here and then they just built the city around it? Probably the latter, from what she¡¯s understood so far. But who made the dungeon then? And why? She shrugs, if only to herself. Apparently there are other dungeons too and other big cities like this one. Each dungeon has its own ¡®flavor¡¯. Their dungeon here is pretty diverse, encompassing a large variety of monsters and themes that change every segment. But apparently there are also some particularly grisly dungeons in the world, where really dark things stir beneath the surface, where only the strongest of adventuring parties dare to set foot. Fresh sighs, turning away to go home. Maybe one day she would be strong enough to fight Mr. Mushroom on her own. It isn¡¯t worth thinking about such exotic dungeons for now. As she turns away, her eye catches a glimmer of a robed figure, standing outside of the dungeon, looking up towards it. Stopping, she looks at the red-wizard, who she recognizes now even from behind and watches as she steps into the dungeon, one of their full tote-bags in her hand. Fresh feels relieved as she walks those last few steps home. It was stupid, but she was worried about the wizard who hadn¡¯t shown up anymore. Especially after hearing whispers of a murder in the city. The odds were obviously incredibly small, but her brain still couldn¡¯t help but subconsciously make the connection. ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± ¡°Yeah, your wood¡¯s here,¡± says Jubilee, looking up from the ledger in front of them. ¡°You just missed your favorite customer too.¡± ¡°Mm! I saw. Did she get the potions again?¡± ¡°Same as always,¡± says Jubilee, looking back to the book they are writing down numbers in. ¡°Said something about being away for work.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Good?¡± she finishes, uncertainly. In truth, she was also relieved that the wizard was slowing down for a little while too. Jubilee taps their finger against a silver coin on the counter. ¡°It¡¯s good. We got the money.¡± Fresh sighs, Jubilee just doesn¡¯t have the same level of empathy that she does. Going upstairs, she unloads the fabric and food into the pantry and, feeling an odd sporadic doubt in herself, takes a second to bend down to peer into the little hole by the leg of the shelf. Fresh drops her empty bag down, lowering herself down onto her knees and grabbing a glowing potion to see better. It¡¯s gone. Her heart beats fast as she presses her face closer towards the hole. It should be here. It has to be here. But it isn¡¯t. The cursed-necklace is missing. The girl¡¯s legs shake beneath her as she looks around the pantry in a panic. It has to be here. It has to be here. But it isn¡¯t. She didn¡¯t move it. Did¡­ did Jubilee find it? Did Jubilee put it on?! Her eyes shoot open wide as she jumps up, running downstairs. ¡°JUBILEEEEEE~¡± Not shocked by her scream in the least, Jubilee looks up to the girl rushing down the staircase with bored, but frustrated eyes. ¡°What is it this ti-? IAH! Let go!¡± Fresh grabs Jubilee, lifting the fabric by their neck to see if they¡¯re wearing a necklace. Jubilee places a hand against her face and one to her shoulder and pushes her back with surprising force. ¡°I TOLD YOU NOT TO -¡° ¡°JUBILEEEE~¡± cries Fresh, clutching her own face. ¡°I¡¯m sooorry~¡± Jubilee twitches, reading the room. Their posture loosens, but their eyes narrow in suspicion. ¡°What did you do?¡± They ask plainly and coldly. Fresh¡¯s lips quiver as her eyes grow wet, the girl gets up to look if the store is empty. It is. She leans back down. ¡°Did¡­ did you find a necklace upstairs in the pantry?¡± Jubilee thinks for a second. ¡°Uh¡­ what?¡± They shake their head. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡± They look at her, somewhat confused. ¡°Wait.¡± Jubilee leans in closer. ¡°What about it?¡± Fresh clenches her fingers together. ¡°Do you promise you won¡¯t be mad?¡± ¡°No,¡± snaps Jubilee back instantly. She flinches. ¡°Can¡­ can you promise you won¡¯t yell at me¡­?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee warily, towards the girl who is on the verge of tears. ¡°¡­Can you-¡° ¡°Out with it!¡± barks Jubilee, jabbing a finger into her gut. Fresh winces, leaning in closely to whisper into Jubilee¡¯s ear. Their eyes grow wider and wider beneath their mask, as the girl tells her story. ¡°YOU DID WHAT?!¡± Razmatazz Red-wizard was a red-herring =) Necklace was... dunno. Guess we''ll see x_X Trivia - Ferns Somewhat different one today. Ferns are a group of plants as you likely know. Though they can be a little odd. Some of them don''t spread themselves through seeds or flowers, instead, they spread themselves through spores! Like mushrooms! So cool! The fern has long been present in the world, but have mostly gone under the radar as far as cultures are concerned. Though there are a few notable exceptions that mostly stem out of North/Eastern Europe. In Finnland for example, it was once held that anyone who finds the seed of a fern blooming on a night in the middle of summer, will be led towards a hidden treasure that is marked by Will o¡¯ the wisps. These ¡®treasure spots¡¯ are invisible to anyone who isn¡¯t holding the seed. Further down south, in the Slavic regions of the world, it was said that ferns only bloomed once a year during the Slavic holiday Kupala Night, which stems from the goddess Kupala. Kupala, as a holiday, was originally a pagan fertility ritual that was later ¡®over-written¡¯ by the christian church, who then combined it with their own holiday, St. John¡¯s Day. Kupala the goddess, is a summer goddess, who represents joy and water. =) Interestingly enough, on the western side of the world in the United States, the smoke from a dried, burning fern is said to have the ability to exorcise evil spirits. The origins of this belief are muddy, but it could possibly stem from the native cultures. Either that or somebody just made it up one day and it stuck. Who knows? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 53: Deceit They close the shop early, putting up a sign. After having searched through the bins, Fresh now looks upstairs, crawling on her stomach as she scours the floor of the pantry. Jubilee comes in, having locked up below. ¡°Anything?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Fresh meekly, crawling forward to look beneath the next shelf. Her panic is now quietened, but her fear of reprimand from Jubilee is still strong in her heart. They hadn¡¯t spoken about it downstairs. ¡°I¡¯m sure I put it right here though,¡± she turns around pointing to the hole. ¡°Why?!¡± snaps Jubilee. Fresh looks up. ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to get mad!¡± ¡°WELL I¡¯M MAD NOW!¡± barks Jubilee, leaning in towards her. ¡°If you didn¡¯t want me to get mad, you shouldn¡¯t have done something so stupid!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I just wanted to try out my ability,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°I told you not to!¡± Jubilee lowers their voice, turning around and grasping their hood in frustration. ¡°You¡¯re such a child!¡± They whip back around. ¡°What did it do!?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°The curse!¡± they hiss at her. Fresh tries to remember. ¡°Uh, I think it said something about¡­ disastrous luck?¡± ¡°Fuck me, if that got into the bin and we sold it, we might just be royally fucked!¡± ¡°But I put it here! I¡¯m sure!¡± Fresh grabs the floorboard, straining herself to pull it free. The wood cracks as she pulls on it, lifting the morose, old floorboard up. ¡°We couldn¡¯t have sold it!¡± ¡°Well if it¡¯s not here and it¡¯s not downstairs, where else would it be? Once somebody finds out that it¡¯s cursed, they¡¯ll trace it straight back to us. We¡¯re the only store in town selling those weird necklaces!¡± asks Jubilee, looking over Fresh¡¯s shoulder into the small space beneath the wood, where nothing lays except some dust and old, dried out, clay-coated straw that is used for insulation. Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Nobody will know.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± The girl raises her dust-smeared head, looking back up to Jubilee. ¡°Nobody can see the curse except for me.¡± Jubilee crosses their arms and shakes their head. ¡°I can see curses too, remember? You know how lucky you are that this town is so far away from the south-east? People here don¡¯t have the eyes for this kind of stuff.¡± They sigh, relenting. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll get away with it¡­ But you know, even if we do?¡± They shrug, keeping their arms crossed. ¡°You may have just killed someone,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t know what qualifies as ¡®disastrous¡¯ luck, but I wouldn¡¯t want to wear that thing down into the dungeon.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes go wide at this realization. She pulls the board back further out and digs through the mess below, hoping that it¡¯s here somewhere. Hours pass and she¡¯s scoured every inch of the pantry a dozen times over. It¡¯s nowhere to be found. Jubilee has long since left, saying they needed to get some fresh air to calm down. Fresh falls down against the wall, defeated and covered in grime. Soon enough, after a very uneasy night, the next day comes. They earned noticeably less money yesterday, because of their having to close early, to which Jubilee doesn¡¯t even speak, not bothering to show her the ledger. The silence somehow makes Fresh feel worse than if her friend would just yell at her. She awkwardly just stands there, downstairs, as it is still too early in the morning to open up. She wants to ask Jubilee if they want to eat breakfast together, but she feels like they¡¯ll say no. So she doesn¡¯t ask and simply stands there quietly, afraid of getting yelled at again. A series of loud noises comes from outside, breaking the heavy silence filling the air and they both look towards the window, to the cart parked outside. ¡°Ah, fuck. I guess it¡¯s about that time,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Go upstairs, start bringing the soul-potions down. We have our first delivery for the church.¡± Fresh nods, setting to work without any arguments. As she comes back downstairs, carrying the first box of potions, she smiles as she sees the familiar figure. ¡°Hi, Basil!¡± Basil looks back up to her, her face is very haggard and tired looking and she nods with a weak smile. ¡°Good morning. I¡¯m here to pick up the potions.¡± Fresh nods back, happy to see the priestess, who apparently has a lot of work as always. Her eyes seem very exhausted though and she has deep bags under them. ¡°Mm!¡± She tilts her head. ¡°Have you eaten? You look a little worn out.¡± Jubilee elbows her in the side. Fresh opens her eyes, ¡°Ah, sorry!¡± Setting the box down, she rubs the back of her head. ¡°I guess I was being rude, this time.¡± Basil doesn¡¯t say anything, but then just shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s been a rough few days.¡± She looks at the potions. ¡°Should I help you carry the rest of them downstairs?¡± ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± says Jubilee, glaring at Fresh. ¡°She can do it by herself.¡± A second elbow nudges her and she squeaks, rubbing the sore-spot as she runs upstairs to get another box. Jubilee is being mean to her, but at least they¡¯re speaking to her. Or¡­ about her, at least, which is close to the same thing. Running up and down the stairs a few times, breaking a sweat this early in the morning, Fresh brings several of the boxes from the pantry and then watches as Basil counts through them. Nodding, satisfied, the priestess gives Jubilee a single silver coin. ¡°Thank you for your contribution,¡± she looks at Jubilee and then to Fresh. ¡°The cardinal sends his regards,¡± says Basil. ¡°He is most pleased with your work and thanks you for being outstanding members of the community,¡± she says as if reciting some well rehearsed text. ¡°We¡¯re just doing what we can,¡± replies Jubilee rather dryly. Fresh nods, smiling a feigned smile as she tilts her head and tells a half-lie. ¡°We¡¯re glad to help!¡± She feels bad about lying to Basil, even if she was snooping around, but it¡¯s just what they have to do. But apparently their ploy to win the church over is working beautifully and Fresh can¡¯t help but feel a little pride at that. She also can¡¯t help but feel a little pride at the scheme brewing in her heart as she helps the woman load the boxes into the back of the cart, pulled by a rather odd looking creature tethered to the front. A white-feathered, long-necked bipedal bird. With a colorful plume of vibrant feathers hanging loosely from its back, drooping down as a tail. She can¡¯t help but notice that it is staring at her with a rather venomous gaze. Then again, she¡¯s never seen one before. So maybe they just look like that? ¡°Never seen an anqa before?¡± asks Basil as she loads the first box into the cart, taking the next one from Fresh. Fresh shakes her head, staring with some awe at the beautiful plumage of the regal creature. ¡°No, not really.¡± Basil smiles, this time sincerely, walking around to pat the large horse-sized bird. ¡°They¡¯re from the east. They¡¯re strong, quiet things. They make good company, you know?¡± Her eyes glow a little as she strokes its giant feathers and the bird coos in response, lowering its neck. Fresh can¡¯t help but feel like its watching her though, never closing its large eyes that seem to focus on her with some deep suspicion. Meekly, she raises a hand to wave to it, not daring to approach the giant animal. *KYIAH!* screeches the bird, extending its beak out towards her and the girl jumps back as it snaps at her. ¡°IAH!¡± ¡°Woah! Easy there!¡± Basil grabs the creature¡¯s head, apparently not phased in the least that its beak is the size of her own face and pushes it back away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, he¡¯s usually very nice.¡± Fresh laughs meekly. ¡°It¡¯s okay¡­ uh¡­ I¡¯ll get the next box.¡± Somewhat nervously, she hustles inside and Basil comes in after her. This is her chance, thinks Fresh as she looks towards Jubilee who is standing by the counter. ¡°Basil? Jubilee and I were just about to have breakfast," she lies. "Would you like to join us?¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes and Fresh smiles a victorious smile, taking a moment to subtly stick the tip of her tongue out at Jubilee, who can¡¯t deny her wish now, if only for fear of looking bad in front of the priestess. Basil seems to think for a moment. ¡°I¡¯d feel bad. I don¡¯t want to impose any more than I already have. I still owe you two a lot of money as it is.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± says Fresh, picking up the next box. ¡°It¡¯s nothing exciting, just some bread and some dried stuff. We have more than enough to spare,¡± she explains. The priestess looks around uncertainly, her eyes wandering over to Jubilee who straightens up, clearing their throat. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if Basil notices, but she sees her friend¡¯s narrowed eyes twitch just a little as they focus on her. ¡°We insist,¡± says Jubilee, lying now as well, if only to play along. Seemingly convinced however, Basil nods and agrees. Once they finish and Fresh explains their ritual to the rather confused priestess, they sit down on the floor together with Fresh on one side of the counter and Jubilee on the other. Basil doesn¡¯t even question it, perhaps simply out of good manners or for fear of being rude. As they eat and discuss the minor happenings in the world over their not exciting, but at the very least nourishing, food, Fresh can¡¯t help but notice the eye of the large bird, staring in through the window the entire time. It is focused on her and her every movement. Basil sighs as she sees the large avian face pressed against the glass of the window. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, he¡¯s been very protective lately, he¡¯s usually very well behaved.¡± Fresh fidgets uncomfortably, as the bird narrows its eyes, watching her with hawkish intensity. Soon enough, they finish their meal and their conversation. Basil thanks them for their hospitality and returns to the cart, driving the thing off down the main road, back towards the church. ¡°Bye, Basil!¡± cries Fresh after them, waving to the tired figure who waves back. The girl returns back inside, the anxiety of the lost necklace almost entirely suppressed by the warm feeling of having a good morning and a nice breakfast with a just as nice conversation. She closes the door, looking back at Jubilee who is leaning back against the counter, their arms crossed as they watch her very carefully, as if they are suspicious of her themselves now. ¡°You know -¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, looking over to the figure who has their hand on the chin of their mask. ¡°Sometimes I wonder if you¡¯re just faking the whole ¡®dumb and innocent thing¡¯ as a cover. But then I remember what your stats are and even you can¡¯t fake that.¡± ¡°¡­Huh?¡± repeats Fresh, not sure what Jubilee means as the two of them look at each other. The girl rubs her arm, not entirely understanding the situation as she breaks eye-contact. Is Jubilee mad about her trick to get them to have breakfast together? Or is this still about the necklace? ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the necklace. Please don¡¯t be mad at me¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m mad at you,¡± says Jubilee and Fresh flinches, feeling her eyes grow damp. ¡°But I¡¯m also impressed. I honestly didn¡¯t know you had it in you,¡± says Jubilee ¡°I still remember when you were snot-crying about that goblin. But look at you now, stringing innocent priestesses along without skipping a beat.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°You really are a witch.¡± Fresh isn¡¯t sure how to take that last statement and fidgets, walking towards her friend who continues speaking. ¡°I suppose striking when the iron is hot is the way to go though. She¡¯s messed up now, so she¡¯s vulnerable. We¡¯d be dumb to let this opportunity go.¡± ¡°Jubilee, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Did I do something bad?¡± The girl fiddles with her fingers as she watches Jubilee. ¡°¡­I just wanted to spend time with you, because you¡¯re my friend. And she¡¯s nice.¡± Jubilee looks up to her, tilting their head. ¡°You really don¡¯t know, do you?¡± They sigh, apparently relenting. Their tense posture loosens. ¡°How do you always manage to do things right, even when you¡¯re doing literally everything wrong?¡± Fresh¡¯s lips quiver as she shakes her head. She feels as if she is about to be yelled at again. ¡°Jubileee~¡± she begins whining. Jubilee raises a hand, cutting her off. ¡°The orc was murdered the day before yesterday.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°¡­What?¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°Yeah, real gruesome stuff too, apparently. Middle of the night. Cloak and dagger bullshit.¡± Fresh covers her mouth, tears growing in her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s awful!¡± Her party-member shrugs, going behind the counter. ¡°It is what it is. But she¡¯s alone now. Tired, desperate and vulnerable.¡± Their eyes lock on to hers. ¡°She¡¯s right where we need her to be.¡± Razmatazz Trivia - Anqa The Anqa (Anka/Anka al-Mughrib) is a giant mythological bird from Arabian mythology. Anqa¡¯s are strange creatures, that lore dictates can only be found ¡°At the place where the sun sets.¡± The name Anqa stems from the pronunciation of the phrase ¡®long/thick necked¡¯ ¡°a¡¯naq¡±. This implies that the bird was something akin to a raptor like a large bird of prey. The latter part of its title ¡®Mughrib¡¯, refers to several concepts ranging from ¡®misfortune¡¯ to ¡®white/dawn¡¯ in the context of the animal. Though the word Mughrib officially refers to the ¡®sunset prayer¡¯ which is one of the five Islamic prayers and the first prayer of the day, despite being at sunset. Anqa¡¯s are very wise, perceptive animals that live for up to 1700 years. Though they spend the first 125 of those inside of their eggshells, even after breaking them. The word Anqa is however also related to the word ¡®an¨¡q¡¯ which means misfortune, in the context of the bird being a herald of calamity. An ill omen, if you will. In the real ¡®mythological canon¡¯, the Anqa is said to have a human face and four pairs of wings and to somehow carry an odd resemblance to every living being that exists. Interestingly enough, the myth of the Anqa was eventually swallowed up by the somewhat more dramatic mythology of the phoenix, which in some areas, completely overwrote the old lore. As far as the religious context is concerned, Anqa¡¯s were destroyed by people after they became a plague. But the further details are rather vague. Discarding all the mythology and 1700 year lifespan and the human face bit and all of that, it¡¯s ¡®possible¡¯ that Anqa¡¯s were once a real bird, that were wiped out in the distant past because they proved to be a nuisance. Given the fact that bird¡¯s have hollow bones, they don¡¯t generally become fossilized, I¡¯m not willing to discard the theory just yet. A quick tidbit, the Anqa itself as a mythological concept likely stems back to the ancient Persians, who told of a creature known as the Simurgh. But more on that some other time. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 54: Restlessness Fresh tosses and turns in her bed, pulling the blankets around over herself uncomfortably as she fidgets, entirely unable to fall asleep. It¡¯s the middle of the night and she turns over again on to her other side, having lost count of how often she had already unsuccessfully tried to fall asleep in this position tonight. Her eyes open as she presses her head down into the pillow and stares out across the dark room, which is dimly illuminated by the glowing potions she has scattered around it. Her eyes fixate on the blank wall, separating her room from Jubilee¡¯s. She sighs, sitting upright and tosses the blanket off of her chest. She can¡¯t sleep. Any tiredness or exhaustion present in her body is simply over-toned by the thoughts that are buzzing around in her head. The visage of the friendly giant, the orc, laying there in a pool of blood. She hadn¡¯t asked any further details of Jubilee, but her own mind is happy enough to fill in the blanks for her, even if she doesn¡¯t want it to. Grisly images of mutilation and viscera fill her thoughts and no matter how often she dispels them by forcing herself to think about something else, they always come back; returning to haunt her like the faces of laughing ghosts. No matter how often she tries to get the lifeless expression of the friendly man out of her mind, it always returns, covered in red. Fresh turns to the side, uncovering her feet and planting them onto the ground as she stands up. She hadn¡¯t known the orc for long, but somehow it bothers her. A lot. This wasn¡¯t her first encounter with death here, in this new world. Since her first day here, she had heard whispers about it, lurking in the dark streets of the city. But¡­ That was always just a rumor. Some murderer somewhere. Then, Mr. Mushroom and the goblin¡­ they were monsters. She can justify that to herself somehow, if she tries hard enough. As for Donata, the old woman had dug her own grave in the end. Fresh didn¡¯t want any of that to have happened. But it did. But the orc? He was just a friendly person. She didn¡¯t actually know him, apart from their few brief encounters in the store. But something about the simple fact that the darkness in this world was able to take something so¡­ clean and to befoul it, that is what keeps her up tonight. The fact that this evil force is in the same city as them. Whatever or whoever it is, is near her new home. Near her new friend. She puts on her dress, taking a potion with her for light as she walks barefooted, out into the hallway. Apart from that, Fresh can¡¯t help but wonder, did the orc buy a necklace? Did he buy the necklace? The cursed one? She should have read her grimoire more about curses. Maybe it¡¯s her fault? Maybe it¡¯s her fault that he¡¯s dead? Maybe it¡¯s her fault that Basil is so run down? What¡¯s the woman going to do, without her only party-member? She can¡¯t get far in the dungeon alone. She¡¯ll have to find a new party, but¡­ is that so easy? Fresh shakes her head. She doesn¡¯t know anything. Opening the pantry door, the girl strains herself, grabbing a long plank of wood and heads downstairs to set to work. Looking at the window, she half-expects a shadowy face to be pressed against it, staring back at her from the outside. But there is nothing there save for her own reflection, her pale face illuminated by the soft glow of the potion, causing her features to look recessed and shadowy. She tilts her head, looking at her own distorted features, shining back at her. ¡°There¡¯s a witch in the window,¡± she mutters to herself, sleep addled, as she walks closer towards it. The haunting, eyeless apparition is dispelled as she approaches, banished into whatever night lays on the other side of the mirror-glass. Setting the wood down, she begins to process it. Hours pass and she has to run up and down the stairs several times, though she does her best to be quiet, not wanting to wake Jubilee. Her friend is a cold person and she doesn¡¯t like how emotionless their statement about using Basil was, but she understands that Jubilee is Jubilee for a reason. Maybe that¡¯s what living in this city does to you? Or maybe Jubilee is just¡­ Jubilee and always has been? She fastens the wood to the wall, quietly yawning as she uses her abilities. Fresh is Fresh for a reason too, she thinks, not quite sure where her thoughts are going. Maybe if Jubilee is the cold one, emotionally, then she¡¯ll just have to be the warm one? Maybe that would even things out. Fresh steps back, swinging the wooden shutter closed to test it. Satisfied, she stares at the, now fortified, downstairs-window, feeling only a little bit better as she stands alone down in the dark shop, listening to the whispering draft that is still seeping in through the walls. Her eyes scan the distant, dark corners of the room, down beneath the shelves. She listens as she hears the quiet hiss of air seeping in from all manner of cracks and crevices. Fresh shudders as she feels the outside air run up her already cold, clammy skin, as it reminds her that it still has her in its clutches. She remembers this feeling, from her last night in her old life. This is that very same, dark, heavy cold that loomed with her in her room, in her bed, in her heart. It quietly reminds her, whispering into her ear, that it doesn¡¯t matter if she has a roof over her head today, a light at her side this second, a friend¡­ for now. It doesn¡¯t matter and it tells her as much with its midnight whisper, that it will always be here. Creeping. Crawling. Coming. And one day - Fresh narrows her tired eyes, watching the darkness suspiciously, as she collects her materials to go back upstairs. - And one day, she can¡¯t help but hear the promise of the cold draft, no matter how many obstacles she builds, no matter how many walls she fixes and friends she tries to make to surround herself with, one day, it¡¯s going to swallow her whole again. And that little candle that she feels burning in her heart for all of these things that she thinks she has? It¡¯s going to snuff that out with a single, quiet, cold breath. Just to make the point. Just so that she¡¯ll remember that sentence it had told her, that sentence she had told herself back then, when the fountain offered her the ring. That this is too nice for someone like her. She doesn¡¯t deserve it. Fresh stops on the staircase, holding the rest of her materials under her arms as her gaze lowers down to her feet. She listens to the wind howling outside and she stands there, frozen for a time. Frozen in body and in soul as a familiar, old tiredness makes itself felt in her mind. An old feeling tells her the simple truth. Go to bed. It¡¯s over. Just go to bed and sleep. She quietly lifts her gaze, walking up into the pantry and stows away the leftover materials. Returning to her room, she looks down at her bed, down at the sweat-stained, knotted and twisted sheets and blankets. Without letting the dark thoughts get another word in, Fresh clenches her fists, grabs her bag and goes back downstairs, taking one of her bone-daggers, a necklace and a bottle of moonwater with her, as she unlocks the door and marches out over the empty plaza, ignoring the laugh of the cold wind on her skin, as she stubbornly stomps towards the dungeon. The blue aura envelops her as she walks inside and the girl takes a deep breath to calm herself down, as she feels the dank, earthy and familiar air of the dungeon enter into her lungs. Opening her eyes, she marches down the stairs, taking her grimoire out of her bag. There isn¡¯t much she can do. She isn¡¯t strong, smart, charming, pretty, clever, brave, nimble, wise, or talented. Or any of that. If anything, the only reason she has made it this far is because she has had luck on her side, but she can¡¯t rely on that forever. She can¡¯t rely on luck to protect her and her friend when the bad times come. She feels it. That sensation. That¡­ dull edge of a knife, rubbing itself against the back of her mind like when it was raining during the ¡®vampire night¡¯. Maybe it¡¯s something from her class? Some sense for the happenings of the world after the sun has set. Like when she felt the vampire coming. But something - No matter where it stems from - Something tells her that one day, one day in the future, that darkness will fall. It hasn¡¯t forgotten her and no amount of luck in the world is going to stop it once it arrives. She drops her bag down off of her shoulders, letting it fall to the last step as she stares at Mr. Mushroom¡¯s burrow. Her other hand lifts up the damp grimoire, as she flutters through the sticky pages, looking for something to help her. She doesn¡¯t know what it is yet, but there has to be something, anything that can help give her an edge. She has to be strong enough to do it herself. She has to be able to face whatever that looming specter is when it arrives. Her eyes dart over the page that the grimoire is showing her. A section on her own abilities and she reads the text, detailing about curses and the modification there-of. Curses - Modification By the nature of the beast, curses are inherently negative in their conjurations and are intended to bring harm to the recipient in some fashion. Curses can never be removed. However, a curse may be modified through one of three methods. ¡°Hair of the dog¡­¡± mutters Fresh as she rubs her head. Are there even dogs here? Actually, isn¡¯t that a saying? ¡®Hair of the dog¡¯? It probably didn¡¯t mean a literal dog. The girl taps her chin, mumbling. ¡°A hair of the dog that bit you,¡± as she remembers the whole phrase. She looks at the second option for modifying a curse, tilting her head. ¡°True loves¡¯ kiss?¡± Nervously, looking around the empty floor, flush in the face, she looks at the last line, but to her dismay it is smeared away. Fresh frowns and guesses that there¡¯s only one avenue open for her then. She isn¡¯t sure she appreciates the comparison, but¡­ Fresh gulps. Her eyes wander down to the dagger in her hands as she sets the grimoire back into her bag. Should she¡­? Jubilee won¡¯t forgive her. They hadn¡¯t even forgiven her yet for the first time. ¡°¡­Jubilee doesn¡¯t have to know.¡± The girl plucks three of her hairs from her head, and wraps them around the blade of the dagger. Razmatazz Trivia''ish - Hair of the dog Originally, rabies was ¡®treated¡¯ by literally placing the hair of the attacking dog into the bite-wound. I can¡¯t speak to the efficacy of such a treatment, but I¡¯ll go out on a limb and say it was probably something near 0%. Though this rabies connection seems to have been born in Scotland later on. Far before that, the earliest utterance of the phrase ¡®hair of the dog that bit you¡¯ originates back to the port city of Ugarit, which was a key part of ancient northern Syria that existed at its height between 1450-1200 BC. It is said that the city was destroyed by the ¡®sea people¡¯ who you, if you are familiar with ancient history, know are a giant mystery in and of themselves. But that¡¯s for another day. Getting back to the dog, the first story from Ugarit tells us of a dog named Ilu who drinks far too much alcohol and becomes deathly hungover, he locates a text depicting a cure. The ingredients? - A plant (We don¡¯t know which one) - Hairs from a dog - Olive oil After mixing these 3 ingredients into a salve, which he then applies to his own forehead, Ilu is cured of his suffering. From there, the story gained its immediate connection with alcohol and spread around the world over generations. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 55: Maybe ¡°You¡¯re up early,¡± says Jubilee, coming down the stairs. Standing behind the counter, Fresh looks over at her friend with tired, but fulfilled, eyes. She had spent all night down in the dungeon. It was tricky work for her, with her low health and stats. But the cursed-dagger really did its job. Together with a few jinxes to steal some luck from Mr. Mushroom, she managed to beat him. It was a real scuffle and she had to fight dirty. Plus it wasn¡¯t worth much exp at all. But she needed to get as much as she could and more importantly, she needed to find ways to protect this new life of hers. The curse modification had gone surprisingly well, she wishes she had thought of reading about curses earlier, to maybe have done something about the necklace. But in truth, she sort of half-forgot it because of all the chaos. The new dagger is floating in her inventory now, as much as she dislikes opening it. If she ever finds the necklace, she¡¯s going to throw it in there too and leave it there forever. She hates it, but she can¡¯t let such a useful tool like her inventory be wasted, just because of some abstract fear of the dark hole. A small, heavy dagger made out of a single piece of solid, dense bone. The sharp edge of the blade seems to glint with an unusually dark luster. Melee: +3 DMG Element: +1 DARK DMG Curse of Gnawed Bones Constantly drains the user¡¯s SOUL while held. As long as the user has SOUL, the following effects are active. - *2 DMG against enemies with bones - All PHYSICAL damage is converted to DARK damage Warning: If wielded while under 0 SOUL, this item will drink the marrow from your bones. Weight: 1.1kg Durability: 20/20 Value: ??? ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± she explains, only telling half of a lie. Jubilee looks across the room towards the new shutters, walking over to inspect them. ¡°These are pretty good,¡± they say, nodding to her. ¡°Not bad for someone who isn¡¯t even a carpenter.¡± Fresh scoots her bag to the side with her boot, pushing it beneath the counter. ¡°Thanks! I wanted to do something, so I figured I¡¯d keep working. Ah¡­¡± she thinks. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind that I¡¯m doing stuff to your house.¡± Jubilee swings open the shutters and closes them a few times to test them and nods, seemingly satisfied, before looking back towards her. ¡°It¡¯s our party-space. You live here too.¡± The tired girl beams. ¡°You¡¯re such a nice person, Jubilee.¡± Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches, but they don¡¯t say anything. ¡°I had an idea last night,¡± says Fresh, slapping the iron-key of the adventurer¡¯s guild onto the counter. ¡°We should move all of our -¡± she looks around the empty room. ¡°- ¡®secret stuff¡¯ into the adventurer¡¯s guild. If people are snooping around here.¡± Jubilee walks towards her, shrugging. ¡°It¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t thought about it, but have you thought about what that means? Logistically?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°The potions? The armor we need to repair? The weapons? All of it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯d need to take it in here during the day, then transport it to the guild after closing, do all the work there and then transport it back here each and every night.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°There aren¡¯t enough hours in the day. We¡¯ll just have to be careful, especially since the church is watching us.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ve gotten them off of our backs for now though. I think they¡¯re pretty satisfied with our ¡®work¡¯ so far.¡± ¡°About that¡­¡± says Fresh. Jubilee narrows their eyes in suspicion. ¡°Can we ask Basil if she wants to work here on the side?¡± ¡°No. Are you stupid?!¡± snaps Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°But she needs to earn money and we need to find someone to help us,¡± protests Fresh. ¡°I can¡¯t keep up this pace forever, Jubileee~¡± she whines, laying her head down on the counter. ¡°You want to hire the person whose job it is to investigate us?¡± they ask. ¡°Am I hearing this right?¡± Jubilee tilts their head. ¡°You want a literal priestess to work ten steps away from whatever the hell it is you do up there in your nightmare-workshop all night?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a nightmare workshop, it¡¯s my bedroom!¡± she protests. ¡°Besides -¡± Fresh raises a finger. ¡°¡¯Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer¡¯, right?¡± Jubilee groans uneasily. Fresh goes on, rubbing her arm. ¡°¡­I feel terrible for her, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t. If she knew the truth about you, you wouldn¡¯t like her anymore. I can promise you that.¡± Fresh goes on. ¡°- And if it makes you feel better, we can just put a door upstairs to block the staircase and lock it. She can sit behind the counter during the day.¡± Jubilee waves their hands. ¡°This is a horrible idea. I mean¡­¡± They think for a while. ¡°It would certainly seal the deal on the church trusting us, if we integrate one of their own into our business,¡± they consider. ¡°They might make us saints at this rate. But it¡¯s beyond risky and stupid.¡± They shake their head. ¡°There¡¯s no reason for us to make this kind of gamble. We can just hire any schmuck from the guild, who won¡¯t ask so many questions.¡± Jubilee thinks. ¡°Hell, we could probably ask that weird wizard if she¡¯ll work for potions instead of money.¡± ¡°Pleeease~?¡± begs Fresh. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Pleeeeease~?!¡± ¡°No!¡± ¡°Jubileeeee-!¡± Jubilee clutches their hood as the girl continues her plea. ¡°Your softness is going to get us both killed, you dimwit!¡± ¡°-eeeee~¡± finishes Fresh, letting out the last of her breath. Jubilee cries out in exasperation. ¡°Fine!¡± They raise a finger, pointing at the girl who perks up with a beaming smile on her face. ¡°But this one is on you!¡± they exclaim. ¡°If this goes wrong, if she finds out, don¡¯t count on me to save your witchy-ass a second time.¡± They lean in towards her. ¡°I¡¯ll be running out that gate alone with my bag full of money before the first torch is lit to burn you alive!¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°Would you really?¡± She rubs her arm again. ¡°If I ran, I¡¯d take you with me,¡± she mumbles, lowering her gaze and looking down to the side. Jubilee doesn¡¯t respond. Both of them stand there quietly for a minute, until eventually her party member sighs and waves her off and heads towards the glass-chickens. ¡°Offer her fifty Obols a day, plus two-percent of our daily-sales,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°AFTER deductions.¡± Jubilee begins rearranging the chickens. ¡°If she accepts, she can work the counter. But only after you¡¯ve built that door upstairs with a lock.¡± Fresh smiles. Her happy mood overrides the exhaustion in her body for now. The plaza begins to fill with the usual bustling crowds and a surprisingly large amount of people find their way into the store after they open for the day, much to Fresh¡¯s surprise. She had expected this to be their slow phase, after the few hectic days before. ¡°- like when I found it!¡± says a leather-clad man. The large, muscular, dark-elf woman that Fresh recognizes as her main source of orange mushroom-caps walks along with him, laughing and slapping him hard enough on the back that the man stumbles. ¡°Found? The way I remember it, it found you when that hollow-armor crushed you,¡± she remarks to the man, who rolls his eyes. ¡°-¡®scuse me! Pardon me!¡± The red-wizard pushes her way through the crowd, rushing to the wall of minor soul-potions and grabbing a large handful, filling them in her tote-bag and rushing to the counter. ¡°Good morning!¡± she proclaims excitedly. ¡°Good morning, you¡¯re excited today!¡± laughs Fresh, seeing the figure bouncing before herself on the tips of her toes. The wizard sets the bag full of potions down on to the counter, together with a single silver Obol. She takes it, giving back five small ones as change. Sold: 5 [Minor Soul-Potion](Normal) for [{95} Obols] ! The wizard nods excitedly. ¡°I¡¯m going to get to floor sixteen today! That¡¯s the next boss!¡± ¡°Wow,¡± exclaims Fresh, handing her back her change. ¡°That¡¯s really impressive on your own. You must be really strong. Isn¡¯t that dangerous?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the soul-regeneration!¡± she explains. ¡°Usually I¡¯d have to stop to take a nap once my soul-points run out. But because of the potions, I can just keep running around in a circle until they regenerate.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°That sounds exhausting.¡± ¡°It is, but I¡¯ve gotten a lot of dexterity from running so much,¡± laughs the red-wizard. ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of health or resistances, but as long as I keep moving it''s fine, so far. Monsters are still slow near the top.¡± Fresh purses her lips, thinking. Looking for a moment over the wizard¡¯s shoulder at Jubilee, she sees that they are distracted and arguing with a customer about something. Fresh leans down below the counter and grabs one of her resistance necklaces, slipping it into the tote-bag and shushes the wizard, sending them off with a wink. ¡°Stay safe!¡± The red-wizard smiles, grabbing the bag excitedly and turns to leave. ¡°Thank you! See you tomorrow!¡± Soon enough, the line starts forming at the counter and Jubilee has to take over, while Fresh starts lugging equipment upstairs and then more of it downstairs as people come to pick up their gear from the day before. Repairs really are a lucrative business model if you¡¯re just outside of the dungeon. But it¡¯s exhausting work. However, Fresh smiles as she carries the next heavy helmet up the stairs, as she thinks about the red-wizard spending perhaps hours running in a circle with the monsters chasing her. If she can do that, then she herself can do something this easy. The antidotes are becoming more popular as well, which makes her very happy. They were her first idea, after all and it was a rather big let-down that she couldn¡¯t sell them due to all of their flaws. But now that they were averaging at normal-quality, people were decidedly becoming more interested in them. There¡¯s also the simple fact that they are the only place in the inner-city that sells them these days, so there is little choice for those unwilling to walk to the alchemists down further roads. But Fresh tries not to think about that too hard. The barkeeper comes by eventually as well and Fresh recalls her desire to spend some time talking with the elf about herself and the adventurer¡¯s guild. But before she can get past a quick greeting, more armor comes in that needs to be carried upstairs and the potions also need to be restocked again, as the shelf is already half-empty, despite it not even being the afternoon yet. The day passes with a steady stream of quiet customers running in and out of their business. Fresh quietly hopes Basil would show up sometime, but the priestess never does. Apart from that however, many of these faces are slowly becoming familiar to her. Soon enough however, one comes in that she doesn¡¯t recognize. Fresh stops as she comes down the staircase, perhaps sensing some shift in Jubilee¡¯s body language as the cloaked man comes towards the counter and places an old, worn bone-dagger onto it. ¡°I need this repaired, please,¡± says the man. Jubilee nods, eying him and sliding the dagger to the side. ¡°Is that all?¡± The cloaked figure shakes his head. ¡°We would like to place an order.¡± He taps the dagger. ¡°Fifty of these.¡± ¡°Done. Come by next week,¡± says Jubilee and Fresh winces. Fifty was a few extra hours of work for her. The man nods satisfied. ¡°Also, are you able to make other items with such properties? In particular we¡¯re looking for five racks of arrows and three swords.¡± ¡°What the fuck are you people up to now?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Can you do it?¡± asks the man, ignoring their question. ¡°You fucking cloaks¡­ ugh¡­¡± Jubilee looks up to Fresh. ¡°Can we do it?¡± The girl thinks for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ve never tried¡­ but¡­ maybe?¡± she says, rubbing the back of her head. Jubilee looks back to the man from the thieves¡¯ guild. ¡°There you have it. Come back in a week and we¡¯ll have something for you. Maybe.¡± They tap the counter. ¡°Payment in advance.¡± The man nods, not saying anything else and places a small pouch of coins onto the counter, not bothering to count them. ¡°See you in a week,¡± he says, walking off towards the door. ¡°Maybe.¡± Jubilee sighs, counting the money. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 56: Another day, another Obol The day ends without anything else of notable excitement happening and Fresh falls asleep in an instant after finishing her work, still feeling deeply exhausted from the night before. Waking up early the next day, feeling much better after a night¡¯s rest, if not a little frazzled, Fresh washes up and gets ready for a new day. She meets Jubilee downstairs, who apparently is also already up, getting the store ready to open in a little bit. She goes about her usual routine of ¡®hunting¡¯ them breakfast somewhere out in the city. The girl enjoys the crisp, morning air, as it helps to wake her up from her morning lull. Plus immersing herself in the vibrant life of the city, as it just starts to wake up past the crack of dawn, is always exciting. She finds herself in the core of the hive, listening to the buzz of excited voices growing louder and more active by the minute. Finding something that looks nice, she returns back to the store and they eat and then open up for another day. Repairs are the bulk of their work as the soul-potions are selling slowly again now, being in their ¡®down¡¯ phase. But the money from the repairs is enough to keep them more than above water. The day is busy, but quiet and then ends just like the one before. Fresh spends hours fiddling around with the bone-daggers as they have started buying goblin teeth by the heaps and she makes an extra few every night in order to meet their large order. All the while, she fiddles around with the ideas of arrows and swords. A sword seems easy enough, it¡¯s just a really long dagger¡­ right? She taps her chin, thinking. That makes sense to her. Looking down at the goblin teeth below herself, Fresh flips through her grimoire, looking for the page on bone-crafting. As she skims over it, the simple idea comes to her as if she had known it all along. Scattering the teeth out lengthwise over the floor, she takes seventy-two of them and lays them to the side. Though she has to count them three times, as each time when she gets half-way through, she loses track and has to start over. Once she has them all together though, with Jubilee carefully watching her from the counter, she holds her hands above the teeth and concentrates on the witch-crafting ability. A longsword made out of bone. The macabre weapon carries a dark, ominous tinge to it. This weapon is a little lighter than a sword made out of metal. Melee: +4 Element: +4 DARK DMG Weight: 0.9kg Durability: 20/20 Value: ??? Her eyes light up as she catches the long weapon, falling down to the ground, though she only realizes after feeling Jubilee¡¯s glare that maybe catching a falling sword was a bad plan. Thankfully, she got away unscathed and Jubilee even nods in approval as they look over the weapon. ¡°These are good. But seventy-two teeth is a lot¡­¡± they say. ¡°We can make three daggers from that. That means we¡¯ll have to charge¡­ one-hundred-fourty-seven Obols for one of these swords. It¡¯s getting up there in price for a beginner''s weapon.¡± They tilt their head. ¡°The dark damage saves it though. But¡­ hmm¡­¡± Jubilee thinks for a while and looks back to her. ¡°Put some moonwater on it.¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee, somewhat lost. ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asks, surprised that Jubilee would make such a suggestion. But they nod and the girl gets up to get some. A longsword made out of bone. The macabre weapon carries a dark, ominous tinge to it, which is permeated by a holy light. The two essences seem to be swirling around each other in communion. This weapon is very light, compared to a sword made out of metal. Melee: +4 Element: +4 DARK DMG +10% HOLY Weight: 0.9kg Durability: 20/20 Value: ??? Jubilee nods. ¡°It¡¯s an interesting combination. Dark and light damage. But this might be the move. Do we have enough moonwater to bless all of the swords?¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, not sure what Jubilee means. ¡°¡­For free? That¡¯s not like you, Jubilee.¡± Seeing this, unsurprised, Jubilee goes on. ¡°Just the swords. The daggers are good enough on their own for that price, if anyone wants an enchantment, we can start offering those for a fee,¡± they say. ¡°But the swords? They look great, but stat-wise they need a little¡­ pep, to be worth the price.¡± They look over the very light longsword. ¡°It¡¯s nicely done though, good job.¡± They nod at her. ¡°I¡¯ll get us some more teeth, can you make more of these? They¡¯ll look great on the shelves.¡± Fresh nods, beaming, more than pleased at Jubilee¡¯s unusually high praise and she sets to work, making the other two swords for their order, plus a large batch to fill their shelves. Soon enough, night falls and the next day comes and the two of them follow their well-practiced routine, beginning yet another busy day of work. ¡°Woah, look at these!¡± says a large man being dragged into the shop by his caster companion, on their way to the potions. The sour mood on his face suddenly lightens as he sees the swords. The caster turns back and looks in distaste. ¡°Those are pretty creepy looking¡­¡± The large man picks up one of the bone-swords. ¡°Some people just don¡¯t appreciate good craftsmanship,¡± he sighs, shaking his head and holding the sword up to look at it, running his finger along the edge. ¡°Huh¡­?¡± He looks over to Fresh who is behind the counter, watching the spectacle. ¡°Dark AND holy damage? Are these enchanted?¡± The others coming in through the door start to look at him. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh starts. Jubilee elbows her in the side and interrupts her lack of thoughts. ¡°You bet your giant, metal-clad ass they are,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Only one-hundred-forty-seven a piece.¡± Jubilee points to their caster companion. ¡°With two kinds of magical damage on your own weapon, you won¡¯t need them anymore.¡± The caster crosses their arms and lifts their nose, the man seems impressed enough though and nods. Several other brawny fighter-types scurry over to grab their own swords, leaving their rather worried looking companions standing either by the door or by the rack of soul-potions, as they grab up the enchanted bone-swords and rush to the counter. The day runs on like this, but much to Fresh¡¯s relief, no caster of any kind seems to be left behind in the store by their party-members. Though she can¡¯t help but feel like she gets a sour look now and then from the occasional wizard or mage or other more exotic variant of caster that she doesn¡¯t recognize, to which she can only respond with an uneasy wave and a smile. The day passes and she sets to work, finishing the last of the daggers that they¡¯ve set aside for their order from the thieves¡¯ guild. Only the arrows were left to make now, but she still isn¡¯t too sure about them. Instead, the girl opts to spend a moment, after finishing her evening chores, to patch up another few spots of the walls downstairs. Looking at the scrap-wood remaining, she gets an idea. ¡°Jubilee?¡± They look over towards her, pushing a glass-chicken to the side an inch. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°How many arrows is a ¡®rack of arrows¡¯?¡± asks Fresh, thinking. ¡°Uh¡­ it depends where you are in the world,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But here it means thirty-two. Fresh looks at her hands, counting with her fingers and mumbling under her breath, though she loses her count as a tired sigh makes itself heard from the other side of the room. ¡°One-hundred and sixty. The thieves¡¯ guild wants one-hundred and sixty arrows.¡± Fresh laughs meekly, rubbing her arm, somewhat embarrassed. ¡°Thanks, Jubilee!¡± She realizes now, thinking about an arrow, that it¡¯s a rather simple thing to make. She just needs some wood, a single goblin-tooth and some feathers. The first two are easy enough to get, the feathers she would have to get tomorrow. She returns to her work and starts to rip a board off of the wall, it doesn¡¯t budge. Scowling, she grabs a tight hold of it, pressing her leg against the wall to leverage it. Something gives way, and instead of the board ripping out, her boot presses through the somewhat morose wood. Something wet cracks on the other side with a disgusting crunch and Fresh yelps, crawling backwards and throwing the board to the side, as she pulls her foot out of the hole. ¡°IAH! JUBILEEE~!¡± Jubilee walks over, apparently not too fazed by her panic or her destruction of the house and looks at the dead rat inside of the wall, bending over to look down at it. The two of them stay there for a time, neither of them saying anything as they stare at the dead rat that was, before being crushed, apparently lying asleep in its nest. A small, glass-necklace has been shattered against its crushed body. ¡°Disastrous luck, huh?¡± asks Jubilee sarcastically. ¡°Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time,¡± they say, bending down to look closer. ¡°Isn¡¯t this your necklace?¡± They look back at Fresh. ¡°I guess it really is unlucky.¡± Shrugging they walk away. ¡°Get rid of it. And the rat.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks after Jubilee and then down towards the crushed rat and the cursed-necklace, covered in rat-viscera. ¡°Jubileeee~¡± protests Fresh. ¡°You have gloves, can¡¯t you do it?!¡± Jubilee glares back at her. ¡°No. Suffer the consequences of your actions like an adult.¡± They shake their head. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll learn not to do something so stupid again.¡± With a quivering lip, Fresh looks back at the destroyed, cursed-necklace, feeling bad for the rat. But also thankful that the item hadn¡¯t seen the light of the outside-world after all. The next day comes. Fresh spends her morning running around, getting their breakfast and a bundle of stiff feathers. Three-hundred and twenty-four white feathers and one-hundred and sixty dark-red feathers. Once the store opens up, Fresh feels a smile grow on her face as she sees the red-wizard come in for the first time in three days, bracing herself against the wall as she wobbles her way in on weak legs. ¡°How did your boss-fight go?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I spent a whole night jogging in a circle. That damn thing had so much health¡­¡± Jubilee looks over to her. ¡°Floor sixteen? That¡¯s a rough one alone if you aren¡¯t high-level.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± sighs the wizard, hobbling over to the potions with weary legs, but a satisfied, smug grin. ¡°I nailed him good, though. It took six hours and it almost got me more than once. But I did it,¡± she says, hobbling over to the counter and placing her potions down on the wood. ¡°Do you have any kind of stamina-potions?¡± ¡°Stamina?¡± Fresh thinks. ¡°No, but I could maybe think of something,¡± she taps her chin, adding the idea to her to-do list. ¡°But you really should find a party, what if you get in danger?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that what adventuring is about?¡± asks the wizard, perplexed, placing a coin onto the counter. ¡°Ah¡­ one bag please. I lost mine.¡± Jubilee nods, placing the potions in a bag made with a bright yellow fabric. ¡°I like your attitude. Keep up the good work, but maybe take a day off. Here -¡± They slide an extra potion out from beneath the counter. ¡°Have one on me.¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee in shock. The wizard, gratefully, takes the potion and hobbles her way back out of the door with a large smile on her face. ¡°Jubilee? Are you okay?¡± asks Fresh, placing her wrist on her friend¡¯s mask. ¡°You aren¡¯t getting sick, are you? It¡¯s not like you to be nice.¡± They glare up at her. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean, goo-brain? You picking a fight?¡± Fresh retreats, going upstairs to carry the next load of repairs away, quietly laughing at the fact that apparently even Jubilee could be in a good mood now and then. Razmatazz 1) And you were all so worried. I told you it would be fine~ =) 2) Wew, really putting in the work today 3) Trying some new tables out, do you like them? I think they''re much easier to read. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 57: Loose threads It¡¯s the middle of the night. Fresh is flipping through her grimoire, thinking about potential recipes for a stamina-potion, tapping her chin with her other finger. The tip of which is wet from opening the book. Jubilee has gone to bed and she sits downstairs alone, thinking about this future project. But she hasn¡¯t come up with anything just yet. On the bright side, literally, she looks down at the ferns that Jubilee had managed to buy for her. Gully Fern A lush, deeply green fern with a budding blossom on the end. Ferns generally grow in moist climates. Gully ferns in particular grow deep down underground, in particularly wet areas such as dungeon-swamps and morasses. This is just what she needed for her night-light idea. Fresh smiles. A lot of things are coming together all at once. It¡¯s been an exhausting few days, but they have been very rewarding and not just financially. At this rate, she¡¯d have her debt almost entirely paid off by the end of next week. Not only that, but also just because of all the people she¡¯s been meeting and all of these new ideas she¡¯s been having. It¡¯s not just spiritually fulfilling, it¡¯s nourishing. Fresh sets the fern back down to the side, shaking her head. One project at a time. Instead, she reaches over to her left, grabbing two white feathers and one red feather from a sack and placing them down, together with a single goblin tooth and a bundle of cylindrical shafts that she had made out of wood from their stockpile. Tilting her head, she looks at the collection, curious, but still somehow confident that this will work. Fresh lifts a hand, hovering it over the single tooth. The goblin-tooth rattles as the magic files it down into a sharp arrowhead. Pressing it against one of the smooth sticks, she lays the feathers loosely on top of the back end and raises her hands above it again. This arrow is tipped with a sleek, bone-arrowhead that is permeated with dark energy. Melee: +1 DMG Element: +3 DARK DMG Weight: 0.12kg Value: ??? Fresh beams as she picks up the arrow and inspects it. The wooden cylinder has taken on a darker hue somehow through the crafting process, which makes the three sharpened feathers on the end stand out. Especially the single dark-red feather that Fresh had specifically chosen. Not only so that the arrow has a more dramatic look for the shelves, but the red was also to signal that it has dark damage. She isn¡¯t sure how the thieves¡¯ guild works, but she¡¯s sure they have a lot of arrows. So they¡¯ll probably appreciate a visual marker like this. Satisfied, with a happy smile, she sets the arrow to the side, getting ready mentally to make a few dozen more tonight before she goes to bed. Before that though¡­ She grabs the fern again and one of her soul-potions from the shelf and runs out the door to the dungeon. Jubilee had forbidden her from, as they said it, ¡°playing with fire inside of the house,¡± which she personally doesn¡¯t think is reasonable. She isn¡¯t going to play with it, she¡¯s trying to make things. Stepping into the dungeon, she appears on the inside of it again a moment later and sets the potion down onto the stairs. Grabbing the fern, she holds it into the flame of a torch for a moment and sets it alight. The wet leaves hiss, but then begin to smolder surprisingly quickly. She yelps and rushes over to the bottle, as the fire grows rapidly towards her fingers. ¡°Iah! Hot! Hot!¡± Not sure what else to do, not exactly having thought this through, she stuffs the burning herb into the neck of the bottle, shoving it in as far as she can by jamming the cork back down onto it. The cork sets on fire. ¡°Jubileeee~¡± she cries, clutching her hair. But Jubilee isn¡¯t here. Fresh drops back down onto the stairs, staring at the fire sprouting out of the small potion bottle, not sure what to do now except wait for it to die down. The recipe said it needed smoke from a fern¡­ ¡°This counts, right?¡± she quietly laughs to herself in exasperation, watching the fire die down as the herb chars and the burnt residue falls down from the glass neck and into the potion below. She stares at the potion for a while, her body sitting back against the wall of the dungeon, in the exact spot she had fallen asleep at during her first night here. Nothing happens. Fresh sighs. ¡°Did I mess it up?¡± The girl purses her lips and gets up. Maybe she should just go to bed. Maybe - A wave of light pulsates through the potion and it starts to bubble, the glass vibrating as it begins to rattle against the stairs. For a moment, she thinks it''s going to fall down the step and speeds over to reach for it, stopping only a second before, as she realizes how hot the glass probably is. With a clever, smug grin, she pushes the potion back a little with her boot. The bubbling stops and the potion sits still, as the light that shoots through the blue liquid becomes a constant, bright shine, which combines with the original blue glow into a very bright aura that paints her skin with a vivid blue. With pride in her chest, she waits for the potion to cool down. Bringing it back to the house, she returns to her work, making a wood and glass frame for the lantern, before finally falling into a long, well-deserved sleep, the newly crafted lantern sitting against the wall of her room, filling it with a bright, yet gentle blue-light. [Magical Lantern](Normal) A magical-lantern made out of wood and a waterproof layer of thin glass. The inside is filled with an enchanted liquid that glows with ever-present shine, day or night. Color: Blue The next day comes and Jubilee inspects the lantern. ¡°Fucking hell, that¡¯s bright,¡± they say, pushing the lantern back across the counter and throwing a bag over it to cover the glow. ¡°Not bad, though.¡± Jubilee rubs the chin of their mask. ¡°There¡¯s one issue.¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°How do you turn it off?¡± The girl looks at the covered lantern and then back towards Jubilee. ¡°¡­Why would you want to turn it off?¡± ¡°To make it dark?¡± ¡°Why?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Because sometimes you don¡¯t want to be seen, goo-brain,¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°You can light or extinguish a normal lantern whenever you need to.¡± They point at the lantern. ¡°This is a giant, glowing ¡®shoot your arrows here¡¯ marker.¡± Fresh thinks, rubbing her arm. She supposes Jubilee has a point. Her eyes wander around the store, over the shelves, past the door and land on the shuttered window. ¡°Ah! I have an idea!¡± Jubilee flinches as she runs upstairs past them and then just shakes their head as she comes down a moment later with a piece of wood and some metal bits. She places the wood on to the table and saws off several thin, rectangular sheets. Uncovering the lantern and placing one of the sheets against each of the four sides, she holds her hands around it and fastens the pieces with one metal hinge on each of them. Fresh beams as she slides the lantern back to Jubilee, who reaches over and presses the four shutters shut. ¡°It¡¯s a little awkward, having to mess with four things to turn it off. But¡­ hmm¡­¡± They lift it, reopening only one of the shutters. The blue light shines out in a loose, but vaguely directed stream straight ahead. ¡°Huh¡­ this is actually pretty useful. A narrow light like this, or a full area light if you open the other ones.¡± The close the shutter and lift it up again. ¡°This could actually work. Fuck me. Hmm¡­ the wood, the fern¡­ a potion¡­ some glass¡­ Maybe we should use a light metal instead of wood? So they¡¯re more durable?¡± They look to Fresh who thinks for a moment, but then nods in agreement. ¡°But, fuck, I think these will go well¡­ maybe better than the other stuff. We¡¯ll start selling them in-shop if you can make some more tonight. I bet you it won¡¯t take three days before we get the church and the guard asking for orders of them.¡± Jubilee scratches their head. ¡°We can¡¯t sell these for cheap.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t?¡± ¡°No, we¡¯re already selling everything for far under market value. If we don¡¯t start making some big ticket items with a real price soon, people are going to ask questions about how we¡¯re staying afloat.¡± Fresh rubs her arm. ¡°I guess that makes sense. So how much is an enchanted lantern worth?¡± ¡°A normal one made by a master-enchanter? Fuck-loads. But ours don¡¯t work with classical magic and also we don¡¯t have a reputation as enchanters, so people won¡¯t pay as much.¡± They spin it around a few times, looking at it. ¡°If we make the frame out of metal instead of wood¡­ maybe three-hundred each? But that¡¯s the lowest we can go.¡± ¡°Make it two-hundred-ninety-nine,¡± says Fresh. ¡°People are more likely to buy it that way because it doesn¡¯t sound as high.¡± ¡°That¡¯s dumb,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Anyone can see the difference is only one Obol.¡± Fresh raises a finger and winks. ¡°Trust me.¡± Jubilee just rolls their eyes and shakes their head. ¡°Sure. Fine. Whatever.¡± Leaning over, they pick up an arrow from the first batch. ¡°These are pretty good too. With three dark damage, they¡¯ll go right through any armor. The cloaks will love that.¡± They spin the arrow around to look at the feathers, seeing the one red feather, they look down to the rest of them, seeing that they all share the same feature. ¡°Interesting design choice. Very dramatic.¡± Jubilee sets the arrow back. ¡°You know, this whole store thing is turning out pretty good so far.¡± They look up towards Fresh curiously. ¡°You can¡¯t do much else, but you do seem to have a knack for this kind of work.¡± ¡°It¡¯s because I have you helping me!¡± says Fresh proudly, clasping her hands in delight at the praise. ¡°Obviously,¡± says Jubilee plain as day, walking past her as they get ready to open the store. Business is off to a slow start today and the weather is slightly cloudy, bringing with it a subdued calmness to the previous spring energy of the city. It seems that the bright, fresh spring is finally coming to a close and making way for the summer ahead. Though the dawn of such a thing is still a few weeks away, according to Jubilee. Fresh is sitting behind the counter, tinkering with a few metal bits, as their first customer of the day walks in. She looks up from her work. ¡°Welco- Ah!¡± She smiles. ¡°Hi, Basil!¡± she calls out, looking at the tired, sunken-in face coming towards the counter. Basil waves, walking up to her. ¡°Hello, how are you?¡± asks the priestess gently. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± says Fresh, waving her off. ¡°More importantly, how are you?¡± she asks, leaning over the counter towards the priestess. Basil stops for a moment, as if thinking, but then smiles and reaches into her pocket, placing a single, silver coin onto the counter. ¡°I¡¯m fine too, thank you.¡± She slides the coin across. ¡°I¡¯ve come to repay my debts. Thank you for your patience,¡± says the priestess with a warm, but deeply tired smile. Fresh looks down to the coin, taking it without arguing. This is obviously an important gesture for the priestess. ¡°Ah! Thank you very much. That¡¯s great! So did you find a new party already?¡± she asks. There is a heavy silence in the air, which Jubilee breaks by coughing once from the far side of the room. Fresh realizes that her question might have been seen as somewhat cold. ¡°Ah¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean -¡± she looks away. ¡°- Sorry.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s okay, no. There aren¡¯t many parties missing a healer here at this time of the year.¡± She rubs her head. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll forgive me, but I had to sell the sword.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, not sure what to feel about that or if she should feel anything at all. It must have been a hard thing for her to do, she thinks. The girl¡¯s gaze wanders over to Jubilee who nods back to her once, silently. ¡°Anyways, I should be on my way. Maybe I can find something today, I better get to searching,¡± says Basil, turning to walk back out. ¡°See you around!¡± ¡°Basil, Wait!¡± calls Fresh after Basil. The girl scratches her cheek nervously. ¡°We actually wanted to ask you something¡­¡± Razmatazz Hello, I''m bugging you again to please consider rating and reviewing! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 58: Secure ¡°Work here?¡± asks Basil, somewhat surprised. Fresh leans over towards her. ¡°Yeah!¡± The girl rubs her head. ¡°Jubilee and I can¡¯t keep up with the work on our own forever. It¡¯s really exhausting.¡± Basil fidgets, looking around the store uncertainly. ¡°I¡¯m not really¡­ I¡¯m not really trained in anything like this,¡± she says. ¡°Neither am I!¡± beams Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re just kind of making it up as we go along!¡± ¡°That''s one way to say it¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. Basil thinks. Fresh takes the opportunity to explain more. ¡°We can pay you fifty Obols a day -¡± The priestess¡¯ eyes widen and her tight posture loosens fairly quickly. Jubilee adds on. ¡°- Plus two percent of daily sales.¡± Basil¡¯s legs seem to weaken just a little, as she sinks down for a moment, but then catches herself, locking her knees back straight as she regains her saintly composure. ¡°You¡¯d only be working the counter, ideally as often as possible. But we¡¯re willing to leave some wiggle room on your hours, given your day job.¡± Basil clears her throat. ¡°I appreciate the offer, but¡­¡± she fumbles with her hands. ¡°I¡¯d feel bad about accepting more charity.¡± Jubilee places a hand on their hips, pointing at Basil with the other. ¡°It¡¯s not charity. What do you think this is, you soft-bodied, cloister-dwelling, kook?¡± Fresh twitches together, looking nervously at Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re running a business and offering you a job, we expect you to work.¡± Fresh clears her throat. ¡°What Jubilee is trying to say is, we can¡¯t manage on our own forever and we need someone to help us.¡± She shoots a scowl at Jubilee who sees it, but ignores it entirely. ¡°We need someone to work for us and -¡± She fidgets, wondering if this is a crass thing to say so directly to the likely still mourning woman. ¡°- You need work.¡± Basil thinks. ¡°It¡¯s unusual for a priestess to do anything other than healing.¡± The woman sighs, apparently thinking, as she looks around the shop. ¡°I¡¯ll have to ask for permission.¡± Fresh smiles, reaching out her hand. ¡°So you¡¯ll do it?¡± Basil looks at her face with a somewhat unsure expression. ¡°¡­Are you just trying to get me to like you again?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± says Fresh plain as day, smiling brightly as she pushes her hand out further towards the priestess who relents with a weak smile and takes it. ¡°That¡¯s very honest of you to say,¡± remarks the priestess, laughing. ¡°Let¡¯s work hard together, Basil!¡± says Fresh loudly and clearly. Basil smiles, nodding back. ¡°Let¡¯s.¡± Fresh looks at the translucent window floating behind Basil, that disappears a moment later, much like the one that had appeared when she jinxed the man from the merchant¡¯s guild. Though neither of them seem to notice it. Exchanging a few awkward pleasantries with each other, Basil leaves to return to the church and the two of them set to work, as the occasional customer continues to trickle in, asking for a repair or soul-potions. Their swords are selling well today however. ¡°Would you like a bag with that?¡± asks Fresh to a man buying one of them. He looks at the long sword, then back to the bag through the slits of his metal helmet. ¡°It¡¯s uh¡­ I don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to work out.¡± Fresh looks down at the small cloth bag herself. ¡°Oh.¡± She tilts her head. ¡°Yeah, you might be right.¡± Laughing, she takes the man¡¯s coins and gives him the change. Sold: 1 [Bone-Sword](Normal) for [{147} Obols] ! ¡°Congratulations,¡± says the man with a nod to her as he walks away with the sword, heading straight towards the dungeon. ¡°Ah, thank you, come again!¡± calls Fresh after him, looking at her window as it vanishes. She must have heaps of skills and abilities backlogged to unlock by now. If only she could get a level up again soon. Fresh smiles. Well, soon enough. Hopefully with Basil here, she¡¯ll finally be able to convince Jubilee to take her down into the dungeon again. Life would be so much easier if she had some higher stats. ¡°I¡¯ll take over the counter,¡± says Jubilee from down next to her. They point back behind themselves with their thumb over their shoulder. ¡°You take care of the door on the stairs.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°But we don¡¯t even know if Basil will be allowed to work for us.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°There¡¯s no way the church will let her say no. This is their opportunity, since they were watching us anyway. It¡¯s guaranteed.¡± She nods quietly, not sure herself. But if Jubilee is this certain, then she can place her trust in that. Besides, even if Basil wasn¡¯t coming back, the door would be another thing to slow down the threat of whatever or whoever is stalking the nights. The girl runs up the stairs into the pantry to get out some of their wood and materials, sparing a moment to look down at the hole beneath the shelf. Apparently, there are rats in the city. But they¡¯ve gotten very good at avoiding people after losing generations upon generations to bored adventurers, eager to test out new spells and weapons. The thought that they had a rat in their pantry, where they keep all of their food is beyond nauseating for her and she makes a note to do something about it as well. Rats are just as unwelcome in this house as the bogeyman or foot-demons, as far as she¡¯s concerned, and the girl promises herself to make sure that that statement becomes very clear to all parties involved. Grabbing a heap of wood under her arm, she sets to work, building a simple door at the top of the stairs. Her initial idea and construction are pretty simple. She simply takes a thick board and saws it in half, lengthwise. Placing each half on one side of the corridor, she fastens them to the adjacent walls with metal fastenings and then one board lengthwise between them on the top. Pushing against the empty frame, she checks to see if it holds and it seems to do so quite well. Nodding with satisfaction, she sets to work making the door itself. Taking two large sheets of wood, she lays them on top of each other and uses some of their glue to bind it together and then saws out a piece about the size of the gap in the frame. Only after she¡¯s finished, she realizes that maybe she should have sawed the wood and then glued it together and not the other way around. Now there¡¯s an extra piece that¡®s stuck together. She rubs her head, looking down the stairs. Jubilee doesn¡¯t seem to have noticed. Quietly she gets up and sneaks into the pantry, hiding the glued wood leftovers, together with the rest of their wood, before Jubilee can see it and yell at her for wasting any. Lifting the door against the frame, she fastens two swinging hinges to it, one on the top and one on the bottom, and fastens that whole piece to the frame she had built before. Satisfied, she pushes it open and watches as it swings outward, out over the stairs. Fresh looks at it for a moment, confused. Out over the stairs? That seems really impractical. But¡­ Oh. Laughing quietly, as she sees Jubilee watching her from below, she unfastens the door again and this time, places the hinges on the right side of the frame. Testing it, she¡¯s satisfied that it now swings inwards, towards the upstairs corridor. ¡°Jubilee! I did it!¡± She calls down in excitement. Jubilee sighs and shakes their head. ¡°Where¡¯s the handle?¡± ¡°The handle?¡± asks Fresh, looking back at the door. ¡°Yeah¡­? The¡­ you know, handle. For the door.¡± They tap their head. ¡°A ¡®door-handle¡¯, if you will.¡± Fresh looks back at the door, realizing that Jubilee has a point, a snarky point, but a point and so she returns to her work, doing her best to make a crude door-handle, like the ones downstairs, out of some of their iron-bars. ¡°Jubilee! I did it!¡± calls down Fresh in excitement an hour later, ready to be praised for her hard work and excellent craftsmanship now. She holds her arms out to the door, presenting it with a bright smile and a glowing face, feeling very proud of the stable construction, given that it was her first time making such a thing. Jubilee looks up towards her. ¡°¡­Where¡¯s the lock?¡± Fresh opens her eyes. ¡°The what?¡± ¡°The lock, goo-brain.¡± Jubilee rubs their mask, just above the bridge of their nose. ¡°That was the whole point. A door. With a lock.¡± ¡°A lock¡­¡± mumbles Fresh to herself, looking down at the door and then back to Jubilee. ¡°Jubileeeee?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, tapping against the counter with their fingers. Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to make a lock.¡± Jubilee¡¯s eyes twitch, but they don¡¯t respond any further as some customers line up to pay for their things. Fresh puzzles with herself, wondering how to make a lock. Reaching into her pocket, she takes out the key to the adventurer¡¯s guild and looks at it, shrugging to herself and setting to work to make something that could be considered a lock. Two hours later, wiping the sweat off of her brow, she beams with pride at the metal keyhole pressed into the wooden door. ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± she calls down the stairs. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I made a lock! Look!¡± The girl takes the adventurer¡¯s guild key and sticks it into the door, turning it to show the piece of metal moving from side to side as she twists it. Jubilee sighs, deeply exhausted. ¡°¡­Is that the key to the adventurer¡¯s guild?¡± Fresh looks at it and then back down to Jubilee. ¡°Yes?¡± Jubilee stares at her for a moment and then takes a deep, long breath, extending their hands outward to calm themselves, closing their eyes for a second. ¡°You made the lock for our door with a key to the adventurer¡¯s guild?¡± they repeat. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, not sure what the issue is now. ¡°A key that half of the schmucks in this city have an exact copy of?¡± Fresh tilts her head, looking down at Jubilee and then down to the key. ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, understanding now. ¡°Oh,¡± repeats Jubilee, dryly. The room is quiet. Fresh looks back up to her friend. ¡°Jubileeee~?¡± she pleads. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, annoyed. ¡°Can we just buy a lock?¡± Jubilee groans. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 59: Ghost-Goo Fresh lays on her back down on the floor, swirling the bottle of ectoplasm around above her head with both hands. Her eyes are fixated on the faintly glowing white-goo that is sloshing back and forth inside of the glass jar. ¡°Ghost-goo. Ghost-goo.¡± She narrows her eyes. ¡°Ghost-goo-ghost-goo-ghost-goo-ghoost-gh¡­¡± She clears her throat and starts over. ¡°Ghost-goo-ghost-goo-ghost -¡± ¡°Ghost-shut-up!¡± yells Jubilee from behind the counter, throwing a wadded up ball of paper at the girl, laying on the floor of the store. It donks off of her head, rolling off to the side. ¡°Jubileeeee~?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, clearly annoyed. ¡°If ghosts are real, does that mean we have souls?¡± She tilts the bottle to the left, watching as the liquid pools on one side. ¡°What? Why would you think that?¡± ¡°Well¡­ ghosts are souls, right?¡± She tilts the bottle back towards the right. ¡°Fuck me if I know what ghosts are, the spooky fucks.¡± Still laying on the ground, Fresh tilts her head backwards, looking at Jubilee. ¡°Ask Basil, she¡¯ll be able to tell you.¡± ¡°Jubileeeee~?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, having gotten used to this ritual after several nights of essentially the same. ¡°You¡¯re upside down.¡± ¡°The only thing upside down here is my life,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head and continuing on with writing the ledger. Fresh looks back at the bottle and keeps playing with it. The only sounds in the quiet store are the sounds of Jubilee¡¯s writing and the sloshing of the ectoplasm. Fresh tilts her head, sliding it sideways, over the floorboards. ¡°Jubileeeee~?¡± ¡°What?!¡± asks Jubilee sharply, sliding the pen across the page with some force, as if using the sound it makes for emphasis. ¡°Are you a ghost?¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± repeats Jubilee. ¡°Are you a ghost?¡± repeats Fresh ¡°¡­What?¡± Fresh spins the bottle around in her hands, holding it up to the ceiling. ¡°Is that why you don¡¯t like being touched? Because I¡¯ll find out that you¡¯re not real?¡± Jubilee tilts their head. ¡°Are you real? Have you been drinking the ectoplasm?¡± They sigh. ¡°Goo-brain.¡± Fresh looks back at the bottle and then sloshes it around some more. ¡°Weren¡¯t you going to make something out of that? Or did you just want a shiny toy?¡± ¡°Mm! I¡¯m going to! I¡¯m just thinking -¡± ¡°Does it hurt?¡± interrupts Jubilee. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, looking over at Jubilee who just sighs and shakes their head, defeated. ¡°Never mind.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± Fresh looks back to the bottle. ¡°Hey!¡± she rolls over onto her stomach, puffing out her cheek and scowling at Jubilee who simply slams the ledger firmly shut in response. ¡°Come on, I¡¯m done.¡± They look down at her. ¡°You don¡¯t always have to lay there and wait for me, you know?¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If you finish your work before me, you can just go upstairs and go to sleep.¡± Fresh lurches forward, crawling on her stomach towards Jubilee, wiggling like a worm as she slides closer. ¡°But Jubileeeee~!¡± ¡°You¡¯re creeping me out,¡± says Jubilee, looking down at her. Fresh slaps her hand down on top of the toe-cap of Jubilee¡¯s boot. ¡°I want to spend time with yoooooou~¡± Jubilee sighs, pulling their foot back. ¡°We spend just about all day, every day, together.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re really clingy, you know?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re my best friend, Jubilee!¡± ¡°That¡¯s really sad,¡± says Jubilee without missing a beat and shakes their head, looking around the store. ¡°¡­Wanna go to the dungeon?¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes shoot open wide. ¡°Yeah!¡± she exclaims, jumping up to her knees and holding out her arms wide open. ¡°I¡¯m not hugging you,¡± says Jubilee plainly, walking past her without sparing her a second glance. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± whines Fresh, turning around and walking on her knees as she chases after her party-member, who runs away, making a circle around the bins as the girl hounds them. ¡°Get away from me, you creep!¡± ¡°Ju-BI-LEEEEEEE~¡± Five minutes later they¡¯ve gathered their things, Fresh having lost the chase and they stand outside of the dungeon. ¡°Should we start at the shortcut?¡± asks Fresh, realizing that if they enter from the top that Jubilee will see that she went into the dungeon alone to fight Mr. Mushroom. ¡°You mean down on floor eight?¡± Jubilee thinks for a moment. ¡°It might get dangerous there for you. You have to promise that you¡¯ll stay back.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± ¡°Promise,¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. Fresh tilts her head, wondering what the big deal is. But she nods. ¡°Okay! I promise!¡± Jubilee nods back, satisfied. The two of them enter the dungeon. Once Fresh reopens her eyes, she looks around, realizing that she¡¯s standing on a large staircase, but not the one at the usual entrance. Up behind her is a large, double-sided wooden door. ¡°The boss-room is behind there.¡± ¡°You mean the flower?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee, walking down. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to go back there with you. Things got weird last time.¡± ¡°It¡¯s really easy experience though, can¡¯t you just kill it? You¡¯re really strong, Jubilee!¡± beams Fresh, running after her friend. ¡°Let¡¯s just do a few normal floors and then call it a night, okay? We still need to get some sleep before tomorrow.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment but then nods. ¡°Okay! The party-leader approves!¡± She can¡¯t see it from behind, but by the movements of Jubilee¡¯s head, she¡¯s sure that they just rolled their eyes. The walls of the dungeon are different here than they were above. The brickwork has entirely overtaken the compacted dirt and vines. And a strange, dark ivy grows from between its gaps, giving the gray-bricks a strange, almost bluish hue. She shudders, even with her new robe, it¡¯s getting chilly down here. The damp underground air makes it feel even colder than it likely is. Something shifts on the floor below. Lots of somethings, as they step down and Fresh looks over what looks like a graveyard. A dark-metal iron-fence runs around the floor, combined with the many tombstones and stone-wrought crypts filling the space, it almost has a labyrinth-like quality to it. ¡°Floors one to eight were the cutesy beginner things, forest creatures,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Floors nine to sixteen are where the first undead are.¡± ¡°Undead? Like ghosts?¡± asks Fresh nervously. Jubilee steps down onto the floor, gesturing for her to stay back. ¡°Ghosts aren¡¯t until floor thirteen. Floor nine is zombies.¡± ¡°Zombies?¡± Fresh looks up over the graveyard now as she sees it. The dirt below the tombstones begins to ripple and quiver. Stones begin to shift and wobble, as gray, fetid hands rip themselves free from the muck. Bones crack and wet meat lurches and tears as it snags on roots and the ivy, that both seem to grip the dead, as if trying to hold them in place. Fresh feels somewhat unwell as she stares at the rotting, human corpses making their way towards them. Jubilee grabs the wet dirt at their feet and throws it into the air, snapping their fingers as it flies. An hour later, the two of them return back up the way they came. Fresh¡¯s bag is significantly fuller. Zombies usually just dropped Obols, but sometimes they had the occasional piece of equipment. A sword, a shield, a single boot without a partner. After floor nine was done, they had gone to floor ten, which contained skeletons and then floor eleven, which was filled with a mixture of both zombies and skeletons. Root-flowers apparently only grew on floors one to eight, so she assumes at least, not seeing any down here. Fresh wants to keep going, but Jubilee waves her off, saying that floor twelve has a ghoul and that they don¡¯t feel like dealing with it tonight. Apparently ghouls are what happens when a vampire bites someone. It warps their body into something like a zombie, but more cunning and graceful. At least until the process is finished and new bones sprout and skin grows over their eyes, while their necks stretch out far and long. Fresh shudders, accepting that explanation and happily turning back to go upstairs again, buzzing with pride at the new level-up that she has finally gotten. Though Jubilee had been pretty snarky about her selection of available abilities¡­ You got [52/52Experience] ! (Party) [Level up! You are now LEVEL 6 ! ] {Cooking 2}{Crafting 6}{Gathering 2}{Adventuring 2}{Witch-Crafting 6}{Mercantile 5} STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 6507 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] *~+- PLEASE CHOOSE AN ABILITY -+~* [1] Choice Remaining [Witch-Crafting: 4] {Snips and Snails} Allows you to communicate with low level forest monsters. [Witch-Crafting: 5] {Hex Bags} Allows the crafting of a cursed charm that brings grave misfortune to anyone nearby. [Crafting: 6] {Glass-worker} Allows precision glass-work for delicate jewelry and ornaments and instruments. Hex Bags were out from the start, she didn¡¯t even have to ask, as she felt Jubilee¡¯s ireful gaze the moment the window had appeared. Jubilee had suggested that she should take the glass-work skill. She could make all sorts of new, interesting things for them to sell. But the girl protests, arguing that this was her chance to make new friends. ¡°With¡­ snails and mush-mushes?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Mm!¡± Jubilee tilts their head, looking at the girl. ¡°I suppose you do have a lot in common with them.¡± ¡°Mm- Hey!¡± Her friend walks away, waving her off. ¡°It¡¯s your choice, but I don¡¯t know if the monsters have anything to say, honestly.¡± Fresh¡¯s finger hovers over the menu as she goes back and forth, unable to decide. Making more things is always great, but¡­ The concept of being able to talk with monsters is also very exciting for her and it¡¯s, judging by Jubilee¡¯s reaction, a rather unusual ability for this world. Maybe there is something of value here? She isn¡¯t quite sure for what yet, but it also just sounds more fun and that¡¯s the real reason her finger finds its way towards it. Smiling, she runs after Jubilee and the two of them leave the dungeon. Fresh makes a mental note to drop back in again when she finds the time. Maybe Mr. Mushroom will talk to her? The thought makes her giddy and she beams. ¡°Thank you, Jubilee!¡± Jubilee tenses up, and for a second Fresh thinks it¡¯s because of her. But their head turns further past her, as they look around her, over their shoulder. Jubilee stares down the dark street to their side, leading down towards the entrance to the city. Fresh follows their gaze, but sees nothing down in the darkness at the end of the empty way. Jubilee turns back and opens the door. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Come on, let¡¯s go to bed. I¡¯m losing sleep because of this.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± The two of them head inside. Razmatazz Wew, finally another level up! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 60: What friends do Fresh lies awake, tossing and turning as the sounds begin to become audible outside. The sounds of tapping. The rain is returning once again. She flips over, looking at the lantern she had made before. It¡¯s set against the wall of her room and her eyes find their way over to the chain-lock on her door, just double-checking again if it¡¯s really closed. Thunder cracks out loudly, shaking the walls and she pulls the blanket up higher. ¡°Why does it always have to start raining at night?¡± she mutters into the blanket that she¡¯s pulling up above her mouth. The weather in late spring is very unpredictable here, just as Jubilee had told her. She huddles together beneath the blanket and listens to a wave of dull, droning thunder roll across the midnight sky outside. The deep rumble sounds oddly calming to her, not like the high-pitched cracking and lashing from the last storm. It¡¯s like the booming voice of a kind, old man, some story-teller or some large and friendly gestalt. As she follows the traveling sound, she finds her eyes slowly growing heavy until they finally manage to fall shut. Her vision leaves her, as both it and the echoing thunder leave the world together at the same time. The night passes without any further excitement, though one time, as she wakes up, she is certain that she hears Jubilee walking around outside, though as she sits up to listen more intently, she hears nothing but the rain tapping against her window. The girl makes a mental note to make some shutters for her and Jubilee¡¯s bedrooms as well and falls back down, back to sleep. The next day comes, the rain continues. Fresh sits downstairs, stretching as they eat their dried foods together. Because of the rain, she didn¡¯t want to go outside and find them something more exotic. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, Jubilee! Witches melt if they get wet!¡± ¡°Where did you hear that, you goo-brain? I¡¯ve literally seen you with wet clothes, how does that even make sense?!¡± Fresh looks down at the bread in her lap, thinking. ¡°Huh¡­ maybe I¡¯m a different kind of witch.¡± Though¡­ she rubs her head. Maybe that was just stuff from her old life. ¡°You¡¯re a different kind of something alright,¡± says Jubilee, yawning. ¡°Didn¡¯t you get much sleep last night?¡± asks Fresh, taking a bite. Jubilee groans. ¡°Well, we came home late and then the storm kept me up.¡± Fresh turns around, looking at the counter which she is leaning against. ¡°Are you scared of vampires too?¡± ¡°What? No, I¡¯m not scared of vampires.¡± Fresh thinks, tapping her chin. ¡°If you get scared, you can come to my room.¡± ¡°NOTACREEP-!¡± she hastily adds on to the end. Jubilee sighs. The two of them finish eating in silence, listening to the falling rain. Fresh eventually breaks the quiet and tells Jubilee of her plan to make shutters for their rooms too, asking for permission to enter their room again, to which they reluctantly agree. The day begins and Fresh can¡¯t help but feel just a teensy, tiny bit sharper today. Even though she could have also done with a couple of hours more sleep. Jubilee is running the store downstairs alone, since the rain is keeping their customers either in their homes or in the dungeon for now. So she instead sets to work, grabbing the materials from the pantry and then heading to Jubilee¡¯s room first. Opening the door, she looks inside the dark room and walks across it to open the curtains in order to let some light inside, in what is likely the first time in a very long time. Looking back behind herself, she realizes that this is the first time she¡¯s seen Jubilee¡¯s room with some light. Fresh tilts her head, realizing that it looks the same as it does when it¡¯s dark. Dingy and dirty. The bed is unmade and looks like it was tossed and turned in over and over and over again. Fresh frowns, Jubilee never seems to make their bed. Looking down, she looks at the mirror shards that have been laying here this entire time as well, scattered over the floor. ¡°How long have these been laying here?¡± she mumbles to herself. They were here when she arrived. Judging by the thick coating of dust on top of the broken glass, they had been there for longer than that though. She puffs out her cheek. This obviously won¡¯t do anymore. What if Jubilee falls out of bed onto the glass? What if they get up to open the window and step on some? Fresh walks back downstairs, grabbing the broom from behind the counter. ¡°Jubilee, I¡¯m going to clean your room!¡± she calls back, halfway up the stairs. ¡°You¡¯re what?¡± Jubilee points at her, stuck in the middle of a sale. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± Fresh sticks out her tongue and runs up the stairs, knowing that Jubilee is too busy with the customer to stop her. ¡°Bleeeeh~!¡± Running back into their room, she starts sweeping the glass together into a pile. Looking down at it, she looks back towards the broken mirror for a moment. The thought of repairing it comes to her. She could probably just stick the leg of the mirror in the pot and use the spell. But¡­ She feels like that would be overstepping her bounds, somehow. Jubilee probably wouldn¡¯t appreciate that. Instead, she simply finishes sweeping the floor. Though, that is easier said than done, as half of the work is picking up old clothes and setting them to the side. The occasional Obol is scattered around the floor as well and she puts them all on top of the dresser, next to the dried flower. If only as a symbolic gesture. She wants Jubilee to know that she saw it. Fresh turns to make the bed. She does however take the effort of changing Jubilee¡¯s bedsheets, grabbing some fresh ones from the messy pile inside of the dresser. She can¡¯t help but wonder if these old sheets had been here even longer than the glass had been, as she throws them, with a grossed-out expression, to the side. Her expression widens as she looks down at the mattress below, that is so deeply flecked and stained with dark, rusty stains of old blood from top to bottom, that the top layer of fabric looks disgustingly crunchy. ¡°Ewwww! Jubileee~¡± squeaks Fresh to herself, waving her hands around in disgust and doing an odd dance. Fresh composes herself. This is for her friend, she has to be strong for Jubilee. Adventuring is dirty work, after all. So a little blood is to be expected, right? Looking out of the window, Fresh nods to herself and runs back outside, grabbing her bag. ¡°Jubilee! I¡¯ll be right back! I¡¯m buying you a new mattress!¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t have time to look up and over the counter, before Fresh is already out the door and running through the rain towards the tailor. A few minutes later, she¡¯s standing inside of the creepy tailor¡¯s store. She can¡¯t help but notice that she seemed to have scared the mannequins with her sudden barging in, as many of them are stuck frozen, in half-jumping and twitching positions, facing the door in shock. The long, thin man with the strange face nods as he puffs on his pipe and slams his ledger shut, as they finish their conversation. ¡°I need it right away, please! It¡¯s uh¡­¡± The tailor nods. ¡°We know what size your friend¡¯s bed is.¡± Fresh smiles in relief and slides the coins across the counter. ¡°Thank you, you¡¯re the best!¡± The tailor nods. ¡°I know.¡± Bought: 1 [Double Mattress]{Flower-Fiber and Harpy Feather Blend(Medium Softness)} for [{600} Obols] ! By the time Fresh gets back to the store, she¡¯s drenched from the rain and runs into Jubilee, standing there with crossed arms. ¡°You know? Some people might say that you¡¯ve gone too far. But me? I¡¯m calm. Collected -¡± Their leather gloves creak as they clench their fists in clear anger. ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh, agreeing with Jubilee, who clearly wasn¡¯t finished talking and shakes her head to get the wet out of it. She stops, her eyes opening wide as she realizes. ¡°Jubilee!¡± The girl falls to her knees. ¡°I¡¯m meeeeltiiing~¡± she calls dramatically. Jubilee tilts their head, waving out their hands outward to get the water off of themselves, that she had splashed everywhere. Fresh opens an eye, looking to see if Jubilee had fallen for her theatrics. Jubilee just stands there as before, their arms crossed again and their eyes even more annoyed than a second ago. Her scheme has failed. Fresh frowns and sighs, lowering her arms. ¡°Jubileeee~?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± asks Jubilee, more than annoyed. ¡°I¡¯m not going to say I¡¯m sorry, because I¡¯m not.¡± Fresh looks up at Jubilee, her eyes not wavering as she clenches her fists, rising back up to her feet. ¡°Your mattress was gross!¡± She points at Jubilee with an accusing finger. ¡°GROSS!¡± Jubilee plants their hands on their hips. ¡°What my mattress is, is none of your business. Creep!¡± ¡°Ju-bi-lee~¡± says Fresh, leaning in with every syllable. ¡°Say ¡®what.¡¯¡± Jubilee looks at her, lost and frustrated. ¡°¡­What?¡± ¡°What?¡± mimics Fresh, puffing out her cheeks to make a weird face. ¡°What?¡± shrugs Jubilee, annoyed. ¡°- Chicken-butt!¡± Fresh jumps up, running past Jubilee who grabs after her, trying to catch her. ¡°Get back here!¡± yells Jubilee after Fresh and runs after her, chasing her towards the stairs. ¡°No!¡± cries Fresh, yelping as she stumbles forward onto the stairs, as a pair of hands grip her ankle. ¡°Ah! Let go! Don¡¯t eat me! Jubileeeeeee~!¡± Jubilee yells. ¡°As if! I¡¯d rather eat a goblin! You probably taste like wet coins and snail shit!¡± ¡°You¡¯re so mean! Jubileeeeee~!¡± A voice coughs and both of them turn to look at the door where Basil is standing. ¡°Is this a bad time?¡± asks the priestess nervously. Fresh waves, pulling her leg free and standing back up. ¡°Hi, Basil!¡± Jubilee scowls up at Fresh, but relents, given that they aren¡¯t alone anymore. ¡°Hey. So?¡± asks Jubilee dryly. Basil walks forward, looking somewhat haggard, but oddly energetic at the same time. ¡°I¡¯ve spoken to my mother-superior and gotten her blessing to work for you, outside of my hours at the church, instead of going into the dungeon.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± says Fresh. Basil nods, smiling. ¡°If your offer still stands, I¡¯d like to accept it.¡± Fresh and Jubilee look to each other and nod, coming to a truce, for now. Jubilee turns back towards Basil. ¡°Great. You¡¯re in, starting right now.¡± Basil lights up, watching as Jubilee raises a finger to point up to Fresh. ¡°Your first job is to heal her brain-damage.¡± Fresh clears her throat. ¡°Actually -¡± She raises a finger, waving it at Jubilee and winks. ¡°As the party-leader, I¡¯ve decided that Jubilee is going to teach you to run the counter.¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes. ¡°As if - !¡± Fresh turns around and runs up the stairs, interrupting Jubilee before they can finish. ¡°- I have some work to do, see you in a bit!¡± The girl runs through the upstairs door, closing it behind herself before Jubilee can stop her. Smiling, having won this time, she goes to finish making Jubilee¡¯s new bed and then sets to work with her original task of making the shutters for both of their rooms. Jubilee might be mad at her for invading their privacy, just a little, but she¡¯s willing to make that sacrifice if it helps their overall well being. ¡°Sometimes friends have to be a little mean too,¡± says Fresh, nodding in conflicted-satisfaction, as she looks at the finished shutters and her gaze wanders over to the dried flower on the dresser. Razmatazz 1) As promised, the Patreon has been revamped =) 2) The night of April 30th is Walpurgisnacht! Trivia - Walpurgisnacht Walpurgisnacht, also known as the Hexennacht (Witch''s Night) is the night that witches are said to gather together and hold a great celebration in preparation for the shift of seasons. Witches gather on the highest peak of the Harz mountain-range and throw a wild party together with the Devil himself. This celebration of the shift of seasons can be found in other contexts as well. For example the 1st of May is was often celebrated all over Europe from Finnland to Rome. This is related to the concept of ''May Day'', which you might have heard before. Walpurgisnacht is held on the same night as Saint Walpurga¡¯s Night, which is a christian celebration of Saint Walpurga that celebrates her canonization. Saint Walpurga was venerated because of her creation of a holy, healing oil. (Remember our Trivia about witches and medicinal home remedies?) Saint Walpurga is celebrated especially for her fighting against both rabies and the whooping cough and ironically, against witchcraft. Furthermore, Saint Walpurga is often held to be the very first female author of both England and Germany! Given her extensive writings in Latin. Getting back to Walpurgisnacht though, the tradition varies somewhat from country to country but is found in some form all throughout every Germanic country. Have you ever seen the classical depiction of witches dancing around a fire? That¡¯s Walpurgisnacht right there. You might have noticed by now how odd it is that these two holidays with opposite contexts share the same night. Well, in original Germanic esoteric history, Walpurgisnacht finds its its roots in pagan rituals and holidays, stemming from the original beliefs of the Germanic peoples and then intermingling with other concepts such as the May Day. After the spread of the christian church, the holiday was swallowed up and twisted around as it was so often done by Christianity in Europe and the meaning shifted from the original proto-Germanic beliefs to one that fit the christian narrative more thoroughly. However, the original holiday has managed to survive and is still celebrated regularly by large percentages of European populations who still carry on the traditions to this day. In fact, likely more so than ''Walpurga''s night'' =) Some fun music for you to fit the mood Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 61: What-what The day goes by fairly quickly as the three of them work. Fresh finishes her projects upstairs, putting Jubilee¡¯s room in order and then finishing her own work on their shutters. She isn¡¯t sure if these will stop a vampire from coming into the house. But they might slow one down, at the very least. Demons and ghosts she isn¡¯t so sure about either though. ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh, after she comes back downstairs, wanting to inquire about such things. Basil looks up to her, clearly on the verge of tears. Jubilee snaps up at the priestess. ¡°Hey! Eyes down here! Write it down!¡± they bark. ¡°I did!¡± says Basil, pointing at a line in the ledger. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Not like that! Look,¡± they snatch the pen from her. ¡°Here, like this. You gotta write the change and then- Hey! No crying behind the counter!¡± Jubilee looks around the store. ¡°You¡¯re going to make us look bad.¡± Fresh laughs meekly, trying to defuse the situation. ¡°Jubilee, be nice to Basil.¡± Jubilee¡¯s head snaps up to Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m just as nice to Basil as I am to you!¡± Fresh looks at Basil¡¯s quivering lip, realizing that that¡¯s probably true. ¡°Basil? How do I keep ghosts and demons out of the house?¡± asks Fresh, trying to give the frightened priestess some respite. Her eyes go wide. ¡°Do you have ghosts in here?¡± Basil looks around nervously, whispering. ¡°Demons?!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her,¡± drones Jubilee, scratching in the book. ¡°She¡¯s just overly imaginative and afraid of the dark.¡± ¡°No I¡¯m not!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Just because the foot-demons haven¡¯t gotten us yet, doesn¡¯t mean that they aren¡¯t going to try!¡± Basil blinks, confused. ¡°¡­Foot-demons?¡± ¡°Yeah, you know?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°Foot-demons.¡± Jubilee shakes their head again. ¡°Like I said, afraid of the dark. One time, she even ran out of her room screaming for me in the middle of the night with a wet spot on her dress.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not¡­ entirely true!¡± pouts Fresh, looking at Basil¡¯s confused face. ¡°You¡¯re making me look bad in front of Basil!¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m just passing on the truth,¡± says Jubilee, snapping their fingers to get Basil¡¯s attention back to the ledger. Fresh puffs out her cheeks, scowling at Jubilee who isn¡¯t paying her any mind, which makes her even more agitated. Seeing that the two of them are busy, Fresh takes care of other things, like carrying the equipment for repairs upstairs and restocking the shelves. Their flow of customers is slow again today, but steady enough. During the middle of the day, Fresh brings the two of them some food from the pantry that Basil takes with much more gratitude and excitement than Jubilee does, given that they don¡¯t eat any of it. Eventually, the day comes to an end. Jubilee sits at the counter, taking care of the end of day calculations. Basil is sweeping, while Fresh restocks the shelves with things from upstairs. ¡°Good work today, Basil!¡± says Fresh to the very tired looking priestess. ¡°Thank you,¡± replies the exhausted woman, sweeping a pile of dirt together. Her dazed eyes shoot open as she remembers something. ¡°Ah! Here.¡± She digs into the pocket of her robe, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Fresh. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she asks, taking it from her. This is one of their sheets of paper, but with some symbol drawn onto it. A circle with a series of lines and letters that she doesn¡¯t recognize. Minor warding-seal A blessed seal that prevents haunting energies from entering beyond. Weak HOLY energy radiates from this seal. Basil nods with a smile. ¡°It¡¯s a minor warding-seal. Glue it somewhere and it should keep away minor ghosts and spirits from the building.¡± The priestess returns to her sweeping. ¡°I can¡¯t do anything about foot-demons though.¡± Fresh looks at the thing, beaming. ¡°Thanks, Basil!¡± She¡¯s a step closer to securing the store. With this, the ghost threat would be averted. ¡°Don¡¯t encourage her,¡± says Jubilee, sighing. ¡°The only ghost here is in her hollow skull.¡± Fresh turns her head away with an indignant ¡®hmpf¡¯. Not much later, the three of them finish their work and Jubilee gives a wide-eyed Basil her pay for the day. With shaking hands, Basil looks at the one-hundred and fifteen Obols, held in her palms, with wide eyes. The coins jangle as she nervously jitters, suddenly not so tired anymore. ¡°Go wild,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But don¡¯t show up tomorrow morning pregnant or with a hang-over.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think she drinks, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, thinking with a finger to her chin. Jubilee sighs. ¡°T- Thank you! I look forward to working with you again tomorrow!¡± says Basil, lowering her head in a half-bow. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Jubilee waves her off indifferently. ¡°Today was a slow day, get some sleep because tomorrow¡¯s probably gonna be a rush again. At least if the weather stops being shit.¡± ¡°Good night, Basil!¡± waves Fresh as the priestess turns to walk out the door, never stopping her staring at the coins in her hands. ¡°Tomorrow we¡¯ll do the counter together!¡± ¡°Good night!¡± The priestess only barely remembers to call back to them, as she exits together with the sound of jangling metal. Fresh sighs with a satisfied feeling in her heart. ¡°I like Basil, she¡¯s nice.¡± The girl turns around, looking at Jubilee who hasn¡¯t answered. They stand there with crossed arms, their boot tapping in agitation against the hardwood floor. Fresh thinks for a moment, looking at her friend¡¯s tight posture. ¡°Are¡­ Are you still mad about the mattress thing?¡± she asks warily. Jubilee narrows their eyes. The girl laughs, scratching her cheek, slowly beginning to walk a circle around Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, suspiciously, following her movements carefully. ¡°Chicken-butt!¡± yells Fresh, bursting into a sprint up the stairs. Jubilee runs after her, swiping and missing as Fresh bolts away. ¡°Get back here! You creep! Jerk!¡± ¡°Noooo~!¡± The rest of the night passes and soon enough the morning comes. The two of them, having taken care of all the lantern crafting and witch-work after Basil left, now sit downstairs and share their breakfast together. Though Jubilee doesn¡¯t seem to want to talk to her much today. Earlier that morning, Fresh had gone to the guild to pay back some more of her debt. Much to her surprise, she realized that she has about enough to pay it off entirely now. But she opts to keep paying it back piece by piece. She has time, and what if they suddenly needed emergency money for something that came up? Repaid - {1000} Obols] ! -{ 5998 Obols Remain Due }- Basil eventually shows up after Fresh has made her way back, a little before they open the store and the three of them stand around in a semi-circle together. With wide and well-rested eyes, Basil admires the lanterns, of which they¡¯ve managed to make a few the night before. One sits on the counter as a display piece, the rest are lined up neatly into the shelves, by the daggers and swords. ¡°These are really amazing, did you make these?¡± she asks Fresh. ¡°Mm!¡± nods the girl, satisfied with this most recent praise. ¡°But Jubilee helped me!¡± she says, looking over at Jubilee, who is still ignoring her. ¡°Today is their first debut, so I hope people like them a lot!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure they will,¡± assures Basil, eying the lanterns curiously. Once the store opens, they get a heavy rush of customers right from the start. Fresh grabs Basil¡¯s hand and hastily drags the woman behind the counter, as the crowd pushes itself into the store, diverging in all directions as they split up to get some more potions, to have their equipment repaired or to pick it up, or to look at the weapons on display. ¡°Hey, look at that,¡± says an elven man wearing chainmail, tapping his colleague on the shoulder and bending over to pick up one of the lanterns and spin it around. ¡°I told you they always have weird stuff here.¡± The crowd turns, several faces moving away from the potions to look towards the lanterns on the other side of the room. ¡°It¡¯s a little heavy, but¡­¡± ¡°Is that an enchanted lantern?¡± asks a voice from the crowd. ¡°I think so?¡± chimes in another. ¡°In a run-down place like this?¡± asks a skeptical woman in the front, crossing her arms. Fresh taps her fingers against the counter in agitation, but does her best to keep the smile on her face. Though it is a little strained. Jubilee barks out from the stairs. ¡°They¡¯re enchanted lanterns, two-hundred-ninety-nine each. Waterproof and they¡¯ll burn non-stop. So buy something or keep moving! No loitering!¡± That¡¯s all the crowd needs to hear and any skeptics are quickly pushed to the side, as the mass of people shifts and the lanterns start flying off the shelves. Fresh spends the day with Basil, showing her how to work the counter in a somewhat more compassionate manner than Jubilee had done the day before. It¡¯s a lot of work, explaining everything to the priestess and Fresh can¡¯t help but feel like she¡¯s making it harder than it really is, because of her own poor explanations. Much to her relief however, Basil seems to be a quick learner and picks up everything fairly easily, despite her blunders. By the time the afternoon rolls around, Basil is able to hold the counter on her own for a few odd minutes at a time, while Fresh runs back and forth, carrying the armor up the stairs. The process of which is made a lot more annoying, because she has to close the door behind herself every time. She can¡¯t help but wonder if this just makes things more suspicious than they would have been without the door. She sighs, well, it¡¯s too late now. Fresh looks back up towards the door on the stairs, smiling in at least some small sense of satisfaction, as she sees the anti-ghost sigil glued to it. Later than usual, the red-wizard walks in, back in perfect shape apparently, which she makes clear through a series of lively stretches and dramatic poses, showing off her very muscley legs, to which Fresh claps in delight. Basil just looks on unsure, not really understanding what¡¯s happening. ¡°I like your new staff!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Thanks!¡± The red-wizard holds the black-metal staff with a red orb at the top out proudly towards her. ¡°I had it made from the boss-core! It¡¯s given me a huge boost!¡± ¡°That¡¯s great! Will you be going down into the dungeon again today, then?¡± ¡°Yeah! The reset is coming soon, so I want to get a few more floors in!¡± She waves goodbye, taking her bag of five potions with her as she goes out towards the giant gate, sparing a nervous glance towards the giant man who was standing behind her in line. Once the counter is clear, a large, heavily-breathing man in full, dark plate-armor walks up and places a dozen fragments of a bone-sword down onto it. ¡°I need this fixed.¡± Fresh looks down at the utterly destroyed sword. ¡°What¡­ what did you do with it?¡± He looks at her through the vertical slits of his helm, a shadowy eye twitching beneath the metal. ¡°I killed monsters,¡± is all that he says. His body heaves with every exhalation, as if the breath pushing out of his lungs were too strong for him to restrain. ¡°Oh¡­ Huh.¡± The girl scratches her cheek, laughing meekly at the intimidating figure. ¡°It¡¯ll be done by tomorrow uh¡­¡± She looks down towards the sword, trying to remember what Jubilee charged for these. ¡°Thirty Obols, please.¡± Without another word, the heavily-breathing man places the coins onto the counter and walks out and away. The floor-boards creak under the weight of his massive body and heavy armor, as if crying for mercy. Basil looks at her uncertainly. ¡°Don¡¯t you mind?¡± ¡°Mind what?¡± asks Fresh, placing the sword bits into a bag, to make carrying it easier. ¡°Making dark weapons?¡± Fresh looks back up at Basil, who goes on. ¡°And that man is clearly from an¡­ unsavory background,¡± says the priestess, watching warily as the giant of a man returns towards the dungeon with no weapons in hand, his metal gauntlets clenched, as if that was all he needed. Fresh gets back up, thinking. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She wonders. What would Jubilee say? Jubilee has been avoiding her most of the day, probably because of the mattress thing. Fresh smiles, tapping the coins on the counter. ¡°It¡¯s fine, we got the money.¡± She lifts a finger. ¡°We¡¯re merchants, Basil. It¡¯s our job to sell things. What people do with those things is none of our business,¡± she recites, finishing with a wink to the priestess, who quickly looks away for some reason. Razmatazz Boss ''fight'' tomorrow. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 62: Progress The day flies by quickly and an exhausted, but somewhat less troubled, Basil leaves the store for the night. Jubilee and Fresh meanwhile finish up the last of their tasks for the day. The lanterns are all sold out, including the display piece and the shelves are picked clean. The two of them have made a killing today. Though Fresh doesn¡¯t appreciate Jubilee¡¯s calling it that, in light of recent events. By the next day, Jubilee seems to have gotten over their feud, after ¡®lecturing¡¯ Fresh on respecting other people¡¯s privacy. Before they open, Fresh goes to the guild to pay back more of her debt. Repaid - {1000} Obols] ! -{ 4998 Obols Remain Due }- Basil returns, bright-eyed, early in the morning and the three of them set to work. Jubilee and Basil hold down the store, while Fresh retreats upstairs to make more things for their stockpile. Eventually, the man from the thieves¡¯ guild returns to check on their order and then to arrange for the pick-up of the items. Inspecting the arrows and the swords, he seems satisfied and even buys one of their lanterns. From the contract and his purchase, they made well over four-thousand Obols alone and Fresh realizes with some surprise that she now already has noticeably more than enough money to fully pay back her debt to the adventurer¡¯s guild after these last few, very busy, days. It really is no wonder that the merchants in this city were so cut-throat. The swords are good and attract a lot of attention, but the lanterns are really drawing in high-profile customers in droves. Apparently some very renowned mid-level adventuring parties even come to browse their items. The low level bone-weapons are of little use to them. Same with the potions, as they already have access to much better ones, but the lanterns are real eye-catchers and much to Fresh¡¯s delight, they even take the odd glass-chicken or two with them, if only out of novelty. The store closes later that night, the shelves are plundered again and Fresh¡¯s back sorely aches from the constant carrying of equipment up and down for repairs, together with her constant fiddling around with metal and wood and glass for her crafting. Once Basil leaves for the night, still as mesmerized by the money in her hands as on her first day here, Fresh looks at Jubilee, who seems fairly satisfied as well. ¡°Jubilee! I think I have enough money to pay back my debt to the guild!¡± Jubilee nods at her. ¡°Yeah, we made great time. Spring¡¯s not even over yet, though I guess it¡¯s only a day or two away, till summer officially begins.¡± Fresh wonders aloud. ¡°Do we get anything for paying it back?¡± ¡°You get to keep control of your body and soul for yourself, isn¡¯t that enough?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°If you really want, you can go buy yourself another shot.¡± Fresh ignores their remark and taps her chin. ¡°Jubilee? Are we rich?¡± ¡°Are you stupid?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Look, I told you, merchants make prime-money. But even we¡¯re probably a little ahead of the big names in town now.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Think about it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We save money on everything. We already had a building. Our materials are basically all but free, which means we have just about no costs, apart from time and our percentages.¡± They shrug. ¡°We¡¯re probably making double what the shops down the road are making. Especially since we¡¯re stealing all of their business.¡± ¡°Do you think they¡¯re mad?¡± asks the girl nervously. ¡°Oh yeah, they¡¯re furious,¡± says Jubilee, closing the ledger for the night. ¡°When we left the dungeon last time, someone was scoping us out. We¡¯re being watched,¡± they explain, somehow not bothered by that fact. Seeing Fresh¡¯s nervous expression, they add on. ¡°But we¡¯ve been being watched since day one, so don¡¯t let it bother you. It¡¯s just part of the game.¡± They walk over to the chickens and stare at them for a moment, before moving the lowest one an inch to the left. ¡°But no, we¡¯re not rich. Though I guess you could call us upper-middle class now, which is pretty good.¡± ¡°Really? If making over two-thousand Obols a day doesn¡¯t make us rich, then what does?¡± asks Fresh curiously, watching as Jubilee scoots the chicken back a smidge towards the right. ¡°Blood,¡± says her friend dryly. ¡°Blood?¡± asks Fresh, not understanding. ¡°Noble blood. We¡¯re just dregs. We¡¯re at the top of the shit-heap, but we¡¯re still on the shit-heap,¡± says Jubilee, turning the chicken a few degrees. ¡°Money will buy you just about anything, up to a point. And at that point, you¡¯re done. There¡¯s nothing you can buy that will give you more power than being born to the right blood-line will.¡± Fresh thinks about it. Jubilee had mentioned something about nobles before, back when they first started talking about witches. But now that she thinks about it, she¡¯s never seen any of them. Perhaps they didn¡¯t come near the city, or at least this part of it. But that¡¯s fine for her. She likes the dirty, rough and rowdy adventurers more than the concept of some snobby high-born. She spends the rest of the night expanding their inventory of bone weapons, as they were quickly becoming a signature ¡®look¡¯ for their store. Along with the daggers, the swords and the arrows, Fresh focuses her efforts on making some other popular equipment that she¡¯s seen, with some instruction from Jubilee on the ergonomics of the weapons. Axes, spears and even a shield. A large axe hewn out of solid bone. The horrifying weapon carries a dark, ominous tinge to it. +6 DMG +2 DARK DMG Weight: 1.1kg Durability: 24/24 Value: ??? A long spear, hewn out of solid bone. The tip of the light weapon carries a dark, ominous tinge to it. +4 DMG +3 DARK DMG Weight: 1.0kg Durability: 24/24 Value: ??? A large, heavy shield, hewn out of solid bone. The object carries a dark, ominous tinge to it. +2 PHYSICAL RESISTANCE +3 DARK RESISTANCE +1 ICE RESISTANCE Weight: 1.6kg Durability: 30/30 Value: ??? Seeing the shield, impressed, Jubilee looks around the store, realizing something. A moment later they ask Fresh if she sold a shield a few days ago and if so, for how much. Fresh doesn¡¯t really remember, so Jubilee looks through the ledger and then shoots the girl a glare similar to the one from the day before. ¡°You goo brain! That was a rare drop!¡± ¡°I¡¯m soooorry~¡± yells Fresh as Jubilee chases her around the bins on the floor of the store. Much to Fresh¡¯s frustration, her crafting and witch-crafting levels seem to have stagnated both at level six, which apparently puts her slightly above average. According to Jubilee, the further road as a craftsman will be a long grind. Though, much to the girl¡¯s delight and much to Jubilee¡¯s as well, she finally manages to make a real soul-potion. One that isn¡¯t considered ¡®minor¡¯. To commemorate the occasion and to have them stand out from the rest, Fresh sets to work making a special bottle for them. Jubilee¡¯s eyes twitch, as they stare at the small, hollow glass-chicken that is the size of a normal potion, filled with the bright blue liquid and capped with a cork in its open beak. ¡°You couldn¡¯t just make a bottle?¡± ¡°Bakaw!¡± yells Fresh at Jubilee, holding out the chicken-bottle out to face them. A soul-potion that restores some spiritual energies if drank. This potion is glowing with a bright aura. + Restores 35% of SOUL +5% SOUL Regeneration - 12 Hours +10% SOUL - 12 Hours + Purges Corrupting Spirits Normal - No side effects - 180 mL Value: ??? The next day, the store erupts into a cacophony of voices and giddy squeals as their new wares are discovered. ¡°What¡¯s with these bottles?¡± ¡°They¡¯re¡­ chickens?¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like them.¡± ¡°I do!¡± says the muscular dark-elf, who pushes her way through the crowd to grab a fistful of them, bringing them to the counter together with their usual load of orange-mushroom-caps. Setting them down with a wink to a very grateful Fresh, she pays for them and makes a large scene of it as she leave. Fresh wonders, isn¡¯t the woman a fighter? Does she even use soul-points? Once the ball starts rolling, the bottles start flying off the shelves and soon enough, word spreads of their new potions. Excited casters run into the store, dragging in their bored fighter and warrior companions by their literal hands. Though their attention is quickly diverted to their new range of equipment and Fresh smiles, explaining to Basil how important it is to cater to a broad customer base. ¡°If we only sell caster things, then we¡¯ll only get money from casters.¡± She raises a finger. ¡°But if we sell a little of everything, we¡¯ll attract everyone and we¡¯ll always have customers!¡± Basil nods, understanding and Fresh notices that the woman is wearing small silver earrings, shaped like small stars. ¡°I like your earrings, Basil!¡± Basil fidgets. ¡°I¡¯ve never had spending money before, so¡­ is it gaudy? Maybe I shouldn¡¯t be wearing jewelry as a priestess¡­¡± Fresh shakes her head, placing her palms to her own cheeks. ¡°You¡¯re a merchant right now, Basil, so it¡¯s important to take care of your appearance! It¡¯s just like the house -¡± Fresh gestures around the store-area, which has been in a constant state of semi-repair, as there just always seems to be more work for her to do. ¡°- If the store looks like it isn¡¯t taken care of, people will think we don¡¯t put love into our wares!¡± She raises a finger, lecturing to the woman as if she were a school-teacher. ¡°And if we don¡¯t take care of ourselves, people will also think we don¡¯t have the energy to make our things with love either.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little superficial?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Maybe. But that¡¯s how people are,¡± explains Fresh to Basil, who seems both satisfied and unsatisfied at the same time with that answer, yet somehow also just as surprised that it was Fresh who gave it. ¡°You really have a knack for this merchant stuff,¡± remarks the priestess to a beaming Fresh. After a few days of this, Basil is able to run the counter entirely on her own and the priestess¡¯ tired, worn out face seems to fill just a little more. As if she were eating and sleeping more, having had some time to grieve and the distraction of her work to keep her mind busy during the day. Apparently from her wages, she was ¡®encouraged¡¯ to give twenty-percent to the church, which still left her with far more money each day than she ever had before. The red-wizard returns day by day and quickly becomes a familiar face to Basil as well, who initially shares Fresh¡¯s concerns about her health, but is equally scolded by Jubilee just as Fresh was by them back then. The red-wizard seems to be doing fantastic in the dungeon on her own and Fresh can¡¯t help but be impressed that she seemingly is near floor thirty now, entirely by herself. This is further accentuated by the high praise the wizard receives from the unusual source of Jubilee. Apparently, for a single person, going so deep is a very impressive feat. The wizard must be a real power-house. ¡°Can I start selling my items here?¡± asks the red-wizard. ¡°Items? Like what?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We already buy your caps.¡± The wizard shrugs. ¡°Everything, you guys sell a little of everything, right? So why not buy it? It¡¯s a real pain having to walk around town.¡± The wizard sighs. ¡°Weapons at the forge. Fabric at the tailor. Mushroom-caps to you guys and so on and so on. It would be really convenient if you just¡­ bought everything?¡± ¡°And what would we do with it? We can only process the materials we need for our equipment,¡± asks Jubilee, handing the wizard their bag, refilled with potions. ¡°I don¡¯t know? Make more things,¡± suggests the wizard, ogling the new chicken bottles. ¡°We¡¯ll look into it, but don¡¯t get your hopes up,¡± replies Jubilee, apparently at least willing to consider the idea, much to Fresh¡¯s surprise. Soon enough, a group of men come in to pick up the order for the thieves¡¯ guild and Fresh can¡¯t help but notice Basil¡¯s unease, as she clearly recognizes the hooded figures. Or at least what organization they belong to. ¡°We¡¯re merchants, Basil,¡± says Fresh, reminding her and Basil relents, though her posture does remain somewhat stiff until they leave, apparently more than satisfied with their work. A cloaked man nods to Jubilee. ¡°We look forward to working with you in the future.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. As long as you cloaked-fucks pay in advance.¡± The man doesn¡¯t respond, simply loading the last box onto their cart and climbing on, before they ride off down the way. Another day ends and Fresh throws her coins into her bag, which is growing more than heavy, as it is filled with a mountain of clanking metal. She makes a note to go to the guild tomorrow, to finally pay her debt off. Maybe Jubilee will even come with her? She smiles, as she goes back downstairs to ask them. Razmatazz Yeah, the new items + the Thieves'' guild deal made enough in one day to pay off each of their whole debts on their own. Now you know why people magically disappear in the middle of the night here. Let''s hope it doesn''t happen to them... >.> Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 63: Repaid Repaid - {4998} Obols] ! -{ 0 Obols Remain Due }- ! ! *+~- REPAID IN FULL -~+* ! The barkeeper nods to them both with an unusual smile, as she takes the coins that they had laid out on the counter. Fresh and Jubilee look at each other, sharing an acknowledging nod between themselves before they walk away and head up the stairs to the cut-off space. Fresh looks around the room. ¡°We did it, Jubilee!¡± Jubilee shrugs, walking around. ¡°Sure, but I¡¯m not sure why we did it, honestly,¡± they say. ¡°We never even used this stupid room.¡± They sit down on their usual chair. ¡°It¡¯s really mostly a bargain for adventurers who don¡¯t actually already own a house here. For them it¡¯s a great deal, ten-thousand for your own place?¡± They lean back. ¡°Even as a low-level adventurer, you¡¯re clearing about a hundred a day in the dungeon. So if you¡¯re frugal, you can pay the guild back in a hundred days, after that you¡¯re in the clear,¡± they explain. ¡°Most parties end up staying here.¡± Fresh scratches her head, looking around the empty room of the cut-off space. ¡°Hmm¡­ Well, you know what? It was just the price of our friendship, Jubilee!¡± Jubilee groans. ¡°Shut up.¡± The girl thinks, realizing something. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°If it¡¯s not that expensive, why didn¡¯t you just power through the dungeon for a while to pay it off?¡± The girl rubs her head. ¡°You really scared me when you told me about it back then. I thought we would never make it in time.¡± ¡°Well, I could have done that, but what would you have done?¡± Fresh thinks for a while. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Exactly. If you want to eat, you gotta work. No free-loading under my roof. Besides, ten-thousand Obols is still a lot of money. Don¡¯t compare it with our current circumstances.¡± Jubilee stares at the ceiling. ¡°We¡¯re just doing good now, but that doesn¡¯t mean we always will. Times change faster than you¡¯d think¡­¡± they sigh, sounding almost nostalgic. Fresh takes in a deep breath, walking over to sit on the other chair. ¡°Times change¡­ Jubilee?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± The girl rubs her arm, fidgeting in her seat. ¡°Are we still going to be a party?¡± Jubilee looks at her. ¡°Sure, why wouldn¡¯t we be?¡± ¡°Because you aren¡¯t stuck to me anymore, so¡­¡± Jubilee tilts their head and sighs. ¡°You¡¯re such a baby.¡± Their gaze returns back up to the ceiling. ¡°We¡¯re starting to make some real money now, so why would we stop after all this work? Goo-brain.¡± Fresh looks around the room, feeling somewhat relieved. She thinks she can survive on her own in this world now, more or less. But this is the life that she¡¯s found and she wants to keep it. ¡°We should make this room into a workshop.¡± ¡°Huh? We already talked about that. It¡¯s too much leg-work.¡± ¡°Not for right now, but¡­¡± Fresh looks around, thinking. ¡°If we hire one or two more people. Maybe we can even buy a cart? We can take the stuff from your house to here and I can do my work here, without worrying about Basil or someone seeing me.¡± Fresh fidgets, thinking about the necklace. ¡°Besides, it would be safer, just in case.¡± Jubilee thinks for a while, crossing their arms and kicking their feet up onto the table. ¡°It¡¯s an interesting idea, if we want to ramp up our scale a little, but¡­¡± They rub their head. ¡°We¡¯d need a cart, someone to drive it. We¡¯d need an anqa and a stall and food for it. Also, we¡¯d need at least one more person to work the store, since Basil can¡¯t do it alone if you¡¯re over here. That¡¯s gonna cost some money.¡± Jubilee fidgets, which Fresh finds unusual to see. ¡°So you want to live over here?¡± Fresh tilts her head, looking at Jubilee curiously, who seems to be avoiding eye-contact with her. The girl smiles, understanding. ¡°No, I¡¯d like to stay with you Jubilee, if that¡¯s okay.¡± Jubilee looks back down from the ceiling towards her. ¡°I¡¯d just do the work here, but I¡¯d still sleep at the store.¡± Fresh clutches her cheeks. ¡°Jubileeee~ Would you get lonely without me?¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°As if. I was just wondering if I would finally have some peace and quiet again.¡± Fresh laughs, seeing their body tension loosen again. The two of them make their way back to the store and see Basil waiting outside. But with the cart again. ¡°Ah! Has it been a week already? Hi Basil!¡± Basil looks back at them. ¡°Good morning, I was wondering where you two were.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± says Fresh, jogging towards her. ¡°We went to the guild to pay back our debt.¡± Basil nods, smiling. ¡°All of it? That¡¯s very responsible of you, congratulations!¡± Fresh smiles, raising a finger. ¡°We¡¯re responsible people.¡± Jubilee shakes their head, making a show of it and the three of them go inside to start loading up the cart. All the while, Fresh can¡¯t help but notice the large bird pulling the cart eyeing her the entire time with a careful, wary gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t think he likes me,¡± says Fresh to Basil, somewhat nervously as the anqa narrows its large eyes, watching them load the boxes into the cart. Basil sighs. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. He¡¯s really very friendly. I¡¯ve never seen him get so agitated around someone before.¡± They adjust the last box, securing it into the back of the cart. ¡°I¡¯ll bring these to the church and then I¡¯ll be back in half an hour to help you.¡± Fresh nods to Basil, who walks inside one last time to give Jubilee the money for the order. Fresh turns to look at the large anqa who watches her carefully. Smiling meekly, she raises a hand to wave to the bird. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m really nice,¡± she says. ¡°I promise.¡± *KYIAH!* shouts the giant animal, pulling against its reins and Fresh takes a step back to the door, standing inside of the store and looking fearfully out at the suddenly very aggressive animal. ¡°Pergan! Pergan!¡± Her eyes open wide as she looks at the anqa. Did it just say something? *KYIAH!* PERCHTA! PERCHTA!¡± The anqa stamps its claws into the road, kicking up a puff of dirt in agitation as Basil runs back out to calm him down. ¡°Easy! Easy,¡± she calls, patting the bird whose body posture loosens a little. Though its gaze never leaves the girl standing inside of the door. Basil apologizes again to her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, maybe it¡¯s just the inner city that¡¯s making him agitated.¡± Fresh looks at the large anqa, wondering. ¡°Basil? Are anqas from the forest?¡± ¡°The forest?¡± The priestess thinks. ¡°Well, it¡¯s hard to say, since the east gets sandy the further you go. But there are a lot of forests near the border. It¡¯s possible that a lot of them come from there. Why?¡± ¡°No reason,¡± Fresh shakes her head. Basil nods, somewhat confused but gets on the cart to drive away, waving goodbye for now. ¡°See you soon!¡± ¡°Bye, Basil!¡± Fresh retreats back inside, closing the door behind her and sighing, feeling Jubilee¡¯s eyes on her. ¡°Jubileeee~?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°What¡¯s a perchta?¡± ¡°A what?¡± asks Jubilee, looking up to her and shrugging. ¡°The bird yelled at me and called me weird things,¡± sighs Fresh. Jubilee plants their hands on their hips. ¡°I told you to take the glass-working skill, but nooo~, you wanted to talk to birds,¡± says Jubilee very sarcastically. ¡°I told you they had nothing of value to say. Weird ass made up words. Fucking birds¡­¡± Jubilee shakes their head, glaring at the glass-chickens. ¡°Fucking chickens¡­¡± The girl sighs, relenting as she helps get the last things ready for the day. Both of them taking a deep breath, looking at the crowd gathered outside of the window they open the store and watch as the usual rush of people streams in. ¡°I have six today,¡± says the red-wizard, setting her red tote-bag down on the counter. Their bags were all yellow now during the spring, but Jubilee had gone out of their way to make the red-wizard a red one. Which Fresh found oddly endearing for Jubilee to have done. It really wasn¡¯t like them at all. Maybe her friend¡¯s hard personality is becoming soft? ¡°Moving up in the world, eh?¡± asks Jubilee, taking her coins and making change as Fresh walks by, carrying a load of repaired armor down from upstairs. The red-wizard shakes her head. ¡°I like these normal ones a lot! The minor ones are good, but these taste a little stronger, you know?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if they¡¯ve actually ever tried any of her potions though. Customers flow in and out and soon enough Basil arrives, taking over the counter while Jubilee reprimands her for being late, as it was already almost an hour since she left. The priestess apologizes, saying she had to get the anqa to calm down as it was very agitated. Hearing this, Jubilee turns their ire to Fresh, yelling at her for provoking the bird. The girl tries to defend herself, saying she didn¡¯t do anything but stand in the door. An hour passes and soon, the giant, heavy-breathing man returns, his black-plate armor covered in blood. ¡°Are you okay?!¡± asks Basil, seeing him. ¡°No bleeding in the store!¡± snaps Jubilee up at the monster of a man, who looks down to his metal clad hands. ¡°It¡¯s not mine,¡± he breathes out heavily. Basil sighs, the glow of white-magic leaving her hands. Fresh smiles, noticing that Basil was ready to help the man who she had held in a strange contempt only a few days before. Maybe her lecture on treating everyone as a customer had gotten through to the priestess, or maybe she just looked past her own mental barriers? Either way, Fresh is happy to see Basil coming to life again here a little more, day by day. The giant of a man looks over at Fresh, who is walking through the store with a broom and sweeping the floors as the morning crowd had made a mess. ¡°I need a sword,¡± he tells her plainly in his heavy, deep voice. Fresh tilts her head, looking at the man¡¯s heaving body as he breathes with surprising force. ¡°Didn¡¯t I just repair your sword?¡± ¡°I need a bigger sword,¡± says the ominous man, clenching his fists. Black blood drips out from the sharp joints of his gauntlets. Fresh laughs meekly, scratching her cheek. ¡°Uh¡­ I can try to think of something but¡­ uh¡­¡± she looks over to Jubilee who takes over. ¡°A two-handed great-sword. Custom made. We¡¯ll have it ready and enchanted by tomorrow. Four hundred Obols.¡± They tap the counter. Tomorrow?! Fresh sighs, apparently she¡¯s going to have to stay up late again tonight. ¡°Acceptable,¡± is the only thing the giant man says, as he places four silver coins onto the counter, which shakes just from his fist falling onto it. The hulking figure turns around, marching back towards the dungeon again, following the trail of blood back the way he just came from. ¡°Is he going back to the dungeon without a weapon?¡± asks Fresh, looking down at the streaks of blood she¡¯s going to have to wipe off of her freshly swept floors. Basil sighs, fidgeting, something clearly bothering her. ¡°Members of the sect are¡­¡± ¡°- Incredibly violent,¡± finishes Jubilee with an odd lightness to their voice that Fresh can¡¯t help but notice, as her party-member leans over the counter, watching the monstrous figure returning into the dungeon. ¡°They just kill everything. Sword or no sword. He¡¯s probably going to be ripping monsters apart with his bare hands until tomorrow. A real adventurer.¡± Basil rubs her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I approve, given their¡­ beliefs.¡± Jubilee glares up at her, falling back to the chair behind the counter. ¡°No discriminating against customers, you zealot. Besides, they¡¯re a rare breed these days.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a zealot, I was ready to heal him if he was hurt,¡± says Basil, crossing her arms as she looks at the coins on the counter. ¡°But¡­ I just don¡¯t feel comfortable around someone who places their faith in¡­ you know¡­¡± the woman lowers her voice as she ends her sentence. ¡°- things like that.¡± ¡°Witches?¡± asks Jubilee dryly, taking the coins. Basil flinches together, looking around the store in terror, as if the word were a curse that would hear anyone who heard it. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°We take everyone¡¯s money and we don¡¯t ask anything further than that. You can tell the cardinal. If he has a problem, tell him to talk to the merchant¡¯s guild,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head and throwing the coins into the bowl, sparing only a second¡¯s long glance to Fresh who quickly and quietly returns to her sweeping. Razmatazz =o Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 64: Back to work Fresh looks at the mountain of teeth laying in front of her. ¡°Jubilee, I don¡¯t know if there are enough goblins in the dungeon for us to keep this up,¡± says the girl. ¡°What do you mean? ¡°Well, with all the daggers and the new weapons and now this sword, we¡¯re using hundreds and hundreds of teeth. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Well, we get more every day. But if we run out, then we run out.¡± They wave her off and return to the ledger. ¡°Besides, that just means we can raise the prices for our weapons because of high demand. Fresh sighs, looking back down at the pile of teeth in front of her. She doesn¡¯t even really notice how morbid a sight it is anymore. A single dagger takes two dozen teeth, just a single one-handed sword already takes seventy-two and this recipe takes double that amount, if she has the right idea in mind at least. Fresh holds her hands above the literal mound of teeth, trying not to think about how many faces they were pulled out of, and uses her ability, scooting back a bit, since she doesn¡¯t know how large the new sword will be. [Bone-Greatsword](High) A massive great-sword. The horrifying weapon carries a dark, ominous tinge to it. +8 DMG +4 DARK DMG Quality Effect: Wounds caused by this weapon can not be healed by HOLY Weight: 6.66kg Durability: 40/40 Value: ??? Her eyes light up as she sees the new crafting level and the quality of the great sword that falls down with a loud, heavy thunk which shakes the floor. ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee! Look!¡± she says proudly, pointing at the giant sword. Jubilee looks over the counter and tilts their head. ¡°Fuck. I should have charged him more.¡± They scratch their hood. ¡°That monster is probably down to floor forty by himself. He has the money.¡± Fresh looks curiously. ¡°How come so many people go into the dungeon alone?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee looks at her, thinking for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s just that potion drinking kook and that guy, unless you know somebody else,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Going into the dungeon alone is dangerous. I don¡¯t know why the wizard doesn¡¯t want a party, but¡­¡± Jubilee thinks for a moment, before returning to their work. ¡°But?¡± asks Fresh, curious now. Jubilee shrugs, but doesn¡¯t look up from the ledger. ¡°The sect is accepted by society, but not by polite society,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°So they do a lot of stuff on their own. But that¡¯s fine, because they¡¯re¡­ very industrious people, when it comes to killing monsters, at least.¡± Fresh scratches her head, thinking about the giant, armored man who seemed to be just a little obsessed with killing things. ¡°I don¡¯t get it? If they like fighting monsters, wouldn¡¯t adventurers and the church love them?¡± ¡°I said killing monsters. They love killing monsters, not fighting them. There¡¯s a difference,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Sure, but¡­?¡± Jubilee sighs and closes the ledger. ¡°Look, here¡¯s the short version, because there are things you just aren¡¯t supposed to talk about when it¡¯s dark outside.¡± Fresh tilts her head, surprised at Jubilee¡¯s sudden bout of superstition. ¡°The sect follow old traditions.¡± ¡°Witches?¡± asks Fresh, remembering the topic with Basil from before. ¡°Witches,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You know how high-level adventurers in the church can become paladins?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Fresh, shaking her head. Jubilee just rolls their eyes and continues. ¡°Well, it¡¯s like that, but the opposite. Members of the sect follow old beliefs. Old gods. Old religions. And witches are basically the bishops of the old world.¡± Fresh taps her chin. ¡°So¡­ why do they kill monsters then?¡± ¡°The sect is obsessed with their biggest goal in life, bringing back more witches.¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes, looking at Fresh. ¡°They have a bunch of kooky beliefs and prophecies, but the condensed version is they think that if enough things die, that witches will somehow come back,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°More than the one or two hidden away in some forest at the ass-end of the world. So they want to make that happen as fast as possible. Turns out, killing hundreds of monsters every day is a lot more efficient than hunting down people, apparently they ¡®count¡¯ the same.¡± Fresh scratches her head. ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡± ¡°Neither do I, but it¡¯s not our business,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°All you need to know is that they¡¯re obsessed about killing monsters, which means they¡¯re strong as all fuck, because they spend every minute of their lives rampaging.¡± Jubilee points at her. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to him about anything except business. Got it?¡± ¡°Okay,¡± nods Fresh, not really understanding entirely. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t the church go after them if they like witches?¡± ¡°Because there aren¡¯t that many left to begin with and the ones that are around do nothing but kill monsters all day anyways. Besides, they¡¯re all high-level.¡± Jubilee shrugs, heading towards the stairs. ¡°So even the church just lets them be, though they aren¡¯t happy about it. They¡¯d be more trouble to deal with than they¡¯re worth. If a fight broke out between some high-levels in the middle of the city, it would get real ugly, fast.¡± Jubilee walks up the stairs and Fresh nods to herself, understanding. Fresh looks around the downstairs area, realizing that she¡¯s sitting alone and she jumps to her feet, running after Jubilee. The next day comes and the two of them discuss the logistics of their ¡®ramping up¡¯ of the store. They decide to save a little money for now and to just keep working day by day for a while, to let themselves relax a little finally. Once they have a little nest-egg, they¡¯re going to invest in all of the things they spoke about in the guild. But for now, a tiny bit of the quiet life sounds appealing for both of them. Fresh sits there, playing with the bottle of ectoplasm again, much to Jubilee¡¯s agitation. ¡°Are you ever going to use that?¡± ¡°I am,¡± says the girl, looking at the sloshing liquid. ¡°I just don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a good idea.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee, apparently surprised by this statement of hers. ¡°Well¡­ if ghosts are souls, then¡­ isn¡¯t ectoplasm soul-juice? Wouldn¡¯t it be cruel to make something out of someone?¡± She tilts the bottle. ¡°Someone human. Or elf. Or orc.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Goblin-teeth, human juice. It¡¯s all the same in the end. They¡¯re dead now, so might as well not waste it.¡± Fresh frowns and the two of them set to work, opening the store for the day. An hour later, Fresh approaches Basil. ¡°Basil?¡± asks the girl, talking to the priestess who is standing behind the counter. ¡°Are ghosts souls?¡± ¡°Ghosts?¡± asks the priestess, thinking for a moment. ¡°You mean like, from the dungeon?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Fresh, nodding. Basil thinks for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m not an expert on the matter, but from what I¡¯ve understood, ghosts are just¡­ leftovers.¡± ¡°Leftovers?¡± Basil nods. ¡°When someone dies, their soul moves on. But sometimes there are particularly sticky emotions and feelings that get left behind once a soul leaves to return to the well.¡± The priestess raises the palm of her hand as she explains. ¡°Without the core soul to guide them, those leftover emotions become feral and lash out,¡± she says. ¡°That¡¯s what ghosts are, as far as I know. But¡­¡± her expression shifts to one that appears somewhat uncomfortable. ¡°The exorcists would know more about that than me. I¡¯m just a simple healer.¡± Fresh nods, sure that she half understands at least. ¡°Thanks, Basil!¡± ¡°Why are you always so worried about ghosts? If you don¡¯t mind me asking,¡± asks the priestess curiously. Fresh thinks, scratching her cheek at the odd question. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you worried about ghosts? They could be here, right now, Basil.¡± Fresh looks over her shoulder, out into the store. But there isn¡¯t a ghost anywhere to be seen. Obviously. The only thing to be seen are the few customers, browsing the store and Jubilee, who is standing in front of the chickens, adjusting them. Later that day, after business has ramped up, Fresh finds herself running back and forth in a hurry to carry all of their repairs upstairs. As she runs up the stairs for the ninth time today, carrying another load of armor, she wonders if this is how the red-wizard feels when she is running in a circle around the enemies in the dungeon for hours. Fresh sighs and drops off the equipment. Coming back down, she can¡¯t help but notice the giant, black-plate armored man standing in the middle of the line, his chest heaving with each monstrous breath that seems to shake the very nervous person in front of him. He seems oddly out of place there, his hulking frame dwarfing the nervous adventurers in front and behind him. Fresh can¡¯t help but notice how accustomed she¡¯s gotten to all of the clothes people wear here. She doesn¡¯t even think twice about the bright, colorful armors they all wear anymore. But since everyone here wears such bright things, somehow the dark-cobalt armor of the man is more noticeable than any of the vibrant hues. Looking down at her own black robe, she sighs. She has the money, she really should buy herself some more clothes. Sure, she hand-washes her robe from time to time, but¡­ maybe it is kind of gross, only having one outfit? Well, she also has her old dress. But ever since she had gotten something more obscuring, she hasn¡¯t had the self-confidence to wear that old thing again. She hopes Jubilee hasn¡¯t been judging her for it. Her party-member always wears the same manner of outfit, an obscuring cloak with their mask. But she¡¯s surprised how often Jubilee switches the colors of their equipment, just about every day actually. To her, Jubilee seems like a moody type who would only ever wear black, yet there they were, downstairs yelling at a frantically working Basil, wearing their bright-green outfit that she had seen them in on her very first day here. Her eyes catch Basil and her white-robe, which is very well maintained and clean, yet she can¡¯t help but notice that the cuff of it, down around the priestess¡¯ ankles is somewhat dirty. Looking back down the stairs to the crowd, she looks at the other priests and priestesses in line. All of them share the same markings. Dirt, dust and a little muck stains the bottom fringes of their white robes. She smiles, having decided on what to do with the ectoplasm. The member of the sect approaches the counter and an oddly twitchy Jubilee and an expectedly twitchy Basil lift the greatsword together out onto it. The giant man clasps it with his dark-metal gauntlets, lifting the blade up to inspect it. His heavy breathing grows just a little stronger, as his shadowy eyes, hardly visible only through the vertical slits of his helmet, shine just a little as they run over the giant bone-sword that is almost as large as he is. ¡°This is,¡± he looks at the macabre bone-work running along the handle, the crowd behind him shifts back a few steps as does Basil, as he gazes over the massive sword which he holds in a single hand, his eyes sparing no notice to anything other than it. ¡°- pleasing.¡± He nods to Jubilee and then looks up towards the girl in black, still standing on the stairs, before walking out of the shop without another word, heading straight towards the dungeon. A sharp voice rings out. ¡°Okay! Keep it moving, show¡¯s over!¡± yells Jubilee at the crowd, none of whom have dared to step forward towards the counter, to stand in the spot where the ominous man was just a moment ago. As if his great shadow was still lingering there. They jab their elbow into Basil¡¯s side. ¡°Get back to work, you fanatic!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a fanatic!¡± argues Basil, receiving only a glare in response, as Jubilee leaves the counter, apparently having stayed there only for that. They look up towards Fresh. ¡°That goes for you too.¡± ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh breaks free from her day-dreaming and runs down the stairs, grabbing the next load of armor from behind the counter. Razmatazz 1) Enjoy the good times while they last *-* 2) RoyalRoad Writathon is over today! Wew, what a sprint. Release schedule is staying the same for now, but I''m tempted to switch to only during work days. Opinions? =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 65: Hunter’s moon Fresh looks at the ectoplasm and then down towards the bundle of spring-green slime that she had asked Basil to buy for her. It¡¯s some goo from slimes, which are apparently common enemies just past the graveyard floors, down in the dungeon. Popping the corks off of both of the small bottles, she pours the contents together into a pot, watching as the two liquids separate. The surprisingly fatty ectoplasm floats on top and the dense, somewhat acidic goo sinks to the bottom. Picking up her grimoire and her ritual-knife, she flips through the pages, her hand instinctively going to the recipes section. Looking over the damp, half-smeared page, she nods, satisfied and closes the grimoire again. Picking up the last ingredient, a still unburnt fern, she rips the wet plant apart, dropping coarse bits of it into the pot before she then stirs it with the ritual-knife, her athame. The concoction swirls, mixing together for a moment and she pulls her knife back out, tapping it against the rim to get the droplets off and watching as the small whirlpool in the pot slows. The different liquids already begin to separate again. Setting the knife down, she holds her hands out over the pot and closes her eyes, focusing her energy on her ability. When applied to wet fabrics, any dirt, smears or grime is bound to the mixture and can be safely washed off. The mildly acidic properties of the mixture will turn any fabric a clean white. Warning: Only for use on white-fabrics. Any dyes will be washed out as well! ? Poison ? If Drunk: - 2% Chance of death - Drains 40 HEALTH points - Drains 20 SOUL points - Causes {unknown} status Normal - No side effects - 250 mL Value: ?? Smiling, she looks at the surprisingly fragrant mixture and carefully fills it into some special bottles that she had prepared beforehand. Unwieldy glass squares with labels, that she went out of her way to paint skulls on, just to be sure that people wouldn¡¯t grab these by mistake. She ponders. They should probably keep these behind the counter, just in case. It''s basically this world''s equivalent of bleach; useful, but dangerous. Happy with the new product however, she begins filling the bottles, making a mental note to give some to Basil to bring back to the church. Surely they would appreciate such an item and the more they did for the church, the more protection from the church they themselves would receive. Sure, they had the adventurer¡¯s guild behind them, sort of and they had the merchant¡¯s guild behind them, sort of and they even had the church behind them, sort of. But¡­ Fresh shakes her head, filling the next bottle. ¡®Sort of¡¯ isn¡¯t good enough. They need them all behind them, entirely, if she ever wants the two of them to be safe. Really and truly safe. It¡¯s still a good product, even for non-adventuring types, but this is more a strategic decision than a business one, in her eyes. Finishing that, she yawns and looks out the window, towards the large, bright moon shining outside with a rusty orange shine. She tilts her head. ¡°Orange¡­?¡± Getting up, Fresh walks over to the window, pushing the shutters and the curtains aside, to look at the large, full, orange moon hanging low in the sky. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh grabs her grimoire, flipping through the damp pages until she reaches the section on moonwater again. ¡°Types of moonlight¡­ During late summer, the moon can shift into a ¡®hunter¡¯s moon¡¯, otherwise known as the ¡®harvest-moon,¡± her finger scans along the page, smearing a line of wet ink. ¡°During these phases it shines with a dull, orange light.¡± She looks back up. It¡¯s just the end of spring though? An impatient finger taps the next line of the book and she looks back down towards it. ¡°When the moon hangs particularly low, it may turn orange as well, despite being out of season. Though this is not a true hunter¡¯s moon.¡± She nods, that makes sense. ¡°The hunter¡¯s moon offers a particularly potent spiritual con.. Conva¡­ convalescence¡­¡± she tilts her head, not sure what that means. ¡°- and is an optimal time for night-work for -¡± The next line is smeared out. ¡°- Is when they hunt.¡± She shrugs, not knowing what that means either. ¡°Effects on moonwater: The light of the hunter¡¯s moon imbues strong healing properties. Fake hunter¡¯s moons offer similar, but weaker effects.¡± Healing properties? She closes the book. ¡°That sounds interesting.¡± Setting her stuff down, she runs outside to gather a pot and some water to make a new batch of moonwater. Phase: Full Medium: Water Strength: 50% Harvest-Moonwater has highly physically restorative and purifying properties and can be used in a variety of ways. From crafting to armor smithing to cooking, harvest-moonwater can be added to any recipe that needs water and will imbue its mystical properties. Warning: Drinking unprocessed harvest-moonwater can lead to disastrous consequences if not of the same title as the witch. Please read section two on processing moonwater. If drank: +5% Stamina +3% STAMINA Regeneration, every two minutes - 12 Hours + Removes draining spirits (50%) Normal - No side effects - 250 mL Value: ??? Fresh smiles, looking at this new concoction. This might just be exactly what she needs. Plundering their pantry and searching through her grimoire, she finds the recipe that she¡¯s been looking for and makes a note to buy the ingredients tomorrow, so that she can make stamina-potions. Satisfied, she sets to work, filling a bunch of new containers with more of the pseudo-moonwater. Soon enough, the next day comes and the girl sleepily makes her way downstairs, greeting Jubilee, who is already getting things ready, as she overslept a little. Fresh apologizes, telling Jubilee about her having stayed up late and shows her the new cleaning product. Jubilee inspects the bottle. ¡°You¡¯re making poison now? Are you stupid?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not poison! It¡¯s to clean clothes with!¡± Jubilee turns the bottle around, showing the skull that she herself drew to her. Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°It¡¯s poisonous, but it¡¯s not poison.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I wanted to give it to Basil,¡± says Fresh. Jubilee looks at her curiously. ¡°You want to poison Basil? That¡¯s pretty dramatic.¡± ¡°No! Jubileeeee~! You aren¡¯t listening,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s for white-clothes! You wash them with it and they become white again,¡± she says, pursing her lips. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Jubilee, opening the item¡¯s window to inspect it. ¡°Yeah, actually, this could be good.¡± They nod, relenting. ¡°White is an unfortunate color to wear while adventuring, but the church insists on it.¡± They think, looking at the bottle. ¡°What did this cost?¡± Fresh goes over the details with Jubilee who nods, thinking. ¡°Okay, we might be able to do something with this after all. For those materials¡­ let¡¯s do thirty-nine.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot!¡± argues Fresh. The ingredients hadn¡¯t cost even close to half that much. ¡°We¡¯re trying to run a business here, not a charity,¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°I wanted to make it so that the church will like us more,¡± argues Fresh. ¡°That won¡¯t work if we¡¯re ripping them off, Jubilee,¡± she says, crossing her arms. ¡°Okay, then we¡¯ll charge thirty-nine for normal people and twenty-nine for priests.¡± Fresh opens an eye to look at Jubilee, considering it. She nods. ¡°Okay! But I want to give Basil some for free.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°She¡¯s not going to fall for you, no matter how much stuff you give her.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m trying to do, Jubilee!¡± protests Fresh, clenching her fists. The door opens and they turn around to see Basil walking in, as if summoned. ¡°Hi, Basil!¡± says Fresh, grabbing the bottle from Jubilee. ¡°I made this for you!¡± she exclaims, holding it out towards Basil. ¡°Good morni -¡± Basil looks up to the bottle of white-liquid with a prominent skull drawn on it, facing towards her and then back up to the smiling girl. Fresh opens her eyes, feeling the awkward silence and she goes on to explain. ¡°It¡¯s not poison!¡± After explaining, Basil carefully, but gratefully, takes the bottle, promising that she¡¯ll try it out. ¡°Maybe¡­ you need to work on the label a little?¡± suggest the priestess. Fresh looks at her then back down to the skull on the bottle. ¡°You think so?¡± She sighs. ¡°Jubilee doesn¡¯t like it either.¡± Her shoulders droop and her head hangs low. ¡°Sure don¡¯t,¡± says Jubilee dryly from back behind the counter. A hand pats her on the back and she looks up in surprise. Basil goes on. ¡°You can do it, you''re very talented,¡± reassures the priestess with a nod, squeezing her shoulder once before turning to walk towards the counter to help get things ready for the day. Fresh tilts her head, realizing that this was the first time the priestess had touched her. It¡¯s been over a week now, which isn¡¯t a long time. But this has been a very turbulent time for the likely still grieving Basil as well, realizes Fresh. She looks back towards the skull, now sitting on the counter. Its laughing smile shines at her, as if it knows something that she doesn¡¯t. Fresh narrows her eyes, staring at the hollow face on the bottle that gazes back at her. She doesn¡¯t like it anymore either. Razmatazz The first step towards stamina potions, wew. Also, we have bleach. So uh... let''s hope nobody drinks the skull liquid by mistake. On the plus side, it smells like fresh spring herbs! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 66: Ju-Basil-eeee~ ¡°Basil! What¡¯s it like to be a priestess?¡± asks Fresh excitedly, walking past behind the counter on her way to collect another load of armor to bring upstairs. Basil thinks for a moment, before answering with a smile. ¡°It¡¯s a lot of work, but it¡¯s very rewarding,¡± says the priestess. Fresh tilts her head, speaking without thinking. ¡°Weren¡¯t you broke, though?¡± Basil flinches, twitching together at the question that stabbed straight into her heart. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t mean financially rewarding,¡± she adds with a somewhat strained smile. ¡°Healers are generally treated very kindly in adventuring parties.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Then how come -¡± Jubilee clears their throat, interrupting her. ¡°Stop bullying the employees!¡± snaps Jubilee without a hint of sarcasm in their voice. ¡°Huh?!¡± Fresh puffs out her cheek. ¡°I¡¯m not bullying Basil! I really wanted to know!¡± ¡°Get back to work, you goo-brain!¡± barks Jubilee and Fresh sticks out her tongue, grabbing another load of armor and carrying it upstairs, keeping her tongue outstretched towards Jubilee the entire time. Even after she goes upstairs and is out of sight. Simply out of principle. A few minutes later, having arranged everything, she comes back down, her tongue back inside of her mouth. ¡°Basil?¡± asks the girl. ¡°Yes?¡± asks Basil, looking over towards her from behind the counter. ¡°Where does magic come from?¡± ¡°Magic?¡± Basil thinks for a moment, she raises a finger, explaining. ¡°From your soul-points, which were granted to you from birth, by the divine.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, stepping down to stand next to the counter. ¡°So what are soul-points?¡± Basil shifts her hands as she explains. ¡°They¡¯re a representation of the energy inside of your soul.¡± ¡°So I have a soul?¡± asks Fresh, philosophizing. ¡°Of course,¡± affirms Basil. ¡°Otherwise you wouldn¡¯t have soul-points,¡± says Basil with a smile. ¡°Would you like me t -¡± ¡°Get back to work, you slackers!¡± yells Jubilee at both of them. Basil jumps back upright, returning to the counter. Having nothing to do, she shuffles through the ledger to at least appear to be busy. Jubilee turns their gaze back towards Fresh, who sticks her tongue back out at them again a second time. She grabs another load of armor and walks up the stairs, looking at the anti-ghost sigil on the door as she passes it. ¡°Having soul-points means you have a soul, huh?¡± mutters the girl to herself as she returns to her room. Five minutes later, she comes back down again. ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh, thinking. Basil turns towards her uneasily, perhaps hesitant about being yelled at again. ¡°¡­Yes?¡± ¡°If monsters sometimes come out of the dungeon, why doesn¡¯t the church have people outside watching it at night?¡± Basil fidgets nervously, not averting her eyes, but clearly wanting to. As her head turns an inch to the side, as if she were in the process of starting to look away but never quite managed to finish. ¡°The only thing that needs to be watched at night is you,¡± says Jubilee from across the store, breaking the tense silence. ¡°Don¡¯t you have anything better to do?¡± they ask. ¡°If you¡¯re bored, go to town or something and buy some more materials. Or fix the walls up or whatever.¡± Fresh sighs, going back upstairs to get her bag to take with her. Coming back down, she wonders about something else however. ¡°¡­Basil?¡± The priestess nervously looks up towards Fresh, who has her finger on her chin, staring up towards the ceiling. Fresh looks over, checking to see if Jubilee is busy right now. Seeing them arguing with a customer, she turns back to Basil. ¡°What¡¯s your favorite color?¡± Basil tilts her head, surprised by the rather simple question this time. ¡°Hmm¡­ if I had to say, I guess it would be orange.¡± ¡°Orange?¡± asks Fresh. Basil nods. ¡°A lot of nice things are orange, no matter what season it is. You know? The colorful cakes in spring and there are exotic fruits in summer -¡± The priestess goes on, gesturing with her hands as she explains, apparently very excited. ¡°- In autumn you have fresh breads and pies and then in winter, a nice, warm orange fire to cook heavy stews over.¡± She nods, as if reaffirming all of these statements for herself. ¡°That¡¯s why orange is my favorite color.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, somewhat taken aback at the specifics of the priestess¡¯ explanation. ¡°You¡¯ve really thought about this a lot, Basil.¡± Basil laughs quietly, waving her off with an idle hand. ¡°When you spend as many hours as I have cleaning and doing chores in the church, you have a lot of time to think about these things,¡± says the priestess, grabbing her stomach out of instinct, as if to keep it quiet. ¡°You sure have a lot of time to think right now,¡± says an agitated voice next to them. Basil pulls together in a jolt, clears her throat and faces back towards the open ledger, even if there are no customers. ¡°Ju-bi-leeeee~!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°There¡¯s nothing going on, don¡¯t be a jerk!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not being a jerk!¡± argues Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re trying to run a business here, so -¡± they shoo her away. ¡°Go do something productive.¡± Jubilee points at Basil. ¡°That¡¯s why we hired someone in the first place, so you could get more work done. Not so you could have someone to gossip with!¡± Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°I want to talk to Basil though! So I will if I want to! Right, Basil? You want to talk too, right?¡± Fresh turns towards Basil, who looks somewhat troubled. Jubilee glares up at the priestess who had opened her mouth to speak and she quickly closes it again. Fresh clenches her fists and leans in towards the priestess who looks back at her with scared eyes. ¡°Basil! Tell Jubilee!¡± Jubilee glares at them. ¡°Yeah Basil, tell me.¡± Basil nervously fidgets, unsure what to do. ¡°Basil!¡± cries Fresh. The leather of Jubilee¡¯s gloves creaks as they clench their fists. ¡°Basil.¡± The priestess¡¯ head turns back and forth as the two argue for her. She sighs, relenting, her shoulders drooping as she has come to a choice. Fresh pouts, puffing out her cheeks as she walks down the main street of the city alone, towards the central plaza. Basil had chosen Jubilee, though Fresh can¡¯t help but feel like it was only because the priestess is afraid of her friend. She sighs, releasing the tension in her own body as she walks. She supposes Jubilee can be a really scary person, if you don¡¯t know them well. Though her friend wasn¡¯t entirely wrong about the reasons for them having hired someone, she still wants to talk to the priestess, to get to know her better. Jubilee seemed to have some issue with that, though Fresh supposes she understands why. Given Jubilee¡¯s reluctance to invite the priestess into the business to begin with. The girl scratches the back of her head, looking down the alley to Donata¡¯s store as she passes it by. The old building sits hauntingly empty and vacant on the end of the way. Walking down towards it, she looks in through the dusty windows. Everything is gone. The potions, the shelves, the cases that were full of strange ingredients. The whole building is simply an empty shell. She hopes the plants were taken out by someone who will water them but¡­ she isn¡¯t optimistic about it, as she goes back down the way towards the general store. She has a little money now, so she wants to get some more materials for her renovations and an actual cauldron for the armor repairs. It¡¯s a little clich¨¦, perhaps; a witch with a cauldron. But the tiny pot is dangerous to repair things in. She had almost knocked it over several times and if she did, she¡¯d have to wait until the next moonless night to make a new one. They could lose up to two weeks of repair-work in the worst case, that would be a disaster. She enters the general store and talks to the man about cauldrons, eventually deciding on one. Bought: 1 [Iron Cauldron]{50L}(Normal) for [{600} Obols] ! Waving goodbye to the man from the small store, she goes over to the tailor¡¯s and stands in front of the door. Even now, she needs to muster her courage a little before opening the door and stepping inside of the odd store. The many mannequins, perhaps now somewhat familiar with her, stand as time-frozen as ever. While their posture is a little looser than last time, she can¡¯t help but notice how guarded and wary many of them still seem to be. Approaching the counter, she greets the strange, lanky man, as he comes out and discusses how she wants a few rugs for the upstairs part of the store and to ask what he recommends. In the end, she opts for one large one for each of their rooms and a long, thinner one for the upstairs corridor. She realizes that they need new curtains too, because the old ones are ghastly. But she opts to make those herself. Bought: 2 [Rug (200x290cm)] for [{250} Obols] ! Bought: 1 [Rug (120x290cm)] for [{200} Obols] ! The tall man nods to her as she leaves, promising that they will be delivered by the time she is back. The decision of the color, she had left up to him, as the girl is growing to trust the odd tailor¡¯s judgment on such matters. She had also asked him about some new clothes for herself and he had said to come back in a week, he would have something by then. Passing by some stalls, she stops, looking at the colorful arrays of fruits lining the rows. She tilts her head, realizing something as she looks around the busy plaza, her eyes rising up to the trees, where she hears something else in the air. A lazy buzzing, like that of cicadas, mixes in with the whistling of the birds. ¡°It¡¯s summer,¡± she says to herself, realizing suddenly how much time had passed. Smiling, she buys a large basket of mixed fruits for them to share from one of the stalls. Carrying it under her arm, she beams as she walks through the sunlight, heading back to her home, expertly maneuvering her way through the busy crowds of adventurers. Maybe Jubilee would be less cranky if they got some vitamins? They had been eating nothing but street food and dried provisions for so long now. Fresh quietly wishes that they had a kitchen to prepare real food in. But until Jubilee finally opens up a little, literally, and lets them use the other rooms, she would just have to make do like this. Summer, huh? They would have to change out the color of their bags, away from the spring-yellow tone. Maybe orange? She looks down at the basket, double checking that there are enough orange fruits for her to give Basil. There are. ¡°I wonder what Jubilee''s favorite color is?¡± Entering their store, she looks at Jubilee, who is lecturing Basil about something else now. ¡°Jubileee~?¡± asks Fresh and the two of them turn to look over to her. One in relief and one in annoyance. ¡°What¡¯s your favorite color?¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Oh, sure. Now you ask me.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± She stops for a moment, placing a hand to cover her gasping mouth as she suddenly realizes a possible explanation for her friend¡¯s snarkiness today. ¡°Wait, Jubilee! Are you jealous that I was talking to Basil?¡± Her friend puts their hands on their hips. ¡°The only thing I¡¯m jealous of is how much free time you apparently seem to have!¡± Fresh tilts her head, lifting the basket to display it. ¡°I got fruit for us to share, Jubilee!¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Good idea. Maybe something healthy will help cure your goo-brain.¡± Fresh narrows her gaze. ¡°Maybe something healthy will help your goo-brain!¡± pouts the girl, mimicking her friend and walking in to set the basket down onto the counter. ¡°Here, feel free to take some too, Basil!¡± smiles the girl to the priestess, whose eyes light up. ¡°No eating behind the counter during work hours!¡± says Jubilee to Basil, who was already reaching for one of the long, orange fruits Fresh wags her finger in the air. ¡°As party-leader, I explicitly allow eating behind the counter!¡± She crosses her arms. ¡°In fact. I expect it.¡± Basil looks to Jubilee and then back up to Fresh and then back to the basket. The priestess makes her choice and rubs the piece of orange fruit onto her robe, before taking a large bite out of it. Fresh flashes a smug, victorious smile to Jubilee who just sighs, shaking their head. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 67: Three Fresh stands outside, just next to the dungeon gate. But her eyes don¡¯t look towards the dungeon, rather she scans the ring of houses around the plaza, looking for what it is that¡¯s bothering her. It¡¯s the middle of the night. The rest of the last day was quiet and uneventful, but she was happy that Jubilee relented and the two of them shared what was left of the fruits for dinner. Basil had taken a few for herself, on top of the ones she ate during her shift. Apparently, the priestess has a real thing for food. But that¡¯s not what¡¯s important right now to her. No, what¡¯s important now is¡­ this¡­ Figuring out what it is that¡¯s bugging her. Fresh crosses her arms, feeling a cool night-wind on her clammy skin as she stares at the ring of multi-storied, timber-frame houses which line the inner edge of the dungeon plaza. Tilting her head, she lifts an arm and points a finger at Jubilee¡¯s house, her gaze resting on the front door as she counts from the ground up. ¡°One.¡± That¡¯s the store. ¡°Two.¡± She lifts her arm. That¡¯s where their rooms are. Her arm lifts one floor higher however. ¡°Three?¡± She lowers her arm again, scratching her cheek as she thinks. Three? Looking at the run-down house, she realizes that it¡¯s like all of the others around here and has three floors. But¡­ she hasn¡¯t even seen any other stairs. She tilts her head the other way, as if shifting her perspective would cause everything to make sense at once. It doesn¡¯t. The house had always looked like this, she¡¯s sure of that. But somehow she just never really paid it any mind. Kind of like how she ¡®saw¡¯ her inventory for the longest time, but didn¡¯t. She tilts her head back the other way. ¡°No, still three.¡± She sighs. Having two rooms locked off to her is bad enough, though she really doesn¡¯t even look at the handles of the doors anymore. But a whole floor? She tilts her head back the other way again, supposing there¡¯s probably a staircase behind one of the closed doors. Fresh shakes her head, determined to ask Jubilee about it tomorrow. No matter how scary her friend can be sometimes. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she turns towards the dungeon. First of all, there is something more important to do. Mr. Mushroom should have respawned by now and there are things she wants to talk to him about. Stepping through the blue fog, she enters inside and heads down the stairs. Reaching the bottom, she carefully bends down and looks at the familiar hole in the wall, the cursed-dagger in one hand, just in case. ¡°Excuse me?¡± she asks, not sure how her new ability works. Something stirs in the darkness in the back of the hole. ¡°Sorry. Mr. Mushroom? Are you awake?¡± whispers the girl, leaning in towards the hole with her hand next to her mouth. ¡°Nyaaaah?¡± calls out a sleepy voice, as she sees something wet blink, the pupils glistening in the darkness of the back of the hole. Two moist eyes open wide, the firelight of the torches outside reflecting off of them as they bring her into focus. The mushroom narrows its eyes in agitation and Fresh flinches, feeling its cool gaze. ¡°Nyah!¡± yells the mushroom in anger, seeing her once again. Fresh raises her hands, waving to the thing that is approaching. ¡°Wait! I just want to talk! I don¡¯t want to fight today,¡± she says nervously. ¡°Nyaaaah?¡± asks Mr. Mushroom, who doesn¡¯t loosen his suspicious gaze, but slowly crawls out towards the entrance. The girl nods, answering his question. ¡°Nyah.¡± ¡°Nyah?¡± asks Mr. Mushroom. Fresh nods enthusiastically. ¡°Nyah!¡± Mr. Mushroom grumbles, but relents with a loud yawn, apparently convinced by her arguments. But he¡¯s still sour because she woke him up in the middle of the night. He asks her to get to the point, so he can go back to sleep. ¡°Nyah, Nyah?¡± asks Fresh. Mr. Mushroom thinks for a second and then nods. ¡°Nyah.¡± But then adds on at the end a particularly cold statement. ¡°Nyah.¡± ¡°Nyaaah,¡± says Fresh, laughing uneasily and tapping her chin as she thinks. Mr. Mushroom yawns again and slowly crawls back into his hole. Remembering her manners, Fresh reaches into her bag and pulls out a piece of fruit, sliding it towards him and nodding. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Mushroom!¡± Mr. Mushroom nods, biting the red fruit to drag it back into the darkness, willing to compromise with her this time. If only because he is tired. Fresh thinks, looking around the dungeon as she ponders the answer he gave her and its implications. Apparently, he remembers her. Sort of. He remembers that he killed her and he remembers that she killed him. Twice now. Apparently, the fact that both of them are still here despite that doesn¡¯t really bother him. Or he simply isn¡¯t able to process the logistics of it. Fresh can¡¯t help but think that his phrasing seemed rather¡­ primitive. Despite that, he had made a rather threatening promise to her that next time, he would even things out. The girl sighs. ¡°Everyone is so cut-throat in this world.¡± She turns around to go back upstairs, not having entirely given up on her secret hopes of becoming friends with Mr. Mushroom. Maybe even the snails? She ponders, heading up towards the blue fog. Maybe even the boss? Did the flower count as low-level? She sighs. Jubilee would never forgive her if she went into a boss arena alone though. Even if she can respawn, she¡¯s thankful that she hasn¡¯t had to since then. ¡°Do chickens count as forest monsters?¡± she wonders aloud, before shrugging and heading back outside. After returning back inside of the store, Fresh looks around, curious now. Walking up the stairs, past the pantry, she looks at the closed doors that she had never tried to open. Fresh wonders what could be behind them. For this entire time, she had kept it out of her mind. So much so, that she didn¡¯t even notice the doors anymore every day when she walked past them to and from her room. The girl leans back against the wall, next to the corridor window as she looks at the dusty door handles. What could be in the rooms that Jubilee doesn¡¯t want her to see? Her eyes wander down the old hallway of the house, down along the length of the new taupe colored rug that lines the corridor. This place had been so spooky and surreal when she first saw it, like it was frozen in time. Dust and shadows covered everything. But now, through a lot of her own time and effort, it was slowly coming to life again, together with its owner. Sometimes everyone just needs a friend, she supposes, looking back towards the lonely looking doors. ¡°It was a group investment, huh?¡± she mumbles, remembering Jubilee¡¯s words when she first came here. Did Jubilee have a party before she had arrived? What happened to them? Jubilee is really strong, so they must have gone deep into the dungeon. Were these their rooms, perhaps? That seems like the obvious conclusion. Jubilee had let her have the one room as her own, but it was entirely empty when she entered it. She purses her lips and looks back to the closed doors. She wants to look. But she doesn¡¯t. It¡¯s none of her business. Fresh shakes her head and walks away. ¡°I promised Jubilee I wouldn¡¯t go into them,¡± she tells herself, looking up to the ceiling above herself curiously. Fresh stops. She promised Jubilee she wouldn¡¯t go into the locked rooms here in the corridor. A smile grows on her face as she heads back towards the pantry, an idea coming to her. Perhaps a bad idea, but an idea nonetheless. Opening the door and quietly closing it behind herself, she steps into the pantry that is illuminated by the many potions lining the shelves. Walking towards the barrel in the back, the girl climbs up on top of it and runs her fingers along the boards of the ceiling above her head, checking for one that might be a little loose. Sure enough, she finds one and pushes it to the side. She had promised Jubilee that she wouldn¡¯t go into the rooms in the corridor. But she never said anything about an upstairs area. Is that a twisting of words? Perhaps. But her curiosity has overtaken her sense of morals now, addled by her tired mind that should have been in bed hours ago. Somehow though, ever since she had gotten her class, she finds herself awake more and more often at night. The lack of sleep still bothers her, but somehow¡­ It feels nice at the same time. The tiredness under her eyes when the morning sun came to rise, the cool, cold, clamminess on her skin when she feels the morning dew coat her body when she opens the windows wide to air out the house. The exhaustion numbs her inhibitions, letting her talk to her friend easier with less fear and angst. She pushes a second board to the side and looks into the little hollow space between the floors. Maybe it¡¯s just like back then though, when she was laying in her bed on the last night of her old life. Maybe it¡¯s like when that cold feeling came to her and she embraced it in an act of minor-self harm. She shakes her head, realizing that she had promised herself to put that part of her life behind her. But¡­ Her eyes lock up towards the gap in the ceiling and she reaches up through the hollow space, pushing against the next boards above. Pushing against the floorboards of the third floor. They budge, revealing an empty space above. Too curious to stop now, she grabs a lantern and lifts it up on the tips of her toes to set it down above herself. Straining herself, kicking against the wall, Fresh flails and struggles as she steps onto a shelf against the wall by the barrel and pushes herself up and into the dark room, entering into the third floor. Razmatazz Ah, it''s been too quiet lately. How are you feeling about a ''Fresh blindly runs into a situation without thinking about it'' arc again? It''s been a while! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 68: As above Midnight moonlight shines in through the caked, dust painted windows. The dull glow barely manages to creep inside of the room, intermingling with the light of the lantern that Fresh has dulled by half, closing the shutters on the small device. She holds it up above her head, shining it around the room and wiggling her nose, doing her best not to sneeze. Her presence here seems to have disturbed the long since sleeping dust, rousing it into the air. The whole room is filled with dust. Dust covers everything, like fallen snow obscuring an old grave. ¡°A grave¡­¡± mumbles Fresh to herself, lifting the cut of her robe up to cover her nose as she repeats the word in her mind. The air is cold and stagnant. Any warmth that she had been able to create downstairs, clearly never made its way up here. Whether that warmth was of a physical nature or of a spiritual one, it didn¡¯t quite matter as neither of those are present now. There is only herself, the dull light and that strange, cold feeling in her gut. That familiar sad, lonely feeling as she looks around the tomb. The room is simply one large, open space that seems to encompass the entire floor plan of the lower floor, though it¡¯s seemingly divided into two sections by small, waist-high railings and one inner balcony to her right. Walking past the many full bookshelves that line the adjacent walls, much to the girl¡¯s delight, she turns to look down the railing to the left of the hole. A small staircase of only two steps long separates the part she is on now from the lower one down there. A dark metal pipe runs along the left-hand wall, rising up through the ceiling. In the center of the lower section, is a large table that is covered in papers and scrolls. A ring of empty chairs surrounds it, filled with nothing but forgotten memories. Carefully, she steps down towards it, holding the lantern out above her head as she looks over the table. The small wooden steps creak beneath her weight, as if surprised at having someone tread on them in so long. Outside the windows, the wind blows on, the cool draft seeping into the forgotten room through the cracks, touching her skin and causing her hairs to stand on end as she looks over the table. The papers here are hardly legible anymore. Any ink on them has long since faded or been buried under a mountain of dust that she doesn¡¯t dare disturb, as its absence would be proof of her having been here. Drawings and scribbles cover the bits that she can see. Open books and ledgers with pages and lines marked are everywhere. But none of them seem to make any coherent sense to her. Some of them are about esoteric topics such as starlight and spirituality. Another one that she can see, leaning closer, is about the monsters down in the dungeon and shows a hand-drawn depiction of the sub-boss boss from floor eight. Another one still seems to just be a children¡¯s picture book telling a story about an adventuring slime, pretending to be a human. Looking up around herself as she walks around the large table, she counts the chairs. Six. One of them, she notices, is set just a little higher than the others. Looking against the walls, she sees all manner of oddities lining the spaces where there are no books. Glass crystals with prismatic hues, orbs, strange little figurines and statues and one thing that particularly catches her eye, a tower of horizontally laid out kegs stacked on top of each other. Quietly she taps on one and listens to the empty knock that comes back to her ears. Though whether this had been drunk empty, or if its contents simply evaporated over time, she can¡¯t say. But¡­ her eyes catch the many knick-knacks and little things that fill the space. Tokens, proof of memories that had once been forged. Small charms. Little statuettes of people and creatures, one of which she recognizes as a fairy. A few drawings and sketches of faces that she doesn¡¯t recognize, all of them blurred and worn out, as if time itself had erased even these last depictions of them, causing them to become vague and loose like old, forgotten memories, teetering on the edge of a demented mind. The ink is mostly faded and gone, their features are entirely blurred and indistinct, as if they never really existed. As if the wind itself, creeping in through the cracks in the building, were blowing away the dust of their once having been, returning them entirely to the void. Fresh shivers, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on high and she straightens herself upright and walks back up the little staircase, quietly tiptoeing as she moves past the hole she climbed in from. The middle section of the room is simply an open floor, ironically with a rug in the center. A small side table is against the far wall, beneath a large nook of an alcove window that she assumes looks out over the plaza. The spot itself looks as if it was once highly valued. The little ¡®bench¡¯ beneath the window is covered in old pillows and blankets and an old book lays on the heap. Quietly, she walks over towards it, looking down at presumably the last thing that somebody had ever read. ¡°Of demons and the night sky,¡± mumbles the girl curiously as she looks at the thick, heavy looking and apparently well read book, but daring not to touch it. Pursing her lips, she straightens back up again and looks over to her left. She knew it. ¡°Demons are real.¡± She wiggles her toes in her boots, making sure they haven¡¯t been stolen, as she looks at the last thing remaining. A final staircase. Also short, but not as short as the one down to the ¡®meeting area¡¯, as she dubs it. Counting it, she sees nine steps of the single, railing-less staircase in the middle of the room, that leads up to a tiny inner balcony which looks over the large, open space. Quietly creeping up the protesting stairs, the witch makes her way up through the darkness, her body suspended in the blue light of her lantern as she peers out into the space above herself, just below the roof. A single bed and a small dresser sit here. But more interesting is the big, slanted window on the ceiling. Below it sits a large, expensive appearing, bronze looking-glass that is pointed towards the heavens above. Or at least towards the grime-caked window that now separates this room from the night-sky. Stepping up, she looks over the railing to the space back behind herself. She isn¡¯t sure, but if she had to give this whole place a name or a purpose, it would be a ¡®party headquarters¡¯. She assumes that this is where they all met and planned and lived their shared lives out together. Judging by the kegs and the books and the many pillows and trinkets, this is also where they relaxed and spent their free time together. It¡¯s where they collected their memories and interests, whatever they may once have been. The whole place looks like one day somebody just locked the door and then never came back in again. She glances towards the telescope, interested in trying it out. But she doesn¡¯t want to disturb the resting place any further than she already has. Her eyes wander to the dresser. Presumably, whoever slept in this single bed likely kept their clothes in it. The sheets of the bed are tucked in nicely, as if someone had made it in the morning, but then never returned to it. Her hand reaches out for the dresser. Maybe there¡¯s just some clothes and some old underwear. But maybe there¡¯s a diary? A journal? Something. Her fingers graze the edge of the bronze handle and she stops and then lowers her hand again. She¡¯s seen enough. This isn¡¯t her business. Whatever is buried here, isn¡¯t hers to dig up, no matter how curious about her friend and their past she is. Nodding to herself, she quietly creeps back to the hole and lowers herself down it, together with the lantern, before covering it back up with the loose boards. Extinguishing the lantern, she sets it back onto the shelf. Peeking out that the coast is clear, she then sneaks back into her room to at least get a couple of hours of sleep tonight. While she manages to fall asleep very quickly, her restless dreams are disturbed with images of herself looking through the telescope, gazing up towards the distant night-sky in terror, as she sees thousands of forgotten faces staring back down at her. Demons of the night, descending down unto the world, coming to take her and her friend¡¯s feet while they sleep. Razmatazz The more reviews I get, the more likely it is that readers will find this story, which in turn helps me keep it going! If you don''t want to write a review, please consider just anonymously clicking on the stars instead. Only a single click of yours can make a world of difference for me in the ratings! Thank you! <3 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 69: So below Fresh rubs her tired eyes, yawning as she stretches herself out in her bed. The girl¡¯s lower back pops and she yelps in pain, the tension in her body falling slack as she stops her stretching and sinks back down into her mattress, exhaling a long breath. Taking a moment to breathe in again, the sore girl gets up and takes a second deep breath of the morning air, realizing something. It feels unusually crisp inside of the house right now. She sits upright, listening to the noises of the outside world that also seem particularly loud today. The babbling of the fountain, the excited voices of the first people heading towards the dungeon. Fresh looks around and throws on her robe, taking a moment to make sure that there¡¯s no dust or grime on it from her ¡®adventuring¡¯ last night. Sitting up out of the bed, she places her feet down. Today not onto cold floorboards, but rather down onto the large rug that she had bought. Smiling to herself, she wiggles her toes through the fabric. Their presence is proof that they were safe from the demons for one more night. Fresh throws on her robe, taking a moment to see if it smells like adventure. It seems to be fine, for now. Getting up, Fresh walks to the door of her room and unlocks it, opening it wide and sticking her face out into the corridor. A cool, morning breeze strokes her skin, carrying with it the smell of some hearty, rich foods. Her eyes light up and she lifts her head a little as she smells the air, looking down the hallway. The hallway window is wide open, the curtains pulled open and morning air streams inside together with the voices of summer birds and the early song of waking cicadas. There is another sound that she can¡¯t place. Summer has come now in full. It¡¯s getting warmer day by day. Thankful that it¡¯s still rather cool now though, especially in the mornings, she walks barefoot down the hallway towards the stairs. ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh curiously. ¡°Good morning,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m down in the shop,¡± calls her friend from below. Something seems off though, something in their voice that Fresh can¡¯t quite place. The girl walks down the stairs, looking at the counter that is lined with a fairly broad selection of foods and drinks. Steam still rises out of the cups. That odd sound is also still in the air, a sound that she recognizes, but can¡¯t quite place into this context of her new life. ¡°Jubilee¡­?¡± asks Fresh, rubbing her eyes as she yawns again, feeling the cool morning air on her skin. The sound stops. ¡°I got us breakfast today,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh tilts her head, looking at her friend who is arranging the chickens again. Jubilee is wearing their usual outfit, but a bright blue one that she doesn¡¯t recognize. It apparently hasn¡¯t seen the light of day often, as there are barely any tatters and rips in the fabric at all, which is highly unusual for Jubilee¡¯s clothes. A dried, pink flower is pinned to the side of the hood, just by the left ear. The outfit is oddly¡­ ¡°¡­Dainty,¡± says Fresh, thinking with a finger to her chin. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, looking back at her. ¡°Ah, nothing!¡± The girl rubs her hair, wondering why Jubilee likes doing that, as she watches them turn the chicken again. But she decides not to ask, deciding to just be happy that there is something that they enjoy doing. ¡°You¡¯re up early,¡± says the girl, looking at the open window down here too. ¡°I like your clothes.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee, turning the chicken once again as the sound returns. Fresh finally realizes what it is. Jubilee is humming. Fresh looks at her friend¡¯s back in surprise. Her eyes shift over the open window, to the food on the counter and then back towards Jubilee who is dressed in bright, undamaged clothes and wearing a flower. The girl¡¯s mind processes the things that she¡¯s seeing, but doesn¡¯t quite manage to take hold of the summation of all of these facts. Suddenly hurrying towards her friend, she grabs Jubilee, who yelps as she spins them around. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she leans in. ¡°Are you sick? Should I go get Basil?!¡± She places her wrist on Jubilee¡¯s mask to check their temperature. ¡°You¡¯re ice cold!¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t even yell at her, they simply tilt their head and brush her hands off of themselves. Fresh jumps up, pointing to them. ¡°Stay there! I¡¯ll be right back!¡± says the girl, getting up to go run outside. ¡°Are you stupid?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Fresh stops as something tugs on the frill of her robe. ¡°Jubileeee~¡± whines the girl with a quivering lip as she looks at her friend with worry. Jubilee sighs, letting her robe go as they walk towards the counter. ¡°Can we just eat breakfast? I¡¯m starving, I¡¯ve been down here smelling it this whole time.¡± They look back to her. ¡°Put on some socks, nobody wants to see your ugly goblin-feet.¡± Fresh looks down to her feet, wiggling her toes again and then back towards Jubilee who is apparently fine after all. ¡°I don¡¯t have ugly goblin-feet! You have ugly goblin-feet!¡± protests Fresh, crossing her arms. Jubilee sighs, getting a plate ready for themselves and then sitting down behind the counter. Fresh tilts her head curiously, watching as her friend vanishes. ¡°Are you coming or not?¡± asks Jubilee. She smiles, if only to herself and gets a plate of her own ready and sits down on the other side of the counter. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re in a good mood today. Thank you for getting breakfast!¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t answer with more than a grunt, which Fresh finds oddly relieving. She ponders asking Jubilee about the upstairs area, if for only a brief moment. But even she knows that Jubilee would be furious with her if she admitted to it, even if they were particularly chipper today for whatever reason. Maybe it¡¯s their birthday? Hmm¡­ no¡­ she doesn¡¯t feel like that¡¯s it. Feeling bad about having given in to her curiosity like she did last night, she quietly begins eating her fill of the breakfast and then some. She isn¡¯t too hungry, but Jubilee has gone out of their way to make an effort, so she wants to show that she appreciates that. ¡°I had an idea,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh drinks a sip of her hot tea and listens. ¡°Do you think you can make normal things?¡± ¡°Normal things?¡± asks Fresh curiously. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee¡¯s voice. ¡°You know, like tools? Hammers or scissors or saws. Or maybe some other things like cups or bowls or bags?¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Uh¡­ I think so, yeah. But do adventurers need those things?¡± ¡°Not everyone is an adventurer, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You make all sorts of weird, creepy shit. But only adventurers want that stuff. But if we had some normal things, we could pull in the non-adventurers as well,¡± they explain. ¡°It¡¯s a whole market segment that we¡¯re ignoring right now.¡± The sound of ripping bread comes from behind the counter. ¡°Yeah, I think I can do that!¡± replies Fresh, thinking about what kinds of objects counted as ¡®normal¡¯ things. Soon after, Basil comes in, the woman¡¯s eyes wide as she stares at the still substantial pile of food sitting on the counter. Fidgeting nervously, she does her best to ignore it and sets to work after greeting them both. Jubilee gets up from behind the counter, setting their mask back on, as Basil enters and the woman stops, staring transfixed at the light blue Jubilee with the pink flower on their head. ¡°You have three seconds to get to work or you¡¯re fired,¡± states Jubilee very dryly. Basil yelps and runs around the counter, grabbing the ledger to get it ready for the day. Fresh gets up as well and leans over the counter, whispering to Basil and pushing the platter towards the woman. ¡°Help yourself, Basil. Jubilee¡¯s in a good mood today,¡± says the girl with a wink to the priestess, whose tight posture loosens just a little, as she looks at the temptations before her. Fresh returns upstairs to start looking into new ideas. She also wants to spruce up the pantry today to make it rat-proof. She supposes refrigerators don¡¯t exist here. But maybe if there¡¯s some kind of ice-magic or something along those lines, she could think of something? The girl calls down the stairs. ¡°Basil?¡± ¡°Yesh?¡± asks the priestess with a whole sweet-roll in her mouth. ¡°Are there ice-monsters in the dungeon?¡± The priestess swallows with some difficulty and then thinks for a moment. ¡°I think so, but they¡¯re deeper down. I¡¯ve heard around floor thirty-two.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. Thirty-two? That¡¯s really deep. She sighs. Any drops from them would be expensive. ¡°Baaaasil~?¡± ¡°Yef?¡± asks the woman who was brave enough to take a second sweet-roll, even with Jubilee watching her. ¡°How deep is the dungeon?¡± asks Fresh. Basil swallows, striking her chest as she clears her throat. ¡°It¡¯s said to be one-hundred floors deep. All dungeons are, as far as I know.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, nodding. ¡°Thanks Basil!¡± Basil nods with a smile, taking a third roll from the platter. Fresh tilts her head, looking at the woman who returns to her work, opening the shop up for the day. She really likes food and money. The girl scratches her cheek. She wonders if those are maybe bad qualities for a priestess? Shrugging, she walks into the pantry, doing her best to not look at the boards on the corner of the ceiling, as she stares around the rest of the room for a few minutes, trying to come up with an idea. ¡°Hey!¡± snaps Jubilee from down next to her. ¡°IAH!¡± yelps Fresh, flailing with her arms at the sudden appearance of her friend. ¡°I wasn¡¯t doing anything!¡± Jubilee tilts their head, looking at the girl standing in the pantry. ¡°Yeah? I see that.¡± They shake their head. ¡°Listen up, goo-brain, some schmuck from the guard just came in.¡± ¡°The guard?¡± asks the girl. ¡°Yeah, the guard? You know? The city guards?¡± Fresh shrugs. She isn¡¯t sure she had ever seen such people before. Guards? The gate to the front plaza of the city is wide open and unguarded. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Look, I told you.¡± They wave a letter at her. ¡°They just placed an order for the lanterns.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± says Fresh, clenching her fists in front of herself in excitement. ¡°How many?¡± ¡°Three-hundred.¡± The room is quiet. ¡°Huh?¡± asks the girl, not sure if she heard right. ¡°Three-hundred,¡± repeats Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Jubileeeee~! That¡¯s a lot!¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°It is.¡± They look down as if disgusted. ¡°Because of the bulk order, they¡¯re also paying ten percent less than retail price.¡± Fresh is quiet and Jubilee looks up to her, annoyed. ¡°That¡¯s a lot!¡± they say this time. ¡°Until when?¡± asks the girl nervously, looking around the pantry. They didn¡¯t have the materials for even close to that many lanterns. It would take her ages to make that many, especially if she has to make all the other items too. Where would they even store that many lanterns at once? The pantry is far too small. ¡°They want them by the harvest-moon at the end of summer.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, surprised to hear Jubilee talk about that. ¡°The harvest-moon? You goo-brain. You know? When the moon gets big and orange during the end of summer?¡± They cross their arms. ¡°That¡¯s still plenty of time. If you make a couple extra every night and we set them on the side, we¡¯ll be fine. This is a big opportunity for us.¡± ¡°Is it?¡± ¡°Of course it is!¡± says Jubilee as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°Ignoring the fact that we¡¯re making a ton of cash from the sale. If the guard wants some, then the church will come next.¡± They crumple the letter in their hands into a ball and throw it into the corner. ¡°We¡¯re going to have a busy summer,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°So get yourself some work clothes with short sleeves, it gets hot here.¡± They look down at her still bare feet. ¡°And put on some shoes.¡± Fresh narrows her eyes and grumbles, wiggling her toes at Jubilee in protest. Razmatazz Trivia - The Harvest Moon You might be surprised, but there really isn¡¯t a ton of mythology around the harvest-moon. It¡¯s mostly a very pragmatic thing. The harvest-moon is called such because of its early rising, shortly after sunset. This makes the evening and night of the moon particularly bright, which was of great use for agricultural peoples, who used the opportunity as a signal to harvest their crops. Generally these are found during late summer and autumn. But a ¡®fake¡¯ version of it can often be seen if you get up particularly early in the morning, especially around summer-time, when you can see the moon hanging low as it is about to set, yet it still catches the bright rays of the sun, giving it an orange tinge. The Celtic people used the harvest moon to mark the time before Samhain (which is where the American tradition of Halloween originates from. It never really caught foothold in Europe) They would use this period to organize large gatherings involving singing, dancing and lots and lots of copious amounts of drinking. All in all, it was a good time really. Further north, the Norse people held the red moon to be a particularly strong symbol that was associated with the trickster god, Loki. Worth noting is that the harvest-moon and the ¡®hunter¡¯s-moon¡¯ aren¡¯t actually the same thing, rather, the hunter¡¯s moon is the full moon that rises after the harvest-moon. The term hunter¡¯s moon originally stems from a translation of the Native American¡¯s use of the term. The moon getting its name from the usefulness it allowed their hunting. Though, it¡¯s important to note that this doesn¡¯t just apply to human¡¯s hunting¡­ Further east however, in some ancient cultures, a red moon can be a symbol for a war to come. Note that this is however likely referring to the bloodmoon (A lunar eclipse) and not an orange moon like the harvest-moon. A bloodmoon is however, a topic for another, more dramatic time =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 70: With me out at midnight Fresh holds her hands above the metal-bar and the piece of wood, puffing out her right cheek as she focuses on her crafting ability. Jubilee picks up the hammer and looks at it, swinging it once through the air. ¡°Yeah, nice job,¡± says the figure, clad in bright blue, looking down at the tool in their hands. ¡°We¡¯re becoming all-rounders, so we really should try to carry a little of everything.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, glad that Jubilee likes the hammer. Jubilee rubs the chin of their mask as they think. ¡°Maybe some nails too? We should start with really simple items like that.¡± They nod to her. ¡°Hammers, nails, scissors, knives and little day-to-day things.¡± They look around the store. ¡°We can fill the shelves with some less creepy shit, which will not only draw in more customers, but also keep the church¡¯s eyes off of us a little more. Though¡­¡± They look behind the empty counter. ¡°I think we¡¯ve about settled that problem, honestly.¡± ¡°You think?¡± asks Fresh, curiously, following Jubilee¡¯s gaze to the empty spot behind the counter, where Basil had been standing all day. ¡°Yeah, if they had any suspicions about us, I¡¯d bet they¡¯re buried and gone now. Maybe not under trust but -¡° Jubilee sets the hammer down onto a shelf, leaning it against the back to display it. ¡°- under a fuck-load of coins, at the very least. Turns out money really can buy everything.¡± Fresh nods, not sure that she¡¯s convinced. But if Jubilee feels that way, then she¡¯ll place her faith in that and follow along. The girl scratches her cheek, thinking. ¡°Jubilee~?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± asks her friend, looking back at her. ¡°Do you want to make some backpacks? Like you said too?¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°Yeah, I think I do. I¡¯ve made hundreds of those fucking tote-bags, so my tailoring''s gotten a bit better.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± ¡°I can make the bags, if you can make me some fastenings and latches and things like that. I¡¯ll sketch up what I need tomorrow.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± says Fresh, nodding excitedly, happy that Jubilee wants to make things too. ¡°Anyways, come on, it¡¯s late. Let¡¯s go to bed,¡± says Jubilee, yawning as they move towards the stairs. ¡°I¡¯m gonna be awake a bit longer,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I still want to make some more moonwater and maybe fix a wall or two.¡± ¡°Sure, knock yourself out. Night,¡± says Jubilee, dragging themselves upstairs. ¡°Good night!¡± calls Fresh, smiling as she gets up to set to work. She isn¡¯t quite sure if she is trying to compensate for her secret breach of trust or if she is just eager to be productive. But what she tells herself is that, if Jubilee tried really hard today, then she is going to as well. Going up the stairs, she grabs some wood from the pantry and heads back down to seal the rest of the front down-stairs wall. Literally every other wall in the store is old and decrepit looking in some fashion, save for this one. But that¡¯s fine, she thinks to herself as she rips the next old boards out. Before winter sets, she wants to have every single one of them done and perfect, so that the stupid cold draft can¡¯t get in here anymore. So that nothing can wash away the warmth that she promises herself to fill this place with. Hours pass and Fresh, exhausted, falls back onto her bottom, her palms spread behind herself as she looks at the entirely restored wall with a large smile on her dusty face. The first of many completed. Placing her hand against the tightly sealed seams between the boards, she listens and feels for any inkling of cool night air creeping in. Nothing. With a smug, satisfied grin she gets up and brings the tools and materials away, back up into the pantry that she didn¡¯t manage to finish today after all. Or even start. She sighs. Tomorrow then. There¡¯s always so much work for her to do and there was more and more by the day. She can hardly keep up, even with Basil here now. ¡°It would be easier if we had a second witch,¡± she thinks quietly out loud, scratching her cheek. But she supposes that¡¯s not likely to happen and even if it did, they probably wouldn¡¯t have her unique crafting abilities. Fresh sighs and grabs an empty pot and heads back downstairs, wanting to make some more moonwater, as tonight there is a strong moon again. Stepping outside and walking towards the fountain with the large pot in hand, she looks up towards the night sky. The moon is always so big here and the stars are always so bright. Her gaze transfixed upwards, she stares towards the heavens as she walks around the gate and stops in front of the familiar, babbling fountain. Some metallic noise breaks the silence of the night and the girl blinks, waking up from her trance and looks across to the other side of the large fountain, where the giant man from the sect is. The large bone-sword is strapped to his back with some primitive sling, his head is also locked upwards as he stares towards the moon. His body heaves, as if the breath pushing out of his lungs were too strong for his form to restrain. Feeling her gaze, he looks over to her and then turns away again, staring back up to the night sky. The girl does the same, wondering what it is, specifically, that he is looking at, as she finds her own eyes wandering over the bright blanket covering the world once again. Maybe he¡¯s just staring at it all, just like she is? The water of the fountain babbles on behind them, the only sound in the midnight air, apart from the occasional cooing of a distant night-bird and the yowl of an agitated cat of some kind. Metal clanks as the man turns to walk away, returning back around the gate to go back into the dungeon once again. Fresh notices the reflective shimmering of the man¡¯s helmet, wet with water, as if he had stuck his entire head in the fountain to drink, rather than to take it off, even out here in the dark. Fresh isn¡¯t sure why, but she calls out. ¡°Wait!¡± The man looks over his shoulder, not turning his body around. She knows she shouldn¡¯t talk to him. Jubilee had explicitly forbidden her from doing exactly this. But¡­ if there¡¯s anyone in the world who can tell her about her class. If there¡¯s anyone in this city who can give her a different view on her own existence than any of the ¡®normal¡¯ people here, then it¡¯s this man. The man from the sect. He doesn¡¯t say anything, perhaps waiting for the usual series of degradations and threats that he likely receives in the dark hours as well as the light ones. But he stands there nonetheless, unbothered, unintimidated, waiting. The fountain trickles on, the water splashing with a strange candor, as if it is laughing at a joke that only it understands. ¡°Why do you¡­¡± Fresh fidgets, not sure how to start a conversation with the monstrous, wide eyes that shine out from beneath the overshadowed slits of his dark-cobalt helmet. His possessed gaze, as if shining with a haunting energy from inside that keeps burning with an inextinguishable fury, much like the heavy stars looming above, doesn''t shift an inch as it shines out over the plaza. ¡°Why are you¡­ I mean¡­ why do you¡­¡± Fresh rubs the back of her head, not sure how to talk about witches without talking about witches, in case anyone overhears her. ¡°Why?¡± is all she manages to patch together. A single word. The man stares at her from across the fountain, the zeal in his eyes never faltering as he turns away. ¡°I keep the faith,¡± is all that he says, as he keeps on walking. ¡°Huh¡­?¡± Fresh stands there, watching the giant man disappear back around the other side of the gate, with the empty pot in her hands. As she stands there, her eyes wander towards the fountain and then down to the water just before her. The shimmering water, off of which reflects the pale, gentle moonlight, streaming down from above, washing over both her and her reflection. Down there, down in the water, she sees a single thing. A soft, pale face, tired, exhausted and filled with worry and doubt. If there is a smile on it, it¡¯s simply painted over the frail body beneath it. Like a mask over a skeleton. She tilts her head, looking at the girl in the water who looks back up towards her with worried eyes and she wonders why? Today was a good day. This week was a good week. Things are going well. Fresh looks back to the store, listening to the sound of metal boots clanking across the plaza as the giant walks away. The store. A single, rickety building, filled with shadows and secrets. She looks over the worn down, night-painted wood that encompasses most of it. She understands immediately, as if the whispering of the water was letting her in on the gag. The material is rotting, weak and old. The bones are old and fragile. The warm feelings that she has been trying to trap inside of it are weak and fragile. The flame of a single candle against the screaming cold of the overpoweringly crushing presence of the night itself. The fountain laughs, the water trickling, as if it had known this all along and as if it had found great pleasure in her sudden realization of it. Of the fragility of this all. Of this life. She looks back down to the reflection in the water and it almost seems to reach up for her, to take her down into it, to stop her from running back around her side of the gate, sprinting as she hurries. Before he vanishes inside. ¡°Wait!¡± she calls out again to the man from the sect, nearly half-enveloped by the blue aura of the gate. He doesn¡¯t turn to look at her this time, he simply stands there. Half of him inside of the fog, half of him inside the night of the outside world. ¡°How do I become strong?¡± she asks, her fists clenching the empty pot tightly. ¡°How do I stop being afraid?¡± Fresh asks the dark-cobalt armored giant with the bone-greatsword on his back. The sword that is already covered in notches and nicks from likely countless battles. ¡°You have to believe in something,¡± is all the man says with his final, heavy breath, as he vanishes inside of the dungeon once again, his crushing presence carried by nothing other than his own two feet. Razmatazz Is Fresh becoming a little paranoid lately? Maybe. Does she have a reason to be paranoid? Maybe. Is this all building up to something catastrophic? Maybe. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 71: Fragile Fresh can¡¯t sleep. Instead, she sits cross-legged on the large rug in her room, looking at the pile of coins that she is stacking in front of herself. There are hundreds of Obols here, they¡¯re just some of her earnings since she and Jubilee had paid off their debts to the adventurer¡¯s guild. As she thinks, she idly takes the coins, stacking them on top of each other into little towers. ¡°Fragile,¡± she says, placing a finger against the largest tower. The structure falls in an instant, dozens of coins falling to the floor and rolling away in all manner of directions and she sits there, idly. Fresh watches as the glinting bronze and silver coins scatter, as if running away from her. As if they were children, running away from a hungry witch who was hunting them through the dark night. They¡¯re fragile, little things. This is fragile. This life of hers. This house. Her friendships with Jubilee and Basil. She looks at the pale, weak hands hovering above the glinting ruins. Herself. ¡°Fragile,¡± she repeats again, the word gnawing at the back of her mind. As if she had become obsessed with it. As if the very thought was possessing her at this late hour. The single phrase, the single concept had set its hooks deep into her mind and it won¡¯t let her rest. It won¡¯t let her sleep. The girl¡¯s eyes rise upwards, as she stares at the thin, chain-lock which is latched on to the flimsy, wooden door. She tilts her head, gazing at the weak, rotting boards that the lock is affixed to. Fragile. Turning around, she looks at the wooden shutters, placed above the paper-thin glass. Only a single metal latch holds them shut and only a few screws hold them against the morose walls. Fragile. Her hands run through her hair, rubbing against her skull as she thinks in frustration. As her sleep-addled mind works its way through this single thought, born of the sounds of trickling water that never seems to leave her ears, along with the creeping of the night outside; owls and crickets making their moon-calls. If Jubilee finds out that she had snooped upstairs, they would stop being her friend. She is sure of it. Fragile. If Basil finds out that she is a witch, she would be terrified of the girl. She would hate her. She is sure of it. Fragile. If somehow, any of the thousand things that could go wrong, finally seized their chance and went wrong. It would be over. It would all be over. All of this. Everything she had worked for so far, everything she has been struggling for. In an instant. Like a dream after waking, she would become untethered from it and it would all be gone and in those waking moments, she would grasp at the strings of the memories that she had made, but they would snap and fade away. They would leave her floating alone through the world, the ties that bind her here, the seals that hold her new life intact are¡­ ¡°Fragile,¡± she stares with wide, still unblinking eyes at the coins before her, laying on the rug. Fresh grabs her cursed-dagger from her bag and holds it in her hands, looking at it. For whatever reason, Jubilee seems reluctant to take her into the dungeon all too often, even if the stats would be a huge help for them both. She would never get stronger at this rate. She herself is too weak to do anything but kill Mr. Mushroom, which she can only do once every two weeks anyways, when the dungeon resets. The two mush-mushes on floor two are already too much to handle by herself, with only her current abilities. She looks at the coins, wondering if she can pay someone from the adventurer¡¯s guild to take her through the dungeon for experience-points. She¡¯s sure that she could, but¡­ The back of the blade of the dagger taps against her hands as she thinks. If she leveled-up inside of the dungeon, they would see her menu, her abilities, they would see her class. She taps the dagger against her hand again. The man from the sect? If what Jubilee had said was right and if she went and told him the truth, he would help her. The dagger taps against her hand again. But what if something goes wrong? What if she tells him the truth and he doesn¡¯t react like she expects? Or what if he does, but then somehow word gets out? What if someone sees her going into the dungeon with a man from the witch¡¯s sect? The dagger taps against her hand. Everything is so fragile. Fresh¡¯s gaze rises up, as she looks around her room, at the newly repaired collection of armor and weapons. Swords and breastplates and shields and all manner of exotic items sit next to her new cauldron. She¡¯s a caster, isn¡¯t she? Isn¡¯t witch a caster class? She has a single combat spell, but it doesn¡¯t even do damage. It just steals a little luck. She needs something that does damage. She needs something that can hurt things. The dagger taps against her hand again, as she listens to the permeating sound of the distant fountain. She needs something that can kill things. Before she knows what she is doing, her hand reaches into her bag and pulls out the grimoire, which seems particularly wet tonight, as water drips freely from the corners, trickling down her crossed legs and onto the carpet. A pale, fragile finger flips through the pages with elegant precision, pulling the wet paper carefully apart, as it moves to a section she doesn¡¯t recognize. One that she is sure wasn¡¯t here before, when she had looked through the entire grimoire over the past few weeks. The ink is dripping wet, as if it had been freshly written. ¡°Malediction¡­¡± reads Fresh quietly to herself, not quite sure if it''s her own voice that she¡¯s hearing or simply the trickling of the distant water, taking odd shape and form as it mixes with her thoughts. Her finger runs along the page as she reads the lines, the digit smearing the fresh ink, as her eyes dart to the depictions and notations filling the pages. All of them are written in different styles and hand-writings, as if the freshly written pages had somehow always existed. ¡°-In the water.¡± ¡°I can hear it-¡° ¡°- I killed them all. I¡¯m so so-¡° ¡°-There¡¯s nothing left.¡± She skips over the annotations, her eyes focusing on the description of the spell. Curse an enemy with an affliction of the black-fountain. Once applied, it will drain their health once a minute, dealing damage equal to your LOV at the time of casting. Warning: Once applied, this curse can never be removed. Fresh blinks. Her mind suddenly jolts to full wakefulness again, as the sharp, chiming sound of a window suddenly appearing, rouses her from this odd, trance-like state which she had been in. The girl closes her eyes for the first time in minutes. Blinking for the first time since she had sat down on the rug and started stacking the coins. Her dry eyes burn in relief, as she scrunches them tightly shut, her mind waking up from its odd, half-dazed state. Her head lifts upwards, as she looks at the new window which then fades away a moment later. Did she just get a new ability? Without leveling? The girl¡¯s gaze lowers back down to the open pages of the book in her hand. They¡¯re blank. She sits there, cross legged on the rug, looking down and watching as black ink runs down the sides of her bare legs, tingeing both her pale skin and the fabric of the new carpet. Yelping in surprise, she slams the damp-grimoire shut and runs to get something to clean it off, before it leaves a stain. Razmatazz - Just a couple short chapters today and tomorrow. Slowly but surely, we''re building up to some really important happenings =) - Man, Fresh needs to take a nap. She''s getting a little loopy. Anyways, her first real combat ability! Hurray...? At this point, Chekov is entirely out of guns to sell us x.x Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 72: Goo-Brain ¡°What time is it?¡± wonders Fresh out loud. She isn¡¯t sure, she still hasn¡¯t slept a wink. Instead, Fresh now stands down inside of the dungeon. Her eyes aren¡¯t able to decide if they should be staring at her hands or at the hole in the wall, out of which comes a quiet series of sleeping ¡®Nyaaaah~¡¯s. Fresh rubs her head, feeling awkward about this now. She had come down here to try out her new ability, but¡­ she doesn¡¯t think she¡¯s able to kill something that she¡¯s talked to before. Even though it isn¡¯t really ¡®killing¡¯ him, since he¡¯ll be back in two weeks anyways. She has a personal connection to Mr. Mushroom and apart from that, she¡¯d feel bad if she woke him up again in the middle of the night a third time. Sighing quietly, she walks to the stairs, heading down to floor two of the dungeon. Apparently, once a floor has been unlocked once, then it¡¯s open forever, much to her relief. She remembers there being two mush-mushs down here and so she carefully looks out ahead of herself, watching the ripples in the dirt, where they are apparently busy burrowing, even this late at night. She checks her waist, to see if the bottle is there. It is. Clenching her fists and gulping once to get the frog out of her throat, the tired girl steps down onto the dirt of floor two. ¡°Just like the red-wizard. Just like the red-wizard,¡± she chants, motivating herself. Two figures explode out of the muck, the pair of large, orange mush-mushs charging towards her in an instant. Both of them yell, but they don¡¯t really say anything of particular substance. ¡°Nyah~!¡± ¡°Nyaah~!¡± The strange, slithering smoke leaks out of her hands. Not with any substantial force, but rather as a lazy trickle, like a viper winding its way down a tree, as the nebulous, foggy entity that it makes up intercepts the two monsters charging at her. Striking one, it sinks its fangs into before vanishing. The smoke then blows away, as if blown apart by a gust of wind. (Fresh) did 1 DARK DMG to (Mush-mush)[Applied status: {Maledy}] She curses the other one and then she gets ready to run. (Fresh) did 1 DARK DMG to (Mush-mush)[Applied status: {Maledy}] Her boots thud out, kicking up the dirt of the floor as she runs in a circle around the tiny arena. The two mush-mushs hop after her, clearly annoyed at her presence and so far, indifferent to her curse. ¡°Nyah~!¡± ¡°Nyaah~!¡± Fresh gasps and covers her mouth in shock, surprised to hear something so rude from the mushroom creatures. Fresh points an accusing finger back towards them as she runs. ¡°You jerks! You deserve to get cursed!¡± The girl lifts her hands, throwing out her luck-stealing jinx now as well, if only to make a point. (Fresh) uses: [Jinx] ! (Fresh) uses: [Jinx] ! ¡°Nyah~!¡± She sticks out her tongue and keeps running. ¡°Nyaah!¡± Only four minutes. She only has to keep this up for four minutes. Mush-mushes, at least the orange kind, have twenty health-points. She has three love, whatever that stat means. So... ¡°Four minutes,¡± she reassures herself as she moves, glad that the curse did a little instant damage. (Mush-mush) took 4 DARK DMG {Maledy} (Mush-mush) took 4 DARK DMG {Maledy} Ignoring anything else that the mush-mushs have to say, she begins to jog small laps around the floor with the two mush-mushs pursuing her in a circle. Sometimes they try to intercept her, but she manages to avoid them as they often seem to stumble over each other or over roots that somehow seem to, very unluckily, appear in their way. Two minutes remain, but she can feel her legs about to give out already. Sweat drips down her forehead, her robe is damp and spotted and even if she wanted to argue back with the very rude duo of monsters chasing her, she doesn¡¯t have the capacity to do so anymore. (Mush-mush) took 4 DARK DMG {Maledy} (Mush-mush) took 4 DARK DMG {Maledy} With shaking hands and wobbly legs, the exhausted girl grabs the glass bottle full of clear moonwater on her hip and drinks it. Immediately, a surge of energy rushes through her as if a large amount of the exhaustion she was feeling a second ago just simply seems to vanish. Her body is still sweat-tinged and wet, but her skin somehow feels cooler. Plus it¡¯s just important to drink water when you¡¯re exercising. Fresh nods with a smile, looking back towards the mush-mushs, who are looking in pretty bad shape compared to her now. She isn¡¯t sure how the curse is doing damage to them, as they seem perfectly fine on their exteriors. But they are slowly losing health-points. Either due to their sudden clumsiness, or due to the constant draining of four health a minute. (Mush-mush) took 4 DARK DMG {Maledy} (Mush-mush) took 4 DARK DMG {Maledy} Only one minute left. She stands at the end of the room, the two of them not able to keep up and only slowly lurching after her now, both of them on the brink of defeat. Sweaty and with dirt sticking to her somehow still clammy skin, Fresh leans back against the wall, her chest heaving, and catches her breath as she watches the two creatures slow to a halt. She waves. ¡°Bye!¡± They stop moving. Fresh tilts her head, looking at the two mushroom monsters standing in the center of the room, having never quite reached her. Both of them simply stay there, as if frozen. Their eyes open, unblinking, still stare towards her with empty gazes. The two of them, having died standing, without a single wound on their outsides. ¡°Huh¡­¡± she says curiously, walking closer to look at them. Bending over to stare into their eyes, wondering what it is that killed them, she mutters to herself. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just magic?¡± Scratching her cheek as she looks into a deep, solidly black pupil, she watches as it begins to shift. The mush-mush¡¯s eyes fall out. ¡°IAH!¡± she yelps, jumping back as a thick, black goo seeps out of the new openings. Oily streaks running down from the sockets of the eyes. The eyeballs of both creatures pushed out from the inside, fall down into the dirt, where they are covered in sludge from their entirely liquefied insides. Their bodies begin to crumple and deflate, the heavy caps of their heads sinking down and squishing their now empty shells. The skin that held their liquefied insides together, bundling together like an empty bag with a weight on top of it. Black-water seeps out in all directions, leaking everywhere and the girl finds herself back against the wall again, watching in horror as the two mushroom monsters become nothing but goo. Watching as the thick, black-sludge seeps into the dirt, soaking into the world below, leaving nothing behind but two orange mushroom-caps with a few smears on them and Fresh herself. She, with a horrified expression, decides that maybe it¡¯s time to go to bed for tonight. Nodding to herself, she quickly runs up the stairs, doing her best to ignore the odd bubbling sound that she hears down below. As for the two mushroom-caps, well¡­ maybe she doesn''t need them that badly. Five minutes later, Fresh throws off her boots and robe and falls into her bed, pulling the blanket over herself, covering her head. For the rest of the night, she hangs between a state of wakefulness and half-sleep, tossing and turning as she shifts, as some strange, wet sounds in her mind somehow keep her brain from ever turning off the lights entirely. The next morning comes and she barely manages to pull herself out of bed again, shuffling like an undead as she opens her door and goes downstairs. ¡°You look like shit,¡± says Jubilee to greet her, not even looking up towards her as they say it. Fresh looks around, realizing that it¡¯s a little later than her usual waking time. ¡°I didn¡¯t sleep much,¡± says Fresh, telling only a half-lie. ¡°Do you still want to eat breakfast?¡± she asks, rubbing her eyes. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°There¡¯s no time, Basil should be here any sec -¡± As if summoned, the priestess opens the door and walks inside. Fresh can¡¯t help but notice, even with her tired eyes, that the rim of her white robe is spotlessly clean and the rose-gold bangle on her wrist that occasionally peaks out of her long, billowing sleeve. ¡°Good morning!¡± calls Basil as she walks inside and looks at them. Her eyes stop on Fresh. ¡°Oh! Are you sick? You look terrible!¡± Fresh sighs and falls down onto the stairs, leaning her warm forehead against the cold, wooden wall. Four experience points? All of that for four experience-points and she could only do it once every two weeks anyways? No¡­ she racks her tired mind. She can do the next floor too, tonight. Maybe even one more than that. She¡¯s faster than the mush-mushs with some luck and she¡¯s definitely faster than the snails. It¡¯s going to be a lot of work, it¡¯s going to be exhausting. But she has to do this, if she wants to keep this new life of hers safe. If she wants to stop it from being taken. If she wants to stop the wind from blowing it all away like scattered ashes. She¡¯s just going to have to skip a little sleep now and then. Rising back up to her feet, Fresh grabs Basil¡¯s hands, as the priestess was reaching to touch her forehead. ¡°Good morning, Basil!¡± smiles a deeply tired Fresh. ¡°Let¡¯s work hard today too!¡± Basil looks at her curiously, but then smiles, seemingly satisfied and walks around to the back of the counter. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 73: Housework Fresh sits upstairs, having locked herself in the pantry. She tinkers around with the harvest-moonwater, her grimoire at her side. Usually she wouldn¡¯t work on these kinds of things during the middle of the day, while Basil is here. But the priestess is downstairs and there are two locked doors between them and she can¡¯t just sit around and waste a full day, doing nothing at all. Flipping through her grimoire, Fresh looks for a recipe that would suit her needs and at the same time, racks her brain, wondering if maybe she already simply ¡®knows¡¯ one? Like with the soul-potions. The more she thinks about it, the firmer and less foggy the idea becomes. The harvest-moonwater is already half of the way there on its own. ¡°It just needs a little pep,¡± mutters Fresh to herself, closing the damp-grimoire and setting it to the side. She needs something, some new ingredient, some final step to make her stamina-potions. But she isn¡¯t sure what exactly that is, just yet. Getting up, she exits the pantry and heads downstairs to look for an idea. The store is fairly busy today, but Basil and Jubilee seem to have everything under control. It doesn¡¯t look like there are many repairs today either, as the pile of equipment behind the counter for her to carry up is very small right now. ¡°Baaaasil~?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± asks the priestess, handing a man his change and a tote-bag. ¡°What colors of mush-mushes are there?¡± asks Fresh, coming downstairs. ¡°Uh¡­ the priestess lifts her hand, counting off her fingers. "Orange, blue, green, purple and red. I think?¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, scratching her cheek. ¡°If anyone comes in with some other colors, buy a few please. I want to try out some new potions.¡± Basil looks at her curiously but then nods. ¡°Okay!¡± Smiling, Fresh goes back upstairs, taking a moment to look over the crowd from up atop the staircase. She feels a surge of joy as she sees the glass-chicken held in the excited hands of a young caster, in the middle of the line. Heading back into the pantry, she decides to put the potion-work aside for now and to set to a more pragmatic task. Crossing her arms, she looks down at the hole in the ripped up floorboards, where the rat had tunneled through. Fresh shudders at the thought. Grabbing some tools and some wood, she sets to work, wanting to make the pantry as sterile as is possible in a world like this, with materials like these. Maybe she can¡¯t create absolutely hygienic conditions, but she can certainly patch the insulation and replace all of the morose wood. She can make actual containers for their food with lids and she maybe could even make something more abstract, to keep pests and rot at bay? Some magical item or token, maybe something out of the grimoire? Fresh taps her chin, thinking and heads back outside to the staircase again. Standing up-top, she calls down. ¡°Baaasil~?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± asks the woman, down on the floor with a rag and staring at a cracked chicken-bottle that apparently someone had dropped. ¡°If anybody brings any ice-monster drops, can you buy some too, please?¡± ¡°Sure, but they¡¯ll be pretty expensive,¡± calls the priestess back up to her. ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± calls Fresh and waves to her before heading back into the pantry once again and returning to her work. First, she decides to make several wooden boxes, each about the length of her forearm. Once they¡¯re completed, she starts making a square glass lid for each of them. The tricky part is carving the thick glass-panes down all around evenly, except for one tiny protrusion of solid material which acts as a handle. She scratches her head, looking at her third failed attempt. ¡°This would have been easier with the glass-working ability¡­¡± The fourth one turns out okay¡¯ish. But then, the fifth one turns out just like she had envisioned. The glass has to be matte-finished, so the lids don¡¯t offer any insight into the contents of their respective boxes. But it just looks nicer. Fresh wonders if maybe she should have just made the entire box out of glass? But that seems like a disaster waiting to happen. What if one of them fell? What if all of them fell? Twenty minutes later, she lifts up one of her new creations. A small, tightly sealed, wooden box with a hinged, matte-glass lid. Smiling, she sets to work, making the rest of them. So far, their food had just sort of been lying around the pantry out on the open-faced shelves. A lot of it was wrapped in parchment paper, like the bread and a lot of their herbs and dried fruits. But a lot of it is also just sitting out in the open, literally gathering dust. This obviously won¡¯t do. An hour later, she lifts the last box back onto the lowest shelf and takes a step back, looking at the row of containers with pride. All she needs to do now is to make some labels and glue them on. Their food, while not imperishable, would at least be safe from pests now. ¡°Hopefully¡­¡± Not done yet, she sets to work replacing the floorboards. It¡¯s a dirty, long process that is made difficult by the many boxes and crates in the way, as well as the large barrel in the corner that she has never been brave enough to look inside of. But given that the pantry is small, she finishes within a few hours. Any spots between the floors that had thinning, or chewed up insulation, she did her best to patch back together. She would need to buy or make some real insulating material to do this ¡®right¡¯ later on, but for now, it¡¯s good enough that the boards are tightly sealed. Fresh wipes her brow and gets up, opting to check how things are going downstairs. ¡°Do you make anqas?¡± asks a small elf, holding a chicken out to Jubilee, who stands there with crossed arms, glaring at them. ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee dryly. The elf seems disappointed. ¡°What about mush-mushes?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°No. We only make chickens.¡± ¡°What about snails?¡± ¡°Is a snail a chicken?¡± asks Jubilee, their boot tapping against the floor in agitation. ¡°Mm¡­¡± The elf turns the chicken around, the face of it looking back up at himself. He looks back towards Jubilee a second later. ¡°What about dragons?¡± ¡°Look. We only make chickens. What do you want me to tell you?¡± asks Jubilee with some snark. ¡°Buy the chicken or get out.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek and turns around, heading back into the pantry and picking up a block of glass. Apparently her chickens just aren¡¯t good enough. ¡°Bakaw¡­¡± sighs the girl sadly, as she sets to work, carving the glass into a new shape. It doesn¡¯t bring her as much joy at first, but as it slowly comes into form, she begins to see him more and more in the little sculpture. Half an hour later, she rotates it around, looking at the little glass figurine carefully. It might not be as delicious as the real deal - ¡°- But you¡¯re just as beautiful as the real Mr. Mushroom!¡± she assures the statuette, feeling that it is nervous about its big debut. She takes a moment to carve the smile on its face just a little wider. ¡°There!¡± A little later, she carries her new item downstairs. It seems that the afternoon rush has died down and that things are quieter now. ¡°Jubilee! Basil! Look!¡± She holds out the new glass Mr. Mushroom statuette with pride out in front of herself. Jubilee and Basil look up from the counter, staring at her somewhat perplexed for a moment. Basil¡¯s face grows flush and the priestess quickly looks away. Pulling her hood up to obscure her line of sight, as she nervously and very quickly looks back down at the ledger. ¡°Told you. A real degenerate,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. Fresh purses her lips. ¡°Hey! Rude! I worked hard on Mr. Mushroom!¡± Jubilee tilts their head. ¡°You may want to go back to the drawing board with that one.¡± She looks at it. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because you¡¯re going to tempt Basil away from her holy ways,¡± shrugs Jubilee. ¡°I mean, apparently that¡¯s what you¡¯re into. But it¡¯ll be bad for business.¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°No corrupting the employees!¡± ¡°Huh..?¡± asks Fresh. She looks at the mushroom statue and then back to her friends and then back to the mushroom statue, who looks up to her, knowingly. Then she understands and runs, yelping as she vanishes back into the pantry. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Mushroom!¡± cries Fresh, looking at the mushroom statue whose wide smile seems to have grown just a little flatter somehow. ¡°The world just isn¡¯t ready for yooou~!¡± Setting the glass mushroom statue onto the shelf and covering it with a cloth, she sighs and returns to her work, replacing the boards of the exterior wall by the window. An hour later, she finishes and returns downstairs where something green catches her eye, sitting against the wall behind the counter. A green mushroom-cap. Her eyes light up and she runs downstairs in excitement towards it. ¡°Thanks, Basil!¡± cries the girl, wrapping her arms around Basil from behind, who fidgets a little, her head shifting to Jubilee, the priestesses¡¯ expression as if awkwardly pleading for help. Jubilee just shrugs and turns back to the chickens, rotating one of them on the shelves an inch to the right. ¡°Of¡­ Of course,¡± laughs the priestess uneasily, as Fresh lets go and looks at the green mushroom-cap. It has a bright, vivid foresty color and is far larger than the orange or blue caps. Rolling it, she notices that it''s really light however. As if it had the same weight as the other caps, but the composition is simply less dense. It does seem a fair bit more flat-brimmed than the other types. Still, with some effort, she rolls it up the staircase and through the door, leaning it against the wall outside of the pantry. Then, getting one of her new boxes, Fresh places it on its back and holds the far too large cap above it and uses her crafting ability, hoping that at least most of it will land inside. The giant cap dissolves into a heap of powder that, thankfully, mostly collects in the middle of the spell¡¯s radius. The grains fall down and fill into the box like a fine, flowing sand. A little bright-green dust gets on her robe and onto the floors, but she¡¯ll take care of that later. She grabs some unused glass and makes a new bottle. Opting to just make a simple, not decorative design. If only so her friends wouldn¡¯t misinterpret her intentions again. Filling some harvest-moonwater into the bottle, together with a scoop of the green powder, she holds her hands above it and uses the recipe that comes to her mind. If drank: + 25% STAMINA +1% STAMINA Regeneration, every two minutes - 12 Hours + Removes draining spirits (50%) High - Side effects - +5% STAMINA 330 mL Value: ??? Smiling, she runs downstairs and shows off her newest creation. ¡°Jubilee! Basil! Look!¡± The two of them do so, if only nervously and seem relieved to see that she¡¯s only holding a potion. Razmatazz Fair warning, tomorrow''s chapter is going to be a ride. But it''s probably one of the most important chapters to date in regards to the main plotline, even if it''s going to seem a little odd at first. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 74: The Witch’s Prophecy Fresh tosses and turns in her bed, her fists tightly clenching the blanket as she rolls over in a cold sweat, midnight dew wicking down her skin as restless dreams haunt her mind. Strange visions that she can¡¯t remember seeing only moments after they pass. Bright, burning lights in the recesses of herself which scar her mind¡¯s eye, the heat scorching her body as she kicks and throws the blankets around, feeling too warm and then too cold just seconds after. Heat surges through her body, as if she were being suspended in a pot of water that was only very slowly starting to come to a boil. The fountain trickles behind her, around her, everywhere as her eyes rip open, as they shoot open beneath the deep recesses of the black-water ocean present in her dream. The sound of a rushing current surrounds her as she spirals and spins around and around, torn through the depths of the black-ocean, the core of her soul surrounded by a surging torrent that churns with a coursing fury. The grand whirlpool throws her this way and that in a wild, uncontrolled fashion as she sinks. Her hand reaches up towards the surface that is so far above her head, unreachably far above the tips of her fingers, as she grasps for the single sliver of light that marks the way up. The way out. It is something that has never been there before. A light above the surface of the ocean. Her soul burns as she reaches for that glowing strand, as she grasps for it as if it were a rope to pull herself up towards the surface with. The beam touches the entity that is her, but as it touches her skin, it stings with an unnatural fire that moves through her soul in a clear, sharp, crystal pulse that aches her very being. Fresh screams as the water around her boils in disgust at the sensation, as she boils in disgust at the sensation. She feels disgust at the light that is so bright, at having touched it. At having touched the ray of the sun, shining towards her. A second later, she is spat out. Landing and stumbling, she falls head over shoulder as the pressure of the crashing waves throw her onto the shore. A surge of water shoots out in all directions around her, coming down over her head and pressing her against the stones of the floor of the fountain basin, as if she were pinned beneath the torrent of a waterfall, as if she were pinned under a hand pressing her face down into the floor. Fresh coughs and splutters and frantically drags her way forward, her core burning for air as the scream reverberates around her. Fresh can¡¯t differentiate if the scream is her own, or if it¡¯s that of the fountain. All there is, is a constant screaming. All there is, is a constant burning. Something is wrong, something is very wrong. Her fingers claw onto the outer stone rim of the fountain. Fresh pulls herself free from the water that almost seems to be trying to drag her back into itself. Not out of malice, but like a drowning man dragging another down into the depths. It¡¯s desperation. She flops out of the fountain, retching and heaving as she crawls her way forward over the ground, like an animal pulling itself free from a trap. Fresh looks around herself, panicked, hurt. ¡°Where am I?!¡± she calls out, coughing and spluttering. ¡°Jubilee?!¡± She jumps up, clutching at her own body that is no more. Her eyes scan the world that she finds herself in and they find nothing to focus on. It¡¯s simply empty. Empty. Empty apart from one thing, from the sound of trickling water. The fountain. It¡¯s just a dream. Just a dream. Calm down. It¡¯s just a dream. Fresh does her best to ¡®breathe¡¯, whatever that implies here in this domain. She turns around, to look at the black-fountain sitting behind her. It¡¯s just like that night. It¡¯s just like that night that it had saved her from her old life. She¡¯s not in the water. She¡¯s here again. She¡¯s standing next to the black-fountain that she tossed the coin into on that fateful night and now it¡¯s screaming, yet so is she. Their screams are one and the same. There is no clear separation between themselves, the lines between Fresh and the black-water have become muddy. It is her life-blood and she¡­ ¡°I hate them!¡± screams the fountain, the water bubbling. ¡°I hate them! I hate them! I HATE THEM!¡± cries the fountain over and over and Fresh clutches where her hair should be, she hates them just the same. Though she doesn¡¯t really know who ¡®they¡¯ are. But she hates them, because the fountain hates them. ¡°They found out! I just want to sleep!¡± snaps the fountain. ¡°I hate them so much!¡± Fresh clutches her head. It hurts. The sunlight is touching her and it hurts. She just wants to sleep. It¡¯s the middle of the night, and she just wants to sleep. Why is it so bright?! WHY IS IT SO HOT?! The fountain bubbles like a pot of boiling water as the sunlight coming from above reaches it. The splashes rising up, flying several feet out of the surface towards the sun, as if it were trying to extinguish its heavenly glow. But it never manages to reach even close to far enough to do so. ¡°They¡¯re going to come for you,¡± warns the fountain, the water sloshing around as the waves begin to churn, as if a violent storm were brewing just above it. Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide in fear as she realizes what it¡¯s saying to her. ¡°They¡¯re going to take it all away!¡± says the fountain. ¡°Everything. Everything that you¡¯ve built! They¡¯re going to take it all away!¡± it promises. Her fingers claw into her scalp. ¡°You need to stop them. You need to STOP THEM! YOU!¡± says the fountain in a tone that she has never heard it take before. It¡¯s furious. Fresh leans forward, her fingers locking onto the rim of the fountain as she bends over it and looks back down into its black depths. She looks down into her eyeless reflection that is staring back up at her from the surface of the water. It speaks to her. ¡°They¡¯re going to rip it out of you, like an unborn child from the womb. They¡¯re going to rip your gut open and claw it all out of you!¡± says the eyeless gestalt beneath her, clawing at its face. ¡°Like animals, everything that you¡¯ve fostered. They¡¯re going to eat it!¡± Her eyes go wide as she watches the bloodied reflections of Jubilee and Basil floating alongside her own mirror image, their mangled visages staring up at her, lost, confused, afraid. Dead. ¡°I don¡¯t understand!¡± yells Fresh in fear at this depiction, at this prophecy, at this revelation. The silhouettes beneath her reflection collect together. Not just Jubilee, not just Basil. Everyone. Everything. The red-wizard. The muscular dark-elf. The man from the sect. Wooden boards from her new home that she herself had placed, coins, potions, feathers, swords. Faces of customers who she recognizes and faces of those who she doesn¡¯t. All of these things swirl together into a coagulation of black-water that is swallowed into depths, all of these things are being taken from her in this vision. Because she is too weak. Because she didn¡¯t stop it. ¡°STOP WHAT?!¡± cries Fresh in agitated terror, in anguish, as the light of the sun touches her skin, as it burns her very essence, simply through its pure presence. The pulsation of the light of the sun synchronizes with a sound, with a simple, clean, divine sound that fills her with a fear that she has never felt before, with a dread that she had never before understood to be possible. Fresh flips around and falls over backwards, her back against the fountain as she lifts her hands up to shield her eyes from the light that rises on the horizon. To block out the scorching rays of the rising sun which touch her skin and set her alight, the rays of the rising sun that boil the black-water and cause it to scream and so her in turn as well. It hurts. The sound, the tempo of which matches that of her own heart-beat, overpowers it in strength. The voice of an angelic choir. The ringing. The ringing that pulsates through her eyes. That pulsates through the light of the sun. The ringing of a crystal-bell shines out brightly, just as radiant as the dawning star on the horizon, the jubilescent light threatening to swallow her whole. To reduce her to nothing but ash. To reduce everything she has made to dust and then all of these feelings and hopes and dreams that she has felt and still yet yearns to feel will return to a darkness so deep, that they will be lost for all time. They will die, together with her if she doesn¡¯t stop it. If she doesn¡¯t stop them. If she doesn¡¯t stop - Her eyes are stretched open wide, the light of the sun is so bright that it simply shines through her hands covering her face. The crystal-bell strikes twelve and the sun breaks over the horizon, the light of a new day engulfing her entirely. - If she doesn¡¯t stop him. Fresh screams, howling with terror and pain, both too heavy for her soul to contain. She falls out of her bed, soaking wet from head to toe, splashing, as she flops gut-first onto the rug, clawing, pulling, wrenching herself free from the nightmare; from the horrible vision. A voice yells at her, but she doesn¡¯t understand it, all she hears is the bell ringing in her ears. The bell, still ringing in her heart. It fills her with terror. He¡¯s coming. They¡¯ve found him. They¡¯ve chosen him. A true-hero. A destined, great man, who was going to cleanse the world of all evil, come his arrival, after the gods summoned him to this domain. A pair of hands clutches her shoulders and she turns around in a panic, looking with wild, feral eyes at the small, shadowy figure standing over her. Crying, flailing, screaming, Fresh grabs Jubilee who is shaking her, talking to her in clear words she isn¡¯t able to process right now and wraps her arms around them in a fearful embrace, heaving as she kneels forward, pressing her head into their shoulder to howl. Holding them, so that they can¡¯t be taken away. Not just yet. Not just yet. Jubilee doesn¡¯t fight her, simply placing a single hand around her, the other hanging awkwardly at their side, as they speak comforting words that simply never reach her. Through tearful, burning eyes, Fresh looks up at the door to her room. At the pillar of glass that has ripped the door entirely off of its hinges and holds it aloft inside of the space. She looks at the hollow, empty eyes of the reflection of the terrified girl in the glass, at the sockets that almost seem to be shadowed out and entirely empty. It moves its lips even though she says nothing, the reflection mouthing two words. "Stop them." The glass shatters into a thousand pieces and the broken door falls down to the ground. Fresh squeezes tighter, crying into Jubilee¡¯s shoulder. Razmatazz 1) It was all a dreeeeeeam~ *waves fingers* 2) If you don''t understand what this chapter means, don''t worry, you will soon enough... =) The revelation to John: 10-17 (Book of Revelation) (World English Bible) I was in the Spirit on the Lord¡¯s day, and I heard behind me a loud voice, like a trumpet; I turned to see the voice that spoke with me. Having turned, I saw seven golden lamp stands; And among the lamp stands was one like a son of man, clothed with a robe reaching down to his feet, and with a golden sash around his chest; His head and his hair were white as white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire; His feet were like burnished brass, as if it had been refined in a furnace. His voice was like the voice of many waters; He had seven stars in his right hand. Out of his mouth proceeded a sharp, two-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining at its brightest; When I saw him, I fell at his feet like a dead man; Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 75: Before the storm ¡°You don¡¯t look so good,¡± says Basil, glancing at Fresh who is sitting on the staircase, leaning sideways against the wall. ¡°You really are a rather sickly person¡­¡± Basil thinks for a moment. ¡°Should I go pick up some medicine?¡± ¡°Ah! I¡¯m fine! I just didn¡¯t sleep well,¡± says Fresh, sitting up for a moment only to slump back against the wall a second later. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Again?¡± asks the priestess, looking a little worried. ¡°Told you,¡± chimes Jubilee¡¯s voice from the other side of the store. ¡°She¡¯s afraid of the dark.¡± Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°I am not!¡± Basil laughs. ¡°It¡¯s okay, I used to be afraid of the dark too, you know?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of the dark, though!¡± argues Fresh. She looks over to Jubilee who is restocking the shelves during their midday lull in customers. She hadn¡¯t been able to explain her dream to them. Not in any coherent sense at least. Jubilee had apparently chalked it up to her having had night terrors and scolded her for making a ruckus while they were trying to sleep. But Fresh knows better. It wasn¡¯t just a bad dream. It was a warning from the black-fountain, a prophecy. The powers that be are shifting in the world. The stage is being set and great events are slowly coming into play. Events and happenings far, far greater than the little pinprick of the world that they are, that she is. The rising tide is coming and it will flood the world and wash them all away. Like the surge from a broken dam, rushing over an ant-hill. Fresh¡¯s head nods down forward, her eyes closing sleepily, as her tired thoughts meander into such dramatic imagery. Her body rests in the midday sunlight which is shining through the windows. The bright, early summer sunlight floats inside of the house, lazily drifting through the thin glass. The air is warm, yet still carries the lightness of the spring with it. A hand touches her forehead. ¡°You¡¯re ice cold!¡± says Basil, surprised. Fresh opens her eyes, looking up at the priestess who stands there with the look of a worried mother hen. ¡°Are you sure I shouldn¡¯t go get some medicine? Are you coming down with something?¡± she asks. ¡°No fraternizing during work hours!¡± barks Jubilee at them. ¡°You! Get back behind the counter!¡± Basil yelps and retreats a few steps back to her spot. ¡°And you! If you¡¯re not going to work, then go upstairs and go to bed!¡± Fresh raises her head to look at Jubilee who is standing there with their hands on their hips. ¡°It¡¯s bad for business if people see your ugly corpse laying on the stairs, first thing when they walk in!¡± A pair of heavy boots crashes into the store, as if summoned by Jubilee¡¯s words. All three of them look up at the towering man in the dark-cobalt armor, who is walking into the store, faster than usual. His pace is just as heavy and thunderous as his gigantic presence. He looks around the shop and grabs two more greatswords from the shelves, walking over to the counter and placing them both down, as if they weighed nothing, without saying a single word. Basil yelps and jumps back a step, as the counter shakes from the weight of the two, large weapons. ¡°What happened to your sword?¡± asks Fresh, looking up at him from the stairs curiously and a little sadly, seeing that his weapon is gone. The back of his metal helmet scrapes against his armor as he turns his head a few inches to face her in a quick, sharp movement, the single eye facing her is wide and possessed, shining out from the shadows of his obscured face with an ominous spark. ¡°I killed monsters.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± she scratches her cheek. ¡°I could have just repaired it for you again?¡± ¡°Impossible,¡± is all that he states as he slaps a single gold Obol down in front of a terrified Basil. ¡°Why?¡± asks Fresh, as he picks up both swords and leaves, not even taking his change. ¡°I killed monsters,¡± repeats the man from the sect, as he stomps back towards the dungeon, a greatsword held in both of his hands. Basil lets out a deep breath, finally releasing the air in her lungs, her tense shoulders falling slack as the man exits the store. ¡°What a hero,¡± says Jubilee, watching the giant vanish into the dungeon. ¡°Don¡¯t say that!¡± cries Basil abruptly, with surprising energy to her voice, her body leaning forward over the counter. ¡°Don¡¯t sully that title!¡± protests the priestess, her hands pressing down against the wood. ¡°Basil¡­?¡± asks Fresh, surprised at seeing the priestess¡¯ outburst. Jubilee turns around and tilts their head, apparently just as surprised at Basil as Fresh is. ¡°That man there? He¡¯s more respectable than any of those fuck-offs,¡± replies Jubilee, waving the priestess off, who gasps in shock at the statement. ¡°That¡¯s beyond crass!¡± argues Basil. Fresh is surprised that the priestess, who is usually terrified of Jubilee, isn¡¯t backing down now in the least. ¡°Zealot,¡± states Jubilee dryly. ¡°I am not a zealot! But there are lines!¡± ¡°Not in this shop there aren¡¯t.¡± Jubilee points over their shoulder with their thumb. ¡°There¡¯s the door if you want out.¡± Basil fidgets, but then lowers her gaze. Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything else, dropping the issue and then turning around to adjust the glass-chickens. Fresh scratches her cheek, her gaze wandering back and forth from one of them to the other as she tries to read the room, but fails to do so entirely. ¡°Should I go to town and buy us some lunch?¡± asks Fresh, hoping to defuse the situation. ¡°I¡¯m not hungry, thank you,¡± says Basil, crossing her arms. ¡°Pass,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh sighs and gets up to go upstairs instead then. She isn¡¯t going to be able to sleep now, even if she wants to. But there are other things to do. ¡°Basil, please start buying green mushroom-caps whenever they come in, okay?¡± Basil looks up towards her and nods. ¡°Okay.¡± Closing and locking the door behind herself, she sets to work, wanting to make a large batch of stamina-potions for the store, as well as a series of small, non-adventury tools. Locking herself in the pantry, she looks at her new storage boxes with some small pride and makes a mental note to finish the walls in this room next time, when she gets the chance. But today she just wants to make new wares for the shop. The stamina-potions are quick to make as she still has a decent amount of the green cap left. Since she is making a mixture of normal and high-quality potions, she is getting more out of each cap than before. Apparently, having a higher crafting skill not only makes the items themselves better, but also makes the crafting process itself more efficient. Fresh thinks, trying to remember back. Before, she was getting about two to three minor soul-potions from a blue cap. Now, with some luck, if they all turned out with a good quality, she could make four from a single cap. The normal soul-potions cost more to make than the minor ones and so averaged in at about one potion less per cap. The same applies to her antidotes now, which she is really happy about, as they were her first big idea. The craftsman¡¯s hammers are the easiest thing to make. Half of an iron-bar and some solid wood is enough for one. Taking some of their glue, she mixes it in with a few drops of an antidote for color, making a bright, tannish colored tincture that she dips the handles into, giving the porous wood a sleek, hard feeling as if it were coated in a dried resin. Then, she places the hammerhead onto the wet thing, setting it down onto the floor to use her ability. The girl smiles, looking at the little hammer. She had made one like this the other day, but the tincture coating the handle, that is now dried, gives the material a sleek, sheen look and while she isn¡¯t quite sure just yet, she feels like it will make the wood more durable as well as more exciting to look at. Using the other half of the iron-bar, she splits it into a further half and then flattens both pieces with her abilities, setting them on top of each other and holding her hands above the two small sheets of pressed metal. Fresh looks at the pair of scissors in her hands, feeling a great pride at seeing her own newest creation. ¡°Making things really is satisfying,¡± she beams to herself, closing the scissors and listening to the satisfyingly sharp snapping sound they make. Smiling, she opens and closes them a few more times, just for emphasis. Fresh spends the next few hours making as many of those three different items as she can manage. ¡°I need to work more,¡± mumbles the girl to herself, blinking with her tired eyes. Something is coming, maybe not today. Maybe not this week or even this month. But somewhere, somewhere in the world or in the cosmic planes beyond it, great gears are turning. She sets the next pair of scissors down, straining herself greatly to pull over another iron-bar. She has to prepare. They needed to be prepared. Power. Power is what keeps people safe in this world, right? She thinks of the man from the sect, untouched by the church simply due to his own individual power. Fresh sets the scissors down onto the pile, the clanking metal reminding her of the sound of coins. The merchant¡¯s guild has power, not through sheer brute strength, but through money. Through influence. Through connections. She swirls the potion around in her hands, looking at the matte glass. The only reason this venture has been possible is because of her friend. There is a power in that too, having friends. Fresh sets the bottle down to the side, continuing her work as she thinks. She needs to get ready for whatever is on the distant horizon. She needs to become stronger and more capable. But she just isn¡¯t quite sure how to, just yet. The girl purses her lips, reaching out to grab another piece of glass. She¡¯s not going to let this life slip out of her hands. No matter what it takes. No matter what she has to do. Fresh promises herself that. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 76: Summer Days It¡¯s a new day and Fresh sits outside on a bench, near the entrance plaza to the city. The summer sun is shining brightly already this early in the morning. She looks up towards the sky with lazy eyes, feeling the warmth fall down onto her face. The sun seems to rise a little earlier each and every day, as they move away from the spring. ¡°It¡¯s getting hot,¡± she mutters to herself, closing her eyes and listening to the sounds of summer coming to surround her. The city seems to be coming alive earlier and earlier every day as well, not only the birds and the cicadas, but the people too. Adventurers rush past her in all directions, heading into stores and down the way towards the dungeon. The streets are fuller than they had been at this time, only a few weeks ago. ¡°Good morning!¡± calls out a chipper voice. Fresh turns her head and looks at Basil, who is standing next to her. ¡°Good morning, Basil! You¡¯re out early,¡± notes Fresh. ¡°I was about to say the same thing,¡± says the priestess. ¡°May I?¡± she asks, perhaps simply out of politeness, as she sits down at the same time next to Fresh, before she gets an answer. Fresh just nods and scoots to the side. She looks back up towards the sky, watching the early morning clouds drift on by, her mind distracted by an odd quiet and numbness, perhaps due to the summer heat that was making her a little drowsy. Something jangles next to her and without looking away, she realizes that Basil has bought herself another piece of jewelry which she is playing with, another bracelet. ¡°How are you enjoying the work so far, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. Basil looks at her. ¡°Hmm? Oh. I like it a lot!¡± says the priestess, following her eyes up towards the morning sky. ¡°What are you looking at?¡± ¡°The sky,¡± says the girl, lazily. ¡°I know it¡¯s not as exciting as adventuring, but I¡¯m glad you¡¯re with us,¡± notes Fresh. ¡°Of course,¡± replies the priestess. ¡°It¡¯s a little weird for me too, but I appreciate the opportunity.¡± ¡°Mm¡­¡± says Fresh, lost in her eye¡¯s dreamy wandering over the fluffy, light, summer clouds. Basil fidgets. ¡°Can I ask you something? About the shop?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Fresh, blinking and looking back down at the priestess who is fumbling with her hands, the bracelet on her wrist jangling. A small cart rolls by them heading down a side road, away from the entryway plaza. The anqa, attached to the front of it, shoots a deathly glare her way as it passes. ¡°Don¡¯t you want people to like you?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, tilting her head at the odd thing the priestess asked. ¡°Sure,¡± she nods, not quite understanding Basil¡¯s question. The priestess looks up at her. ¡°Then why do you make such¡­ macabre things? You know¡­ the bones and the dark-elemental equipment. It¡¯s rather¡­ unsavory.¡± The priestess looks away. ¡°People get uncomfortable. But you also make a lot of really nice things! Like the holy enchantments and the potions. So¡­ why?¡± Fresh looks back towards the sky, lifting her hand into the air to watch the sunlight streaming through her fingers. Memories of her vision from the bad dream return to her, yet don¡¯t disturb her mind which has found peace in the warm summer morning. She wonders, is Basil asking because she¡¯s genuinely curious herself, or if she¡¯s digging deeper into their life at the behest of the church higher-ups. Maybe it¡¯s a little of both? The girl tilts her head, watching a ray of light come down her way, the warm beam touching her clammy skin, which never quite seems to get warm anymore. She ponders for a while and decides to ask Basil something else instead, unable to come up with a ¡®safe¡¯ answer that Jubilee would approve of. ¡°Basil? Why did you used to be afraid of the dark?¡± Basil fidgets, pulling her knees and feet together as she scuffs her boots over the ground. ¡°You should know,¡± says Basil, looking down to the ground. ¡°You¡¯re from the south. So you should know about¡­¡± the priestess fumbles with her hands. ¡°- about it,¡± finishes the priestess with a quietness, as if her uttering of the words would call a great evil onto them both, even out here in the bright summer sunlight. Fresh tilts her head, before looking back towards the sky above, not sure what the priestess means. But she is unable to ask any further without revealing her own lies. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t want to make you uncomfortable, Basil.¡± The two of them stare in opposite directions, sitting in a tense silence for a while. Fresh, gazing up towards the sky and Basil, gazing down to the ground, past her tightly clenched hands. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re scared of the dark too?¡± asks Basil timidly. Fresh shakes her head, lowering her hand as a cloud comes to drift over the sun, blocking it out for a while. ¡°I¡¯m not scared of the dark, Basil.¡± She lifts a finger, explaining. ¡°I¡¯m scared of what¡¯s in it.¡± The two of them meet eyes, her sentence having entirely different meanings for the both of them. ¡°That¡¯s why I became a priestess,¡± explains Basil, looking away. ¡°To help keep the light burning in people, you know?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯m not very strong or big or anything like that¡­ this is all I can do. But I want to do it. I want to be able to help, when people need me-¡± Basil stares down the way, towards the gate leading out of the city, towards the lush green grass beyond, having stopped her own sentence rather abruptly. The two of them are quiet for a while, just sitting there, listening to the sounds of the city. ¡°He was really happy about the sword. Thank you.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek and looks back up towards the cloudy sky, not sure what else to say or where else to look. ¡°Yeah.¡± Another cart rolls by, pulled by an anqa that shoots her an equally as dirty look as the first one as it quickly passes. Fresh¡¯s eyes follow it down the way and the girl sighs, getting up. This is such a beautiful day and this gloomy mood between them simply won¡¯t do. It¡¯s bad enough that she has to be sad and scared at night, but she won¡¯t accept it during the day too. She won¡¯t accept the priestess¡¯ mood, which is a stark contrast to her pristine, shining robe either. Basil looks up at Fresh who is standing next to her and holding out her hands to help the priestess get up. ¡°Come on, Basil! Let¡¯s go to work!¡± says Fresh with a smile. ¡°I¡¯ll get us some breakfast!¡± Basil smiles in return, perhaps relieved herself and then takes her hands, getting up off of the bench, apparently not even having noticed that Fresh had entirely ignored her question about the weapons. It looks like she got away with it. The day kicks off with a large rush. Repairs seem to come in at a steady pace again, though the sale of lanterns is slowing down a lot, now that the most excited customers had already gotten theirs. Especially since parties often shared one or two lanterns between all of themselves. ¡°It¡¯s really coming together,¡± says Jubilee, taking a moment to admire the full shelves of the store, as well as the full crowd. Now that they have their stamina-potions, hammers and scissors added to their stock as well, the store really is becoming an interesting place to look around. The adventurers seemed curious about the former item, but the latter two only moved sparsely. ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh, grabbing another load of armor to carry upstairs, her back as sore as ever. Halfway up the stairs, she stops and looks down to the red-wizard who is just coming in excitedly, running towards the shelves and ogling the stamina-potions with a glimmering sparkle in her eyes. Fresh listens in to the conversations happening down below, trying to focus on any of the tidbits she can pick out from the barrage of voices. ¡°- Stamina regeneration?¡± ¡°It¡¯s another combined potion!¡± ¡°- telling you! There are ghosts! I heard the scream! There was even a light a few -¡± The elf rolls her eyes. ¡°Stop being a baby, why do you tell me about that every time we come here?¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s t -!¡± Fresh tilts her head, losing track of the voices. Shrugging to herself, she goes up inside and stows away the armor, coming back down to get more. By the time she¡¯s back, the red-wizard is at the counter, bouncing up and down excitedly with two bags full of potions now. Fresh winces, raising a finger. ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t drink so m¡­¡± she stops, seeing Jubilee glaring up at her. ¡°I mean¡­ I hope you like the new potions, they were your idea, after all!¡± beams Fresh to the red-wizard, who shares her gleeful expression. Though the wizard¡¯s look is perhaps a little more convincing. Fresh can¡¯t help but notice how oddly sweaty the red-wizard is today, her face is flush and red and almost dripping with perspiration. Must be the heat. ¡°Thanks! You guys are the best,¡± says the wizard, practically bouncing up and down on her heels, as if her body were buzzing with electricity. The muscles in her face seem to twitch and spasm ever so slightly around her cheeks. ¡°You seem excited today?¡± asks Fresh curiously, as Jubilee hands the wizard back her change. She nods. ¡°Yeah! It¡¯s the new potions! They make me feel great!¡± Fresh tilts her head, thinking for a second as the red-wizard takes her bag to leave. ¡°Aren¡¯t these your first ones?¡± ¡°What? No, I was here earlier and bought five. Anyways, gotta go!¡± says the caster, zooming out of the store straight towards the dungeon. Five¡­? Fresh¡¯s eyes widen in horror. ¡°Jubilee! Don¡¯t let her drink ten potions! It¡¯s not even midday yet!¡± She calls out towards the door to the wizard. ¡°Drink some water!¡± Jubilee shrugs indifferently, tossing the coins into the bowl. ¡°If she pays us, I¡¯ll stick a hose right up her ass and pump a barrel of it into her myself,¡± quips Jubilee. ¡°Merchants, remember? We talked about this.¡± ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± cries Fresh in desperation, watching as the wizard enters the dungeon, her body shaking with excitement and energy. Once the wizard vanishes, the girl sighs in defeat, her gaze meeting Basil¡¯s. She can¡¯t help but notice the priestess looking at her rather curiously. Laughing nervously, Fresh takes another load of armor and quickly heads upstairs, hoping that the priestess would forgive her for her hypocrisy. She stops on her way down, looking into the pantry at the supply of lanterns that she is building up for the giant order. Idly, listening to the buzzing of excited voices from below, she stares at the lanterns as an idea slowly starts to form in her mind. She wants Basil to like her, huh? Fresh smiles, she might just know exactly how to make that happen. Running downstairs, she looks over the adventurers for one that has a bottle of ectoplasm and then buys it off of them, right there on the sales floor, before quickly rushing back upstairs, ignoring Jubilee¡¯s watchful and suspicious eyes on her back. Setting to work, Fresh grabs her materials and begins making a new lantern, taking the time to make the metal frame a little more intricate than usual. The normal ones only have a simple iron frame. But this one, she is opting to use her crafting skills to engrave a little. She spends a while, carving small creatures and sigils and animals like anqas into the body of the lantern, onto three of its four shutters. Then, on the last one, she sets to work, making her masterpiece. Fresh isn¡¯t too sure about religious iconography in this world. But the ¡®flavor¡¯ of the church is at the very least, a familiar concept to her as it was akin to the churches present in her old life and Basil, as a priestess will surely like this, right? Fresh smiles brightly, if only for herself. ¡°It¡¯s going to be perfect!¡± The girl sets to work, filling the last shutter with a large engraving of a detailed depiction of a floating, white-robed angel, with its arms spread out wide in a healing and welcoming gesture. The little creatures engraved down below it, encased in a small light, as she carves thin channels into the shutter that gives the drawing the appearance, as if the radiant glow seeping through the slits were coming from it. Mixing the usual ingredients together, she takes some of her white, glowing purification mixture and slowly mixes it into the soul-potion and burnt-fern concoction, together with a few droplets of ectoplasm. Thankfully she had learned over time that the fern only needs to be a little burnt, which made making the lanterns a lot easier, since she doesn''t have to go into the dungeon every time to avoid a fire-hazard. The potion mixture filling the lantern shines brightly, the concoction turning from the cool, blue glow to a much warmer, almost white tone. Holding her hands above the half-finished item, she closes her eyes and concentrates, not too sure what she¡¯s doing exactly. The idea just sort of comes to her, as she listens to the voices downstairs, as she listens to the babbling fountain, trickling loudly outside on the plaza. The bubbling of the water is almost like a whisper into her ears, like a voice that is guiding her. Opening her eyes in excitement, Fresh spins the lantern around, sealing it shut and putting the entire construct together. ¡°Afraid of the dark, huh?¡± Her smile grows smug as the girl feels a warm pride in her chest, as she looks at the imprint of a guardian angel, shining out on the body of the lantern. ¡°Not anymore!¡± A waterproof, magical-lantern made out of iron and a thin layer of crystal glass. The inside is filled with an enchanted liquid that glows with ever-present shine, day or night Imbued with a deep-set holy energy, this lantern radiates pure emotions and repels any form of darkness. Effect: The leaking holy energy of this light does 1 HOLY damage to any DARK creatures within 12 meters once every three seconds. Quality Effect: [Guardian Angel¡¯s Tether] - The lantern doesn¡¯t need to be held and will float at your side. Weight: 0.6kg Color: Moonlight-White Excited, she watches as the lantern rises up into the air on its own, floating. ¡°Basil will love this!¡± says Fresh, clenching her fists and bobbing on her heels, just like the red-wizard had done before. She gets up, grabbing hold of the floating lantern and rushes out, moving towards the downstairs to give Basil her present. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 77: A quiet night Fresh stops at the door to the downstairs area, looking at the lantern and tilting her head, as her own thoughts stop her in her tracks. ¡°Maybe this is too much?¡± The girl taps her chin, thinking. This is obviously an expensive item and she put so much work into it¡­ is that creepy? Is she being creepy? Fresh turns around, looking down the upstairs corridor towards Jubilee¡¯s room. Didn¡¯t she want to make something for Jubilee? Fresh crosses her arms and leans against the wall, the lantern floats next to her, bobbing up and down. ¡°Jubilee¡¯s already jealous¡­¡± she mutters, not entirely sure if that¡¯s true, but it might be. Wouldn¡¯t it be unfair of her to give something like this to Basil, especially in front of Jubilee? Fresh tilts her head. She just doesn¡¯t understand these sorts of social situations at all. At the very least, her excited mood is ruined now. Walking towards her room, she goes inside and grabs the lantern out of the air, setting it down. It rises back up as she turns to walk away. ¡°Stay there,¡± says the girl, placing it back down onto the floor of her room and then walking to the door. The lantern rises up again, following after her. She purses her lips, grabbing it and setting it down again, trying to scoot to the door before it can catch up with her. She doesn¡¯t manage. The lantern bumps against her back, coming to a stop. Fresh sighs and looks around for an idea. She quickly finds it, a small iron chain that she had been using for crafting and then forgot in her pocket once. It eventually landed on her floor and it had been laying there ever since, as she hasn¡¯t had time to properly clean since they opened the store. Grabbing it, she ties one end around the handle of the lantern and then the other around her bedpost. ¡°Stay there!¡± calls Fresh and runs outside, closing the door behind herself. She wants to do something for Basil, sure. But maybe she really should put Jubilee first. Though, she rubs her head, maybe she¡¯s just reading far too deeply into the dynamics of her friendships? The word makes her stop for a moment and she smiles as she looks out of the upstairs corridor window that hangs over the backstreets beyond the dungeon plaza. If this is a ¡®problem¡¯ that she is having, then maybe her new life is pretty good after all? For the first time, she takes a moment to just look out of the window and admires the tight, weaving world behind it. The narrow alleys winds off in several directions, all of which she has never explored. ¡°What does Jubilee even like?¡± Sure, she¡¯s bought some things for the house and done some work here and there. There was the new mattress too. But¡­ she wants to make something. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Lost for now, Fresh simply heads downstairs to see if there is anything left for her to help with. The rest of the day is fairly uneventful, apparently the crowd never returned after the usual midday lull. The sun is coming out more and more, which apparently makes things uncomfortable for adventurers. Fresh had never really considered it before, but she supposes since most of them are either going to or coming from the dungeon, they were all dressed in armor of some kind, apart from the casters. That made dwelling in the summer heat a nightmare, let alone shopping. Maybe that¡¯s why the mornings are so much more active than they used to be. ¡°Good night, Basil!¡± calls out Fresh to Basil who runs down the street, heading home in a hurry as the clouds above them seem to have started leaking droplets of water. Fresh only now realizes how unfortunate bad weather must be for priests and priestesses with their white cloth robes. Basil is too far away to respond, but waves over her shoulder. ¡°Storm¡¯s coming,¡± says Jubilee as she closes the door. ¡°Agaaaain?¡± moans Fresh. ¡°Does it always rain here this much?¡± Jubilee tilts their head. ¡°Late spring to early summer? Yeah? Have you ever been outside before?¡± Fresh sighs, not sure how to answer that. The girl stops in her tracks and shudders, a chill running up her back as a sudden wind outside sweeps down the street, the gale seemingly blowing away the summer heat in an instant, as it seeps through the cracks in the walls. She looks behind herself, glaring down at the draft that creeps just past her ears and ankles, as if mocking her for her failure to keep it at bay. ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°What kind of stuff do you like?¡± Jubilee looks up the counter, gazing at her warily. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You know? Like¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°What do you like doing? What do you like thinking about? What¡¯s -¡± Jubilee interrupts. ¡°- If you ask me what my favorite color is, you¡¯re closing the store on your own tonight.¡± Fresh quickly closes her mouth and stands there. Jubilee looks back down to the ledger, continuing their calculations for the day. Rain starts to fall outside. Lightly at first, but then the wind picks up and the downpour seems to fall harder still. Not only on its own, but also through the pelting of the gale storm that smashes the droplets against the windows. Fresh rubs her arms. ¡°It always gets so cold here at night, even in summer,¡± she remarks. ¡°Yeah?¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Sharp senses as always. That¡¯s what night is, dummy.¡± Fresh sighs. Jubilee is being snarky again. Giving up for now, the girl sets to work, restocking the shelves. The two of them work in silence for a while. ¡°Do you need another blanket?¡± asks Jubilee, rather suddenly after a good half hour has passed. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh in surprise, looking over towards Jubilee who broke the quiet. ¡°A blanket, goo-brain, do you need another one? For your bed?¡± asks Jubilee, not looking up from the book. Though Fresh notices that they aren¡¯t even writing anymore. Jubilee is just sitting there with the pen and their eyes both down onto the page. Fresh tilts her head, surprised at Jubilee¡¯s asking. Her eyes grow wide. ¡°Will you make me one?!¡± she asks, clenching her fists in front of herself. ¡°What?¡± Jubilee looks up now, their eyes more than skeptical. ¡°I have blankets. You can just -¡± ¡°I want you to make me one!¡± protests the girl. ¡°Pleeeeease?¡± ¡°Why¡­?¡± ¡°So I won¡¯t have any bad dreams and wake you up again,¡± explains Fresh, making something up on the spot that sounds believable. In truth she just wants one in the hopes that maybe Jubilee will open up a little more. It¡¯s nice to feel needed, after all. At this thought, Fresh has a sudden realization. Her eyes scan her friend up and down as she thinks she understands Jubilee¡¯s extra snarkiness as of late. ¡°I¡¯m going to pretend I didn¡¯t hear that.¡± Jubilee fidgets uncomfortably, but then relents. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll make you a blanket, you giant baby.¡± Fresh smiles, her somewhat manipulative scheme has been successful. She returns to her work, finishing up for the night. The storm begins raging outside, the heavy winds and rains accompanied now by the familiar crescendo of rolling thunder. The clashing in the sky and the water streaming down the glass windows remind her of the promise of the bad dream. That this is all temporary, this is all fleeting. If anything at all in her life was a dream, it was th- Stomping over to the window, the girl slams the shutters tightly shut in protest, making a show out of it, so that the storm will see that it isn¡¯t welcome here and that neither are the pessimistic thoughts it¡¯s trying to imprint on her. The rest of their work finishes quickly, as they are more than versed in this routine now and the two of them head upstairs to go to bed, the upstairs window rattling behind the shutters, as if sharp fingers were tapping against it. Like a haunting spirit asking to be let inside. ¡°Go away, ghosts!¡± yells Fresh at the window. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡± asks Jubilee, looking back at her from their bedroom door. Fresh looks over to them. ¡°I was talking to the ghosts.¡± ¡°There aren¡¯t any ghosts, goo-brain. Even if there were, Basil made a seal, remember?¡± ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Fresh smiles a smug smile at the window and at any ghosts that may or may not lie beyond it, this night is hers. Thunder cracks outside and she jolts together and quickly hurries to her door. ¡°Good night, Jubilee!¡± ¡°Good night.¡± Fresh opens her door, stepping a foot inside of her room. She turns her head, looking back at Jubilee who is still standing there in their own door. She blinks. Thunder cracks outside again, louder than before. The girl looks inside of her room, towards the floating lantern that slowly begins to rise back up and then back towards Jubilee behind her. Fresh really does think that she understands now. ¡°Jubileee~?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Can I sleep in your room tonight?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Pleeease~?¡± Jubilee turns around, walking inside of their room without any further protests. ¡°I¡¯d say no, but I don¡¯t want you to wet the bed because you had a bad dream again.¡± She pulls her door shut, walking into Jubilee¡¯s room. ¡°That¡¯s not what happened!¡± ¡°Sure looked like it to me,¡± says Jubilee, setting to work, pulling the mattress off of the bed to make the room divider. Fresh relents, letting Jubilee have this victory. After all, her friend is feeling insecure about themself. This is her realization. With a little money, the store could practically run itself without Jubilee. After all, Fresh makes every single item of theirs, except the bags. Sure, Jubilee made the glass for their potions. But at this point, she could afford to buy glass if she really needed to. Same with an extra person to run the counter. She understands that Jubilee had realized this too, probably far earlier than she had, since they did the math every night. If Fresh really, really wanted to, she could run this entire operation without Jubilee, with a little money and charm. Their plan of Jubilee going into the dungeon to find things for her to make simply never worked out in the end, it wasn¡¯t an economical use of their time when they were needed here and the adventurers would simply bring them all of their materials and then some anyways. Five minutes later, Fresh lays on her pile of blankets on one side of the upright mattress and Jubilee lays on the bare box-spring on the other side. The storm rattles on outside, the winds howling as they shear along the glass beyond the shutters. ¡°Jubileee~?¡± starts Fresh, wanting to ask a question. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad I went left.¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Ah, nevermind. Uh¡­ what¡¯s your favorite color?¡± ¡°Go to sleep, goo-brain,¡± calls a tired voice from the other side of the ¡®wall¡¯. ¡°Jubileee~?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Can we get a kitchen?¡± ¡°¡­For what?¡± ¡°Because I want to make us some real food, so we don¡¯t always have to eat street food and dried stuff!¡± ¡°You think I trust you around fire?¡± Fresh shrugs, perhaps only to herself. ¡°Then you can help me cook things! We can make things together! Like for our breakfasts.¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t respond with more than an unsure groan. ¡°Please?¡± Jubilee groans again. ¡°Pleeeeease~?¡± ¡°Are we fucking married or something? Just go to sleep,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it in the morning.¡± ¡°Promise?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Sure. Promise. Good night,¡± says her friend dryly. ¡°Good night, Jubilee!¡± Fresh pulls her blanket up and rolls to her side, huddling into a ball and closes her eyes, listening to the storm outside that seems to be just a little further away than it was while she was outside of the room. A deep exhalation leaves her, as her body starts to fall slack. ¡°Green,¡± says a voice from across the room. Fresh smiles, huddling together as she falls asleep. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 78: Sun day Lazy birdsong fills the summer air, together with the trickle of slowly dripping water which leaks out of the fountain. The stream dribbles down into the basin with a constant, quiet splashing. Fresh stands outside, just behind the dungeon gate, as she stares down at her own reflection in the calm pool of water that shimmers in the light of the early morning sunrise. Jubilee was already gone when she had gotten up, Fresh assumes that they¡¯re running around town. Maybe Jubilee is getting them breakfast again? Her stomach growls. ¡°I hope so,¡± sighs the girl, sinking a glass flask into the water and then taking a long drink out of it, emptying out its glistening crystal content into herself. The water of the fountain, despite sitting out in the open and under the light of the sun all day every day, somehow always remained clear and crisp and pure. Basil had told her that it was the church who blessed the fountain, but Fresh isn¡¯t sure if she believes that. Looking up towards the back of the giant gate, she sees that the fountain is simply a part of it. There is no separation between the back of the fountain and it, as if the entire construction had been ornately hewn out of a single giant rock. If this fountain really is blessed, it¡¯s likely in her eyes that this happened long before the church or anyone else ever got here. Fresh stretches, rising up to her toes with her arms in the air. Her lower back pops and she jolts forward, holding herself upright with a palm against the rim of the fountain, as the sharp ache shoots through her body. ¡°Back pain?¡± asks a voice from next to her, the water splashing as they reach in to collect some of it. Fresh looks over, seeing the heavily burn-scarred, elven barkeeper from the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°Try some spriggan sap. It¡¯s a little expensive and a little messy, but it helps,¡± suggests the elf, splashing her face with some water with her cupped hands. ¡°Good morning!¡± calls Fresh. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you around in a while.¡± The elf rubs her face on a small cloth she¡¯s holding. ¡°Yeah. Summer is when the guild gets busy, lots of travelers coming through, so I¡¯m pulling extra shifts,¡± sighs the woman. ¡°But I hear you guys are doing the same too.¡± The barkeeper thinks for a second. ¡°Can I ask you something weird?¡± ¡°Sure?¡± says Fresh, refilling her bottle again a second time. ¡°If you wanted to become a merchant, why did you even bother joining the adventurer¡¯s guild?¡± Fresh smiles, thinking for a moment as she looks at her own reflection. ¡°I was just kind of going with the flow, you know?¡± she says. ¡°Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing.¡± She looks over to the barkeeper, her face somewhat troubled. ¡°I got really scared when Jubilee told me about the debt. You guys really should be more open about stuff like that. I had no idea what was happening.¡± The elf fidgets, rubbing the back of her head. ¡°I mean, everyone kind of knows? There¡¯s a sign by the door too.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know. You could have warned me,¡± says the girl, not wanting to pout this early in the morning, but still feeling a little annoyed at the barkeeper who she wants to like, but she isn¡¯t sure if she should. But the elf is nice at least and she doesn¡¯t want to be rude. ¡°With more than a tiny sign.¡± The barkeeper sighs. ¡°You walked past the sign, went up to the bar, you got the shot. That¡¯s how the system works.¡± ¡°The system is dumb,¡± argues Fresh, downing another sip of water. The barkeeper looks around nervously, checking if anyone has heard her. The elf takes a few steps forward, coming closer to Fresh and lifts a hand, whispering nervously into her ear. It¡¯s an odd thing to notice right now, but Fresh can¡¯t help but smell that the barkeeper smells strongly of a very woody perfume. ¡°Be careful with your words. Things are the way they are for a reason.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Look, I hear a lot of things -¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you just hear that sad singing all day?¡± ponders Fresh, looking at the woman¡¯s long ears. The elf clears her throat. ¡°Listen. I¡¯m serious. You¡¯re stepping on people¡¯s feet. Powerful people.¡± The barkeeper steps back, walking away, as a group of adventurers round the gate. ¡°Money alone isn¡¯t enough, if you want to survive until winter.¡± Fresh walks after the barkeeper who is clearly trying to get away from her. ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± ¡°To make myself feel better,¡± says the barkeeper, lifting a hand to gesture for her to stop. The burn-scarred elf vanishes around the other side of the gate, likely heading down towards the adventurer¡¯s guild to get to work for the day. Fresh tilts her head, looking back down towards her own reflection in the fountain. She spends the next hour running around town, fulfilling her usual morning errands which really only consist of finding food and maybe buying some fabric or some feathers now and then, for bags and arrows. She isn¡¯t sure if Jubilee is out buying food, but in the worst case, they¡¯d just have to have two breakfasts. Truly it¡¯s a harsh world. The streets are already starting to fill with crowds of adventurers, as the busy hive of the inner city explodes to life. Dozens of faces fill the streets, as if lured out by the warm sounds of nature and happy voices, mixing in together with the alluring smells of hot breads and fresh cuts of meat that drift through the air, enticing anyone that they can reach. On her way back home, Fresh finds a little nook of a tea-store that she has never seen before and buys a few bundles of summer teas. She has no idea what many of these are, as apparently some of them are made with higher level plants than she is able to identify with her botany ability, so she simply asks the nice old man behind the counter for what he recommends. Humming, with a full bag, she comes back home and steps inside, looking around. ¡°Jubileee~?¡± she asks, calling to see if her friend had come back yet. Fresh¡¯s eyes look up in surprise, as Basil comes down the stairs. The woman is covered in sweat and grime, her white robe is stained with dirt, together with her sticky, red face as she strains to carry a heavy box down the staircase. She sets it down onto the counter, taking a deep breath and then sneezing loudly into her sleeve. ¡°Good morning, Basil!¡± Fresh tilts her head, trying to hide her nervousness. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Basil groans, rubbing her sweaty face on her still somewhat clean sleeve. ¡°Good morning! I¡¯m helping to clear out the kitchen.¡± ¡°The what?¡± asks Fresh. Basil tilts her head, shrugging. ¡°The kitchen? Jubilee told me to throw this stuff away.¡± The priestess sneezes again. ¡°Bless you.¡± ¡°Thanks. Not to be rude, but you guys should really do some spring cleaning.¡± ¡°It¡¯s summer, Basil,¡± thinks Fresh. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says the sweaty priestess, leaning forward in defeat as she looks at the heavy, dusty box. Fresh is already rushing past her. The kitchen? She stops on the stairs, coming back down and places a hand on the priestess¡¯ shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re doing a really good job, Basil. Thank you! I promise I¡¯ll make it up to you!¡± Basil looks back. ¡°Of course, ah -¡± she waves her arms around. ¡°Please don¡¯t touch me. I¡¯m all sweaty and gross.¡± Fresh runs up the stairs, waving down to her. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, that just means you¡¯re working hard!¡± Looking at the upstairs corridor, she hears a rattling of metal against metal coming from the second door, the one just after the pantry. The door, which has been sealed until now, is wide open. Excitedly, she runs towards it and looks inside. Jubilee is down on the ground, digging around in a cabinet and rummaging through a stack of old pots and pans. The room is about twice the size of the pantry. On the right, is an old, small wooden table with some chairs. The rest of the room is lined with kitchen countertops and shelves, together with an old metal stove in the center of the room, a long pipe leading up towards the third floor, where it likely goes higher through the ceiling. There isn¡¯t exactly a sink. But there is a metal basin of sorts, at least. ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± shouts Fresh in excitement, as her friend pulls their head out of the cabinets, but then sticks it back in a moment later as they keep rummaging. ¡°Morning,¡± says Jubilee rather dryly, as emotionally distant as always. She runs inside, looking at the old kitchen that had always been here. She supposes it makes sense. If this was a party¡¯s headquarters once, however many people they were, they had to eat too. Presumably more than just street food and dried provisions. ¡°This is great! Does this mean we can use this now?¡± asks Fresh giddily. ¡°If it gets you to stop nagging me, yeah,¡± says Jubilee, pulling an old pot out and setting it on a pile to the side. ¡°Hug?¡± asks Fresh, holding her arms out wide. ¡°Only if you want me to stick you head-first into the oven,¡± snaps Jubilee, pulling out another old, worn-through pan with heavy rust spots. ¡°Go hug Basil, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll let you, if you pay her extra.¡± Basil clears her throat, standing in the door. ¡°That¡¯s a rather gaudy thing to say,¡± says the priestess, clearly offended, crossing her arms. Though, looking at her, Fresh assumes it¡¯s mostly to hide the patches of sweat under her long sleeves, rather than out of protest. ¡°The only gaudy thing here is your jewelry,¡± says Jubilee, pulling out another old pot. Basil fidgets, pulling her sleeves down over her bracelets. Fresh raises a finger. ¡°I like your jewelry, Basil. It¡¯s pretty. Jubilee is just cranky.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± says the priestess, smiling at her, as she goes to collect more of the items to dispose of. Fresh sets to work, tearing open the window that likely hasn¡¯t been open in years. The old material creaks and groans, squeaking loudly as she opens it. Immediately, a draft blows inside, surging in through the open window and rushing down the corridor, down the stairs and out of the open downstairs window. All three of them stand there quietly in the kitchen for a minute, feeling the summer draft waft over them. The sounds of the busy, lively world outside acting as a promise, that no matter what darkness or uncertainty lies in the future, that today at least is going to be a beautiful day. The trickling voice of the fountain out on the plaza almost seems to reassure that. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 79: Heatwave ¡°It¡¯s so hooot~¡± groans Fresh. Her body is slumped forward over the counter. Her head rests down on top of the wooden surface, her arms limply dangling out over the other side. Basil stands next to her, the priestess fanning herself with a sheet of paper. She doesn¡¯t respond with anything more than a deep exhalation. Fresh opens her eyes, looking at the sweat stains on Basil¡¯s robe. She supposes it must be pretty warm in that outfit. Then again¡­ Her eyes wander to her own long, black sleeves. - It¡¯s probably just as warm as her own. So¡­ pretty warm. ¡°Jubileeee~¡± whines Fresh, rolling her head the other way to look at Jubilee, who is sitting on the stairs. ¡°It¡¯s hooot~¡± complains the girl to them, as if they hadn¡¯t heard her the first time. ¡°Yeah,¡± is all that Jubilee says, spreading their hands behind themselves and leaning back against the steps. ¡°Mhm,¡± agrees Basil, continuing to fan herself. The noise of buzzing cicadas is the only sound in the air. Not even birds sing anymore, the small creatures having long since retreated into the shade, deep inside of the trees. The only people in the streets are common-folk in cloth clothing and the occasional caster. But anyone who has anything more than that to wear has either long since vanished into the cool, underground dungeon and planned to spend the entire day there, or simply never left their homes to begin with. There hasn¡¯t been a single customer for hours, past the initial morning rush. As soon as the sun came out in full force during the later morning, everyone more or less vanished, leaving the three of them sitting there with entirely idle, damp hands. ¡°Hey Basil,¡± says Fresh listlessly. ¡°¡­What?¡± asks Basil, clearly straining herself to talk. The paper rustling in her hands as she continues to fan herself. ¡°Chicken-butt.¡± Jubilee sighs an exhausted sigh and Fresh does the same, despite the joke having been her own. Basil tilts her head, but then just sighs as well. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee, as the three of them stay just as they are, entirely motionless and stationary, as if all of them, except for Basil¡¯s fanning hand, had been frozen in time. It¡¯s hot. The transition from early summer to what certainly feels like mid-summer, despite it not being that, has been sudden, to say the least. ¡°Is this what summer is always like here?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee plainly. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil, not wanting to or simply not having the energy to open her mouth. The three of them listen to the humming song of a single, buzzing cicada outside, which seems to be particularly close to the shop. Fresh looks over to Jubilee again. She bets they¡¯re warm under all of their clothes too. ¡°We should go swimming,¡± suggests the girl. ¡°Pass,¡± says Jubilee. Basil shakes her head. ¡°It would be inappropriate.¡± Fresh sighs. She supposes Jubilee doesn¡¯t want to take off their clothes. As for Basil, well, she supposes the priestess doesn¡¯t want to take off her clothes either. She thinks for a moment, realizing that she doesn¡¯t even have a bathing suit herself, if those even exist here. Maybe the same argument applies for herself as well, then. Groaning, Fresh pushes herself up, planting her hands onto the counter as she rises to her feet and wobbles up the stairs, past Jubilee who doesn¡¯t move an inch. A moment later, she comes back down with three empty glass bottles in hand, and walks outside towards the fountain, neither of her friends saying a word. The sunlight crashes down against her face the moment she steps out of the shade of the building. Immediately, she lifts her hands up to her face and blocks out the shining rays, stopping them from piercing into her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s so bright,¡± sighs the girl, forcing herself to walk through the heat towards the fountain. The black fabric of her dress begins becoming hot immediately and she regrets stepping outside only a few seconds later, before she¡¯s even half-way to the fountain. Finally reaching her goal, after what felt like a long, arduous journey, she retreats behind the shade of the gate, leaning forward against the fountain and taking a deep breath. Then, filling up the bottles, she is pleased to find that the fountain water is at least somewhat cool. With a tired gaze, she looks back across the plaza to the door of the shop, which seems so impossibly far away now. It¡¯s as if she were gazing over a vast, endless desert. Fresh purses her lips, pushing herself back up to her feet, the three glass bottles clinking as she holds them against her body. She has to make this journey back for her friends, they¡¯re counting on her. Putting all of her willpower into it, the girl steps back out into the sunlight and moves as fast as she dares, back towards the shop, the light of the sun cooking the left half of her body this time. ¡°I got us some water,¡± says Fresh, lacking her usual excitement as she comes back inside. Placing the bottles down, she slides one of the glistening glass containers towards Basil and then hands the other one over to Jubilee. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Basil, lifting the bottle and holding it against her sweaty forehead, rather than drinking it. Jubilee nods to her, not saying anything and takes the bottle, simply holding onto it. Fresh returns to her spot next to Basil, flopping back down onto the counter, just like she was before. The girl closes her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s so hot.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil. The rest of the afternoon passes like that. Not a single customer comes into the shop. Not a single piece of equipment comes in to be repaired. None of their potions move. None of the weapons or equipment or lanterns. Nothing. Not even a single glass-chicken. The entire day is just the three of them sitting around idly, not even holding a conversation that lasts longer than a few grunts or nods. Despite her ample free time, Fresh never quite manages to find the energy and motivation to do any more work on the house. Even the excitement of the new kitchen upstairs doesn¡¯t lure her away from the spot on the wooden counter that she is practically glued to. Now that summer is here, it¡¯s hard for her to tell what time it is, as the sun sets and rises differently. Even now, in the evening, it¡¯s still just as bright outside as if it were midday. If the bells of the church hadn¡¯t started ringing, echoing out through the quiet city, she would have never known that it is this late in the day. The heat never quite entirely subsides, its presence is now a given constant. But as the evening rolls around, the sun does seem to dim just a little, much to their shared relief. It¡¯s about time for them to close and literally nothing has happened all day. Fresh had offered to get them some lunch ready, but neither of her friends had any appetite according to them and in truth, neither did she. It¡¯s just too hot. Quietly, as she stares forward out of the door, Fresh hopes that maybe the adventurers will all come to them in a rush at the end of the day, once all of them stream back out of the dungeon, after the sun has retreated a little further. But then, as if the universe itself had decided to disprove her theory, slowly, people start trickling out of the dungeon, one after the other, as the parties make their way back to the surface. All of them falter in their exhausted steps, as the blasting heat of the outside world swallows their bodies, which had been submerged down in the cool dungeon all day. Fresh tilts her head, watching them. They aren¡¯t wearing their bags. Some of them she recognizes from this morning, she¡¯s sure she saw them entering the dungeon with them. Are they just leaving all of their loot inside? More and more entirely exhausted groups begin to exit the dungeon, most of them having likely spent the entire day fighting monsters. None of them make a beeline towards their store. All of them just drag themselves down the street, she assumes that they are heading towards the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°They¡¯ll be back in the morning,¡± says Jubilee, perhaps reading her expression. Fresh rolls her head over the counter, resting it onto her right ear as she looks at Jubilee, who is still on the staircase. ¡°Nobody wants to bother carrying loot in this heat. They¡¯ll just get their bags tomorrow morning and sell everything while it''s still cool outside. It¡¯s a classic summer trick.¡± Fresh groans. ¡°Isn¡¯t this terrible for us?¡± ¡°It is,¡± says Jubilee, apparently not too bothered. ¡°But there¡¯s nothing we can do about it, until summer goes away on its own.¡± ¡°Can we hire an ice-wizard? To make the store cold?¡± Basil quietly laughs, quickly covering her mouth and trying to stop herself. ¡°Not even we can afford that. Those crystal-flinging goons charge out the ass during summer. Just about all of them are off, hired by the noble estates.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°What about ice-monster drops? Isn¡¯t there anything that¡¯s super cold?¡± Jubilee shakes their head again, getting up off of the stairs. ¡°There are a few things, but I haven¡¯t seen anyone offering us any. Plus they¡¯re in high demand. Ice-drop prices shoot to the moon during summer.¡± Basil nods. ¡°I saw a single ice-golem core on my way here this morning, in a window. It was six-hundred Obols.¡± ¡°Six-hundred?!¡± asks Fresh in surprise. That seems absurdly high for a monster drop. ¡°Well yeah, they¡¯re cold as all fuck,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯ll only last you a day though, before it melts. So you need a new one every day,¡± they explain. ¡°That¡¯s still cheap. Wait another couple of weeks. They¡¯ll be double that price, when summer really gets going.¡± ¡°You mean this isn¡¯t it? It¡¯s going to get worse?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat worried. Jubilee walks to the door, slamming it shut. Nobody is going to come to the store today. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee plainly, locking the door. ¡°Mhm,¡± agrees Basil, patting Fresh on the back. The girl sighs in defeat. She has to figure something out. It would be fine if all of their customers come in the morning, if not a little hectic. But months of this lethargy? Even if their business could survive, she isn¡¯t sure if they will. Not because of the threat that the heat poses, but... Fresh forces herself upright, feeling bad about having wasted an entire day now. Her eyes scan the store. She could have done so much work. There is so much that still needs to be done. What is she doing just sitting around? Outside, the cicada¡¯s buzz is entirely undisturbed and indifferent to her worries. Their song heralds the dawn of summer. It¡¯s going to be a real scorcher. Razmatazz I love a nice, long, sleepy summer *Cicada buzzing intensifies* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 80: Moonlighting Fresh¡¯s sleeves are rolled up to her elbows. Her bag, full of potions, is sitting on the stairs as she runs in a circle around floor four of the dungeon. She had just finished clearing the third floor of the dungeon a few minutes ago. After a short break to catch her breath, Fresh made her way down deeper. She¡¯s alone in the dungeon and it¡¯s the middle of the night, she had snuck outside again to go level up on her own. The lantern that she had made for Basil floats at her side. She had decided to take it with herself, if only out of practicality. In truth however, she also felt bad for it. The odd construction, floating near her bed, always seemed to want to follow her, but it couldn¡¯t ever escape the chain that she had tied it to. It¡¯s not like the lantern is alive or anything like that, but - Her eyes glance over to the silver thing floating at her side, as the monsters chase her around the floor. The depiction of the guardian-angel shimmering with a pale, white light. - It¡¯s just that she felt bad for it. It had tugged at her heart-strings, watching it pull against the chain as she tried to leave the room in silence. So she just took it with her. Fresh hopes that Basil will forgive her for using her present, but she¡¯s sure that the priestess wouldn¡¯t mind. It¡¯s not like she even knows about the lantern to begin with. Fresh rounds the bend, running past the staircase again as she makes the next loop around the floor, the mush-mushes are a little harder to avoid than the snails. The snails are so slow that she barely has to bother running away from them at all. But they have a little more health than the mush-mushes. None of them really have anything of substance to say. In fact, the snails are even ruder than the mush-mushes. She had no idea that monsters could have such crude ways of expressing themselves. Talking to forest monsters had sounded like a nice idea at first, but the reality is that monsters seemed to have personalities to match their title. In short, they¡¯re jerks. Five minutes later. Everything is dead and she swipes her experience-points-screen away, before falling down onto the staircase, getting her weight off of her wobbly legs. ¡°It¡¯s going to take a long time,¡± sighs the girl in exhaustion, leaning back against the steps as sweat drips down her forehead. It¡¯s cool and damp down in the dungeon, a welcome change from the oppressive heat of the overworld. But she has work to do. She needs to get stronger. She¡¯s sure that Jubilee would take her to the dungeon, if she asked and pleaded long enough, but she wants to do it herself. Her fingers dig around the bag, pulling out a glass flask filled with water. Jubilee can¡¯t always be there to save her. One day, she might need to save Jubilee and she has to be strong enough to do that on her own. The cool water drips down her chin as she drinks it just a little too hastily, coughing and spluttering as she leans forward, striking against her chest as she clears her throat. Fresh looks at the lantern. Water dribbles down its sleek surface, as she spit all over it. ¡°Ah! I¡¯m sorry!¡± She grabs it out of the air, wiping it off on her robe. It simply floats back into place next to her as she lets go again. It¡¯s entirely indifferent. Sighing in midnight exhaustion, Fresh gets up and slings her bag back over her shoulder, heading down to floor five. There¡¯s still so much work to do. A vision of the cobalt-armored man from the sect flashes through her mind as she marches towards the next set of stairs. She wonders if he is down here as well, in his own dungeon? ¡®Putting in the work¡¯, as the expression goes. She isn¡¯t entirely sure what it is exactly that she should believe in, like he had said. What it is that she should place her faith in, so that she has something to hold on to and to motivate her when the bad times come. Her fingers grasp the straps of her bag, pulling it higher onto her shoulders which have become slightly scarred from all of the rubbing and friction of her heavy bag. For now, this will have to do. Fresh heads down to floor five, putting in the same effort. After another break, she moves to floor six and looks down the stairs after clearing it. Floor seven has the goblin. She looks at the cursed-dagger on her belt. Considering the amount of teeth she uses, she should be past this point of self-doubt about killing goblins. Yet somehow, she isn¡¯t entirely. As for the dagger itself, it isn¡¯t of much use to her with her current strategy, but she thinks she¡¯s ready to use it if she has to. Downing another stamina-potion, her third one for the night, she takes a deep breath and heads down the staircase. Her eyes lock on to the goblin and it rouses itself out of its nap, looking at the intruder. Fresh narrows her eyes, lifting her hand towards it. She hopes it understands that this is nothing personal, she¡¯s just doing what she has to do. The world is going to eat one of them before tonight is over, so in the end it will come down to only one, single thing that determines which one of them will survive; - - which of them wants it more. Half an hour passes and Fresh falls against the door to the boss-room, gasping for air, her legs trembling and about to give out as she does her best not to look up behind her. So that she doesn¡¯t see the thick, black spot dripping down the steps from just above her. A giant puddle of oily ooze, in which float two small, beady monster eyes, that had been popped out of their sockets. She grabs another stamina-potion. Her fifth, as she had one during the chase with the goblin, which was a really fast creature. It took everything she had just to avoid it by a hair¡¯s width. She¡¯s starting to think she understands what the red-wizard meant. Her legs and arms feel jittery, her blood seems to be rushing. She isn¡¯t sure if its a mix of adrenaline and a post-exhaustion burst of energy or just the stimulating effect of the potions, but she¡¯s buzzing with energy, despite her tired and heavy eyes and wobbly legs. The boss-room. She looks up towards the door. ¡°How much health does a boss have¡­?¡± She realizes that she doesn¡¯t know. Jubilee had simply absolutely shredded it with their glass magic. Looking back on it, Fresh realizes that Jubilee is probably really strong, since they basically destroyed the boss with a single attack. It probably would have gone even faster, if she herself hadn¡¯t gotten in the way. Fresh smiles, but at least she got Jubilee the flower. So it was worth it. She doesn¡¯t know if she has it in her to run around the boss arena, at least not anymore tonight. Her eyes rise up to the lantern that floats alongside her. ¡°I wish I could fly, like you,¡± says Fresh, reaching for the lantern. The moment she places any of her weight on it however, the lantern sinks down immediately. Whatever magic holds it aloft certainly isn¡¯t strong enough to hold any weight, let alone hers. She¡¯ll just have to do it the hard way. But not tonight. Exhausted, she throws the unopened stamina-potion back into the bag after all. Getting up, the girl trudges her way back up the dungeon, doing her best to not look at any of the many disembodied eyes along the way, floating, suspended in puddles of black goop. As she then later falls into her bed however, her aversion to the sight of them does little to erase them from the visions playing through her mind¡¯s eye. The next day comes and she forces her way through the morning. Her deep exhaustion apparently not distinguishable from a listlessness born of a heat-caused lethargy, much to her relief. The morning is busy, but then later on, the entire day is just as it was yesterday. Quiet. Hot. Fresh leans over the counter, her face pressing into the wood. No matter how hot it gets however, no matter how sweaty and warm she gets, her skin never seems to get any warmer than a cold, clammy tinge, much to Basil¡¯s abhorrence. The priestess insists on casting a healing spell on her, which only makes her feel even worse because of the inner heat that radiates from her body as the white-magic surges through it. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Basil, thank you,¡± says Fresh, somewhat bothered because of her exhausted crankiness, but still happy that the priestess is worried about her. The last puffs of the magic float away from her slack body, which is pressing itself limply against the countertop. Basil isn¡¯t convinced, but relents after noticing that her spell isn¡¯t having any effect at all. Much to Fresh¡¯s relief, healing spells apparently don¡¯t activate her combat menu. Despite any of that, she still manages to smile as she looks around at her equally sweaty, listless friends. While she had overslept a little, Jubilee had been putting in extra work to finish up the kitchen. To make it up to them, Fresh had promised to try and make them a real breakfast tomorrow. Basil had gone out of her way as well and brought a small batch of fresh fruits with her when she arrived this morning, the bundle suspiciously missing any signs of anything orange. Her eyes wander around the empty store, as she listens to the buzzing cicadas outside. A glint of light reflects off of the body of a glass-chicken that stares her way. Her eyes lock on to its and the two of them stare at each other, sizing the other up. ¡°The chicken is judging me,¡± says Fresh quietly to herself. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, leaning back against the stairs again. Fresh sighs, pushing herself up off of the counter. She¡¯s tired and exhausted, having only slept an hour or two after running around in the dungeon all night. But there¡¯s still so much work to do. She can¡¯t let the heat stop her again. The glint of the sunlight shining off of the glass body reminds her of that, of the bad dream, of the prophecy. The great dawn is coming, a true dawn and it will wash away any inkling of darkness in the world, when that deistic sun finally rises, when the summoned-hero arrives, as was foretold. The girl walks up the staircase, grabbing some wood and other materials from the pantry before she comes back down to continue her work on the walls, sealing them tightly shut. She herself is included in that collection of dark things, whether she likes it or not. She can¡¯t waste another day, no matter how hot it is, no matter how tired she is, no matter how gross it is to work on the dusty, grimy walls in this heat. Her fingers dig into the morose wood and she rips the first boards free, setting back to her work of fixing the shop up and making it as nice as she can. She has to be a good example after all, her friends are watching her. ¡®It¡¯s just what a good party-leader should do¡¯ is all that she thinks, as she wipes her grimy forehead onto her sleeve, pursing her lips and ripping out another old board from the rotting walls. Razmatazz 1) Friendly reminder that we have a nice little Discord where we talk about all sorts of weird, pointless things and that you are more than welcome to join us =) 2) Thank you all for reading and for your lovely comments! I always have a lot of fun reading them! <3 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 81: For you The straw bristles of the broom scratch over the wooden floors of the store as Fresh sweeps through the building. It¡¯s the middle of the day and not much has happened to say the least. She had finished working on the next section of the wall downstairs and is now cleaning up the mess that she herself had made during said work on the house. Jubilee and Basil are both still exactly where they were all day, both of them transfixed and idle because of the heat. In truth, she wants to join them in their summer laze. But she knows that she shouldn¡¯t. Even if there are no customers, there¡¯s still so much work to do. Or maybe she wants to work on these other things because of exactly that. Fresh sweeps the mound of dirt and sawdust out of the door. She hasn¡¯t had a single day of rest since they opened. Weekends apparently don¡¯t really exist here in this world. Stores are open seven days a week and people are expected to work that often. Adventurers try to go into the dungeon every day as well, though they have it a little more lax as they are ¡®self-employed¡¯, in a sense. She rubs the back of her head. Isn¡¯t she self-employed too? The girl sighs, exhaling the hot air from her body and wipes her sweaty face on her sleeve as she stands in the door of the store, looking out over the empty plaza. Not a single soul moves outside, over the shadeless, open space between the dungeon-gate and the houses. The long street between this plaza and the entrance plaza seems to be just as empty as well. Fresh stands there in the doorway, feeling a soft breeze come her way. The trees lining the street rustle, billowing in the gentle wind and she closes her eyes, feeling the air move over her face. Taking a second to breathe, she then turns around, looking back towards her friends and then back outside. The girl nods to herself, having decided on how to spend the rest of her day. Running back inside, she scurries past Jubilee and runs upstairs to get her bag and then comes back down. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back!¡± she calls as she leaves. Neither of them move an inch. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil, both of them staring up towards the ceiling. The heat is scorching outside, this is hotter than summer ever was in her old life. As far as she remembers it at least. Doing her best to stay in the shade of the trees, she moves down the way, heading towards the entry plaza, to the fruit vendor. The man is leaned back against the wall of his stall, his hands over his stomach as he seems to have dozed off. Fresh grabs a basket of fruits and places a silver Obol onto the counter. ¡°I¡¯d like this please!¡± she says. The man rouses, not moving more than to lift his head and he nods to her, as she slides the coin over towards him. He doesn¡¯t bother getting up, simply leaving the coin there, as he falls back asleep and Fresh turns to go back home. ¡°Shorts and a t-shirt would be great,¡± she mutters to herself. But she isn¡¯t sure if people here wouldn¡¯t think it was odd? As far as she has seen, the clothing here is always a little more fantastical, yet still conservative. She supposes it¡¯s just the nature of the times they find themselves in, together with the strong influence of the church over this city. Running back inside the store, she moves past her friends who still don¡¯t say a word. Only their eyes move to watch her, as she runs inside, going up the stairs towards the kitchen above. Fresh leaves the upstairs door open. She isn¡¯t going to do any witch-crafting now and besides - She rips open the kitchen window and feels a draft come in, blowing down through the front door. - Maybe it will help if the air is at least moving, if nothing else. The draft, which had so far been her greatest enemy, is now ironically a great relief to her, as the air moves over her face. It¡¯s still as warm as ever, but at least it¡¯s moving. Smiling, she grabs one of the pots that Jubilee had kept for them and fills it with water. Fresh had collected a few bottles of water this morning and brought them all inside, so that they wouldn¡¯t have to go outside into the sun each time to get a drink. The girl reaches into the just about empty shelf, taking out the teas which she had bought and scoops out some of the contents. She tilts her head, watching the reddish mixture sink down into the room temperature water. It apparently is some kind of fruit tea, but she has no idea what kind of fruit specifically. The man had said it was great on hot days though. Plus you didn¡¯t need to strain it, since the berries apparently dissolve when boiled. Nodding, satisfied, she sets to work selecting out a few of the orange fruits. The ones Basil likes. She has no idea what they¡¯re called. They sort of remind her of bananas, but they¡¯re a ripe orange color and apparently you¡¯re supposed to eat the peel with them. Mashing them up, she drops the paste into the tea-water in the pot and then sets it onto the stove like Jubilee had explained to her. Then, being extra careful, she lights a tinder-box and throws it into the wood inside of the oven, closing the door as it sets alight. She stares in delight, as the goopy mixture before her starts to bubble and boil fairly quickly. Taking a long spoon, she wipes it off on her robe and begins stirring the concoction. Steam rises up against her, together with the heat of the oven. It almost feels unbearable to stand there in the summer heat, but she endures it, grinning and bearing it for her friends. Five minutes later, it¡¯s ready. Sort of. The mixture has become a little thicker and goopier than she had envisioned. Maybe she used too much of the fruit? ¡°Hmm¡­¡± she ponders, but then shrugs to herself. Taking a spoon, she scoops out a small bit and then blows on it, doing her best to cool it off a little before trying it. Her eyes light up. It¡¯s strong. But maybe too strong. The sweetness of the thick paste tastes fantastic, she only realizes now how little actual sugary stuff she¡¯s had since coming here. But this isn¡¯t exactly what she was hoping for, to help fight the heat of the day. ¡°Maybe some more water?¡± She scoops two large spoonfuls of the hot mixture into each of the glass bottles before herself. The consistency is like a thick fruit-mash, like an applesauce and the smell is very fragrant and sweet. Almost candy-like. Fresh looks at the cooking window. ¡°It¡¯s been a while¡­¡± she ponders, scratching her cheek. Cooking had been her very first skill here, if she remembers right. Checking that the stove is fine to leave alone, she grabs one of the bottles, fills it up, corks it and then shakes it. The thick fruit and tea paste immediately dissolves into the bottle of water, tingeing it into a light reddish-orange tone that is almost entirely translucent. Pulling the top off, she takes another sip. ¡°It¡¯s perfect!¡± she exclaims to herself in delight. It¡¯s very thin now and very refreshing. The sweetness is only just barely noticeable, but not as overpoweringly tart as before. But then she grimaces, smacking her lips. ¡°It¡¯s warm¡­¡± she sighs. Well. Obviously it¡¯s going to be warm. She just took the mixture from the boiling pot and put it in some room temperature water. Fresh stares down at the three bottles before herself. This won¡¯t do. If only they had a refrigerator, or even just an icebox of some kind. Her gaze raises up, her eyes wandering out of the window, over towards the fountain. That¡¯s it! Smiling, she grabs the three warm bottles and runs downstairs, past her two friends who still haven¡¯t moved an inch and hurries outside, running through the sunlight, towards the fountain. Relieved, she reaches the shadow of the dungeon-gate and leans over, placing the three corked bottles into the shallow water. Fresh sighs, falling down to her knees, her arms wrapped over the rim of the fountain, as she watches the three bottles float in the cool pool. The wet glass shimmers as it bobs up and down, droplets pearling down its sleek surface like the sweat dripping down her skin. It¡¯s hypnotizing, in a sense. The heat, the trickling of the water, the bobbing glass bottles shifting up and down. She sits there, idly, feeling the world pass her by. She isn¡¯t sure how long she sits there exactly, zoned out, her fingers dipped into the water to hold the bottles from floating away. But eventually, a splash from the other side wakes her up from her vision-less daydreams and she turns to look at the source of the disturbance. The man from the sect stands on the other end of the fountain again, having pulled his head back out a second ago. Water sloshes down his darkly colored plated armor. Fresh tilts her head. It must be unbearable out here in this heat in that outfit. He doesn¡¯t seem very fazed though, as if even the incredible heat of the scorching summer does nothing to temper his zeal in the least. ¡°Hi,¡± she waves out to him. He nods to her once and then turns to go back into the dungeon. The girl fidgets with her fingers, looking back to the windows of the store, checking if they¡¯re empty. They are. Her gaze wanders back down as she springs to her feet. ¡°Uh¡­ wait!¡± she calls out in a half-quiet voice and gets up, running over to the man. One of the bottles in her hands. ¡°Here.¡± she holds it out to him. ¡°I just made this fresh!¡± He stares down at her, not moving, apart from his breath that lurches his breastplate in and out. She tilts her head nervously. ¡°It¡¯s hot today, so make sure to drink enough!¡± smiles the girl with a meek smile, holding the bottle out further. The man from the sect doesn¡¯t say anything and Fresh fidgets, somewhat unsure of herself now, looking at him and then down at the bottle. ¡°Ah¡­¡± She realizes that she¡¯s probably being weird again. The man probably thinks she¡¯s some kind of creep. Maybe Jubilee is right about her after all. To her surprise, the man takes the bottle and turns to walk away, getting back to work. ¡°Thanks,¡± is all that he says, as he returns to the dungeon. Fresh sighs a breath of relief and then runs back to get the other two bottles, to return to the store. She isn¡¯t sure why she gave the man the bottle. It just felt like the right thing to do, is all. She wonders, as she runs back through the heat, the wet glass pressed against herself, maybe she feels bad for him? After all, he doesn¡¯t seem to have anything except for his desire to kill monsters. It sounds lonely to her. It reminds her of herself, but at least now she has her friends. She hopes the man can find something like she has too. Glowing, she steps inside, holding the two bottles out to her friends. ¡°Ta-da!¡± Setting one down she slides it over to Basil and hands the other one to Jubilee. ¡°Thank you, um¡­ What is it?¡± asks Basil curiously. ¡°It¡¯s sweet-tea!¡± says Fresh, lifting a finger as she explains to Basil, who is examining the brightly translucent mixture. ¡°It¡¯s very refreshing!¡± she finishes. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Jubilee, taking their bottle upstairs, presumably to try it out somewhere where they could take off their mask. Basil pulls out the cork, dew splashing from the bottle down onto her white robe as she takes a sip and then a long drink out of the bottle. ¡°This is really good!¡± says the priestess and then takes another long gulp of the sweet-tea. Fresh clasps her hands together in excitement. Jubilee comes back downstairs again, adjusting their mask. ¡°Yeah, not bad,¡± they say, nodding to Fresh as they carry their somewhat emptied bottle back down with them. Fresh smiles a giddy smile and bounces on her heels, happy to see her friends roused from their summer daze. She supposes that¡¯s all that it takes, a simple act of her taking the initiative. Small gestures are important, after all. Fresh beams as brightly as the summer sun, happy at having accomplished this. Even if there are next to no sales again today, seeing her friends happy made it all worth it to her nonetheless. Jubilee holds the bottle up to their eyes, swirling the mixture around. ¡°How much did this cost to make?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, opening her eyes. A moment later she uneasily begins scratching her cheek. ¡°Uh¡­¡± She goes over the details. Jubilee looks to her and then over to Basil and for the first time that Fresh can recall, asks the priestess for her input. ¡°Twelve Obols?¡± asks Jubilee. Basil looks at her bottle, taking another sip, her face glowing in delight. ¡°I would suggest nine, but use smaller bottles.¡± Jubilee thinks for a moment, tapping their mask. ¡°You might actually have an idea there.¡± Fresh looks back and forth between the two of them, trying to follow their conversation. A moment later, she realizes. ¡°Huh?! I wasn¡¯t making a new product! I just wanted to make you two something nice!¡± Basil thinks, a finger running through her hair, a golden bangle jangling on her wrist. ¡°If you sell it for nine, maybe people will come here for this and then buy other things?¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°Yeah, that makes sense. With smaller bottles, they¡¯ll end up buying more because of the heat.¡± Fresh¡¯s excitement dies down fairly quickly. Jubilee looks over to Fresh. ¡°How much of this can you make and how fast?¡± The girl sighs an exhausted sigh and slumps down against the bin with the magical-talismans inside of it. She mutters to herself, the heat finally getting to her after all. ¡°I¡¯m glad you like it¡­¡± The fountain trickles unusually loudly outside. The splashing of the water sounds almost like a quiet laugh, coming from off in the distance. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 82: Milky Fresh looks around the upstairs area of the third floor, having snuck up again in the middle of the night. Though she doesn¡¯t quite remember what it is exactly that she wanted to do up here. Confused, she looks around the large, dark room which is filled with nothing but shadows that recess away from her presence, pressing themselves away from the light that she has in her hand. Lifting the lantern, Fresh shines it around the room, looking for what it is that had disturbed her in the middle of the night. She walks past the reading nook and looks down towards the meeting area, with the large table. Nothing. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She turns her head around, walking back the other way. Something snags her boot, some obstruction laying in the darkness and the girl trips. The magical-lantern flies out of her hand, spiraling across the room and as she falls, she feels a terror at the idea that it is about to crash down and shatter loudly in the middle of the night. Fresh thuds against the dusty, wooden boards of the floor, scraping her elbows as she half-catches herself. Looking up, she watches in relief as the enchanted lantern rises up on its own, flying back upright, having never hit the floor at all. She exhales a deep breath and looks behind herself, seeing what it is that she had tripped over in the half darkness. She flips around, her hands covering her own mouth, suppressing her scream at the last second, as she looks at the white-robed person laying on the floor behind her. Basil¡¯s dead eyes shine her way, their glossy surface reflecting the light of the lantern floating back towards herself. The priestess¡¯ body is shredded and mutilated, her bones broken, her chest flayed from the neck down. ¡°Basil!¡± she falls forward, looking at the dead priestess in the hopes that there is anything that she can do. There clearly isn¡¯t. The woman has long since departed. Fresh clutches the mangled body, pressing her hands against it, trying to scoop the blood back into the gaping wounds. ¡°What the fuck do you think you¡¯re doing?!¡± asks a furious voice from behind her. Fresh turns around and looks as the door on the far side of the room opens up and Jubilee steps inside. They look around the dusty space that she has encroached inside of. ¡°You piece of shit,¡± is all that Jubilee can hiss through their clenched teeth. Even from here, Fresh can hear the straining of their leather gloves. ¡°Jubilee! Basil¡¯s hurt!¡± cries Fresh to her friend as they march over towards her. Water splashes as Jubilee crosses the room. The stagnant water that covers the entire floor splashes away, rippling as their boots trudge through it. ¡°Yeah? No shit, dumb-ass!¡± A hand grabs the cuff of her robe, Jubilee pulls her closer towards themselves. ¡°She found out about you. She saw your grimoire. So I took care of it.¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± asks Fresh, turning back to look at the glistening fragments jutting out of the priestess¡¯ corpse that is half-submerged in the rising water. ¡°You killed her?¡± asks Fresh with a shaking voice. ¡°I asked you, what the fuck do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± says Jubilee coldly, twisting their glove and stretching the fabric of her robe taut against the front of her neck. ¡°I trusted you.¡± The collar of her robe compresses tighter as Jubilee¡¯s knuckles press against the base of her collarbone. ¡°Jubilee!¡± cries Fresh, coughing, black-water leaks from her own mouth as she tries to push her friend off of her. ¡°- You¡¯re hurting me!¡± With one hand, Jubilee grabs their mask and starts to pull it free. Their other hand continues to grasp the girl¡¯s neck tightly. As the wooden mask releases from their face, thick strands of a tainted, oily slime connect it to the hollow space beneath their hood. Like strands of dried pus connecting a rotting scab to old meat. Jubilee¡¯s face is nothing but a shapeless, black mass of ooze that drips and leaks out over their neck, down their arm and onto her body. Their hollow face pressing itself closer to hers, as her vision grows weak from her lack of air. ¡°I haven¡¯t even begun to hurt you yet,¡± says the voice coming from the black-water. ¡°Ju-bi -¡± The wet voice hisses at her with a venom she has never felt before. ¡°Get. Back. To. Work.¡± Jubilee tilts their head, slime leaking out of it and crawling down their arm, towards her face. ¡°Goo-brain.¡± Fresh screams into her pillow, kicking and flailing wildly as she throws her limbs around herself, her blanket long since kicked off and flung across the room. Falling out of her bed, the girl lands on her rug and rolls onto her side, her legs pulled into her chest, her fingers clutching her head. Sniffling, shaking from the nightmare, she rubs a hand over her eyes to wipe the tears away and then recoils in horror, seeing the thick, black smudges on her fingers. Too distraught to fall back asleep, she cleans herself up and then gets dressed, deciding that she might as well get up now and put in some work. Putting on the same black robe as always, she wanders outside and heads into the kitchen, taking a moment to really appreciate the little room again. Jubilee had really opened up a lot to her. Sure, it¡¯s just a room. But the symbol of the act of letting her use it is what makes her happy. Fresh isn¡¯t sure why, but as she thinks of her friend, she can¡¯t help but also feel a little frightened of them at the same time. ¡°It was just a dream,¡± she sighs, slapping her cheeks and walking towards the kitchen window to rip it wide open. She had promised to make them a real breakfast today, so that¡¯s exactly what she is going to do. She had gone out of her way the other day to buy some real food. Food that needed to be cooked. Some kind of eggs. Some kind of milk. Some kind of butter. ¡®Some kind¡¯ is putting it mildly. The eggs came from chickens, she¡¯s sure enough of that. But as for the milk and the butter¡­ well, she didn¡¯t really want to ask. Maybe there are cows in this world? If there are chickens, then it might be a logical bet to make on some level. But¡­ She uncorks the bottle and smells the thick, frothy liquid. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s¡­ monster milk?¡± The mental image of a simple, straw-hatted farmer sitting on a stool deep down in the dungeon, with a pail at his side, milking a giant dragon comes to her mind. It¡¯s an interesting idea. But she¡¯s somehow sure that dragons don¡¯t make milk. Probably. It¡¯s something she should ask Basil about later. What she does recognize though is the flour. It¡¯s a rough, whole-grain flour with a coarse, crumbly texture and a light tan color. Smiling, she sets to work, mixing it all together into a pot, together with a few more spoonfuls of her fruit mash from yesterday for sweetness. The mixture slowly becomes thick and gloopy as she stirs it, adding more milk and butter until it becomes less of a dough and more of a batter. Fresh hums to herself, listening to the early morning birdsong coming from the trees. She was never much of a cook in her old life. At least regarding anything that didn¡¯t come pre-frozen. But pancakes she could always make. It¡¯s so simple, that even she could always do it right. Even if they sometimes looked a little¡­ odd. They still tasted great. ¡°And that¡¯s all that matters!¡± says Fresh to herself, finishing her own thought out loud. ¡°Are you talking to yourself now?¡± asks a voice from behind her and Fresh jumps, yelping in surprise. ¡°G- good morning Jubilee,¡± says the girl, somewhat nervously. Jubilee tilts their head, shrugging. ¡°Good morning.¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m just making us breakfast!¡± says Fresh, laughing nervously and turning back around to keep stirring the pot somewhat quicker than before. ¡°And nothing else!¡± ¡°Should I be worried?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh looks down at the bubbling mixture in front of herself, as she thinks about the question. As she looks at the wet goo, she realizes that she¡¯s lost her appetite rather suddenly. Half an hour later, she¡¯s finished cooking and the two of them sit down to eat the pancakes, together with the fruit mixture as a topping. She sets a couple on the side for Basil, she¡¯s sure the priestess will like these a lot. ¡°It¡¯s suspicious if you don¡¯t eat any,¡± says Jubilee to her from behind the counter. ¡°Huh? Oh,¡± says Fresh, looking down to her untouched plate on her lap. ¡°I had a bad dream again and I don¡¯t really want to eat.¡± ¡°How does that make sense? Was it about pancakes?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, it just does,¡± says Fresh. ¡°And no.¡± ¡°Well¡­ they¡¯re really good,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh smiles in relief, but still not hungry in the least as she stares down at her pancakes. ¡°I¡¯m glad you like them!¡± The rise of the morning sun comes with the usual early crowd of customers. All of their sales and purchases seem to happen during the mornings now, as the many adventurers go to the dungeon to grab their full bags and then trek across the plaza towards their store. The cool morning-time is the only time that the city seems to be active anymore, though apparently late at night things get pretty wild too, from what Fresh overhears. ¡°I¡¯ve never really been much of a socialite,¡± says Basil, as they overhear a party talk about their wild night at an, apparently, particularly rowdy tavern. ¡°Me neither,¡± says Fresh, carrying a load of armor downstairs that she had finished repairing. ¡°I don¡¯t think I do well with alcohol,¡± says the girl. Not sure if that¡¯s true, but willing to assume so at least. She never drank much before, except a sip here or there to try. ¡°Same here,¡± says Basil, handing a customer back his change and a tote-bag full of potions. "I prefer the quiet life." ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh, remembering something important. ¡°Yes?¡± asks Basil. She looks at the priestess curiously. ¡°Do dragons make milk?¡± Basil returns her curious gaze. ¡°Uh¡­¡± The priestess shrugs, not having a clue. Though she does look down to her half-eaten plate of pancakes with a slight nervousness in her eyes. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 83: Slice of toast Fresh stacks another lantern on top of the pile and sighs. It¡¯s exhausting work, making this many of them. She doesn¡¯t have any soul-points, as far as she can tell, so she still isn¡¯t sure what exactly her magic is using when she casts a spell. But it¡¯s still a little exhausting in a sense. It¡¯s as if every spell drained a little of her own physical energy as well. With all of the stress lately and all of the work and all of her bad nights of sleep, she¡¯s starting to feel the toll of the many days weighing down on her. She sighs again, stacking another lantern onto the collection. ¡°You look tired,¡± says Jubilee, not looking up from the ledger as they scratch down into it with the pen. ¡°I aaaam~¡± sighs Fresh, setting to work to make another lantern. Restocking the shelves is an easy task, as they all looked just about the same as they had this morning when they had opened the store. But she still needs to make most of the three-hundred lanterns for the order of the city-guard. Basil hadn¡¯t said anything about the church wanting any lanterns just yet, but Jubilee had told her to wait. It¡¯s only a matter of time. They¡¯ll probably ¡®expect¡¯ a discount as well, they inform her with an indigence painted in their eyes. Fresh sighs a third time and lowers her hands. The girl, sitting cross-legged, slumps backwards and flops onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. ¡°You good?¡± asks Jubilee, flipping a page in the ledger. Fresh sighs a fourth time as her answer and stares up vacantly, her mind trying to find a thought to cling on to, any thought at all. But there is simply nothing that comes into focus. All she can think about is nothing at all. Her mind is simply empty. Tired. There¡¯s so much work to do. She rolls her head to the side, looking at the shelves that need to be filled with new items that she still has to come up with. Then she rolls her head to the other side, looking at the stack of lanterns that she has to complete, so that they can finish the order on time. Her head rolls back straight and she stares at the ceiling and sighs again, a fifth time. Jubilee slams the ledger shut. ¡°Okay. I can¡¯t watch this tragedy anymore. What¡¯s the matter?¡± Jubilee walks out from behind the counter. Fresh raises an arm, lifting it straight up towards the ceiling for no other purpose than to just hold it up into the air. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± Her arm flops back down, slapping against the floor next to herself. ¡°I¡¯m tiiiired~¡± The sound of Jubilee¡¯s boots stops next to her and a masked face leans over her from above, as Jubilee stands there with their hands on their hips, looking at the wretch below themselves. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You¡¯re upside down.¡± Jubilee sighs this time, shaking their head and then seems to think for a moment. ¡°Wanna take the day off tomorrow?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, leaning her head back to look up at Jubilee. ¡°Really?!¡± She flops around, wrapping her arms around Jubilee¡¯s legs and pulling herself closer to her friend, who swings their arms around, struggling to keep their balance. ¡°Are we allowed to do that?!¡± Jubilee tries to pull their legs free, but Fresh doesn¡¯t let go. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t we be? We work for ourselves.¡± ¡°What about the merchant¡¯s guild dues and all of that?¡± ¡°We only have to pay those percentages if we make a profit. If we¡¯re closed, we¡¯re not making a single Obol.¡± They shrug, pulling one of their legs free and stepping back a step. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯re making money right now anyways. Damn summer.¡± Fresh claws forward, grabbing hold of her friend¡¯s escaped leg again. ¡°Do you mind?¡± asks Jubilee, annoyed. ¡°I mind,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°But that would be nice!¡± ¡°Alright, then we¡¯ll take a day off tomorrow.¡± Jubilee rubs the back of their hood. ¡°Maybe a break will do us all some good.¡± They pull their other leg free, trying to get away again, but Fresh reaches out and grabs it before they can escape. ¡°I¡¯ll make a sign.¡± The rest of the night passes, the two of them finishing their work and Fresh, much to her surprise, sleeps the best that she has in a while. No strange, haunting dreams come to plague her in the night. No dark visions of futures that could and might be. Not even a single demon that tries to steal her feet. There is simply nothing. Nothing but her and the blankness of her mind as she rests. Her body and spirit regenerating and healing through a deep process. The morning comes and the girl opens her eyes, not sure what exactly it is that triggered her deep sleep, but she is quietly thankful for it nonetheless, as she gets up well-rested for the first time in a long time. Her toes, all still there, wiggle in the new carpet that has a few dark stains on it already, which she does her best to ignore. Getting ready for the day, she then heads to the kitchen and begins her new favorite ritual, tearing open the window to feel the morning breeze come to greet her to a new day, together with the sounds of the early life coming to blossom outside on the peaceful, summer morning. Glowing, she sets to work, making them a real breakfast. Today, she¡¯s just going to make some eggs in a pan and some buttered toast, together with some thin fruit tea. It¡¯s a simple breakfast, but something she¡¯s been deeply craving. Fresh smiles as she works, unable to avoid noticing that her body is bobbing up and down as she buzzes around the kitchen, busy with her work like a bee flying through the early light of the day. The only thing she is really missing is coffee, but that doesn¡¯t seem to exist here, as far as she¡¯s able to tell. But maybe it¡¯s for the best. The last thing the world needs is caffeine addicted adventurers. ¡°Although¡­¡± She scratches her cheek, looking at the canister of tea. It would be a great idea for a product. Fresh shakes her head, getting the thoughts out of it. Today is her day off. ¡°No work stuff. No work stuff,¡± she repeats to herself, trying to get the mantra into her head. Today she¡¯s just going to relax. She¡¯s going to make a nice breakfast for the two of them, then she¡¯s going to just take a walk through the city. Maybe Jubilee will even go with her? Or maybe Basil too. Maybe all three of them can go on a walk together. Fresh smiles, she hopes so. Looking back to the stove, she returns to it, remembering to make an extra plate for Basil as well. She isn¡¯t sure if the priestess eats at the church or not, but she always seems to be happy about getting food. ¡°Morning,¡± calls Jubilee walking past the kitchen. ¡°Smells good.¡± ¡°Good morning!¡± calls Fresh out over her shoulder. ¡°Thanks! I¡¯ll be done in a minute.¡± She sets to work, slicing some bread and throwing it into the hot pan to get it crispy and warm again. She kind of wishes they could just eat at the table, since they have one now. But she understands that Jubilee wouldn¡¯t go for it. ¡°Oh well,¡± she shrugs and heads downstairs. The two of them eat together. ¡°So, do you want to walk through the city with me today?¡± ¡°It¡¯s going to get really hot later.¡± ¡°Maybe we can buy new clothes together?¡± asks Fresh excitedly. ¡°Creep.¡± ¡°I am not!¡± she says, biting into her toast loudly in protest. Fresh asks Jubilee how they want to spend the day, she hopes that they can walk together a little. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to be a day off, how is walking relaxing?¡± ¡°It is! We can look at all of the stores and we can explore the city and talk to a lot of people! It will be fun!¡± ¡°Sounds stressful to me. I hate walking,¡± says Jubilee, taking a loud drink of their tea. ¡°Jubileeee~¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Fine. But only until the afternoon, it¡¯s going to get hot as all hell and I don¡¯t want to be out there.¡± Fresh beams in excitement. Eventually the door knocks and Jubilee yells out over the counter. ¡°We¡¯re closed! Fuck off!¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh, getting up to go look. She pulls the door open. ¡°Hi, Basil!¡± ¡°Good morning,¡± says Basil, tilting her head. ¡°Uh¡­ is there no work today?¡± Fresh looks at her somewhat let down expression curiously. ¡°We¡¯re taking a day off today, Basil. We just decided last night after you left.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± says the priestess, apparently somewhat unsettled. Fresh clasps the priestess hands excitedly. ¡°Will you spend the day with us?¡± The priestess looks down to the cold, clammy hands holding hers. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can, I need to find some other work for today then, if you don¡¯t need me. But thank you for the offer.¡± Fresh looks at the priestess, not really understanding. But then she thinks she gets it. ¡°You¡¯re still getting paid, Basil,¡± says Fresh, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°I am?¡± asks Basil, surprised. ¡°She is?!¡± asks Jubilee, just as surprised, but with a much different tone. Fresh nods, pulling the priestess inside, perhaps half-against her will. ¡°Of course, that wouldn¡¯t be fair if we close because of me and then you can¡¯t buy food tonight.¡± ¡°Life isn¡¯t fair,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee! Don¡¯t demoralize the employees!¡± says Fresh, closing the door behind Basil. Jubilee gets up, adjusting their mask and looking at her. ¡°The employees are demoralizing ME.¡± The three of them spend the next half-hour chatting. Fresh drinks her tea and watches in delight as Basil wolfs down the plate that she had prepared for her. She wonders why the priestess is always so hungry. Surely she has enough money to buy good food now? Sure, the priestess indulges herself on some niceties like jewelry once in a while, but Fresh doesn¡¯t think she¡¯s spending every cent of hers on that. Soon enough, the three of them finish and Fresh cleans up their plates, coming back down with her bag over her shoulder and an excited expression on her face as she runs down the staircase. ¡°Let¡¯s goo¡ªIAH!¡± Her foot slips and she tumbles forward, down the stairs, her hands gripping the railing that she had installed a while back. Fresh spins around, thudding down onto the steps exactly where she was standing. ¡°You okay?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh shakes out her sore wrists and looks up at her worried friends. ¡°That was close,¡± she remarks. ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± getting up, somewhat shakily, she carefully makes her way down the stairs, thankful that she had made that railing. ¡°Are you sure? Please be careful on staircases,¡± says Basil. That really was close, thinks Fresh as she waves her friends off. If she had lost any health from that fall, Basil would have seen. Smiling to hide the nervousness in her face, she reaches the bottom of the steps and straightens out her bag and robe. ¡°I¡¯m fine! Come on, let¡¯s go!¡± she says and rushes to the door, the two of them trailing behind her as they go to head out into the city for the day. Razmatazz The title-joke is that it''s like a slice of life. But with toast, you see? Yes, I''m very clever, thank you! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 84: Morning in the park It''s beautifully peaceful. The summer heat is still held at bay by the early morning clouds covering the sky and the gentle breeze, wafting through the streets, carries away any muck and grime still lingering in the air from the previous day. All of this leaves nothing but a gentle calmness in its wake. Fresh notices as they walk, that the sound of the birdsong has changed since she first arrived here in this world. Looking up towards the trees, she sees that the birds nesting and flying in and out of their boughs are indeed entirely different species than the ones she had seen here during spring. The three of them had decided to walk around the city. Apparently, according to Basil, there¡¯s a small park near the cathedral plaza. Jubilee seems a little hesitant about the idea, but after Fresh ends up nagging them, they relent and so the three of them head in that direction. Though, they stop on their way several times to look into shop windows and Fresh and Basil buy themselves something to drink while they walk. The streets are filled with the usual early morning hustle and bustle, though the three of them still seem to be ahead of the crowd. ¡°This is really nice, Basil!¡± remarks Fresh as they walk through the open wrought-iron gates to the park. A waist-high stone wall surrounds the entire area, encasing a sea of green grass and sparsely dotted trees. The sounds of running water can be heard not far off in the distance, as if there is a small creek just up the way. ¡°Yeah, there are a few parks in the city, but this one is my favorite,¡± replies Basil. ¡°Because it¡¯s by the church?¡± asks Fresh, but Basil shakes her head. ¡°No, I just like this one the most.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± smiles the priestess, picking up her pace and walking on ahead down the road. The laughter of children can be heard from somewhere in the distance as well, intermingling with the sounds of nature. ¡°I gotta run ahead, I¡¯ll meet up with you in a minute.¡± Jubilee quietly strolls along at her side, their gaze wandering over the many trees as if they were also looking at the birds like Fresh had done before. ¡°I never knew the city had places like this,¡± says Fresh to Jubilee. ¡°Maybe because you never go anywhere, goo-brain.¡± The girl crosses her arms. ¡°I never go anywhere because I¡¯m working all day and it¡¯s not like you ever take me anywhere.¡± ¡°What? Why would I take you anywhere? Go on your own. What am I, your babysitter?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Because we¡¯re friends, Jubilee,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°Uh huh,¡± remarks Jubilee, dryly. ¡°Is that what friends do then? Take each other to the park? Are you sure you understand how this whole ¡®friendship¡¯ thing works?¡± says Jubilee lazily, continuing on walking as Fresh stands there, wondering. Does she even know how friendships work? No. Not really. She¡¯s just kind of making it up as she goes along. ¡°Well, it¡¯s been working well so far,¡± she mutters to herself. Looking back towards Jubilee and running after them. ¡°Fine!¡± she pouts. ¡°If you aren¡¯t going to take me places. Then I¡¯m going to take you places.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Can we do this more often, Jubilee?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Take a day off. It¡¯d be nice if we had like¡­ a day every week, where we can just relax and catch up a little. There¡¯s gotta be more to life than work,¡± says Fresh, looking at her friend. Jubilee looks at her incredulously. ¡°You want to cut out a full day¡¯s worth of profits every week?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± nods Fresh, not skipping a beat. ¡°To do nothing but laze around with me?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± acknowledges the girl. ¡°Having the shop and making money is a lot of fun, Jubilee. But you know what else is fun?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t really want to know, honestly. I¡¯ve seen what you do in your free time,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh ignores their comment. ¡°Spending time with yooooou~¡± ¡°Shut up. Why?¡± asks Jubilee dryly. ¡°Because.¡± ¡°Because why?¡± ¡°Because what,¡± says Fresh, shrugging. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh raises a finger, explaining. ¡°Chicken-butt.¡± Jubilee groans. ¡°You have issues.¡± ¡°Maybe, but so do you, Jubilee. That¡¯s why we work so well together.¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything more and the two of them keep walking, trying to catch up to Basil, who has rushed ahead for one reason or another. The park itself is calm and empty, occasionally a well dressed person or a couple on a walk come past them, sparing them little to no mind, apart from a curious glance now and then. Apparently, the people from the expensive houses around here liked to use this park for their morning strolls. A flurry of excited sounds comes out from up ahead and the two of them round the bend, looking at the priestess who has been swarmed by a ring of children that surround her, all of them vying to get Basil¡¯s overwhelmed attention. ¡°Sister Basil! Rosemary stole my ball!¡± ¡°No I didn¡¯t! Thistle¡¯s a liar!¡± yells a girl on the other side of the circle, pulling on Basil¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Did too!¡± ¡°Did not!¡± ¡°Sister Basil! Sister Basil! Sage ate a worm!¡± ¡°You eat worms!¡± yells a boy. ¡°Nu-uh!¡± shouts the girl back at him, pulling on Basil¡¯s other sleeve. ¡°Sister Basil! I found this for you!¡± says a boy, holding out a flower. Basil sighs and pulls her arms free. The priestess claps her hands together once and the circle of arguing children stops moving in an instant, all of them becoming quiet and tense all at once. ¡°Rosemary, did you borrow Thistle¡¯s ball?¡± she asks the girl, who quickly looks down at her feet. ¡°Yes¡­¡± Basil nods. ¡°Next time, ask before borrowing something, okay? Give it back please.¡± ¡°Yes, sister Basil¡­¡± says the girl as Basil rubs her head. She looks over the rest of them, taking the flower from the boy. ¡°Thank you, Cicely, that¡¯s very sweet.¡± The boy beams, lowering his head for the other hand to fall down on top of it. Basil looks at them. ¡°It¡¯s almost time for your work to start. Shouldn¡¯t you all get back?¡± She looks around at the circle of children who tense up, the priestess waves a hand. ¡°Go on, scoot! Before sister Bramble scolds you all for being late.¡± Apparently fearing whatever this deathly threat implies, the circle quickly breaks and the group of them races off and away through the park, save for one who still stands there, clutching the hem of Basil¡¯s robe. ¡°You too, Chervil.¡± The orc boy shakes his head, but doesn¡¯t say anything. Basil pulls his hands free. ¡°Come on, you gotta work. Otherwise how are you going to eat? Go on,¡± she nudges him away. ¡°Work hard, okay? I¡¯m counting on you!¡± The boy doesn¡¯t say anything, but then relents and runs after the rest of them, leaving Basil who smiles an exhausted smile and waves to the two of them. ¡°Sorry, I knew this would happen, so I tried to handle the situation before you got here.¡± Fresh and Jubilee look at each other and shrug. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had kids, Basil,¡± says Fresh and Jubilee snorts, holding down a laugh. Basil clears her throat. ¡°I don¡¯t. They¡¯re some of the orphans under the church¡¯s care. I suppose they¡¯ve just sort of latched on to me,¡± sighs the priestess. ¡°Oh¡­¡± says Fresh. That makes more sense. ¡°You did really well, they really listen to you.¡± Basil smiles a smug smile. ¡°I suppose you could say that I¡¯m the favorite.¡± Her posture shifts to a droop again. ¡°But it¡¯s becoming unmanageable, we¡¯re getting a new one every month these days. The situation in the south being what it is¡­¡± She looks at Fresh, but then turns away and the three of them keep walking, together now, as they head through the park. Nobody says anything until they reach a small bench by a tiny creek. The water trickles on, down into the distance, where it vanishes into the underbrush. Fresh and Basil sip their drinks and Jubilee is leaned back with their hands behind their head, as the three of them sit on the bench, staring out over the water. Fresh tilts her head, watching the tiny fish swim around in the clear water of the brook. ¡°So¡­ what are you two working for?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Huh¡­?¡± asks Fresh, looking uncertainly at Jubilee who just shrugs. ¡°You know? Your end goal? Where¡¯s this all going?¡± asks the priestess. Jubilee chimes in. ¡°Money? What else are we supposed to be working for? We¡¯re merchants. We work for money. Our goal is money. We get up for money. We make things for money. We sell things for money.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil in response to the somewhat plain, unromantic answer and then looks back to the water, spinning the flower around in her hand. The three of them sit in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the world around them. ¡°It¡¯s not about the goal, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s about the journey.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°I have a lot of fun every day, making things that people like. And I get to spend every day with my two friends, so even on bad days, I still have a good day somehow!¡± She looks over, back down to the water, looking at her reflection that looks back up at her from a slight distance. The shimmering water seems to obscure her eyes, the glow of the rising sun behind them, slowly starting to coat the creek in a blindingly bright, white reflection which erases the three silhouettes sitting on the bench, obscuring them from the world. Fresh fiddles with her fingers. ¡°But it¡¯s not going to last forever. So I want to have as much fun as I can, while the good times are still here,¡± she explains. ¡°Summer is going to be over before we know it.¡± Basil and Jubilee don¡¯t say anything, opting to let her words ring out together with the whistling birdsong around them and Fresh watches her reflection in the water carefully, her eyes narrowing in suspicion of it. She watches as its lips grow into a wide smile, even though she is sure there is no such thing on her own face. The water, buried under the blinding sunlight of a new dawn, seems to become darker beneath the surface, as if a black ink were swirling beneath it, just out of sight. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°What¡¯s a hero?¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 85: Blood bonds Fresh scrubs the floor of the shop. It¡¯s late in the evening. They had spent the rest of the morning together. After they left the park, the three of them had walked around the church district and Basil basically gave them both an elaborate tour of the area. Despite her multiple attempts to get them to go into the cathedral itself however, both of them declined, much to the priestess¡¯ disappointment. Despite that and the somber mood of the late morning, it ended up being a lot of fun and Fresh thanked Basil excitedly, before quietly slipping a silver Obol into her palm with a wink as they parted ways for the day. She and Jubilee walked back to the store together as the sun was starting to come out. Jubilee had asked her why she asked Basil about something dangerous like that and the girl had explained that it was because of the terrible dream she had had a while ago. Jubilee had scolded her, telling her not to ask too many weird questions. But it wasn¡¯t in a harsh tone, it was more of a cautious warning for her sake. Basil didn¡¯t seem too suspicious of her question though and had gone on an elaborate tirade. The girl crawls forward, scrubbing away the next spot of mud that some adventurers had brought in to the store yesterday. The two of them swept every day, but sometimes the floors just needed to be cleaned properly. They don¡¯t have a mop, so she¡¯s down on her knees with the hem of her robe and her sleeves rolled all up as she scrubs it all by hand. ¡°Why are we working again?¡± asks Jubilee, polishing the chickens with a damp rag. ¡°I thought you wanted to take the day off.¡± Fresh looks up towards them and smiles. ¡°Thanks for helping me, Jubilee. Even if it¡¯s your vacation too.¡± Jubilee looks back at the chickens. ¡°It¡¯s not like I have anything else to do.¡± Fresh scrubs the next spot clean. She wants to make the store spotless for tomorrow. She needs to get back to work. If what Basil had said was true, if what the black-fountain had told her in her restless dreams was true, then time was running out for her. She has to be ready and she isn¡¯t even near to being close enough. She slaps the dirty, wet rag down on the next spot and vigorously scrubs it clean. She¡¯s going to have to stop it from happening, somehow. Though she doesn¡¯t actually know how just yet. What does that even mean? How do you ¡®stop¡¯ a hero from being summoned to the world? Where? How? When? With what? It seems like something that¡¯s far outside of her league. Way beyond it, in fact. The priestess¡¯ words echo through her head, together with the distant trickle of the fountain outside on the plaza. She can still picture it, Basil¡¯s face as she was happily explaining to her, apparently not shocked that she didn¡¯t know about something that¡¯s common knowledge here. Every odd hundred years or so, the gods choose a hero to come to the world. Some being of grand, holy power. The highest incarnation of man, a shining sun that rises to wash away all of the darkness of the lingering night. An avatar of the holy, sent to stop a great darkness from digging its roots into the world. Literal divine intervention. The last hero-party existed apparently only ten years ago. Was this new happening set into motion ninety years too early to stop her? Herself specifically? From doing what? Living a quiet life as a shop-keeper? Or did the gods choose a hero to stop some great, malignant threat to the world that she simply knows nothing about? Does it matter? The wet rag slaps against the next spot and she moves forward, scuffing her knees along the wooden boards. Witches are beings of darkness, under Basil¡¯s classification and the fountain seemed displeased as well, that¡¯s enough for her to assume that it simply doesn¡¯t matter if she herself is the big target or simply a bystander. The flood of light will come to wash her and this new life of hers away just the same. It will swallow everything indifferently, leaving only the holy and the bright upon the surface of the world. Fresh lifts a hand and grabs the hem of Jubilee¡¯s outfit. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, looking back down towards her. She doesn¡¯t say anything and stays there a moment longer, before letting go and crawling forward to scrub the next spot of dried mud with the rag that is beyond filthy now. How does she stop the summoning of a hero? She can¡¯t kill the gods, obviously, which are apparently a real thing too. Somehow that¡¯s the least surprising thing that she learned today, though. The black-fountain is, to her at least, deistic in a sense to begin with. It has to be, right? To have access to such reality bending powers? To be able to transfer her soul, to craft this body she now inhabits. Was it a god too? Maybe. It¡¯s her god, if it is. She owes it that much, despite its harshness to her in her restless dreams. So how does she keep this life of hers safe? How does she keep her friends safe? How does she keep the black-fountain safe? The wet rag slaps against the spot. Muddy water begins to seep out of it. The wet collecting at first, but then spreading out and seeping into the grooves of the wooden floorboards. The droplets of black-water sinking into the foundation of the building. Fresh watches, as a ray of lazy sunlight shines in through the window, shimmering off of the surface of the dark-tinged muck and it reminds her of something. It reminds her of the man from the witch¡¯s sect. The man who had told her exactly what it is that she needs to do. She has to believe in something. But what? What does that esoteric, poetic statement even mean? The witch of the black-fountain sits back upright, looking around the store. She needs a purpose. A goal. She needs something to believe in. Money? Her friends? The store itself and what it symbolizes? Her eyes wander down to her wet hands, covered in grimy stains. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± asks Jubilee, polishing the chicken on the same spot as before. ¡°I¡¯ve been sneaking out to go to the dungeon on my own at night.¡± Jubilee turns back to look at her and then looks back to the chicken, continuing their work. ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± She looks up in surprise. ¡°Huh? You knew?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yeah? You think I can¡¯t hear you trampling out in the middle of the night? It¡¯s like a dairy cow trying to waltz in an alchemist¡¯s shop.¡± ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± ¡°Sorry.¡± Jubilee rotates the chicken a smidge to the right. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to say that you¡¯re not very graceful.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°You aren¡¯t mad?¡± ¡°Why would I be mad? You¡¯re an adult. You¡¯re allowed to do whatever it is that you want with your life. If you want to go die on your own in the dungeon, that¡¯s on you.¡± The room is quiet for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s a little selfish of you though.¡± Fresh looks at their back which is turned to her. ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee stops working, but doesn¡¯t turn around. ¡°How do you think I¡¯d feel if you died?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, looking at her friend who had said something she hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°Jubilee¡­?¡± The rag squeaks as Jubilee scrubs a spot on the chicken. ¡°We¡¯d go out of business. You make all of our stuff, goo-brain!¡± Fresh laughs, having for a moment expected something different. ¡°You¡¯re a good friend, Jubilee.¡± ¡°I know. Get back to work,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. Not bothering to turn around to look at her open arms. ¡°No hugs.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get you one day,¡± says Fresh, crossing her arms again, her wet palms staining her dress. ¡°I doubt it.¡± Fresh returns to her work. ¡°I want to become stronger, Jubilee. That¡¯s why I¡¯m going to the dungeon.¡± ¡°Stronger for what? We live in the middle of the city. There¡¯s nothing here.¡± Her eyes wander to the antidotes, shining with a dull light from the shelves. The vague shift of colors in the matte glass moving, like the shadow of an old woman. ¡°There are a lot of things here, Jubilee. We¡¯re not safe. You know it too.¡± Jubilee turns their head towards her. ¡°The merchant¡¯s guild, the church, the adventurer¡¯s guild,¡± lists Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s all¡­ built on money. But what happens if we run out of money? What happens if we make the wrong person angry? What happens if I mess up and someone finds out about me?¡± ¡°We just won¡¯t let any of that happen then.¡± ¡°But what if it does? What if my dream was real? What if there¡¯s really a hero coming?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Then I guess we¡¯ll die.¡± ¡°Jubileeee~ I don¡¯t want to die and I don¡¯t want you to die!¡± she protests. ¡°This¡­ this is all I have.¡± Jubilee rotates the chicken back into place, framing it with their fingers as they step back a step and nod, satisfied with their work. They turn their head back to her worried face. ¡°Then we¡¯re going to have to kill the hero.¡± Fresh looks at them, surprised. ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee walks past her towards the counter. ¡°If the merchant¡¯s guild gets uppity, we¡¯ll just have to put them into their place.¡± They begin sorting through their change in the bowl. ¡°If the adventurer¡¯s guild gets weirded out for whatever reason, we¡¯ll shut them down.¡± They begin sorting the coins, separating them into their denominations. ¡°And if Basil or the church get wise? We¡¯ll close their doors for good. Orphans and all.¡± ¡°¡­Jubilee?¡± ¡°- And if a hero does come?¡± Jubilee slides a coin across the counter, staring into her eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll slit his throat in the night.¡± Fresh stares at her friend, they were usually very honest and brash, but this was a level further. ¡°Get your bag, your freaky book and some potions. We¡¯re going to the dungeon to level you up some more.¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 86: Abomination Glass shards fly everywhere, waves of the crystal daggers slicing through the air in a hailstorm as the ghoul runs along the walls of floor twelve. Thousands of glass splinters crash into the stones behind its sprinting form. But they all always just miss the creature, as it rushes after Fresh, who is on her second lap of the arena. ¡°JUBILEEEEE~!¡± ¡°I told you to stay upstairs! Idiot!¡± shouts Jubilee after her, swinging their arm out in a wide arc. The ground shakes and the ghoul leaps away just in time as a jagged glass spire bursts out of the wall in front of it. With strangely nimble, apish reflexes, the creature drops back down to the ground, swinging off of the crystal. The ghoul takes another tick of damage from her curse and twitches as a black dribble seeps out of its decaying body. Its already elongated neck spasms once. (Ghoul) took 4 DARK DMG {Maledy} The ghoul rights itself back upright and continues the chase, running across the arena to try to cut the girl off, rather than chasing her in a circle. It doesn¡¯t even care about Jubilee, who can¡¯t seem to hit it. It just wants her. Fresh slides, her boots kicking up some dirt as the girl, sweaty from running, stops and then bolts back the other way, doing a sharp turn-around to try and confuse it. The ghoul jumps, its long neck stretching forward as it springs after her. Fresh yelps and dives out of the way, falling towards Jubilee who slams their hands into the dirt. A strange, wet squelch rings out and the arena goes quiet. Looking up and behind herself, Fresh stares over towards the ghoul. The undead thing is impaled on a spire of glass that is coming straight down from the ceiling. The crystal shard has pierced through its head from above. It hangs there, its body limp beneath itself. A moment later, it slowly starts to slide downwards, as the weight of its body pulls its impaled head free, the gestalt sinks with a wet squeak, like rubbing of a finger against a foggy window. A moment later, the ghoul flops to the ground, as dead as can be. You got [78/78] ! (Party) [Level up! You are now LEVEL 7 ! ] {Cooking 3}{Crafting 6}{Gathering 2}{Adventuring 2}{Witch-Crafting 7}{Mercantile 5} STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 11507 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] *~+- PLEASE CHOOSE AN ABILITY -+~* [1] Choice Remaining [Witch-crafting 7] {Abomination} (AOE) A witch¡¯s midnight whisper that corrupts the hearts of the living. Select a location within your line of sight. Within a 12m radius of that spot, you will deal damage dependent on the phase of the moon. Additionally, corrupted enemies have a chance to become rabid and to attack their own. If cast during the day, this spell will work as if on the night of the new moon. Fresh sighs in relief. ¡°Thank you, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t come down the stairs, dumb-ass!¡± barks Jubilee at her. ¡°Ghouls always go after the lowest leveled target.¡± Fresh pushes herself upright, sitting on the ground next to her friend as they look over at the twitching corpse. Picking up a fistful of dirt, Fresh holds it up to Jubilee who takes a pinch of it and snaps their fingers. A dozen small crystals of glass burst out of the ground before them, the jagged formations growing in all manner of different directions, tearing the ghoul apart for good in a rather grisly display. She tilts her head, looking at the sight, realizing that, while it is disgusting, she isn¡¯t really fazed by the violence of it all anymore. Scratching her head, she looks over to her new abilities together with Jubilee. [Witch-crafting 7]{Abomination} (AOE) A witch¡¯s midnight whisper that corrupts the hearts of the living. Select a location within your line of sight. Within a 12m radius of that spot, you will deal damage dependent on the phase of the moon. Additionally, corrupted enemies have a chance to become rabid and to attack their own. (If cast during the day, this spell will work as if on the night of the new moon.) ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee plainly in the second that Fresh looks at the ability. The girl purses her lips and looks at the next one. A combat ability would be nice though and an attack with a large radius too? It would be great for her progress in the dungeon. [Witch-crafting 2]{Cauldron Bubble} Allows you to create Moondust by boiling Moonwater down to its residue ¡°Fucking moonwater,¡± sighs Jubilee and Fresh tilts her head, the two of them scanning the last choice together. [Party]{Taking the lead} As party leader, gain +1 to INT/WIS for each current member of your party, up to a maximum of six. ¡°That one. Take that one, please,¡± says Jubilee pointing to it. ¡°It¡¯s the only fucking normal thing here.¡± Fresh taps her chin, thinking. ¡°But I really want the first one, Jubilee. Having a new attack spell would be nice. I could really help you fight things!¡± Jubilee locks their hands on their hips. ¡°I saw your freaky, ¡®melt everything but the eyes and the loot¡¯ curse already! Do you really think this is a good idea?¡± They look over to the ability-windows. ¡°What about the moonwater one? Maybe you could make something out of moonwater powder?¡± they suggest, shrugging. ¡°But what the fuck do I know?¡± Fresh tilts her head back the other way. ¡°I¡¯m going to take the first one, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Area of effect attacks are dangerous. You might end up killing somebody with it,¡± warns her friend, looking at her seriously. Fresh thinks for a moment, her finger hovering above the window in pause, before she looks back to her friend with a smile. ¡°I know, Jubilee. That¡¯s the point.¡± Fresh gets up, wiping her dirty hands off on her dress and looks over at the dead ghoul. She doesn¡¯t want to have to kill anyone. But she¡¯s decided that if a day comes when she has to follow through on her promise of ¡®whatever it takes¡¯, then she¡¯s going to. She¡¯s sure of it. She¡¯s not going to let anything or anyone take this life from her. No gods, no people, no hero. Nobody is going to ruin this. Though, she hopes that it will never come to that. ¡°So what do ghouls drop?¡± asks Fresh, walking over to the mangled corpse that is melting into a puddle of black goo. Apparently, the curse does its thing even if she isn¡¯t the one who kills it. ¡°Three guesses,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Here¡¯s your hint. It becomes a vampire if it gets old enough.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Teeth?¡± ¡°Teeth,¡± says Jubilee. Somewhat nervously, the girl stares down at the bubbling pool of sludge that the ghoul is melting into, coagulating into a thick, oily soup. Two milky eyeballs float through the sludge, together with a pair of large, sharp looking teeth. Fresh looks at her hands and then back towards Jubilee¡¯s gloves. ¡°Jubileeee~?¡± ¡°Forget it,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off and walking down the staircase. ¡°I¡¯m not going near that mess. If you want ''em, you go get ¡®em.¡± Gulping, Fresh looks down at the ooze, at the pair of dead eyes staring back up her way. A minute later, two objects more in her bag than before, Fresh carefully walks down the stairs towards floor thirteen. The two of them spend another hour in the dungeon, this time, Fresh stays up the stairs however and lets Jubilee clear the floors alone, despite her fingers itching to try out the new spell. She doesn¡¯t want to even think about using it though, as long as Jubilee is anywhere near the area. Floors eight to sixteen are apparently rife with plentiful undead, who give a small amount of experience points individually, but are also large enough in number to cancel that out. Each group of zombies is easily a dozen or more. Each pack of roaming skeletons is a strong four to six members. Fresh has no idea how she would manage to deal with this many creatures on her own. She wonders how the red-wizard and the man from the sect do it? She supposes that they do it just like Jubilee does. Fresh tilts her head, watching as a glass impaled skull flies past her and gets stuck on the wall. ¡°They must all be so strong¡­¡± she says to herself, scratching her cheek and watching the mayhem unfold below. Eventually they reach the boss-door to floor sixteen and Fresh is already close to another level up. But Jubilee wants to call it quits for the night. ¡°We have work tomorrow.¡± ¡°Jubileeeee~?¡± begs Fresh, wanting to clear the boss-room for the experience. But also for the shortcut. ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off and starting to walk back up the stairs. Fresh sighs, but then perks up. Why is she feeling sad? She should be happy that Jubilee took her through all of these floors already. Maybe she¡¯s just being greedy now, actually? She runs after her friend. ¡°Thank you for helping me through the dungeon again, Jubilee!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off and yawning as they walk. Ten minutes later the two of them are back at home. Fresh falls asleep before she has long to even think about how tired she is. She¡¯s certainly not going to get a full night¡¯s sleep tonight. But she¡¯s content nonetheless with her new level and ability. The next day comes and both of them wake up late, heading downstairs to open the door for Basil who is already standing outside. The priestess is trying to console a particularly twitchy red-wizard. The red-wizard bolts inside, rushing past all three of them to the shelves. ¡°Good morning,¡± calls Fresh over the wizard, looking at her curiously as she scoops up armfuls of various potions. ¡°I was standing outside for an hour yesterday!¡± complains the red-wizard. ¡°We were closed,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I put up a sign.¡± ¡°But I needed potions!¡± says the wizard, running to the counter. Jubilee shrugs indifferently. ¡°We were closed.¡± The red-wizard sets the potions down, together with a few coins. Fresh hasn¡¯t even managed to walk across the room to make their change, as she already starts bagging her own bottles into the red tote that she had brought. By the time Fresh gets there, the wizard has already cracked one open and downs the entire bottle, slamming the glass down onto the counter and rattling the coins. Picking up the tote-bag, the red-wizard runs out of the store without another word, squishing past Basil and Jubilee who stand there, watching her, perplexed. The red-wizard runs straight towards the dungeon, pulling open another potion as she runs without slowing down in the least. ¡°What¡¯s with her?¡± asks Basil. Fresh laughs, scratching her cheek. ¡°She uh¡­ she really likes the potions¡­¡± Jubilee shuts the door and the three of them get the store ready to actually open in a little bit. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 87: Flux ¡°It¡¯s for clothes,¡± says Jubilee, somewhat annoyed at the hooded man examining the bottle of white fabric-cleanser. ¡°Sure,¡± says the man, spinning it around to look at it. Fresh had gone out of her way to get rid of the skull, which she had drawn onto the labels and replaced them with a little depiction of a flower. She and Jubilee had agreed to keep it behind the counter and only give it out on request with a specific explanation not to drink it. It has been working out well so far, especially amongst the priesthood who are most excited about it. But Fresh stands on the stairs, watching the man, who is clearly making no effort to hide that he¡¯s from the thieves¡¯ guild, examine the concoction that priests had been buying to keep their robes spotless. Apparently Basil had used it and then soon enough, word spread around the church about her meticulously clean robes. If Fresh had to guess, the thieves¡¯ guild found out from there. ¡°Can you make more of this?¡± he asks. ¡°Can you pay for it?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°You know we can.¡± ¡°How many bottles do you need?¡± The man thinks for a moment, looking at the bottle. ¡°Twenty-seven.¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes, gazing at the customer in suspicion. ¡°That¡¯s an oddly specific number.¡± ¡°It¡¯s an oddly specific item,¡± says the man. Jubilee crosses their arms, Basil stands behind them, fidgeting a little nervously. ¡°What are you going to do with them?¡± she asks. The man sets the bottle down for a moment to throw a bag full of coins onto the counter, without counting the contents. ¡°Clean clothes,¡± he says rather plainly. ¡°Riiight,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes and taking the coins, throwing the whole bag into the bowl and looking up the stairs. ¡°How fast can you make twenty-seven?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°We already have a few in the pantry. I could have the rest done by tomorrow, if you get me the ingredients.¡± ¡°There you have it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Straight from the source. Come back tomorrow.¡± The man from the thieves¡¯ guild leaves without saying anything else and Jubilee lets out a long sigh. ¡°Fucking cloaks.¡± They look around at Basil and Fresh. ¡°Alright, get back to work. Show¡¯s over.¡± Fresh feels somewhat displeased at the situation and she can see that Basil does as well, but neither of them say anything and continue on with their tasks. Even if she didn¡¯t get much sleep last night, thanks to her new points in strength and dexterity, she notices that she¡¯s having a somewhat more comfortable time carrying armor up and down the stairs during the entire morning. Loudly buzzing cicadas sing outside, together with the summer birds, filling the slowly quieting world with their harmony. After an hour or so, the birds slowly start to retreat again as well, however, as the sun returns, leaving only the humming of the insects to fill the air. Slowly, the trickle of people coming into the shop slows to a crawl as well and then, soon enough, the last customer leaves. The muscular, dark-elf woman who has moved on from orange mushroom-caps and is now selling them both blue and green ones as well. Fresh takes a moment to remark how big her arms have gotten with an excited clap and the elf does the same, taking a moment to squeeze Fresh¡¯s bicep. The girl winces, sure she¡¯s going to get a bruise, but the elf just laughs and hits her on the back a few times before making her way back to the dungeon where her party is waiting outside. As business starts to slow to a crawl, so do the three of them. The heat is starting to make itself present again. Fresh does her best not to let it slow her down, as she is determined to be productive, no matter what. But eventually, the sweat dripping down her skin gets to her and she falls back against the stairs, flopping down next to Jubilee. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± complains Fresh. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You smell sweaty.¡± ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± says Jubilee. Both of them look up towards Basil who is fanning herself with a piece of paper. Feeling their gaze, the priestess lowers her arms to hide her own sweat stains and looks away. The next hour passes like that, with no customers or any movement in the least. Even the cicadas seem to be slowly retreating now as well, as the hum of their collective slowly begins to lessen. Eventually, there is nothing to hear at all, apart from their own tired breaths and sighs. Today is easily the hottest day so far and Jubilee had mentioned that it¡¯s only going to get worse. Fresh wonders what the deal with the temperature is here? The day is scorching hot and the nights get ice cold, in spring as well as in summer. She sighs. It¡¯s so hot. Jubilee sighs next to her and then Basil sighs as well, flapping the papers in her hand as a fan. A thudding noise breaks the silence of the world, a massive pair of metal boots stomping across the plaza. Fresh rolls her head over to the side, looking at the door through the banisters of the staircase. All three of them lazily watch, as the giant man from the sect marches towards the shop, the scorching midday sun shining onto his dark-cobalt armor, which Fresh imagines is filled to the brim with sweat. He doesn¡¯t seem to care though and makes a beeline for the door. Fresh realizes that she hasn¡¯t seen him since that morning when she gave him the sweet-tea. The girl rolls her head back upwards, tilting it, to look up the stairs behind herself. She should make some more of that. But then again, she doesn¡¯t want her friends to try and commercialize her presents again. The floorboards creak as the man approaches. ¡°Hi,¡± says Fresh, raising a hand to wave to the giant. Jubilee stays leaned against the wall and even Basil doesn¡¯t bother retreating from his towering presence anymore. ¡°How are you?¡± she asks. ¡°Do you need a new sword?¡± ¡°Busy,¡± is all that the large man says, as he walks up to the counter and sets something down, turning around to leave again. He grabs a large, two-handed axe on his way out. Apparently his swords were already broken. Fresh wonders why someone who is supposedly high-level would even want to use her low-level swords, but then she realizes that maybe nobody else in town wants to do business with the man. They¡¯re probably the only people willing to sell him things at all. She isn¡¯t sure if she should feel bad for him? The man is clearly an outcast, but at the same time, he doesn¡¯t seem to care in the least, as he is too busy with doing what it is that he loves. So maybe she doesn¡¯t need to. He stands at the door, looking back towards Fresh, but then turns to return to the dungeon. ¡°The pact is sealed,¡± says the giant, before walking away. Fresh sits upright in surprise at the sentence and watches as the man leaves. She turns her head, looking over to Basil, who speaks. ¡°Uh¡­ this isn¡¯t money?¡± says the priestess, unwrapping the cloth bundle on the counter. Jubilee gets up and walks over to look at it, together with Fresh. The cloth falls off and beneath it is a solid, translucent sphere with a pale, cool-blue tinge. Ice. ¡°Fuck me,¡± says Jubilee pressing their hands against the sphere which is radiating cold air in all directions. ¡°It¡¯s an ice-golem core.¡± Jubilee presses their gloved hands against the ice-monster drop. Fresh has already fallen to her knees against the counter, pressing the side of her face into the frozen sphere. ¡°It¡¯s so cooold~¡± she sighs in relief. Jubilee apparently agrees, as they sigh along with her. Fresh opens her eyes, looking at Basil who hasn¡¯t moved any closer yet. The priestess is clearly warm and drenched with sweat, but she doesn¡¯t seem to want to come closer to cool off. Basil averts her eyes, doing her best to look away from this newest temptation in her life. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re allowed to cool yourself off too.¡± Basil fidgets, but doesn¡¯t budge further than that. ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯d rather not.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Zealot.¡± ¡°I am not!¡± argues Basil. ¡°I just¡­¡± she crosses her arms. ¡°Baaasil~¡± calls Fresh out, pressing the side of her face into the ice. Basil looks down at her. ¡°Yes?¡± Fresh waves with an arm, beckoning the priestess over. ¡°Baaaaasil~¡± she calls again. ¡°Come cool off with us. It¡¯s so nice~¡± Basil lowers her eyes to the ice for a moment, but then crosses her arms back up again. ¡°No, thank you.¡± Fresh narrows her eyes. Basil is allowed to have her principles, as far as she sees it. But that doesn¡¯t mean that she¡¯s going to be happy about it. Fresh walks on her knees to the other side of the ice-golem core, placing it between herself and Basil and then she takes in a deep breath, blowing on the crystal. ¡°What are you doing, goo-brain?¡± sighs Jubilee, watching her. Fresh takes another breath and blows more of the cold air towards Basil. Jubilee rolls their eyes and releases their hands to gesture at the girl, as they look up at Basil. ¡°Will you please just touch the damn ice? Are you really going to make me have to watch this tragedy?¡± ¡°Hey!¡± argues Fresh, before straining herself to blow more of the cold air towards Basil, whose shoulders droop, as she apparently relents. The priestess drops her paper fan onto the counter and places her hands on the ice as well. Fresh smiles, lifting her hands up so that all three of them are touching the golem core. ¡°It¡¯s so cold,¡± sighs Fresh in relief. ¡°Yup,¡± nods Jubilee. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 88: Chill Fresh stares at the ball of ice. It¡¯s late in the day and the three of them are starting to close the store up once again. Not much had happened during the rest of the afternoon, apart from the three of them standing around the golem-core for several hours. They didn¡¯t even talk about much, but for Fresh, it was the most fun she¡¯s had in a while. Just standing in the room with her friends, with all of them being a little less miserable. Just that was enough to make her happy. She stares at the ice-golem core which has already shrunken in size considerably, to about half of what it was when they had received it. By tomorrow morning, it would likely be entirely gone and the heat would return, staved off for only a single day of the entire summer. Fresh sighs and stares at the dwindling thing. It¡¯s not just a block of ice. Apparently, ice-golems are fairly large constructs that roam deeper down in the ¡®ice segment¡¯ of the dungeon. Each of them have a single core inside of themselves, like this one, that could be extracted. Assuming it isn¡¯t destroyed during the fight. But now, during summer, they could go for as much as just over a thousand Obols each. Demand is sky-high and only decently leveled adventuring parties even have a chance of getting them, let alone affording them as a daily luxury. Apparently, most of the parties here are considered ¡®low-level¡¯ and the average group makes it to about floor twenty-four to thirty-two. A far cry away from the supposed hundred floors the dungeon has. She tilts her head. How devastating must monsters be at floor forty? Or sixty? Or what about floor one hundred? Is there some kind of final-boss to the dungeon? Fresh doesn¡¯t know and apparently neither do Basil or Jubilee. Apart from myths and rumors, nobody here really seemed to make their way down that far. Not even the fabled hero-parties, who always end up having something better to do than dungeon-diving. ¡°Are you just gonna stand there, or are you going to actually do something?¡± barks Jubilee and Fresh jumps up to her feet, snapping out of her wandering thoughts. ¡°I was just thinking about the core,¡± says the girl, getting back to her sweeping as she looks over to Jubilee who is doing the day¡¯s calculation together with Basil. ¡°Well don¡¯t think about it too much, because it¡¯s gonna be gone by tomorrow,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I know,¡± sighs Fresh in defeat and sets to work. Basil leaves for the day. She hasn¡¯t been earning much of a commission lately because of their slow business, but her daily salary is enough to keep her above water, as far as Fresh knows at least. She does feel a little bad, since the two of them make so much money. But Jubilee yells at her and tells her to get it together. ¡°It¡¯s our shop, so why shouldn¡¯t we make money? We already pay her double on average what any store here would pay her,¡± argues Jubilee and Fresh relents. She supposes if Basil needs more, she can just ask. But the priestess makes anywhere from fifty to three-hundred Obols a day anyways. Looking back on her own life a few weeks ago, Fresh realizes how much money even that really is. The two of them finish up for the night, restocking all of the shelves. Fresh takes a while to make all of the new items for the next day. Their list of wares is slowly becoming larger and larger. But at the same time, so are their savings. ¡°How much do you think we need?¡± asks Fresh, carrying a load of soul-potions downstairs, the little glass-chickens rattling in the box in her hands. ¡°For a cart and an anqa and all of that?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Jubilee thinks, placing some talismans into the bin with the rest. ¡°We¡¯ll need a second employee. So that¡¯s another Basil.¡± They tap their mask, thinking. ¡°We need a cart and an anqa,¡± Jubilee counts with their fingers, lowering another one as they go on. ¡°You obviously can¡¯t take care of it, since they apparently hate you.¡± Fresh frowns, she really wants to pet one of the anqas. But it doesn¡¯t seem like it¡¯s going to happen anytime soon. ¡°Plus someone to take care of it, feed it and drive the cart and carry all the stuff to and from the guild. So that¡¯s a third employee plus those costs. Uh¡­ I guess you want some tools and some stuff for the guild space too?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Mm!¡± ¡°Yeah, so we¡¯re probably looking at twelve-thousand? As an initial sum. Most of that is the anqa and the cart, honestly.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not so bad, we have that already, don¡¯t we?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll see if we can figure it out. I have no idea where you even buy a fucking anqa,¡± says Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Huh¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Maybe Basil knows?¡± ¡°Maybe. Anyways, let¡¯s finish here. I wanna get some sleep tonight,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their shoulders, as if their body was stiff and aching. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh in agreement as she goes to restock the shelves. The rest of the night passes without any noticeable events happening and Fresh happily falls asleep, pushing the lantern she had made for Basil out of the way, as it obsessively floats towards her bed while she¡¯s trying to sleep. It¡¯s a little annoying, honestly. But eventually her eyes fall too heavily shut to be bothered by something like that anymore. The pale, white light of the lantern seeps out of its metal slits, silhouetting the form of the angel as it washes over her sleeping shell, like beams of pale moonlight. Something trickles in the distance. Fresh opens her eyes in an instant, as the flash of midnight inspiration reaches her. The girl shoots upright, the lantern only just moving out of the way a second before she smashes her head against it. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± she says excitedly and runs downstairs in a hurry, before it¡¯s too late. She stops on the stairs, half-way there and then quickly runs back to her room to put her robe on. A minute later, she runs out again, hoping it''s not too late. Hurrying down the stairs, into the beyond chilly store-front area, she grabs the bowl with the melting ice golem core inside of it and looks at the little pebble that is sloshing around in the melted water. Is this still enough? She hopes so. Grabbing the bowl, she quickly runs upstairs and back into her room, grabbing some glass from the pantry on the way. Yanking the flying lantern out of the air, she throws it back inside of her room together with herself and then quickly shuts the door. Setting the bowl down, she grabs the block of matte glass and begins carving a hollow square out of it. It¡¯s a bit of a rough process, as she¡¯s never made something like this before. But compared to the half-intricate work of the chicken bottles, this is easy enough. A few minutes later, it¡¯s ready. A hollow, matte-glass cube with one side open. ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± she mutters to herself, spinning it around to look at it. Her eyes wander down to the golem-core that is already almost entirely gone now. Hurrying, she gets up and carefully dunks the glass cube into the cauldron of rebirth, doing her best not to get any of the water on her hands. Fresh sets the full glass bowl down and then, picking up the ice-cubed sized golem-core, drops it into the new ¡®mini-cauldron¡¯. Quietly mumbling to herself, she hopes this works. Tonight isn¡¯t a moonless night, so maybe this won¡¯t be good enough to make a new cauldron in and of itself. But she hopes that it doesn¡¯t count as ¡®making a new one¡¯, as the water is already enchanted from last time. The little pebble of ice plops down into the container and she holds her hands out over it, closing her eyes as she channels her magic into it. She feels a soft glow touch her eyelids, coming out together with a slight crackling sound of regrowing ice. A moment later, she looks down in delight. The golem-core has been fully restored, sitting snugly inside of the square, glass bowl. A little water splashes out from the sides, displaced from the growth in size and the wet stains the floorboards. But that¡¯s okay. In glee, she feels the cool air emanating out of the little construction. Grabbing a leftover piece of glass, she flattens it into a flat square with a little handle and then sets it on-top of the jar as a lid. With smug pride, she looks at the thing sitting before her. It had cost her an hour of sleep, but with this, she can assure that she and her friends are comfortable all summer long. They can get so much work done and not even the scorching light of the sun will be able to stop her. Her eyes wander towards the depiction of the guardian angel that floats next to herself, the gentle streaks of soft light that shine from its body, filling the frigid crystal that is suspended in the water with a meek glow. The suspended aura fills the room with an eerie light that is similar to the haunting aura of the full moon. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 89: Too much free time ¡°Are you stupid?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips, as Fresh looks back over her shoulder towards them. It¡¯s early in the morning and the two of them are standing upstairs in the kitchen. Fresh is cooking them both some breakfast, having woken up earlier than Jubilee, who just came by and saw the repaired golem-core sitting on the kitchen table. ¡°So you don¡¯t want salt on your eggs?¡± asks Fresh, repeating her question and tilting her head, as she places a lid over the pan. ¡°What? No.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Salt on the eggs. But I mean this.¡± They raise a hand, pointing at her night¡¯s work. ¡°Aren¡¯t you happy about it?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat let down. ¡°I thought you¡¯d like it.¡± She purses her lips and looks back to the pan, waiting for the bottom of the fried egg to harden a little. ¡°So we can stay cool? You know? And if we keep the store cold, maybe people will come in more often!¡± she explains, looking back over her shoulder. Jubilee sighs. ¡°That¡¯s all great and everything, but what are you going to tell Basil?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee leans against the door-frame with their arms crossed. ¡°Basil? You know?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°She works here? How are you going to explain to her that the golem-core un-melted?¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Uh¡­¡± her eyes wander out of the kitchen window, looking out over the plaza. ¡°Ah!¡± The spatula slaps against the palm of her hand. ¡°We¡¯ll just tell her that we bought a new one!¡± ¡°Bad plan, goo-brain. Don¡¯t tell lies that are easy to disprove.¡± ¡°Easy to disprove?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°What if she asks where you bought it from?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ from an adventurer?¡± ¡°An adventurer who came by when? Because she was here all day,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I think the egg¡¯s burning.¡± Fresh yelps, lifting the lid off of the pan and quickly scrapes the metal spatula under the fried egg, lifting it up to look at the bottom of it that is fairly dark on the bottom surface. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll take this one,¡± says Fresh, plating the egg and reaching for another one together with a pat of butter to re-grease the pan. ¡°What if we say we got it at a store?¡± ¡°What store?¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°She can just ask them if we did. They¡¯ll remember a big ticket item like a golem-core being sold.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°You¡¯re really smart, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°So should I get rid of it?¡± asks the girl. ¡°Woah there, I didn¡¯t say that. We can keep it upstairs, where she can¡¯t see it.¡± Fresh throws the dab of butter into the pan, it bubbles up and melts right away. This conventional fire-stove gets a lot hotter than she had expected. Waiting a second, she cracks the egg on the corner with two hands, getting some on her fingers as she messily pulls it apart. But at least no fragments of the shell fall into the pan. The egg drips out against the hot surface and begins to sizzle with a loud hiss, solidifying immediately. Grabbing the lid, she places it back on top of the pan and listens to the quiet noise coming out, the sound intermingling with the birds outside the window. Fresh nods, a little let-down, as she was looking forward to Basil¡¯s happy reaction. But she understands that Jubilee has a point. She didn¡¯t even think about it, honestly. This could have ended really badly for them. Even if she counts Basil as a friend and even if the priestess works here together with them, she¡¯s still probably spying on them for the church. All manner of thoughts go through her mind for a while, as she stares there, vacantly gazing at the pan. ¡°- ey. Hey!¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers a few times and Fresh rouses from her daze, looking back at her friend who is still standing in the door. ¡°The egg?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± she looks back at the pan, where a little bit of smoke is coming from the edge. ¡°AH!¡± Eventually, the two of them finish preparing their breakfast. While Fresh finishes with the eggs, making some that actually manage to come out properly, Jubilee goes out into town, coming back with a jar of honey just as Fresh finishes taking the last slice of toasted bread out of the pan. In excitement, she stares at the new golden treasure, wide-eyed and giddy. She didn¡¯t even know that there was honey here in this world to begin with. It doesn¡¯t really go great with the eggs, but that doesn¡¯t stop her from slathering it onto a piece of bread before placing an egg over it, as she prepares her own plate. ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Nevermind. Whatever floats your boat.¡± Fresh nods excitedly, remembering to sprinkle salt over Jubilee¡¯s eggs. A while later, Basil arrives at the store and they open for the day. The two of them had decided to leave the golem-core upstairs, out of Basil¡¯s sight. With any luck, it¡¯s presence in the house would hopefully, at the very least, allow some cool air to trickle down now and then. After helping with the initial morning rush, Fresh leaves the downstairs area to her friends so that she can get back to her work. Though she does make a few trips first, bringing down the rest of the purification-mixture that the thieves¡¯ guild had ordered for reasons she isn¡¯t too keen on digging into all too deeply. ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± asks Basil quietly, as she sets the last bottle down. Fresh looks at the priestess. ¡°Merchants,¡± says the girl plainly. ¡°But what if they¡­¡± she looks around, to see if anyone is listening. ¡°What if they use it to¡­ you know¡­?¡± she points to the flower on the bottle that was once a skull. Fresh catches her insinuation nonetheless and shrugs, doing her best to pretend to be Jubilee. ¡°If they want to do that, they¡¯ll do it with or without our wares,¡± she explains, raising a finger as she talks. ¡°So we might as well make the sale.¡± Basil doesn¡¯t really seem pleased with that answer, even though it was perhaps the one she expected. But she seems to let the topic drop. By the time Fresh comes downstairs again to pick up another load of armor, which needs to be repaired, the bottles are all gone, apparently having been picked up in an incredibly quick and organized manner, according to Jubilee. The upstairs door shuts behind herself, as she leans back against it and sighs, having come upstairs for the fifth or sixth time now since they had opened. At least it¡¯s somewhat cooler up here. The afternoon heat hasn¡¯t quite arrived just yet, but it¡¯s certainly on its way. Fresh thinks, wondering what it even is that she wants to achieve today. There¡¯s always more crafting that needs to be done, especially because of the order for the lanterns. Their stock downstairs isn¡¯t moving too fast, so it¡¯s fine if she does that stuff in the evening. She hasn¡¯t worked on the house in a while either and she really wants to do that. Oh, and she also wants to make something for Jubilee too, like she had been thinking about for so long, though she still isn¡¯t really sure as to what. Jubilee never seems to like anything in particular and doesn¡¯t really appear to have any hobbies either. She tilts her head looking down the hallway. Or she could try to come up with new items? New things are always good. Stepping inside of the pantry, she looks around at the boxes lining the shelves. It certainly looks a lot more organized than it had before and if nothing else, at least their food is rat-proof; as far as she can tell at least. Entirely overloaded with possibilities, the girl rubs her head as she thinks and walks around the small space. Something shiny flutters past her eye and she catches the little thing and looks at it. It¡¯s one of her hairs. Spinning the single strand of her hair around in her hand, she looks at it as the sunlight begins to slowly shine inside through the pantry window, reflecting off of the shiny thing. She never really did try to manipulate her curses more. This is another avenue that is technically open to her, if she really feels like it. Sure, it could go disastrously wrong, but on the other hand, curses seem extremely powerful and maybe it¡¯s a waste if she doesn¡¯t learn how to use them? Her own words that she had spoken to Basil not that long ago come back to her. Something is going to go disastrously wrong anyways eventually, so why not try to get ahead of it? Fight fire with fire. She purses her lips as she thinks, continuing to spin the single hair around between her fingers. The birdsong slowly begins to fade away, as the small creatures clear the stage for the buzzing cicadas and the gentle trickle of the fountain. Razmatazz Don''t mind me, just building up some foundation for a future disaster ''fun slice of life event in which nothing goes wrong'' here. *whistles innocently, smoothing over the wet cement* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 90: With friends like these Fresh stands downstairs, staring at Basil who is standing behind the counter and fanning herself with a single piece of paper. The priestess sighs, perhaps lamenting the heat and then opens her eyes to look back towards Fresh, who is watching her closely. ¡°Yes¡­?¡± asks Basil, somewhat nervously. ¡°Oh. Uh. Nothing,¡± says Fresh as she thinks about the idea she just had. Returning to work, she finishes sweeping downstairs. It¡¯s the middle of the afternoon and it¡¯s getting hot again, however some adventurers had tracked in a thick streak of crumbling mud from the dungeon this morning. Finishing up, she sets the broom against the wall and goes upstairs to get a piece of wood. Fresh comes back down a moment later and sets the crafting materials down onto the counter in front of Basil. She also has some glue with her. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asks the priestess. Fresh looks at her, raising a finger as she explains. ¡°I have an idea.¡± ¡°Oh boy,¡± comes a tired sigh from across the store and Fresh turns her head around, sticking her tongue out at Jubilee who is adjusting the glass-chickens. There isn¡¯t a single customer and there hasn¡¯t been since the morning rush. ¡°Bleeeh~!¡± Under Basil¡¯s watchful eye, Fresh grabs the piece of wood and uses her abilities to saw a small piece of it off, which is about two fingers in length and one in width. Setting that small piece upright, she then saws that in half again lengthwise, creating two flat and long sticks. Holding her hands above them, she closes her eyes and smooths them down to get rid of any rough edges and splinters. Smiling, Fresh holds an open hand out to Basil. ¡°Can I have your paper, please?¡± Basil looks at her warily, apparently not happy about having to give up her only source of cool air. But the priestess relents with little more than a bitter smile as she hands the girl the page. ¡°Thanks, Basil!¡± Fresh sets the paper down, folding it together into thin segments in an alternating pattern. Wait¡­ she thinks for a moment. It won¡¯t work like this. Looking around, she grabs a pair of scissors from the shelves and cuts larger corners off of the bottom half of the paper. Basil flinches as she watches the piece of paper, her only source of relief, become mutilated. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Basil!¡± reassures Fresh, understanding the priestess¡¯ pain. ¡°Wait - hold on.¡° She grabs the two sticks and then fastens them together at the base with a single thin, metal nail, which she saws off at the end. The small thing looks and works almost like a pair of elongated scissors. Then, she takes one side of the paper and glues it to one stick and then glues the other side of the paper to the other stick. Finally, she glues another piece of wood on top of both sticks, sandwiching the paper between them. ¡°Ta-da!¡± says Fresh excitedly, as she holds up the little construction, presenting it to Basil, who just stares at her, somewhat lost. ¡°What is it?¡± asks the priestess, doing her best to hide her upset expression. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh flips the thing open. ¡°It¡¯s a fan!¡± she says, beaming. She waves it towards Basil, who closes her eyes in relief as the air comes back to move around her face, tossing her hair up a little. ¡°Here!¡± Fresh hands it to the priestess and then sets to work, cleaning up all of the scraps. But not before also making one for Jubilee. Basil sighs in relief as she waves the small hand-fan against her face. ¡°This is really nice,¡± exclaims the priestess. ¡°It works really well.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± beams Fresh, happy to have brought some relief to one of her friends. Jubilee takes the other fan, as Fresh hands it to them, but seems less excited. Fresh supposes that their mask sort of ruins the point of the fan. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Jubilee, examining the thing. Fresh rubs her head. Making anything for Jubilee is really hard. They¡¯re so peculiar. ¡°We could probably sell these,¡± says Jubilee and Fresh winces. ¡°I knew you¡¯d say that,¡± she sighs. ¡°Nineteen Obols?¡± asks Jubilee, opening the fan and trying it out, ignoring her distressed sighing. Basil chimes in from the counter. ¡°That sounds reasonable. Whatever happened to the sweet-teas?¡± Jubilee thinks for a moment, looking up at Fresh. ¡°Yeah, whatever happened to those?¡± The girl crosses her arms and purses her lips in frustration. ¡°I¡¯m trying to make things that you two like, not things to sell!¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°I like having things to sell.¡± They look around Fresh towards the counter. ¡°Right, Basil?¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± says the priestess, fanning herself. Her golden bangle jangling on her arm. With drooping shoulders, the heat suddenly gets to her after all, Fresh grabs the rest of the materials and heads back upstairs to stow everything away. At least it¡¯s nice and cool up here. ¡°Stupid Jubilee. Stupid Basil,¡± grumbles Fresh as she steps into the kitchen. Why can¡¯t her friends just accept her presents as they are? Why do they insist on being so¡­ mercantile about everything? She just wanted to do something nice and she would have been thrilled with just a thank you and a smile from them, but here they are, trying to make a profit. The pot clinks as she sets it down against the metal stove and gets ready to make more of the sweet-tea. She sighs again, if only just to make herself feel better. Grabbing some of the fruits from the basket, she rubs them against her dress and throws them into the pot. They splat down against the metal somewhat unceremoniously. ¡°Jerks,¡± she mumbles to herself and tears open the kitchen window. Immediately, a streaming heat blasts into the fairly sheltered kitchen. Any coolness that has managed to come together and seep through the walls from the golem-core, to keep this room cool, immediately dissipates and is blown away. The sweltering summer scorch surrounds her on all sides in an instant. Feeling uncomfortable again, this time on purpose, the girl sets to work making the sweet-tea, grumbling to herself the entire time as she works. As she does so, she listens to the only noise coming from the outside world. The trickling fountain, whispering to her with its gentle splashes. There are no voices, no birds and not even any cicadas or any other kind of buzzing insect. All there is, is the sound of her working in the kitchen and the sound of the fountain. It¡¯s just the two of them, as if they were the last things around in the whole world. Fresh stirs the pot of boiling water, thinking as she gazes down into it vacantly. Her curses; after she had had the idea in the pantry earlier, she quickly brushed it aside, deciding that it was too risky and too dangerous. She would rather do something simple and productive to make her friends happy, because that¡¯s what makes her happy. But¡­ The spoon clinks, as she strikes it against the rim of the pot a few times. But maybe she needs to get more serious about this witch business? Curse-magic seems to be incredibly powerful and potent, so much so that it¡¯s an object of dread in this world. Making potions and paper-fans is great and all¡­ but is that what¡¯s going to keep her and her friends safe when their time comes? When the hero rises, to destroy all things that have stemmed from darkness, as the nightmare foretold? As the prophecy foretold? She listens to the fountain and to its clear answer. ¡°No.¡± Grabbing a few scoops of the tea mixture, she pours it into the water. She¡¯s going to need more than a few glass-chickens and a fistful of Obols. Jubilee had told her what they would need to do, if it came down to it and in a sense, she¡¯s really happy that there is someone in her life who would promise to go so far with her if they had to. But at the same time, Jubilee can also be a little inconsiderate sometimes. ¡°People are complicated,¡± says Fresh, shaking her head. She takes the mixture off of the stove to let it cool off. Her eyes rise up towards the dungeon as she stares out of the window. In an odd train of thought, she supposes that if anyone ever finds out that she¡¯s a witch, she can just¡­ hide inside of the dungeon forever? It¡¯s not like anyone could ever get to her then, since only she and Jubilee can go inside her instance of it. She¡¯d be safe. She could live off of cave water and mush-mushes for a few years. Maybe people would even forget about her eventually and the hero would just go away on his own then? She could sneak out in the middle of the night and leave town once things have cooled down. But that doesn¡¯t really seem like an appealing way to live this new life, honestly. Her eyes wander back down towards the swirling mixture before herself. No. She just has to keep doing what it is that she¡¯s doing right now. The fountain put her here for a reason, for a purpose and she¡¯s moving towards that goal. Even if she doesn¡¯t quite understand what it is herself. As the sweet-tea spins, the remnants of the leaves seem to slowly rise to the surface. Curiously, she watches them float up to the top of the thick soup. She watches their petals drift and float around, as if souls carried down the river of the dead. They come together, the black mass converging into a vague shape. Round. Empty on the inside save for a few odd leaves here and there that make up the details. A face with no eyes. She tilts her head the other way, trying to figure out if the heat is getting to her. As she examines the pot closer, the leaves all seem to sink away, floating down to the bottom where they dissolve entirely from the heat. She blinks. It looks like an apple now. How odd. Razmatazz You might be wondering where all this is heading. Well, I''d tell you, but you wouldn''t like it really. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 91: The morning hours It¡¯s the morning of the next day and the shop is full with the usual initial rush. The red-wizard examines a small, flat, cylindrical glass-bottle. The small container, filled with the sweet-tea, is about a large gold Obol in diameter and a finger and a half in height. The tea itself is bright-red, but mostly translucent. Fresh had opted to use a tiny bit less of the fruit-paste for each bottle, so that the drink would be less sticky and stay more refreshing during the hot days. Even with a little less sugar, it¡¯s still very fragrant and enjoyable to drink. ¡°So, it¡¯s not a new potion?¡± asks the red-wizard. Jubilee crosses their arms, leaning against the front of the counter. ¡°I told you, it¡¯s sweet-tea.¡± ¡°What¡¯s it for?¡± ¡°It¡¯s for drinking,¡± replies Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°But what does it do?¡± asks the wizard. ¡°It makes you stop being thirsty. What do you want me to say?¡± ¡°But why wouldn¡¯t I just drink water from the fountain if I¡¯m thirsty?¡± asks the wizard. ¡°Because it tastes better, you meat-head,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°I think all the blood from your brain has gone to those minotaur legs of yours.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. The red-wizard laughs, shaking the verbal jab off and lifts the hem of her robe to show them the calf of her leg, which is incredibly dense and muscular. Lifting the tip of her foot up, she flexes it. A sharp whistle comes out from the group of people behind her. From the muscular dark-elf, carrying her load of mushroom-caps to sell for the day. The red-wizard drops the cloth back down and laughs, waving the elf off. ¡°I¡¯m really good at running now!¡± they say, turning back to Jubilee. ¡°I bet,¡± says Jubilee to the red-wizard. ¡°Buy something or use those legs to run outside.¡± ¡°Jubileeee~¡± cries Fresh quietly. The wizard laughs, grabbing some of the sweet-teas together with their usual potions and heads to the counter. Jubilee looks back to Fresh. ¡°What?¡± Fresh looks at the wizard who is paying Basil for the items. She looks back at Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s called banter, you giant baby,¡± they say.¡± Toughen up a little, will you?¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°You¡¯re an adventurer, remember?¡± The wizard pops the cap off of their sweet-tea and takes a sip out of the bottle, her eyes lighting up. ¡°Hey, this is really good!¡± she says, turning back to Jubilee, who just shrugs as if that were obvious. The woman finishes the bottle right there, chugging it down before she manages to leave, going back out through the door. From the line of customers, a few curious eyes watch her as she leaves and then their gazes, as well as a few of their hands, move to the shelf, taking some of the bottles off to try for themselves. The rest of the morning passes exactly as every summer morning before this one. The initial rush is fairly dense and vibrant and then the numbers of adventurers slowly starts to dwindle, as they all retreat to either the inside of the much colder dungeon or back into their homes in the adventurer¡¯s guild. The sweet-tea sells pretty decently. It isn¡¯t a high profit item, but as with everything else that they make, the costs are fairly low, so every sale makes a profit, no matter how small. Besides, most people don¡¯t just buy the sweet-tea. They buy potions or weapons and just so happen to take one or two bottles with them. Fresh didn¡¯t have time to get any more fans ready, but she hopes that she¡¯ll manage by tomorrow to have a few ready for the shelves. But there is just always so much to do that she is having trouble keeping up. Eventually, the stream of customers slows down to a trickle and then the last one leaves the store, leaving the three of them standing there. Soon enough, they all retreat to their spots. Basil behind the counter, fanning herself. Jubilee sits on the stairs and leans against the wall. Fresh doesn¡¯t join them today however, as she goes upstairs, determined to get some work done. Grabbing a load of wood and metal fastenings, she heads back downstairs and starts ripping out and replacing more segments of the walls. Within an hour, the rest of the entire front wall of the store is completed as well as a large part of the side walls downstairs, where she can reach at least. A lot of them are blocked by the shelves now, so those will end up being a larger task to replace. Still, this is a lot already. With smug pride, she runs her fingers along the gaps, feeling for any disturbances or drafts. There are none. She had bought some insulating material last time she was in town as well and stuffed it into the walls. Knocking against the wood, she listens to the dull thud coming back to meet her. ¡°Ta-da!¡± she says, presenting the wall to Jubilee, who looks over from the stairs and nods. ¡°Nice job.¡± Fresh beams. ¡°The insulation will help keep the noise from outside down, plus it¡¯ll help keep the house cool in summer and warm in winter!¡± Jubilee nods again. ¡°One wall down. Fifty-seven left to go.¡± Basil chimes in, still fanning herself with the new fan. ¡°If I may, why don¡¯t you just hire a contractor to fix this all up? Replacing the walls and the floors and putting in some insulation shouldn¡¯t be so expensive? Relatively speaking.¡± Fresh looks at her, not lowering her arms that are still presenting the wall. ¡°Then you can concentrate on your work,¡± adds Basil, sensing the girl¡¯s eyes on her. Fresh purses her lips and lowers her arms. ¡°But I want to do it.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it going to take a lot of time, though?¡± asks the priestess curiously. ¡°It feels better if I do it myself, though,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°I can ask some of the church workers, I¡¯m sure I can get a good price for you,¡± suggests the priestess. ¡°As if we want more of you kooks running around here,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. Fresh sighs, as she watches Jubilee and Basil get into another argument about the church. Waving them off, if only for herself, as neither of them are paying her any attention now, she turns around and places her hands on her hips, admiring the new wall. She made it herself and that¡¯s the whole point. In a sense, it¡¯s not about the house. It¡¯s about the act, the intent. She doesn¡¯t just want to dump money into this place and call it a day. She wants to put her feelings into it. Because ultimately, that¡¯s what people are going to feel when they come inside. She smiles, proud of the solid construction through which not a single inkling of a draft leaks. Nodding to herself, she runs upstairs, grabs her bag and makes her way out. ¡°I¡¯m going to go buy more wood!¡± she calls out to Jubilee and Basil who are still going at it. Neither of them spare her much mind, being too entrenched in their argument. The girl scratches her cheek, unsure if this is a real argument or just ¡®banter¡¯ as Jubilee called it. She isn¡¯t really good with these kinds of social situations, so maybe it¡¯s best if she just lets the two of them work it out on their own this time. Still smiling, she closes the door behind herself. Maybe she¡¯ll buy them a light snack on her way back? Something for lunch. Nothing helps people mend their bonds quite like lunch. Running through town, doing her best to stay in the shade of the trees lining the path, Fresh runs around on her errands. She stops at the general store to order more wood and fabric for their pantry, then she grabs another sack of feathers for her arrows. As she walks through the city, she peers at the many different stalls and vendors, most of which are entirely without customers. The streets are fairly quiet now that the sun is starting to make its appearance for the day. Stopping by her favorite fruit vendor, she buys a jar of bright-orange jam and makes her way back to the store. She isn¡¯t really sure, but as she walks, she can¡¯t help but feel like she hears an extra set of feet behind herself. Looking over her shoulder however, she sees nobody but herself and the distant vendors. A soft, summer breeze blows past her, carrying with it the first crushing heat of the day. As she stands there, looking behind herself, she can¡¯t help but feel that she is being watched, followed. Jubilee had told her about this the other day. Are they being watched by the merchant¡¯s guild? The church? Or some other party who they had upset, like someone who the barkeeper from the adventurer¡¯s guild had warned her about? She isn¡¯t sure. Are they a threat to them? To her? To her new home? Or are they just being cautious and watching the newcomers? She isn¡¯t sure. The cicadas buzz in the trees as the birds slowly fall silent. Somewhere off in the distance, she hears the bells of the church starting to ring out. The sound of the heavily striking metal clanging and echoing, as it travels through the otherwise quiet city. Fresh stands there, alone, together with the unseen presence lurking nearby and watching her. Out from behind some wall or some foggy window. Somewhere. She isn¡¯t sure where. But she knows that it¡¯s here. She can feel them. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She listens to the trickle of the distant fountain that once again sounds so unusually loud, as if it is calling out down the way, its voice trying to reach her and her alone. But this is the game that they¡¯re playing. This is how this city and the people here work, she understands that now. At least in the part of society that she and her friends reside in. Lifting her eyes to the vague areas around herself, the dark alley, the foggy windows, she speaks to each and everyone of them. So that she is sure that the pair of eyes that she feels on her skin sees her. Her fingers grip the strap of her bag tighter, her other hand drooped down loose, ready to cast a spell, even though she knows she shouldn¡¯t. The purple smoke that nobody but she herself can see trickles down her finger, running down her leg like a snake climbing down a tree until it reaches the stones and then vanishes into a tiny crevice, as it seeks its target. The window vanishes, also unseen to everyone but herself. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you if I have to,¡± says Fresh, doing her best to envision Jubilee in her mind¡¯s eye as she then simply turns around and keeps on walking. If the jinx spell works, it will find her pursuer and maybe cause them to trip up a little. Four luck isn''t a lot to steal, as most adults here seem to have a lot more than that, but it''s about the act of defiance in her mind, more than the pragmatism of the matter. She hums to herself, getting her mind off of it as best as she can. Fresh hopes Basil and Jubilee will like the jam. Maybe she should have gotten a different color? She hopes that they aren¡¯t sick of orange things just yet. From somewhere in the distance, she hears a quiet hiss in her mind, as the viper sinks its fangs into someone''s leg. She smiles, feeling a little bad at the same time. But only a little. This is about survival, after all. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 92: Round and round she goes Fresh rolls the glass-marble back and forth over the counter, as she sits down on the other side of it, opposite of Basil. Her head is drooped down over it with her hands outstretched. The marble rolls to the left and lazily strikes against her fingers. With a slight nudge, she rolls it back towards the right just as listlessly. She had made it out of a piece of glass earlier, simply out of boredom. Neither Jubilee or Basil were interested in the jam, so it now sits upstairs in the kitchen, ignored. She sits downstairs, ignored. The marble rolls to the left again as she pushes it back anew. Her eyes follow it as it rolls over the counter for the thousandth time. *Thwack* Jubilee¡¯s leather glove slaps down against the counter, stopping the marble¡¯s roll. ¡°If I have to listen to that thing any longer, it¡¯s going to drive me insane.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m so booooored~,¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°Summer is so booooring~.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re bored, go play outside with the rest of the kids,¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m sure Basil can arrange a play-date for you.¡± Jubilee lifts their hands and sets the marble down in-front of Fresh¡¯s face, her chin pressing against the counter-top. The girl sighs and stares downward, watching as her exhaling breath slowly nudges the marble away again. Basil shakes her head. ¡°Actually, the children are really busy during the summer,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°They help take care of all the chores, since there are more adventurers coming through the city.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡± asks Fresh, confused. ¡°Well, more adventurers means more of us have work, which means someone else has to do all of the day to day tasks back at the church.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, looking back at the marble. She supposes that makes sense. ¡°Wait. How come there are more people traveling during summer?¡± ¡°Because the weather is nicer,¡± explains Basil, continuing to fan herself. ¡°It makes it easier to travel from outside of the city, when there are no storms.¡± ¡°Oh. That makes sense.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes wander back down to the marble. ¡°But they get time off too, right?¡± ¡°Sure, you saw them playing at the park, didn¡¯t you?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Work is important though. As children, they need to learn that they won¡¯t get food if they don¡¯t work.¡± Fresh looks up towards the priestess who is leaned against the wall with her eyes closed as she fans herself. ¡°The world just isn¡¯t kind enough for it to be any other way.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± says Fresh again and looks back down to the marble, getting ready to roll it around again. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± says Jubilee, watching her movements carefully. Fresh sighs and heads upstairs, taking the marble with her. She closes the door behind herself and lets out a second deep sigh as she leans with her back against it. Going to her room, she sits inside, feeling the cold air against her body, much to her relief. Her room is far, far colder than any of the rest of the house as the golem-core is inside of it. As long as she remembers to use the spell to repair it once a day, it could possibly last forever. Which is great and all, but she¡¯s a little bothered because she can¡¯t use it to cool down the store area downstairs, at least not without arousing suspicion. She plops down to the ground and starts rolling the marble from side to side again, watching it as she thinks about anything and everything. She wonders if other people get bored too? Maybe not adventurers down in the dungeon. But¡­ the normal people of the city? The other shop-keepers. The barkeeper of the adventurer¡¯s guild. Probably even the orphans. Actually, they¡¯re probably the most bored of everyone. She supposes being a kid was weird enough in her old life. How weird must it be in this world? Especially if you have to live in a church. She lifts up her head, looking at her vague reflection in the golem-core and mutters. ¡°Boooriiiiing~¡± Determined to do something about it, Fresh claps her hands and gets back up onto her feet. If she¡¯s bored, she should do something productive. Maybe she can make something to help alleviate someone else¡¯s boredom too? She strikes her palms against her cheeks, lightly slapping her face a few times to energize herself as she runs back outside of her room, grabbing her bag. Excited, Fresh runs past her friends again and goes into town to get the things she needs. Fresh ignores their wary gazes on both her way down and her way back up, twenty minutes later, her bag now full of the things that she needs and a few coins lighter. But that¡¯s fine. She has more money than she knows what to do with already, honestly. Grabbing some materials from the pantry, she locks herself inside of her room and sets to her new idea. Pulling the few pieces of pliant leather out of her bag, she sets them down onto the ground and then starts thinking about how this is supposed to work. ¡°Uh¡­ it has to¡­ uh¡­¡± Fresh grabs one corner and then lifts it up, folding it around a few times to try to get a mental vision of her desired object. ¡°Maybe if this goes here¡­ and if I cut that¡­¡± She tilts her head as she runs along the leather with the edge of a pair of scissors, in order to make the marks that she wants to cut along in a moment. This is maybe more of something for Jubilee to be doing. It¡¯s not exactly tailoring, but it¡¯s close. But it¡¯s fine, as a craftsman, even she should be able to do something this rudimentary. She hopes. A few minutes later, the sheet of leather is cut into all manner of direction, looking like a splayed out beehive. She vaguely remembers doing something like this in her old life, actually. Back when she was a small child, during some school art project. Grabbing a fistful of a cotton fluff, which she had gotten from the merchant that she always buys her feathers from, she lays it onto the leather and then starts pulling it together, the hexagonal patches coming together and forming it into a round sphere. Smiling, she holds the ball up into the air. It turned out better than she was expecting. While the color is still the same tan brown tone as the leather, it looks like a nice, perfectly round ball. Tossing it into the air above her head once, she catches it as it comes back down and spins it around in her hands. With a satisfied smile, she sets the ball down and sets to work, making a few more. An hour later, beaming with pride, Fresh holds one of them and runs out of her room, ready to show Basil her latest creation, now that she has finished a whole dozen of them. The magical-lantern rises up, trying to follow her, but gets stopped by the chain again. She quietly apologizes to it and closes the door behind herself and heads towards the stairs, where she then however comes to a sudden standstill. Her eyes wander down to her latest creation. What if they don¡¯t like it? No. What if they like it and they want to sell it again? She fidgets, fumbling with the spherical object. It¡¯s just a ball, so it won¡¯t be a big ticket item of interest, she¡¯s sure of that. But it¡¯s about the principle. Sometimes she just wants to make nice things for the sake of it and not for a profit, but the two of them seem to be unable to really understand that. Or simply unwilling too. Jubilee is a little tight-fisted and Basil has taken an uncomfortable liking to earning so much money. Fresh wonders if this whole venture isn¡¯t actually making her friends worse people? It¡¯s quiet for a minute as she stands there, thinking. Eventually though, she shakes her head. Nonsense. She¡¯s just being a worry-wart. Smiling, she opens the door and heads downstairs. ¡°Baaaaasil~!¡± The priestess stops fanning herself, looking up to her. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I made a bunch of these!¡± says Fresh proudly, going down the stairs carefully. ¡°I thought maybe you could give them to the kids?¡± she says, holding the ball out to Basil. ¡°Huh? Really?¡± asks the priestess, surprised and reaches out, taking the ball, but reaching a bit too far and her hands touch Fresh¡¯s. ¡°Thank you!¡± she says with a smile as she takes it and looks at the plaything. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh excitedly. ¡°They need to play a little too,¡± she explains, lifting a finger. ¡°It¡¯s important!¡± Basil smiles. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll love them, thank you very much!¡± she says, clearly delighted, but then stops for a moment. Fresh opens her eyes again and watches as the priestess reaches over, rather abruptly grabbing her hand. The woman frowns, clearly displeased as she touches Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re always so cold, are you sure that you¡¯re okay?¡± Fresh nervously laughs, quickly pulling her hand free. ¡°I¡¯m fine! It¡¯s just the way I am,¡± says the girl, as she suddenly realizes that she should have waited longer after coming out of her room. Basil continues to frown, looking at her and then back to the ball. ¡°Okay¡­¡± says the priestess, her frown having turned into a smile again by the next time she looks back at her. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 93: Everything has a price Fresh looks down, her eyes meeting Mr. Mushroom¡¯s wary gaze as she holds a sweet-roll out towards him, as her bargaining token. ¡°Nyah?¡± she repeats her question and Mr. Mushroom seems to think for a moment, apparently somewhat unsure. Understanding that she has to sell it a little more, Fresh waves the roll around, explaining. ¡°Nyah. Nyah!¡± She breaks off a corner and eats it. ¡°Nyaaaah~¡± says the girl, holding her cheek in a theatrical display with her free hand as she eats. ¡°Nyah!¡± grumbles Mr. Mushroom and pulls himself back inside of the hole. Fresh smiles, her experience at selling things really helped her this time. Sometimes you need to make a customer know that not only is your product good, but that they need it. Even if they don¡¯t. You need to convince them that they do, at least until they buy it. No refunds. She smiles, listening to the rustle coming from the inside of the hole. A minute later, a large silhouette comes out, several woody, flowering bulbs clenched in its mouth. Mr. Mushroom drops the root-flowers at her feet. ¡°Nyah,¡± he says, watching her carefully. ¡°Nyah!¡± beams the girl, reaching down to give him the sweet-roll in turn. Mr. Mushroom gently bites down on it, pulling it free from her hand and backing away slowly back into his hole. The trade is complete. The pact is sealed. Traded: [1 Sweet-roll](Normal) for [3 Root-Flowers]{Small}(Normal) ¡°Nyah nyah!¡± waves Fresh down into the dark hole, taking the root-flowers and then turning to leave the dungeon again. This was a good idea. She was always looking for more resources to help her crafting and the root-flowers were right in-front of her face the entire time. Plus, maybe she can convince Mr. Mushroom to be her friend after all? She hasn¡¯t given up on that secret hope just yet. Maybe the two of them can set their differences aside, one day? Smiling, she heads back out of the dungeon and back home. It¡¯s still before sunrise. She had woken up unusually early today and is taking care of a few things that she had wanted to do for a while now. This trade with Mr. Mushroom was one of them. She doesn¡¯t know just yet what she wants to make out of the root-flowers, but she¡¯s sure that there¡¯s something to do with them. After they had closed last night, Basil had taken a large bag with the dozen balls in it with her, very gratefully, and promised that she¡¯d give them to the children when she sees them in the morning. So probably right around now actually, thinks Fresh, very happily. After the ¡®incident¡¯ yesterday, she had moved the balls out of her room and into the pantry to warm them up a little, before she gave them to Basil. If only to cover her tracks. She sets the root-flowers down onto the counter and looks around. Jubilee isn¡¯t awake yet and she still has more than an hour left, if she had to guess. Fresh scratches her cheek, looking around the store and thinks about what to do next. The next idea comes to her pretty quickly, as a distant glimmer catches her eye. One of the glass-chickens on the shelf reflects the early morning sunrise that is starting to break through the window, sending a shimmering, multi-colored projection onto the wooden boards of the floor. The spectacle gives the room the faintest appearance of a colorful autumn-washed forest, if only in her mind¡¯s eye for a fraction of a second. Excited, Fresh picks up her bag again and heads out for the second time today, this time turning right and walking towards the entrance plaza. ¡°One sweet-roll please!¡± she asks the baker. ¡°Again?¡± he laughs. ¡°You just had one.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, happy that the giant man isn¡¯t nervous around her anymore. ¡°I shared it with my friend!¡± ¡°So you want one for yourself now?¡± smiles the baker, wrapping the sweet-roll in parchment and taking her coins. (Fresh) bought: [Sweet-roll](Normal) for [{9} Obols] ! Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No. I want to share this one with another friend,¡± she laughs, waving goodbye to him, as she goes down towards the gate, rather abruptly stopping only just short of the other side. The girl stands in the giant archway, the entrance to the city, and stares up at it from the inside. Her eyes wander up the body of the towering structure. It¡¯s massive. She wonders how long it took to build? How many people? How many days? Months? If not years? Or was this massive gate just always here? As present in the terrain as the dungeon itself, crafted by some higher power? For a moment, Fresh wonders why she isn¡¯t moving. She¡¯s just standing at the precipice, on the inside of the city, five steps away from what lies beyond. Since she¡¯s arrived here, she¡¯s never left the city once. Well, except for the time that she died. But that doesn¡¯t count in her eyes. The city behind her is filled with life and even though her gaze isn¡¯t turned back towards it, she can still feel it, hear it, hear them. Hundreds of voices. Loud, happy, laughing, jovial voices fill the air of the dawning summer¡¯s morning. Voices of humans, elves, orcs, birds and cicadas. All of them come together to make a harmonious collective. They sound so happy, as a whole. Fresh doesn¡¯t turn her head around, she just stares up towards the massive gate, listening to the happy world behind her, rather spontaneously realizing that she doesn¡¯t really belong to it. Sure, she lives here. But she doesn¡¯t belong. Does she? Not in a true sense. She¡¯s hiding. She spends every day hiding, in a manner of speaking. Out of fear of being found out. She¡¯s just pretending to belong. Even if she has Jubilee and she ¡®has¡¯ Basil, she still doesn¡¯t belong to this collective of life. She¡¯s an outsider, despite all of her efforts, simply due to the nature of her calamitous rebirth. What is this feeling? She lifts her hand, rubbing her arm as she stands there in the shadow of the gate, somewhat lost and awkward. This feels like¡­ like her old life. How can she feel so strangely melancholic and blue on a beautiful day like this? And so suddenly? Her eyes lower themselves down for the first time in minutes and Fresh takes a deep breath, stepping forward and leaving the city for the first time of her own volition, since she had arrived. It¡¯s not like it¡¯s for forever. She¡¯s just going outside for a minute. Pressing forward, not looking back behind herself, the girl hurries down the way. The forest road that leads up to the city is still filled with a lush, ardent green. But the shade is less vibrant than it was when she had initially found it. The colors of the foliage are a little more muted and dull, as if having been sapped of their radiant spring-tide energy by the summer heat. It feels weird, being here again. Though she isn¡¯t quite able to put it into words. Fresh stands at the crossroads, having reached it a moment later and her body turns right. Her head, however, stays locked forward, her eyes wandering down the path that lies straight ahead. Down the way she would have gone back then, if she had gone right after her rebirth. She wonders quietly to herself, if it¡¯s true, what the fountain told her? That if she had gone right, that it would have made her a priestess instead? She tilts her head, which is still at an angle. She wonders if she would have ¡®belonged¡¯ then? Maybe she wouldn¡¯t have had as much money. She also probably would have never met Jubilee. But who knows what that life could have been. Despite her eyes looking down the way, almost longingly, her boots seem to be marching forward on their own, as if her body itself was sick of her mopey nonsense as it walks down the path, down towards the clearing with the small fountain. Eventually, once there is nothing left to see to the side but forest, her head turns back forward and her eyes follow the road towards the opening ahead, from which she can hear the stream of a gentle trickle of water. Fresh stops, taking a deep breath to prepare herself. The brown parchment paper crinkles beneath her fingers, as they clasp down tightly on it in her nervousness. Exhaling deeply once, she peers cautiously out and around a tree, looking into the clearing to see if he''s here. The rooster. Are roosters supposed to eat sweet things like the roll that she had bought for it? Probably not. But she¡¯s sure that one little treat won¡¯t be too bad for it and maybe it will like her too, then? After all, if someone brought her a sweet-roll, she¡¯d like them. So it only makes sense to her that it works the other way too. Gulping, Fresh steps out into the clearing and looks. Nothing. There is no rooster anywhere to be seen. There¡¯s only the small fountain, the one she ¡®arrived¡¯ in. The one she is reborn in, when she dies. Fresh turns her head, looking over to the construction, somewhat let down that the rooster isn¡¯t here. Walking over to it, she stares down at her own reflection, shimmering in the water just as a lazy ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds from above, revealing to her the visage of the girl in the fountain. The two lonely creatures stand in the clearing, both of them staring at each other for a time, accompanied by the sound of running water as a trickle splashes into the basin. The reflection lifts its hands, holding out the sweet-roll to her. ¡°Do you want this?¡± asks Fresh and she then nods affirmingly a moment later to her mirror image, which does the same. The girl sighs and sits down on the rim of the fountain and looks down at the paper bag in her hands. As she sits alone in the forest, her back turned to her reflection, as the water trickles on, splashing into the basin with a constant candor, she can¡¯t help but think as she listens to it, that it sounds just a tiny bit like a giggle. Like a snide chuckle. It sounds like her reflection was doing its best to not break out in a fit of laughter, as if it had seen a joke that she herself hasn¡¯t realized yet. As if it was just waiting for her to finally catch on, before it can freely laugh as loud as it wants to. Lowering her gaze down to the ground, looking past the thing in her hands that she doesn¡¯t even want anymore, Fresh looks at the strange thing between her feet. Setting the bag down onto the rim of the fountain, Fresh bends over forward and picks up the small, shiny, long thing that seems to glisten in the morning sunlight. Shimmering with such intensity as if it were set there, right between her feet as if to specifically catch her attention. Fresh carefully holds the bent, long, brown feather out in front of herself. She looks at the fresh, bloody trickle that runs down its length. Red droplets strike against the grass between her feet. The fountain continues to laugh, as it always has. Razmatazz Bakaw =( Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 94: Dungeon Toy Shop It is the middle of the night. Fresh and Jubilee sit downstairs together at the counter of the store. The girl fumbles with a few scraps of fabric and fluff as she tries to get her mind off of things. Despite the roaring summer that is currently underway, Fresh can¡¯t help but notice how particularly dark the world feels as of late. But at the same time, she isn¡¯t really sure if it¡¯s the world itself, or just the old blues from her last life that are finally catching up with her, now that she has slowed down a little. Now that she¡¯s found a place to dig in her heels and she¡¯s stopped running, it¡¯s all catching up with her. Jubilee snaps their fingers in front of her face a few times. ¡°Hey! Pay attention, you goon.¡± Fresh looks up from the counter, staring at her friend and blinks a few times. ¡°This was your idea, but if you¡¯re just wasting my time, then I¡¯m going to bed.¡± ¡°Ah! Wait! No, sorry!¡± apologizes Fresh, slapping her cheeks to rouse herself from her daze. ¡°I¡¯ve just been a little stressed lately and my mind¡¯s wandering.¡± Jubilee stares at her, their fingers tapping against the counter and they sigh, leaning back against the chair. They lift the piece of fabric, holding it out to her. ¡°Look. You wanted to start with the legs, right?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°How would you make them?¡± ¡°Me? Uh¡­¡± Fresh grabs a piece of the fabric, holding the edges together to make a hollow cylinder. ¡°I¡¯d start with the legs like this?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°That¡¯s fine and all, but what about the foot?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh lifts the hollow fabric tube up, closing one eye and looking at Jubilee through it. ¡°You gotta close off the foot, otherwise all of the stuffing will come out.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Fresh looks back at the tube and then simply presses the edges together on one end, closing it off. ¡°Like this?¡± ¡°That looks like shit.¡± says Jubilee, lifting up a piece of fabric. ¡°Look, you want the bottom of the foot to be smooth, not some knotted jumble.¡± They take the fabric. ¡°You¡¯re barking up the wrong tree. Watch.¡± Fresh watches as Jubilee sets the fabric down onto the counter and begins drawing the silhouette of a cute bear with round ears on it. A moment later, they take a pair of their iron scissors and fold the sheet of fabric over itself, before cutting out the silhouette. A minute later, two small, flat bears lay on the counter. ¡°See? You could make each joint one at a time and then sew it all together like some undead freak.¡± They lift up one of the cloth bear cut-outs. ¡°Or you just make two of these, sew the edges together and then fill it with fluff. ¡°Draw. Cut. Sew. Fill,¡± says Jubilee, wagging the bear cut-out left and right, giving it the impression that it¡¯s walking. ¡°Four steps. Easy. After that we can detail it.¡± Fresh does her best to hold in a quiet laugh as she watches her friend wag the bear around. ¡°What¡¯s so funny, goo-brain?¡± barks Jubilee, setting the bear down on top of its twin again and neatly arranging them. ¡°Get to work.¡± Fresh beams, humming happily as she mimics Jubilee. The two of them spend the rest of the night making a large batch of teddy-bears. Jubilee had made fun of her and called her a giant, baby-hearted, goo-brain when she asked them to help her make them. But she can tell that they¡¯re having fun making them too. Even if their smile is hidden away from the world, she can still see it in her friend¡¯s loose, but excited posture and in their unusually giddy eyes, which Jubilee does their best to hide by staring at the teddy-bears as they work. The girl has had enough of the horrible world for now. Her entire life is built around death or misfortune in some sense. She makes weapons and items out of dead things that are used to make even more things dead. It¡¯s a cycle that she¡¯s fueling and while she does see that necessity of it, for now, just for tonight at least, she wants to make something nice, together with her friend. She looks as Jubilee sews the edges of another teddy-bear shut. Setting down her current one, she takes two of the cutouts and does her best to copy Jubilee. ¡°So why are we doing this again?¡± asks Jubilee, inspecting her work. ¡°You missed a corner there, here, let me see - ¡° ¡°No!¡± says Fresh, pulling the unfinished bear in her hands back. ¡°I want to make this one,¡± she says, setting the fabric down to fix the corner. Jubilee stares at her curiously, but then shrugs and returns to their work. ¡°- Because I want to spend time with you, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, answering the first question. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh, ignoring her friend¡¯s snark as she begins gently stuffing more fluff into the one that she¡¯s making entirely on her own. She had sewn a little too much of it closed, so it¡¯s arduous work, pressing the fluff into the feet and the arms from the little hole that is left on the head. Fresh purses her lips, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she focuses on making this one perfect. It takes a while and as she still sits there, working on the same single one, Jubilee has long since finished cutting out and stuffing a handful of the little creatures. But she doesn¡¯t let that bother her. She and Jubilee are working with two different mindsets. Sure, Jubilee is having fun and so is she, but she¡¯s putting more than just some fluff into the little bear. Every press of her fingers to adjust the filling and every tuft of fabric that she tucks neatly into place is set there with a warm feeling in her heart. It¡¯s a cruel world, filled with horrible things and she can¡¯t change any of that - Fresh carefully sews the hole shut by hand, after filling in the rest of the stuffing into the inside of the nose. - But even if she can¡¯t change that. She can make something that is the opposite of that. Even if she can¡¯t hide herself from all the terrible facts of this new life, she can still put out something else into the darkness. Instead of perpetuating it, for tonight at least, she can let something warm be born from this feeling in her heart. It¡¯s not a feeling born out of a desperate survival drive, or out of a yearning for escape. Rather, it¡¯s a clean feeling that stems from somewhere deeper, somewhere purer. Setting the bear down, she turns it to face herself and digs into her pockets, feeling for the glass marble that she had made in advance and then carefully cut it in half. The trick to coloring the glass was to sand it to a rough state, then rub in a pigment and then reheat it again until it became smooth, before then matting it a second time so that it doesn¡¯t shatter. Smiling, she takes a dab of glue and coats the flat back surface of the eyes, before pressing them against the material. Staring at the green eyes of the smiling bear that is looking back up her way, Fresh tilts her head, inspecting it carefully. She narrows her eyes, looking at its innocent smile that is made out of a sewn-on black thread, checking carefully that there isn¡¯t a hint of smugness or fakeness to its arc. It has to be real. Her gaze softens, her expression is proud and tired as she nods to the bear that is fulfilling its role in an admirable manner. The bear nods back. Fresh rubs her eyes, blinking a few times as she looks at the small, green-eyed teddy-bear that is filled with nothing but cotton and her warm feelings. Her eyes raise up towards the shuttered window of the storefront. She can¡¯t see through it, but she knows that it¡¯s very late. She blinks again. Her tired mind must just be playing tricks on her. Looking down, she watches as Jubilee sets down the last of the eleven bears that they made in the time she¡¯s made one. ¡°You¡¯re really good at this, Jubilee,¡± says the girl, feeling less proud about her one bear now. Jubilee shakes their head, adjusting the bears on the counter so that they all sit next to each other. ¡°I sew a lot of things.¡± They sigh, leaning back against their chair before letting out a long yawn. Fresh watches, wanting to comment as her friend covers their ¡®mouth¡¯ as they yawn, despite the mask being there. But she doesn¡¯t say anything, realizing that that might be rude. Instead, the girl takes a deep breath, mustering up the courage to give Jubilee the bear that she¡¯s made for them as a gift. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go to bed,¡± says Jubilee, scooting their chair back and jumping off rather abruptly. Fresh looks up, surprised at her friend¡¯s sudden exit and her eyes shoot back down to the single bear before her that stares up and back at her, almost expectantly. ¡°Huh? Uh -¡± Jubilee starts walking up the stairs and Fresh feels her heart beating faster and faster. She feels her skin grow clammy and her fingers become jittery, as the nervousness runs through her. A cold sweat forms beneath her arms in an instant. It¡¯s a familiar anxiety. A fear of what happens next. A fear of repercussion, a fear of being laughed at. Fresh remembers this feeling, this familiar feeling that crawls through her body as she listens to Jubilee walk up the staircase by themselves, as she listens to them vanishing away. Is this stupid? Is she just being stupid again, like always? Just being weird again, like always? Why is she so afraid, all of the sudden? Because she doesn¡¯t want Jubilee to think that she¡¯s odd? Something taps against the counter and she looks as a droplet from somewhere leaves a wet spot next to the green-eyed bear. Why does her throat hurt? Fresh clenches her fist and jumps up to her feet, the chair scooting back behind herself loudly and crashing into the wall, as she grabs the bear tightly with the other hand and runs to the bottom of the stairs before Jubilee can go. ¡°Jubilee!¡± yells Fresh, far too loud. Jubilee stops on the stairs, looking down at the wet-eyed girl. ¡°I made this for you!¡± she cries, as she holds up the bear towards them. ¡°Be- because you¡¯re my friend!¡± howls the girl, her head lowered down to look at the steps. ¡°Are you crying?¡± asks a voice from above. ¡°Noooo~!¡± howls Fresh, as she feels the weight in her hands grow lighter. She¡¯s clearly crying. Razmatazz ;_; Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 95: Inner warmth It¡¯s a sleepy day. The air is still glowing with heat, but somehow the world just feels a little calmer than usual right now, just a little quieter. But not in a foreboding way that makes Fresh think anxiously about their profits or about all of the things that she still has to do. It¡¯s simply quiet, in a calm, peaceful fashion. As if she were sitting on the bank of a gentle river, listening to the sound of the water babbling with a crystal shimmer and the songs of the many creatures of the forest around herself. But none of that is actually happening, she¡¯s just standing inside of the store, tearing out another board from the walls. It¡¯s early in the morning, still somewhat before their opening hours. Fresh smiles, as she wipes her dusty forehead on her sleeve, getting rid of some of the grime and sweat that has collected on her face already this early in the day. But it doesn¡¯t bother her. Today, she feels light. Cathartic. Looking back on last night, she feels rather stupid, honestly. Fresh grabs another old, rotting board and pulls it free so that she can replace it with a fresh, straight one and so that she can pack the hollow space in the walls with a layer of the thick insulating fibers that she had bought for exactly this purpose. Jubilee had thanked her for the bear and told her to stop being such a crybaby. But Fresh didn¡¯t stop crying, not until after Jubilee had gone back to their room and she herself had fallen face-first into her own pillow. She isn¡¯t even sure why, really. The hammer thuds as she strikes it against the wooden board, jamming the new thing into place. Fitting it snugly into the corner of the world that it belongs in. Maybe she is just a crybaby. Or maybe she was just relieved that she¡¯s finally been able to make something to pay Jubilee back. Even if it is just something stupid like a teddy-bear. She supposes that she¡¯s just thinking with her own ¡®goo-brain¡¯, as Jubilee calls it. But it seems like a good present, as far as she can tell. Jubilee gets unsettled by the storms and they also seem to be just as lonely a person as she herself is. So maybe it¡¯ll be nice to have something there in the dark of the long nights that seem to fall over the world so often. The front door opens. ¡°Good morning!¡± says Basil. A draft of warm air, born of the summer morning comes in together with the priestess. The soft wind tussling her hair as she steps inside, blowing through the store and carrying with it a soft smell like that of a light, floral perfume. Fresh waves with her hammer-hand, seeing her friend arrive for the day. ¡°Good morning, Basil! How are you?¡± She tears out the next board. ¡°Did they like the balls?¡± asks Fresh, feeling a little nervous at the question actually. Basil closes the door behind herself and walks towards the counter to get things ready for the opening soon. ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you,¡± replies the priestess with a smile as she heads to her spot, setting down her things below and pulling out the ledger. ¡°They were very happy,¡± she says, setting the book down and smiling with a kind smile, her eyes never traveling up towards Fresh. ¡°Thank you, and you?¡± Fresh nods, satisfied. She hopes that they get to play a lot with them and that they don¡¯t have to work too much. ¡°I¡¯m fine, just putting in some work before we start. There¡¯s always more to do,¡± says the girl. The pen scratches as Basil writes in the ledger, drawing up everything in preparation for the day. She stops, and looks to the side, down to the row of teddy-bears sitting against the wall. ¡°Aww, what¡¯re these? Did you make these? Are these a new product?¡± she asks, lifting up one of the small bears, looking into its glass eyes. Fresh shakes her head, returning to her work. ¡°Jubilee made those. I guess they¡¯re to sell?¡± ¡°As if anyone wants to buy some freaky stuffed bears,¡± barks a voice coming down the stairs. ¡°Good morning, Jubilee!¡± calls Fresh from around the corner. ¡°Good morning,¡± says Basil. Jubilee waves both of them off, adjusting their mask with their other hand as they come down the stairs. ¡°We¡¯re probably gonna throw them in the trash, honestly,¡± says Jubilee, coming over to the counter to inspect Basil¡¯s early morning work. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat surprised at Jubilee¡¯s statement. They had just spent all night making them together after all. Basil looks at the toy bear in her hands, somewhat taken aback. ¡°Really? These are really nice though¡­¡± The priestess is quiet for a while, her eyes wandering up and down the bear in her hands as she musters up her courage. ¡°¡­If you¡¯re going to throw them away, is it okay if I take them?¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you a bit old for toys?¡± asks Jubilee, rolling their eyes. Basil shakes her head. ¡°Not for me. For the children. A few of them are a little more frail and I think they¡¯ll appreciate them a lot. Ah -¡± The priestess looks up towards Fresh, lifting her hands as she explains. ¡°The balls are really nice! Thank you! It¡¯s just¡­¡± the priestess fidgets, playing with her long sleeves. ¡°- Some of them aren¡¯t very physically able.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes widen a little, as she watches the scene unfold across the store. Her mind races as it tries to process the events. She hadn¡¯t even thought about that. Jubilee shrugs indifferently. ¡°If you want to unload our garbage onto them, feel free,¡± snaps her friend, not looking up from the ledger. Basil smiles, squeezing the little bear in her hands as she grabs the rest of them, gently tucking them into her bag. Fresh tilts her head, watching as Jubilee doesn¡¯t lift their face from the book, but she sees their eyes wander to the side and watch as the bears are carefully set into the bag one by one. Then she understands. This was Jubilee¡¯s devious scheme all along. For whatever reason, they aren¡¯t just able to tell Basil that they made these for her wards to start with. But by ¡®being Jubilee¡¯, they can set things into motion just like they want, without risking the emotional vulnerability. Jubilee is a little manipulative and deceptive as always, but maybe that isn¡¯t always a bad thing, thinks Fresh. Some people just need more distance than others. Smiling, she turns back to her work before Jubilee can catch her staring and with new vigor, tears out the next board. Soon enough, they open the store and the usual crowd arrives. The early morning adventurers, coming to unload their loot by the bagfuls. Sales are starting to pick up again, especially repairs, now that people seem to have gotten into the rhythm of this summer life. It¡¯s still less chaotic than the lively spring, but there is a gentle action that continues all day and is passed through everyone¡¯s happy demeanor. ¡°- and then I blasted him!¡± says the red-wizard excitedly, bouncing on her feet up and down. Her bag, full of potions, jostles loudly on her back. ¡°You should have seen it! There were bones flying everywhere!¡± Jubilee nods, handing her back her change. ¡°Yeah, twenty-four is a real mess. Good job,¡± they say, thinking for a second. ¡°Hey, do you still have the boss-core?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± says the red-wizard, pulling on one of the straps of her bag. ¡°You know what you want to make from it yet?¡± The wizard thinks for a second. ¡°Uh¡­ I was hoping to get a new pair of boots, actually.¡± They lean in towards Jubilee. ¡°Mine are getting a little tight around the calves¡­¡± ¡°Cloth?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Yeah,¡± nods the red-wizard. ¡°Want us to make some?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks the wizard. ¡°Can you do that?¡± Fresh watches as Jubilee shrugs. ¡°We¡¯ve never done it before so I have no idea. You¡¯d be the first customer. Because of that, we¡¯ll only ask for ten percent of the core.¡± The red-wizard thinks for a moment, looking around the store as she ponders. Her eyes move over the many items lining the shelves, going from the potions to the weapons to the glass-chickens. Nodding, she opens her bag and pulls out something that Fresh has never seen before. A round, crystalline sphere with a roughly jagged surface. The hollow inside is filled with a swirling, cold, blue fog. ¡°I¡¯ll trust you with this then!¡± says the wizard, smiling at Jubilee. ¡°Great!¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers up at Basil, who looks down in surprise. ¡°You! Measure her feet.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You heard me, go!¡± barks Jubilee at Basil, who quickly runs off around the counter, taking the wizard with her. Fresh carries the next load of armor away, thinking. A boss-core? She¡¯s never tried to work with anything like that before. They seemed like very powerful items. But if the wizard wants cloth boots, that seems more like something that Jubilee is going to end up making, as a tailor. Still, that makes her happy too. Her friend, just like their store, is really coming together into something whole. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 96: Graveyard Shift Standing down at the bottom of the staircase down in the dungeon, Fresh and Jubilee look at each other, just outside of the boss door that leads to floor sixteen. ¡°So. What are you going to do?¡± asks Jubilee knowingly, with their hands on their hips. It¡¯s the middle of the night. The rest of the day had passed just as quietly as every other summer day before this one and the two of them had decided to go clear a new floor of the dungeon, in a bid to level Fresh up a little more. If only to ease both of their worries about the future and what it might one day bring to their doorstep. Fresh sighs and lowers her head. ¡°I¡¯m going to stand by the door and not move an -¡± ¡°- You¡¯re going to stand by the door and not move an inch!¡± repeats Jubilee, pointing at her with a finger, before she can finish the sentence. ¡°Got it?¡± ¡°Yeeeees~¡± sighs Fresh. Jubilee continues to point. ¡°No picking flowers. No using any of your fucky, evil demon-magic. And no running after me and shouting -¡± Jubilee raises their hands to their mask, splaying their fingers. ¡°- Jubileeeee~¡± they mimic in a mocking tone. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna hear it. You just stand there and don¡¯t move. Not a step.¡± ¡°But Jubilee,¡± protests the girl. ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee plainly. ¡°But -¡± ¡°No!¡± barks Jubilee and Fresh groans, relenting with a droop of her head. ¡°Okaaay~¡± says Fresh. ¡°I won¡¯t leave the entrance.¡± ¡°Promise?¡± ¡°Promise,¡± she agrees and Jubilee nods, apparently satisfied. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go,¡± replies Jubilee, pressing their hands against the large double doors which swing open inwardly with surprising ease. Just beyond the entrance is a vague, nebulous fog that then slowly dissipates as the boss-arena is unsealed. As they walk inside of the room, Fresh notices how thick and dewy the air is becoming. She has just somehow always assumed that the dungeon would be a cold, drafty place. But the deeper down they go, the warmer and damper the air seems to become. There is an odd shimmering chime in the air. The sound feels oddly familiar. It is a light ringing, like fragile glass bodies touching each other, like a dozen wind-chimes on a lightly breezy day. It clambers with a gentle crystal resonance that makes the hot world feel oddly cool and dewy, at least in her mind, if not on her sweaty body. The thick, rock walls of the dungeon are slowly being broken apart by crystal formations that jut out in all directions in the passage. Ahead of them, the boss-room opens up to a large arena. The space, filled with a damp mist, is lined with gravestones from one end to the next and in the center of it all is a large, cloaked skeleton, hovering in a meditating pose. A crystal ball shimmers in its lap, from which the grave-light bounds out of, shining out in all directions. The magical energies seep from the core and seems to drift off, floating like meandering tendrils towards the many crystals that line the graveyard, touching them with their foggy presence. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the veiled figure. ¡°It¡¯s the sub-boss, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head as they walk on ahead alone past the first grave-stones, leaving the girl behind at the precipice to the arena. ¡°Oh¡­¡± says Fresh, looking at the crystal jutting out of the wall next to her. She had just promised Jubilee not to move, so she¡¯s going to stay right here. She¡¯s sure of that much, she reassures herself. The girl tilts her head, looking at her reflection that seems to shimmer back out of the oddly luminescent crystal next to her. The sleek, glassy surface gives back a strange warping of her features, as if she were staring at her reflection in the waters of an uneven river on a windy day. She looks over towards the arena, watching as Jubilee finishes cutting the first zombie in half without even stopping. Turning her head back to the crystal, she tilts her gaze sideways, looking at her face. Fresh runs along her cheekbones with a finger. Her skin feels oddly taut. The girl presses against the bone, feeling how sharp her cheeks were. Has she lost weight? Her face seems really tightly strung. She should eat more. As she tilts her head again, looking at her sunken features, she sees the strands of her long hair and pulls on one, pulling it down over her nose. ¡°I could use a haircut¡­¡± Fresh sighs, listening to the sounds of glass exploding left and right off in the distance, together with the sounds of howling undead who have their new lives cut very short, as many of them fall back down before ever even rising out of their graves. She looks over as Jubilee walks towards the sub-boss without a care in the world, slicing apart skeletons and zombies left and right without even stopping for a moment. ¡°Jubilee is really strong,¡± mutters Fresh, looking back at her own reflection. She feels like she might need to start eating more. Her cheek-bones are practically jutting out of her face. A cold finger pulls on the purple skin beneath her eyes, pulling the heavy bags there taut. She looks really tired too. She should probably sleep more as well. ¡°We should go on a vacation,¡± mutters Fresh, turning her head the other way to look at the other side of her face. She wonders if Jubilee is just as haggard as she is? It¡¯s been a lot of stress and work, even if there have been calm and happy patches now and then. The general feeling was - Something screams from the arena and Fresh turns to look at the source of the ghoulish howl. The sub-boss has risen to its feet, but still continues to float. The crystal ball hovers loosely at its side as the ethereal energies begin to collect and swirl around him as Jubilee gets closer. It looks like the skeleton is charging up some kind of spell. - The general feeling has been¡­ ¡°Stressful,¡± sighs Fresh, watching her reflection blink with its tired eyes. She purses her lips, looking at herself. ¡°Ah!¡± says the girl as she stares at her mirror-image, remembering something. ¡°Thanks for the sweet-roll the other day!¡± ¡°You¡¯re very welcome,¡± her reflection says, both of them doing their best to ignore the screaming coming from the arena, as the tormented undead are ripped into pieces by razor-sharp slivers of glass. ¡°So, how¡¯s life?¡± ¡°I¡¯m still kind of tired,¡± says Fresh to her reflection. ¡°Yeah, I understand. Do you think we should take a vacation?¡± Fresh hits her fist into her palm. ¡°I was just thinking the same thing!¡± She frowns. ¡°But we just had a day off and I felt bad because we still have to do so much stuff?¡± She and her reflection nod at the same time, obviously. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I remember that. Okay, maybe no days off until things calm down a little.¡± ¡°Do you think they will?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, thinking. ¡°I hope so. It would be really nice if we could just¡­ live life for a while without worrying about money or being murdered or anything like that.¡± She lets out an uneasy groan. ¡°That¡¯s a little dark.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true though,¡± says the girl, shrugging as she explains to herself. ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess you¡¯re right.¡± ¡°Do you like it here?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, surprised at her own sudden question for herself. ¡°Here? You know?¡± The girl in the reflection gestures broadly around herself to everything. ¡°Do you like it here?¡± Fresh thinks for a while, not sure how to nail down her feelings. ¡°I like the people and I¡¯m really happy that I made some friends. And that I have something that I enjoy doing every day. But the world is kind of scary, you know?¡± ¡°Yeah, but I think they all are.¡± ¡°Yeah, probably,¡± says Fresh, tapping against her chin with a finger as she thinks. ¡°But there¡¯s so much I have to worry about.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± responds Fresh to herself. ¡°Have you tried -¡± Something grabs her robe. Fresh yelps and jumps to the side in fear that a zombie had crawled towards her and gotten her. ¡°- ey!¡± Jubilee barks at her. ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡± Fresh blinks a few times, wetting her eyes again and catching her breath. She looks up around the arena. The entire place is desolated. Hundreds of gravestones lay overturned or simply shattered into dust. The floor is covered with jagged crystal mounds that skewer countless undead bodies. Their black, foul blood trickles down the sleek surfaces, dripping to the dirt to mix in with the rest of the rot as it coagulates in black pools of gunk. In the center of the mass is a single, tattered robe. A shattered pile of bones and glass lies beneath it. ¡°I was uh¡­ I was just talking to myself,¡± says Fresh, laughing meekly, somewhat embarrassed. ¡°Yeah, I saw, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°Come on. I got your boss-core. Let¡¯s take the shortcut and go to bed. You¡¯re clearly over-goo''d.¡± Fresh looks back to the girl in the crystal and stares at her tired eyes. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a good idea.¡± She nods to Jubilee. ¡°Thanks Jubilee, you¡¯re a good friend.¡± ¡°I know. Before we go, go loot those zombies.¡± Fresh stops. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Check their pockets, they might have some money on them.¡± ¡°But Jubileeeee~¡± cries Fresh, looking at the massacre laid out before her. ¡°I told you before, don¡¯t ¡®but Jubileeeee~¡¯ me. I killed everything, the least you can do is loot it,¡± says her friend, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Can I have your gloves?¡± ¡°What? No you can¡¯t have my gloves,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Watch out for the glass.¡± Fresh whimpers quietly, looking at a skewered zombie, watching just in time as its head rolls off of its shoulders and smashes against a broken tombstone with a disgustingly wet crunch. Razmatazz -Reminder, always get at least 7 hours of sleep for the sake of your long-term health -Trivia soon again, I''m just waiting for a ''topic'' to appear =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 97: A heavy load The ghoul teeth scrape across the floor as Fresh swipes her hand from one side to the other. The girl lays on her stomach, down on the floor of the store. It¡¯s early in the morning, just after their breakfast and Basil hasn¡¯t arrived yet. ¡°Ghoul-tooth. Ghoul-tooth. Ghoul-tooth. Ghoul-tooth¡­ Ghoul¡­ hmm¡­¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, looking up from the counter. ¡°It¡¯s not the same,¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°What¡­?¡± Fresh shakes her head and swipes the teeth back the other way. ¡°Stop playing with the ghoul-teeth. That¡¯s disgusting,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks down at the two elongated teeth laying on the floor before herself. She supposes it is kind of disgusting. But she¡¯s been working with so many teeth that she doesn¡¯t even really think about it any more. These are just like the goblin-teeth, only a little longer and sharper. ¡°Weren¡¯t you going to make something out of those?¡± asks Jubilee and Fresh stares up towards her friend, feeling an odd sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Jubilee sits behind the counter and is sewing a pair of boots together. ¡°Yeah.¡± She looks back down at the ghoul-teeth. ¡°I just don¡¯t know what yet.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s only two, so something small? I doubt you can make a weapon out of just those.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks, pushing the teeth around as she mulls over a few ideas. ¡°Maybe I can make something with the boss-core?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We have ten percent of the wizard¡¯s core and you have yours to do whatever you want with.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, thinking for a moment. ¡°What about yours?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you get a boss-core from the boss fight?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I did,¡± answers her friend, somewhat warily. ¡°What are you going to do with it?¡± ¡°None of your business, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, pulling the thick needle through the still open sole of the boot. Fresh purses her lips, getting ready to argue. But then she relents. Maybe it really is none of her business. She looks down at the two teeth that are still laying there. As her eyes stare, transfixed, her mind wanders. Her thoughts are still free and unhindered by the early morning lull that suppresses her anxiety. Her head turns the other way and she looks out behind herself, at the glass-chickens lining the shelves near the potions. Their crystal bodies shimmer in the early morning sunlight, which comes to peek in through the large storefront window with a lazy shine. As she stares at it, she isn¡¯t really sure why, but her mind goes to the image of the large orc. Basil¡¯s friend and party-member. She wonders if Basil is doing okay? She seems like it. But Fresh wonders if the priestess isn¡¯t just putting up a front, after all, she¡¯s so busy too. She has to take care of her own responsibilities and she has to watch over her wards at the church, plus she has to watch over the two of them too, to spy on them. Fresh tilts her head at the odd thought. It¡¯s not wrong. Basil is here to spy on them for the church for whatever reason. But she¡¯s still just a person like any other, so Fresh hopes that she¡¯s doing okay. Her mind wanders back to the grisly thoughts of the murders and to the sensation that she was being followed the other day. Was it just paranoia? Maybe. But the mental connection is there now and she can¡¯t just ignore it anymore. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± asks Jubilee, snapping a string in half and then tying it off. ¡°Did they ever find out who that murderer was?¡± ¡°You mean whoever butchered the orc?¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°No. Not that I¡¯ve heard. But I haven¡¯t exactly been asking around either, you know?¡± they say. ¡°But we owe them a huge favor for giving us an easy way around the church.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°It is what it is.¡± Fresh groans uneasily as the room goes quiet. She listens to the sound of the fountain trickling outside on the plaza. Something is causing her unease lately. Is it just stress? Maybe. She isn¡¯t sure. Or maybe it¡¯s the constant sound of the splashing water, ringing in her ears every day that reminds her of the things she has seen in her restless dreams. The girl sighs and gets up, deciding that she needs something to do, so that her mind doesn¡¯t wander so much. It¡¯ll be hot again today, so maybe she¡¯ll make a new batch of the sweet-teas. Maybe she¡¯ll put one or two bottles near the golem-core to make them cold. That sounds nice. Even if she can¡¯t share them with Basil. Well¡­ maybe she could say that she bought a new golem-core? Hmm¡­ the girl thinks, going to collect her things. ¡°I¡¯m going to get some fruit. Be right back,¡± calls Fresh to Jubilee, who sits behind the counter, sewing. ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t take too long, Basil is picking up the church¡¯s potions soon.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t!¡± she calls out and steps into the outside world, stopping at the half-way point as she rattles the door-handle. ¡°Jubilee, I think the handle is a little loose.¡± Jubilee looks up to her and shrugs. ¡°Fix it later then. It probably just needs to be tightened.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± calls Fresh and runs out into the city, making her way to her favorite fruit vendor as always. By the time she comes back, the cart is already outside of the store. Sensing her approaching, the large anqa stomps on the stone road in clear agitation. ¡°Kiyah!¡± shouts the creature, pulling against its reigns as it tries to get to her. Fresh quickly vanishes inside of the store, running into Basil who was heading to the door to see what the fuss is about. ¡°Oh, good morning,¡± says the priestess, looking past her out of the door at the anqa for a moment, who seems to settle down at the sight of her. ¡°He really doesn¡¯t like you¡­¡± Fresh sighs, setting the fruit basket down on the counter. ¡°I don¡¯t know why.¡± ¡°They say animals can sense evil,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°Hey!¡± pouts Fresh as Basil who stands behind her tries to hide her laugh. She turns around, looking at the priestess who quickly hides her expression. ¡°Should I help you load the potions up, Basil?¡± The priestess nods. ¡°Yes, please.¡± She stands there quietly for a moment, her expression troubled as if there is something else that she wants to say, but can¡¯t quite muster the courage. ¡°Ah, I almost forgot.¡± Basil digs into her pocket and slides a letter over to Jubilee. ¡°I was asked to pass this on.¡± Fresh stares at the priestess who seems oddly tense today. Jubilee takes the letter, tearing it open haphazardly along the sides, completely ignoring the ornate wax seal on the back of the envelope. Loudly unfolding the paper, their eyes begin wandering over it as they read. ¡°Let me guess, you kooks want some lan -¡± The room is quiet for a minute as Jubilee reads. ¡°The fuck?¡± Jubilee looks up to Basil. ¡°Do you even have this many people at the church?¡± Basil tugs on her own sleeves somewhat nervously. ¡°I¡¯m just passing on the letter. The cardinal asks that the deliveries start next week.¡± Jubilee sighs and looks up to Fresh. ¡°Guess who¡¯s making an extra hundred potions every week?¡± Fresh blinks and looks around the room, before looking back at Jubilee as she finds nobody else to assume the worst for. ¡°Is it me?¡± ¡°It¡¯s you, goo-brain. Who else?!¡± barks Jubilee, slapping the letter down onto the table. ¡°But that¡¯s so many potions!¡± says Fresh, turning back to Basil who keeps fidgeting. ¡°Minor soul-potions or the normal ones?¡± ¡°The normal ones.¡± ¡°Baaaaasil!¡± cries Fresh, grabbing Basil¡¯s hands. The priestess shifts uneasily. ¡°There¡¯s a backside,¡± she mutters. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The letter. There¡¯s more on the back,¡± repeats Basil, a little louder now, but still timidly as she looks away. Jubilee lifts the piece of paper up and flips it over. ¡°A church tax?! We don¡¯t even go to church!¡± yells Jubilee, slamming the paper down and pointing at Basil. ¡°Ten percent?! What the fuck is wrong with you people?! The merchant¡¯s guild only wants five and we don¡¯t even give them anything else!¡± Fresh wants to scold Jubilee for yelling at Basil, especially since they¡¯re trying to stay on the church¡¯s good side. But this seems unfair even for those circumstances. They¡¯re being robbed at a bureaucratic level. Basil lifts her hands. ¡°I¡¯m just delivering the le -¡± ¡°Why would we even agree to this?!¡± snaps Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°I¡¯m just delivering the letter¡­¡± repeats Basil, looking away. ¡°Sorry.¡± The priestess pulls her sleeves free from Fresh¡¯s grasp, the bracelet jangling beneath the long fabric. ¡°You¡¯ve been expanding your inventory so much and the cardinal saw the toys that you donated and said you must be doing well and that it¡¯s only fair for you to give back to the community that you got your money from.¡± ¡°Are you fucked in the head?!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°You realize how fucked that is, right? We made some toys for some orphans so now we have to pay the church money for doing jackshit?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just delivering the letter,¡± repeats Basil quietly, looking down towards the ground. The letter crumples in Jubilee¡¯s hands as they crush it into a ball and fume, their eyes wandering from Fresh¡¯s uneasy gaze back to Basil. Fresh can tell that Jubilee is furious and in truth, she is too. This is beyond unfair. But what else can they do? They have to stay on the church¡¯s good side. They live on the razor¡¯s edge as is and any disturbance in any direction could threaten to send them hurtling off into the abyss. Jubilee exhales a sharp breath. ¡°Load up the potions and bring them to the church. Then get back here,¡± they say, very coldly. ¡°You have half an hour. If you¡¯re late, you¡¯re fired!¡± barks Jubilee, throwing the crumpled-up paper at Basil. It strikes her chest and then falls down at her feet. Fresh watches as Jubilee stomps upstairs. Turning back, she looks at Basil who quietly picks up the crumpled paper and then starts loading up the potions by herself, the priestess'' eyes never leaving the ground as she silently works. Razmatazz Aaaaah, there it is - *Takes a deep breath* You smell that? That''s the smell of some good home made suffering. Just like mama used to make Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 98: Guilt After dropping off the anqa and the cart at the church, Basil had apparently sprinted back as fast as she could, as evidenced by her heavy panting by the time she had arrived, together with the sweat wicking on her skin and robe. Fresh and Basil handle the morning rush together as Jubilee leaves to go into the city to handle Fresh¡¯s errands for her today, saying that they want to get some air. Thankfully there aren¡¯t any trouble-making customers today, so the two of them handle the crowd well, even without Jubilee. The usual customers show up, much to Fresh¡¯s delight. The red-wizard, who has taken a liking to the sweet-tea¡¯s as well, which Fresh isn¡¯t sure how she feels about either. The wizard isn¡¯t replacing any of their many consumed potions with the tea, rather she¡¯s just drinking all of them together now. But she seems to be in good spirits and in good health, so Fresh can¡¯t really say anything. Eventually, the muscular dark-elf shows up, dropping off her usual load of mushroom-caps, which are becoming increasingly green as she seems to be delving deeper and deeper into the dungeon. Fresh remarks that she looks like she¡¯s gotten stronger again and the woman laughs, saying that she herself looks like she needs to do some push-ups, taking a moment to squeeze Fresh¡¯s soft arm. Not quite sure how to respond to that, Fresh just awkwardly scratches her cheek and laughs. Rubbing the spot on her arm that is sure to bruise. Eventually, the morning rush ends and the two of them sit in the quiet store as the midday heat begins to make itself felt. Fresh wonders if they should start closing the store after the morning rush during summer from now on? She expects that they¡¯ll only get a handful of customers until the next rush tomorrow morning. It¡¯s hardly worth staying open and sitting here, honestly. There¡¯s so much else that she could be doing. She looks over towards Basil who is standing behind the counter. The priestess is seemingly petrified, as she simply stares down vacantly into the open ledger laid out before her, not daring to twitch a single muscle on her face or body. Feeling the girl¡¯s eyes on her, Basil¡¯s eyes nervously shoot over towards her without her head moving an inch, but then she looks back away as their gazes meet. ¡°Please don¡¯t fire me,¡± mutters Basil timidly. ¡°I really need this job.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, feeling somewhat awkward again. The girl gets up and leans over the side of the counter towards her. ¡°We¡¯re not going to fire you, Basil. You¡¯re doing a great job,¡± explains Fresh, raising a finger. ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°Jubilee is just a grump,¡± laughs Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re our friend, Basil,¡± says the girl. Somehow this statement apparently makes Basil feel even worse, judging by her quickly drooping expression. Unsure of herself now, Fresh interlocks her fingers as she thinks, trying to make her next words sound right. ¡°We know that the church is¡­ difficult. But that isn¡¯t your fault. You have nothing to do with that,¡± says Fresh, nodding happily as she explains to Basil. The room is quiet. There aren¡¯t any customers left and so it¡¯s just the two of them now, standing in a tense, awkward silence. A moment later, Fresh opens her eyes and looks back at Basil, who seems to be struggling with her own expression. Did she just make it worse? Maybe she¡¯s being stupid again? ¡°Ah! I just mean that, you know, you¡¯re a good person,¡± she adds on, raising a finger. ¡°You know?¡± she repeats. ¡°I think it¡¯s easy to tell, because you make people happy wherever you go!¡± Fresh tilts her head, looking up towards the ceiling as she thinks out loud. ¡°You make those kids happy because you¡¯re so nice to them.¡± Fresh counts on her fingers. ¡°And you made me happy because you became my friend.¡± She lowers another finger. ¡°But I think I knew that before we really met anyways. Because you bought the chicken for your friend, even though you didn¡¯t -¡± Fresh stops herself mid-sentence, realizing the topic that she was bringing up and quickly looks back to Basil. The priestess is turned around, her hood pulled up over her head with her hands pulling the front of it down over her face to obscure it. ¡°¡­Basil?¡± asks Fresh quietly, listening to the priestess¡¯ heavy sniffling, realizing now what she may have just done with her lack of forethought. She knows that Basil is in a tough spot and she¡¯s essentially digging around that fresh wound with a finger right now. Basil cries. ¡°I hate it¡­ I hate it here!¡± ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh, standing back upright. Basil clutches the fabric of her hood, pulling it further down over her face. ¡°I hate this city. I hate it! It was supposed to be different here!¡± cries Basil, not turning around. ¡°I spent years trying to become a priestess, because I thought things would be different.¡± A hiss escapes her clenched teeth. ¡°But it¡¯s all the same,¡± she croaks, her voice cracking as she speaks. ¡°It¡¯s all the same. All everyone cares about is money. I thought the church would be different, but it isn¡¯t. It¡¯s all the same!¡± Fresh walks around the counter, not sure what else to do, she places a hand on Basil¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Basil. I know that things are rough here. It¡¯s not your fault tho -¡± Basil turns around, her hand lashing out and striking Fresh¡¯s arm away. ¡°It is my fault!¡± howls the priestess, turning her agonized face back around to face the girl. ¡°It is my fault¡­¡± repeats Basil, grabbing the cuffs of Fresh¡¯s robe as she lets her head droop down forward to hide her wet face. Fresh looks around the empty store, with her own arms hanging very awkwardly limp at her sides, not sure what to do at all, really. She isn¡¯t versed in these sorts of situations in the least. Jubilee might know what to do, but Fresh has the feeling that Jubilee might be the wrong sort of energy to channel into her personality right now, for this particular situation. As she looks back down to the crying priestess, she already finds two black-sleeved arms wrapped around the white robed figure. ¡°I thought you two did it at first. I¡¯m sorry, they told us to watch you,¡± sniffles Basil, not looking up. ¡°Did what? Watch who? What are you talking about?¡± asks Fresh, only half-pretending to not know. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± repeats Basil and Fresh feels the front of her robe become slightly damp as the priestess cries into it. ¡°He was watching you. When he was¡­¡± ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh, rubbing the priestess¡¯ back. ¡°So I thought you two¡­ I thought¡­ you¡­ I thought he saw something and that you two killed him!¡± The priestess¡¯ fingers clench the girls robe tighter. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m so horrible. I wanted to be a good person, but I keep ending up here.¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t say anything, continuing instead to simply hug the priestess as she doesn¡¯t know what else to do. She isn¡¯t good at handling her own emotions, let alone someone else¡¯s. Right now, the wisest thing to do seems to be to do nothing until Basil has found a calm place again. ¡°They told us two to watch you,¡± says Basil. ¡°The clergy. So we did and then he¡­ he¡­¡± Basil sniffles. ¡°When you offered me the position, they told me to take it to keep a closer watch on you,¡± she concedes. ¡°But I did it because I wanted to know. I wanted to know if you¡­¡± A thread on Fresh¡¯s robe pops as it snaps from the pressure of the priestess¡¯ tugging hands. ¡°I wanted to know if you killed my only friend!¡± cries Basil, looking up at Fresh with an expression of pure, contorted suffering before she starts howling. Fresh pulls the crying priestess back into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around her back and as the woman cries loudly into her shoulder. Turning her head to the side, entirely overwhelmed and out of her depth, Fresh looks at Jubilee who is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, having watched this entire scene unfold. Jubilee nods to Fresh and Fresh, with only a tiny tilt of her head, nods back. It feels like a cold thing to think, but this is an opportune moment. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Basil,¡± consoles Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re friends now too and nothing is going to change that,¡± she reassures, as she feels her shoulder growing wet. The sound of Basil¡¯s tears rolling down the fabric of her robe and striking the wooden boards of the floor beneath, intermingles with the splashing of the fountain outside. The noise all comes together, like the many threads of a single, tightly interwoven strand of a red string of fate which seems to lead off into the distance, acting as a guideline towards something that frightens her deeply. Something that she isn¡¯t able to give a name to. Fresh pulls Basil in tighter. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± she says, pretty sure that she¡¯s lying. Razmatazz In case you were wondering, no, no it isn''t going to be okay. On that note, see you tomorrow =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 99: Foretold Jubilee and Fresh stand together upstairs inside of Jubilee¡¯s bedroom. Grunting from the strain, Fresh sets down her end of the cauldron of rebirth, with the ice-golem-core floating inside of it. The two of them take a deep breath at the same time to relax as they feel the gentle, cool air drifting off of the little pebble of ice that remains. The rest of the day had passed without any further happenings of major note. Basil eventually managed to settle down after a while. The three of them sat around and talked after that, with Basil explaining that the higher ups in the church had ordered her and her former party member to spy on them and to find out if there was any way to ¡®get rid¡¯ of this new disturbance to the existing power structures of the city, before they became a problem. Fresh and Jubilee pretended to act shocked, but in reality, both of them had known this a long time ago already. What was more surprising was Basil¡¯s message that things were getting troublesome in the back-alley world of the upper echelons of society. The merchant¡¯s guild and the church were having difficulties, not just because of their store in particular, but because similar financial conflicts were being played out in every store in the city. The church and the merchant¡¯s guild were both vying for more money, for more control, which would mean more power. Some of the street merchants had sided with this side or that one explicitly, gaining the favor of a specific party and the ire of the other. Some of them, like themselves, have managed to stay on both of their ¡®good¡¯ sides, for now. Which really only means that they were just buying idle time. Fresh was surprised at this, but Jubilee seemed only mildly so, as if they had seen this coming. Even Basil¡¯s final statement, that the thieves¡¯ guild was swooping in during the chaos to further entrench themselves wasn¡¯t too shocking for Jubilee, despite it greatly worrying Fresh and apparently Basil as well. Things are becoming difficult. Fresh sighs an exhausted sigh and holds her hands above the cauldron, focusing on the spell. Jubilee takes a step back, being wary of her magic. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ve done this every night since we got it,¡± explains the girl. ¡°Uh huh,¡± says Jubilee, sounding very skeptical, taking another step back for good measure. ¡°So, what do you think?¡± they ask, getting back to their discussion from just a moment ago. Fresh looks up, surprised that Jubilee is asking her for her opinion. ¡°It¡¯s sad, but it¡¯s probably a good idea.¡± She looks back down at the cauldron, focusing on the spell. ¡°We¡¯re wasting daylight if we¡¯re open all day with no customers.¡± Jubilee nods in agreement. ¡°Right. I¡¯ll make a sign then. During summer, we¡¯re only open in the mornings from now on. At least until business goes back to normal.¡± Fresh nods, listening to the regrowing ice crackle beneath her fingers. ¡°What about Basil?¡± Jubilee sighs, knowing where this is going. ¡°Fine, we can keep her wages the same as they are.¡± ¡°Thanks Jubilee,¡± smiles Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re really nice.¡± ¡°I know, goo-brain.¡± The room is quiet for a while as the ice continues to crack loudly. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s enough?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh opens her eyes, looking down at the ice-golem-core that has grown substantially larger than she usually makes it. ¡°Ah!¡± Panicked, she stops her casting, lowering her hands and taking a step back as the ice continues to grow. ¡°Make it stop, dumb-ass,¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh looks nervously around the room, watching as the chunk of ice becomes bigger and bigger. ¡°I don¡¯t know how.¡± ¡°Lift it out of the cauldron, you dummy!¡± barks Jubilee as Fresh bends forward, trying to pick up the massive chunk of ice. She clearly strains herself, wrapping her arms around the block as she tries to pick it up. It continues to grow, the frozen core binding to the fabric of her sleeves. ¡°It¡¯s too heavy!¡± cries Fresh, pulling her arms back before they freeze into place. ¡°Push it over!¡± barks Jubilee, running around to Fresh to help her push against the cauldron. The dense ice continues to grow, expanding out over the rim of the cauldron, which doesn¡¯t budge an inch as they both push against it. The floorboards groan as the weight of the golem-core grows and grows, the ice feeding itself off of the magical water of the cauldron. ¡°Jubilee!¡± shouts Fresh. ¡°Shut up and push, dumb-ass!¡± snaps Jubilee as both of them continue trying to knock over the cauldron. ¡°Get back,¡± says Jubilee, pulling out the small bag of dirt they keep on their waist. Pinching their fingers, they throw their hand out, sending an arc of dirt flying through the air. In a second, a glass crystal forms out of the mess, the jagged blade blasting towards the ice. One prismatic surface strikes against the other. The glass shatters with a loud crack as it smashes into the thick ice, which only results in a tiny scratch on its surface. It doesn¡¯t budge at all. Fresh grabs Jubilee¡¯s shoulder and pulls them back a few steps as she realizes what¡¯s happening. ¡°Jubilee¡­¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t have time to answer. The now immense weight of the cauldron breaks through the floorboards, falling down halfway through and getting stuck sideways at an angle. The giant piece of ice on top of it shifts, cracking straight down the middle like an egg being broken from the inside-out. In an instant, it shatters apart, as a form seems to grow out of it. A hulking, impossibly giant hand presses itself out of the still growing ice, each square finger the size of Fresh¡¯s throat. ¡°What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK?!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°WHAT DID YOU DO?!¡± they shout at Fresh, grabbing her robe with one hand and pointing to the ice with the other. Another hand forms, shooting out of the ice as the ice-golem, being reborn, literally pulls itself together, growing larger and larger by the second. Fresh inches towards the door, pulling Jubilee with her. ¡°At¡­ at least it¡¯s nice and cold?¡± Jubilee screams in frustration as the golem twitches, sending shards of ice flying all around the room as its upper torso breaks out of the cauldron. The metal container shatters in half as the immense pressure of the ice growing inside of it simply splits the cauldron down the middle. Water runs everywhere, but as the puddle shoots outward in an instant, it simply freezes entirely a second later. Wet tendrils hang frozen in the air, as if stopped in time itself. ¡°Come on! We have to go,¡± says Jubilee very quickly, backing away. ¡°What? We can¡¯t, Jubilee! We have to kill it before someone sees it!¡± ¡°WE HAVE TO GO!¡± says Jubilee, louder now, as they grab Fresh¡¯s hand to start pulling her out of the room. An explosion of ice blasts through the space, right behind them as a wave of some magical eruption forces its way out of the golem, which now has two legs that are each the size of a large tree-trunk. It reaches up to the ceiling and the floor where it stands seems to sag, threatening to collapse at any second. Shards of jagged ice fly in all directions, just barely missing the two of them, as the crude daggers smash into the wooden walls as they run to the door. Fresh sees one fly right past her face and stick into the door-frame. The ice-golem rises up to its feet, its chunky head smashing against the ceiling as it stands upright, breaking through some of the boards and sending insulation falling down into Jubilee¡¯s room. As Fresh looks back behind themselves, just as Jubilee tears her out through the door, she sees two rabid, crystalline eyes glaring her way. The ice breaks on its face, creating a jagged mouth as the golem roars a strange roar, filling the air with a deafening sound that shakes her body from the vibration of its deep cry. Her teeth chatter, not from the cold, but simply from the density of the pressure that reaches her. A second later, it barrels towards them. The behemoth, made out of ice, with two furious, smoldering eyes, tears the world apart as it thunders their way. It all erupts as the massive entity, which is taller and larger than even the man from the sect, barrels into the door-frame just behind them. The wood tears apart, the door shatters and rips off together with an entire section of the wall. The golem barely even slows down. Fresh and Jubilee bolt down the staircase as a series of rapid, gargantuan, thudding steps shake the house behind them. The golem, that is too large for the upstairs corridor, tears through it with violent force, as it sprints in pursuit of them both. Its coarse, crystalline body rips apart the walls on both sides of the hallway, shattering the single window near the end. A hand yanks her to the left as they reach the bottom of the staircase, that Fresh doesn¡¯t even remember going down. All she can focus on is the hulking giant that hurtles through the air, a ton heavy rock of ice flying down the stairs after them, about to crush them both. Fresh can¡¯t discern the glass from the ice anymore, as the entire space around her fills with a mixture of shimmering visual noise, as the sounds of destruction fill her ears with nothing but shattering and crashing an oddly out of place tinkling sound, the world shakes. She stumbles forward as the quake smashes down behind them, as the golem crashes down the stairs, smashing down into the counter and flattening it entirely as its immense weight breaks halfway through the ground floor. Wooden splinters and slivers fly in all directions, mixing in together with the dust and the glass and the ice around them as Jubilee tears the front-door open and both of them bolt outside, running away from the golem that is still in pursuit. The feral, rabid thing tears the store apart with its massive hands, as it drags itself after them, as it lurches upright and barrels after them once again. Her mind is blank, her body is almost numb and weightless, Fresh doesn¡¯t feel anything except a terror, as the golem smashes its way forward, as the front of the store rips itself off of the rest of the building. The wall that she had repaired for weeks, tearing open like a piece of paper with a fist smashing through it. Like it was never there at all. Fragile. It¡¯s all coming undone, Fresh watches as the monstrous amalgamation of dust and ice lurches after them. Its body is constantly regrowing as it swallows up anything and everything into itself as the ice regenerates. Jagged boards, nails, insulation, coins, potions, everything that is around the monster is absorbed, as it charges through the wreckage, as it tears their home apart in its mindless pursuit. All of it. As they run forward towards the dungeon, a hand tightly grips hers. Fresh looks away from the carnage and destruction for a moment. She looks back forward ahead of themselves towards the giant gate that is not far away now. The usual aura of the glowing portal is accentuated by the strangely bright night that shines with a cool glow, despite its moonlessness. The girl¡¯s heart pounds, thrashing in her chest as she feels a new terror overcome her core as she sees it. As she sees what¡¯s wrong with it, the dungeon. As she sees what Jubilee hasn¡¯t yet. Time seems to slow down for a moment, her senses becoming far beyond hyper-alert as her mind races in thoughts at a speed far too fast for her waking mind to follow, as the voice in the back of her head tells her something. Something that she feels, but can¡¯t explain. The world is so loud. So noisy. It¡¯s full of the sounds of smashing and chaos, it''s full of the sounds of their frantic running and of the collapsing of the world she knows and has built. But there is also a single sound that she differentiates. A single, clear voice that she can hear in the debris exploding around her. A single, laughing trickle, as the fountain, just behind the dungeon, continues on dripping like it always does. As it lets her in on a little secret tonight, like it always so likes to do. Not because it cares. But because it¡¯s funny, is all. The water trickles. The fountain laughs. Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide in horror and now she herself yanks to the right, pulling Jubilee away from the dungeon-gate in an instant, as her sense of time returns to normal. Just as the streak of the red aura shoots from the top of the dungeon portal down to the bottom, like the strike of a bolt of lightning. Just as the long neck of the first vampire lashes out of the great construction. Then another. Then another. Then another. Dozens of long, winding necks press themselves out of the dungeon-gate, flailing around like worms rising from the dirt of a grave on a rainy day. The blue glow of the ethereal portal shifts entirely, turning into a dark, crimson red in an instant, as if it had been tainted by a corrupting, foul blood. The fountain laughs, as it tells her again, just because it¡¯s funny, it tells her again, that the bad times are here and that despite her hardest efforts, she isn¡¯t ready in the least. Isn¡¯t that just hilarious? Razmatazz Buckle up. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 100 (!) : The sum total The lashing vampire swipes out towards them, the pale skin of its tautly pulled face stretching far too far to the sides, as it lashes towards Jubilee who Fresh pulls away in that last second, knocking both of them off balance. The two of them hurtle down towards the right, falling down to the cobblestones of the plaza next to each other. Screams fill the air, as people have now long since started looking out of their windows. Their attraction was likely drawn to the scene by the sounds of the rampaging destruction, stemming from the shop, as the golem tears its way through the last of the wall holding it back in place. Fresh isn¡¯t really sure anymore which screams belong to the strangers and which are her own, or if any of them come from the flailing mass of necks that escapes from the dungeon-gate, as a collection of rotting meat which presses itself forward, coming out through the red portal as a writhing swarm. A hand pulls her to the side, a voice yells in her ear to get up, but she doesn¡¯t. Fresh sits there, watching as the mass of gnashing, razor teeth presses their way out of the red mist towards herself. With her other eye, in the corner of her vision, she watches as the golem comes closer and closer, barreling like a titan in the midst of a maddening onslaught. It¡¯s an odd thought at a moment like this. But all she can think about is how much work it''s going to be to sweep up this mess. Jubilee is going to be so mad at her. Jubilee¡­? Jubilee. Fresh blinks as she thinks, turning back to look at her friend who is tugging on the collar of her robe, trying to get her to move, shouting words at her that she isn¡¯t really processing. Oh. Coming back to her senses, as that single second finally comes to an end, Fresh jumps up to her feet and lets Jubilee pull her away from the gnashing teeth that snap tightly shut where she was just sitting. Fresh knows that she needs to do something. They aren¡¯t going to make it otherwise. They¡¯re too slow. She¡¯s too slow. The girl lifts her free hand, holding it out behind herself as she points a finger towards the center of the gate, running as her friend drags her along behind them. There is no serpent this time that emerges from her finger; no vague, nebulous fog that leaves her body. There is a web, a series of purple threads, each the diameter of a needle that would be all but invisible, if not for the strange nightborne reflections which shimmer off of their long strands, as they stab into the dozen necks reaching their way and bore into their undead flesh. The writhing mass stops moving, and then, it descends into chaos as the vampires latch on to each other, ripping and tearing at their own long, winding throats as they descend upon themselves, like hungry animals fighting over a carcass. Several of them latch on to the golem as it barrels past the gate, their dagger-like teeth cracking and shattering into jagged forms as they break them on the hard ice. A glass wall shoots up behind them and Fresh listens as several chunks of decapitated meat slap down against the stones. She listens as the wall shatters not a second later, as a massive, lumbering tower of ice bashes through it as if it was nothing, sending slivers of glass and ice flying out in all directions, the two materials entirely indistinguishable from another as they fly through the air. They aren¡¯t going to make it. She isn¡¯t sure for how long the bells of the distant church have been ringing now. She isn¡¯t sure for how long the plaza has been filled with screams and with people rushing out of their doors now. It has only felt like a few seconds, after all. But she has become aware of it all now. The dark night has been set alight by magic of all kinds already, by movements of all kinds, as people scurry out of their houses, scampering, running away like rats into the night. She watches as the houses empty themselves, as the faces that had been looking out of the windows not a few moments before, now quickly bolt out of their doors and not a single one turns back their way. All she feels is a deep roar rumbling through the world, all she feels is herself suddenly flying, as something smashes against the ground just behind her, as something gigantic and icy cold grabs her leg, its large hand wrapping itself around her limb entirely as it tosses her into the air down the other way. Hurtling her frail body with violent force back across the plaza. She hears a scream, but doesn''t know who it belongs to. Everything is all mixed up. Everything is all mixed up. Fresh loses all sense of orientation as she spirals wildly through the night. All she feels is that she¡¯s flying. Flying back towards the rubble of the store that they had just run away from. The wind rushes through her hair, over her face as the girl accepts that she¡¯s going to die now, in just a second when she smashes against the stones. She hopes Jubilee isn¡¯t going to be mad at her for it. She closes her eyes and everything goes black. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just finally curse it, dummy?¡± asks the spirit of the fountain rather abruptly. ¡°Huh?¡± thinks the girl, not sure what it means as she feels the water surrounding her. The golem? She can¡¯t curse monsters, can she? ¡°Not the golem! The lantern,¡± hisses the fountain. ¡°Why do you think I told you how to make it? Curse it already.¡± The fountain lets out a long, loud yawn. ¡°You¡¯re so frustrating.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s for Basil,¡± says Fresh, listening to her voice reverberate around the black ocean that she finds herself inside of in her thoughts. ¡°If you die, you¡¯ll never see Basil again.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°People will see you die here. They¡¯ll ask questions if you come back tomorrow. So you¡¯ll have to leave. Curse the lantern and you¡¯ll live.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t have it.¡± ¡°Open your eyes,¡± commands the voice of the fountain. ¡°Now.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes shoot open, a black dribble running down the sides of them as she sees the stars above her head through her blurry, wet vision, as she feels the still same constant surge of the wind on her face from being flung only a moment ago, as she feels a soft, shining presence floating above her face, flying with her, having broke free of its chain. A crude depiction of a guardian angel hovers there, surrounded by a gentle, white light that caresses down and washes over her gestalt. Its glow replaces the absent touch of the moon on her skin. ¡°Sorry,¡± thinks Fresh in that instant, as she lifts a finger towards the lantern, feeling the ground come closer and closer. The tip of her finger grazes the lovingly smoothed metal body of the thing flying at her side and she ruins it. [Cursed Lantern](High) A magical-lantern made out of iron and a waterproof layer of crystal glass. The inside is filled with an enchanted liquid that glows with ever-present aura, day or night Imbued with a deep-set dark energy, this lantern radiates pure emotions and repels any form of light. Effect: The leaking, corrupted energies of this lantern steals 20 HEALTH from any HOLY monster within 12 meters once every minute. Quality Effect: [Demon¡¯s Tether] - The lantern doesn¡¯t need to be held and will float at your side. Curse: [Dying Light] - The lantern may steal and contain up to 100 HEALTH. All stolen HEALTH may be used to absorb any incoming damage. If the lantern isn¡¯t recharged within twenty-four hours, it will absorb life from everything else around it until satiated. Absorbing damage will not trigger a combat menu. Weight: 0.66kg Color: Dark Purple The world sets alight with a purple shine, the lantern twists and spins as the metal seems to warp before her eyes while she plummets to the ground. The last thing that she sees is the depiction of the guardian angel breaking apart, the engraved drawing moving as if it were ripping its own wings to shreds with its own two hands before moving its hands to tear at its face and eyes. The light that leaks from the silhouette turns into a drip, into a trickle of splashing black-water that leaks out like pus from a dribbling cyst. Fresh crashes into the ground and feels her body and bones crack, the breath in her lungs flies out as it is expelled from her together with the force of her life. She wheezes as her body comes to a sudden stop, as she feels something wet trickle out of her insides, as something in her body, that was ripped apart and leaking out into her own stomach, suddenly ceases to do so entirely, pulling itself back together as if nothing had happened at all. Where is everyone? Isn¡¯t there supposed to be a town guard? Where are the adventurers? Where¡¯s the church? Why isn¡¯t anyone coming to help? Or has it just not been that long yet? Has it only been a single minute? Two? Three? She doesn''t know. Fresh looks up, looking as a silhouette runs past her crumpled body, she lifts a shaking hand, reaching for the hem of their robe, getting them to stop. Fresh¡¯s eyes run along the brand new cloth boots, made with extreme effort and kind passion. Her gaze runs up the red fabric of the cloth robe that she holds tightly onto, as she feels something in her broken spine pop back into place, as she feels the thundering of the golem marching back towards her, apparently still having her in its sights. Fresh looks up at the red-wizard, the woman¡¯s arms are full of a heap of potions, the matte glass glistening in the dull, heavy light of the floating lantern. The not quite dying girl mutters. ¡°Please, help Jubi-¡± ¡°Let go of me!¡± A strong, muscular leg kicks her in the ribs just beneath her shoulder and Fresh¡¯s arm lets loose, a hot pain shoots up her body as she watches the red-wizard run away as fast as she can. Her menu chimes, appearing next to her, but she doesn¡¯t look at it. As her own numb, tingling arm flops to the ground, she sees the empty, small leather glove held tightly in her grasp and squeezes it tighter. Her eyes watch the red silhouette vanish into the distance. I thought we were friends? She watches the wizard, their very first customer, run away. Something cold feels like it is flowing through her stomach. Fresh watches as dozens of familiar faces run past her, down the street towards the entrance plaza. People she has seen every single day since they had opened the store. Not a single one of them stops to help her up, not a single one stops to do more than fight the odd vampire that has escaped their tussle at the dungeon-gate, and then only to buy themselves enough time to keep moving. I thought we were friends? The muscular dark-elf rushes past her and Fresh knows that she sees her laying there, her eyes meet hers as she looks down at her broken form for only a second. But she doesn¡¯t stop either, she simply looks away and keeps running, acting as if she had never seen anything at all. ¡°I thought -¡± Fresh crawls backwards, feeling some life come back into her legs and body. The lantern might have absorbed the damage, but the healing process seems to be rather slow and she still very much feels the hurt of the impact that is only slowly fading away now. Fresh sits back upright, feeling something cold and smooth just behind herself and presses herself back against it, still unable to get up on her legs that don¡¯t respond like she needs them to. She realizes that it¡¯s the glass sign for the store that they had made together. Somehow it had survived the destruction. She looks across the plaza and she stares at the golem, at the monstrosity crashing against the stones as it marches back towards her. She looks at the writhing, lashing masses of meat and teeth that tear into each other and any person unfortunate enough to get caught in their midst. She looks at the magic flying this way and that way, searching for a hint of glass in the chaos, searching for a hint of her friend. What did she do? She hopes nobody gets hurt because she was so stupid. Is that why nobody is coming to help? Because of her? Is it her fault? Is she a bad person? Has everyone just been pretending to like her this entire time? Fresh isn¡¯t sure if she¡¯s crying or bleeding as she feels her face trickling with wet. Is Jubilee okay? She hopes Jubilee is okay. The lantern floats at her side as the golem steps closer, its giant shadow looming over her as the monster raises its massive fist up into the air. What was this all for then? What was the point? This life? What exactly did she spend her time here building, if her hands are entirely empty at a time like this? What¡¯s even the point? Fresh closes her eyes as the golem smashes its fist down towards her and a second later, the world around her erupts into a crystalline shattering, as she feels her body become covered in ice, as the light of the lantern is blocked out of her vision. It¡¯s all so loud, the fighting, the screaming, the trickling of the fountain, the shrieking sound that fills the air, the furious roar of the ice-golem. It¡¯s all so loud. Wondering why she isn¡¯t dead yet, Fresh opens her eyes and stares at the broad, metallic surface that has appeared before her. A giant, dark-cobalt armored back, belonging to a man who can¡¯t quite contain his excited, heavy breathing. She breaks, her voice shattering like so much ice and glass. ¡°Why aren''t you running?!¡± howls Fresh, feeling her shoulder painfully snap back into place from the restorative magic of the lantern. The stones beneath his boots crush into brittle fragments as he presses his weight forward against the golem, as he holds the blade of the sword, which runs lengthwise down the span of the monster¡¯s arm, firmly in place. His eyes shine out of the shadowy gaps of his metal helmet, as he turns his head only slightly to the side to look at her distraught face. ¡°I kill monsters,¡± is all that he says, as he presses the golem back a step. Razmatazz Thank you very kindly for reading. We''ve come so far! ;_; Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 101: Net worth With a heavy step, the man from the witch¡¯s sect presses forward, the ice of the golem¡¯s arm cracking as he leverages the sword towards the side. The sudden movement sends wet crystals flying off in all directions. The golem roars in an agonized fury, as its arm breaks off entirely just an instant later. The massive hunk of ice shatters as it crashes down to their sides, the blade of the bone-sword slashes through the air, as it finally swings free from its constraints. Fresh crawls back as far as she can, pressing her back fearfully against the glass sign as she stares at the anarchy happening just in front of herself. It all glistens. It all shimmers. All at once, as the heavy sword cuts through the air. The sword. The ice. The dark, nightfall colored armor of the stranger who is coated in a midnight dew, all of it together glistens as the single, violent movement unfolds, as a strange light seems to shine from above, as if the dark, moonless sky were somehow shining with a glow brighter than the cumulative aura of all of the many looming stars. He breathes. His breastplate seems to press itself forward as the single swing of his weapon finally comes to an end, as that single second finally comes to an end. In an instant, the giant man from the witch¡¯s sect presses ahead, his free hand shooting up to catch the free fist of the golem which smashes down his way. His open palm, not even half of the size of the monster¡¯s, catches the icy hand. Fresh feels a rush of air and indistinguishable droplets fly past her face, as a violent impact emerges. A shattering crack runs down the golem¡¯s remaining arm as it roars, the giant monstrosity pressing its face against his. All the man from the sect does is continue his frantic, heavy breathing. He is clearly unable to contain his excitement as he presses his face towards its. Both of them meet in the middle. He twists his wrist, his fingers digging into the ice that is growing around his free hand in an attempt to swallow him, his manipulation bending the golem¡¯s arm and shifting its elbow to the side. Before Fresh can follow what¡¯s happening, the bone-sword swings up through the air again and another chunk of ice falls to the ground in turn. Flailing in agony, the raging golem falls backwards as it loses its only remaining arm. The man pulls his hand free from the dead limb, sending fresh ice flying down in all directions once more. Fresh is roused from her daze as the frigid wet splashes against her face, as something loud and heavy falls, clambering at her feet. Her eyes wander down to the broken bone-sword laying there. Without saying anything, the cobalt-armored titan turns around and walks past her, into the rubble of the store. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you tomorrow,¡± says his booming voice, as she hears his heavy steps thudding back outside a few seconds later, a large, two-handed bone-axe dragging along the ground behind himself, as he marches back towards the golem that is trying to get back up onto its feet. The heavy thing is however unable to keep its balance without its arms that are still in the process of regenerating. Fresh isn¡¯t sure why she has such a dumb thought in a moment like this, but she wants to say something clever and impressive as he walks back towards the golem. Something like ¡®it¡¯s on the house¡¯. But she can only let out a pained squeal as her shattered elbow pieces itself back together rather abruptly, the purple light of the lantern shining over her body. The girl wiggles her fingers, watching her left hand move, relieved that she is able to do so again. She stares at the lantern, unable to decipher what it is that is bugging her. Why is it so bright out here? It isn¡¯t the light of the lantern that¡¯s bugging her. There is something else. Something else that makes the moonless night unusually bright, but she can¡¯t figure out what it is. A loud rumble comes from the side, from the main street that everyone is running down, as several carts barrel down towards them, pulled by just as many anqas. It¡¯s odd, but she smiles as she sees some of their own magical-lanterns hanging off the front of the carts, illuminating the carriages with a pale, blue light. The large, wooden constructions, covered in metal plates, screech to a sudden stop in an in-orderly fashion all next to each other. The insides are filled with movement and then as the wooden doors of the carriages slide open, heavily armored people, all wearing the same gray and white uniforms, spring out of them. Some others jump off from the top of the carriages, their metal boots clanking loudly as they hit the ground. The swarm of soldiers and priests runs around the carts, unloading them as fast as they can. Is this the town guard? She¡¯s never seen any of them before. They¡¯re all as heavily armored as the man from the sect, all of them rip off giant tower shields, which are attached to the exteriors of the carts, off the sides and they rush forward as Fresh watches them, feeling a new excitement and relief. They stop. None of them step past the entrance to the plaza. Metal loudly strikes against the stones as they line up in a tight formation, their faces obscured by the night and by their raised hoods. The heavy tower-shields all strike against the rock at the same time, as they make a wall. As they block off the entire street, sealing the plaza entirely for anyone who hasn¡¯t managed to escape already. Fresh¡¯s legs wobble as she tries to pull herself upright, slowly rising back to her weak feet as she watches the horror unfold all around her. The man from the sect and the golem are still fighting, the two monsters letting loose all the havoc that they have in their bodies. The vampires lash and flail around, their regenerating forms ripping and flailing as they continue to eat each other and anything else that they can catch. Screams fill the air, as people still run, as fists strike against the heavy tower-shields that now indifferently block the way, the people holding them not moving an inch as they stop anyone from going down the main road. Disposable. Everyone here is disposable. They don¡¯t care if they die. Nobody cares if she dies. If Jubilee dies. If the man from the sect dies. If any of them die. Anyone who lives here or was still here. They¡¯re disposable. A vampire, unaffected by her spell, lashes out towards the man from the sect, its long neck squeezing past the golem as its barred razor teeth press towards his body. With a surprisingly quick movement, he pulls himself to the side, his free hand wrapping around the creature¡¯s throat and pulling its head into the way, just as the golem¡¯s regenerated fist strikes against his. Black blood splashes out in all directions as the creature¡¯s skull is crushed in an instant between the two of them. White robes flutter atop the carts of the guardsmen, as a group of priests climb up and look out over the chaos. All of them wear red scarves which flutter in the cool, night-breeze, all of them wear red, large, flat-brimmed hats. Again, even if this isn¡¯t the time, Fresh can¡¯t help but notice how seemingly spotless their tight-fitting white robes are. Maybe they¡¯ve been using her cleaning mixture? Are these the exorcists? Basil had described them to her once before. Seeing the vampires, the group of priests standing atop the carts begin channeling magic into their hands, the fabric of their tight robes shifting from the forces coalescing around their fingers. Fresh smiles a relieved smile, if they kill the vampires, then the golem will be no problem at all. This might all be over in just a moment. She says a quiet thanks in her mind for the priests, thankful that what Jubilee had told her about the church still appears to be true. The higher ups were all politics, but the normal people down here in the street with them? They were the good folk here. Maybe if their ten-percent went to them and the ones like Basil, she wouldn¡¯t mind at all. A voice rings out, saying something that she can¡¯t discern over the sounds of ice and bones cracking just next to her from the violent onslaught. The glow dies down. The priests all lower their arms at once. ¡°Huh? Why are they¡­¡± Fresh finally stands upright, feeling her legs offer a firm hold to her body once again. She thinks that she can walk again, if she has to. But she needs a minute longer to fully heal. The magic of the lantern is incredibly strong if it can keep her alive like this, but the effect is unpleasant and long-lasting to say the least. She supposes it comes with the territory and looks at the mutilated angel with a deep regret in her eyes. It will never be the same again. Her fingers clench down, pressing firmly against the soft leather glove in her hands as she watches the man from the sect crash into the golem again and again, as the two of them have at each other, both entirely lost in their frenzy. ¡°You¡¯re joking¡­ right?¡± mutters Fresh to herself as she realizes with a sudden horror what¡¯s happening. They¡¯re not going to help them. They¡¯re going to let everything that they view as a problem solve itself. Perhaps smelling the blood of the mangled vampire at the giant man¡¯s feet, the raging swarm of long-necked monstrosities shifts away from the red dungeon portal and starts heading their way. Hundreds of long, dagger-like teeth shimmer in the blood-bathing glow of the red portal, together with the cool, lifeless shine of the magical-lanterns hanging off of the front of the carts, as the mass of undead comes to consume them, as nobody comes to help. Not one person. They all just stand and watch. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 102: The end of days ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous,¡± thinks Fresh as she leans back against the broken wall behind herself. As she feels the sum total of all of her efforts crumbling beneath her two backwards facing palms which press against the broken wood. This city. These people¡­ - These ¡®people¡¯. They¡¯re ridiculous. She can¡¯t help but wonder, is there a single beating heart in any of their chests? Is there anything in their eyes or their spirits that could give credence to their humanity? Or are they just dolls? Just avatars possessed by the spirits of greed and self-righteousness? The memory of Basil¡¯s frantic, twisted face returns to her mind¡¯s eye, as she relives the priestess¡¯ heartfelt confession about her true feelings of this place, of this city that they all had been attempting to call their home. The man¡¯s midnight armor glistens as a massive fist smashes into his gut, pressing him up into the air, sending him flying back a step, a chunk of his metal armor bends inwards and juts into his gut, as evidenced by a dark trickle that sprays outward as he lurches. A cheer erupts from the line behind the guardsman, as the only person really defending the plaza takes a heavy blow. His large boots smash back into the stones. He barely keeps his balance, the half-shattered bone-axe arching back, as he moves forward for another push against the giant monster, indifferent to his injury. As he charges straight towards the golem and the horde of gnashing teeth making their way to him, to her, by the second. Fearless. All that the man shows is a glimmer in his eyes and a thrashing of his chest as his heart beats with a force that Fresh is sure that she can feel even here, even here where she stands. He¡¯s not afraid of it, of any of it. Yet her own legs are trembling. She¡¯s long since been physically able to move, but she finds herself still locked firmly in place. Spellbound by her own fear. Ice and broken fragments of bone fly all over the place as the man and the golem seem locked in their fight. For every piece that he hacks away, another regenerates not moments later and Fresh doesn¡¯t understand why. It¡¯s ridiculous. It never seems to die. Is this normal for a golem? To heal itself constantly like this? Or is it because of her? Because of the moonwater of the broken cauldron of resurrection? Is her own magic the thing keeping the golem alive? Is her own magic the thing that¡¯s going to get them all killed? It figure She watches in a combined dread and awe as the swarm approaches them. How can he keep moving? How can he keep fighting? For what? For this place? For these people? Is any of it even worth the effort? It¡¯s not. Not in her eyes. Not anymore. The pure, naive image that she has had of the city is now tainted. Befouled. Corrupted. But she still has to do something. She can¡¯t just stand here idly. Somewhere out there, Jubilee is counting on her to do something. Fresh turns around, running as fast as she can back into the wreckage and she grabs a long, bony handle which juts out of the rock. A large, two-handed bone-sword. The heavy thing lurches as she strains herself to pull it free from the rubble, but is barely able to. She pulls again, feeling a painful pop in her lower back that causes her teeth to clench and new tears to quickly shoot out of her eyes. But she pulls again and the bone-greatsword comes free. She isn¡¯t able to lift it, but she can drag it. With a free hand, Fresh haphazardly rips out a bundle of her hairs, pressing them against the hilt of the monstrous weapon. [Bone-greatsword](High){Curse of the Midnight Toll}{Curse of the Parting Breath} A massive greatsword. The horrifying weapon carries a dark, ominous tinge to it. +8 DMG* +20 DARK* Quality Effect: Wounds caused by this weapon can not be healed by HOLY Curse: [Midnight Toll] - This sword does an additional 2x damage as DARK from an hour before, until an hour after midnight. Damage is halved when in sunlight. Curse: [Parting Breath] - As long as the wielder breathes, this sword can not be broken. This sword must steal the air from a living being¡¯s lungs once a day, or it will instead steal your own. Weight: 12.0kg Value: ??? Stepping back, putting everything she has into it, Fresh pulls on the sword, pulling it towards the door. But she¡¯s not going to make it in time. Looking back in fear, she sees the vampires arrive, their lashing necks swiping towards the man from the sect who is about to be overrun. None of their razor teeth pierce his armor, but there are too many of them and he is about to be entirely swallowed by their combined weight. To the side, she sees the priests atop the carts getting their magic ready again, only waiting for the man to die before they get rid of the threat of the vampires. Ridiculous. She should have moved faster. She shouldn¡¯t have been afraid for so long. She acted too late to save him. Fresh watches in horror as the man from the sect, surrounded by writhing meat and teeth, vanishes beneath the mound piling on top of him. She hates it here too. She isn¡¯t sure, but she thinks she hates it here more than she hated her old life. At least now. ¡°Get out of here!¡± yells a voice at her from behind the golem and the world erupts into a crystal flurry. A single snap resonates, echoing around the plaza as seconds later, a giant glass pillar blasts up into the air, shooting up high towards the middle of the dungeon-gate. A large, dark-cobalt armored hand clutches onto the glass-tower, as it pulls him free from the mass of vampires that hiss in a seething rage down below. The hissing sound is nigh indistinguishable from that same sound which stems from the crowd to the side. A small figure bounds over the golem¡¯s heavy back, jumping as another jagged glass pillar bursts out of the stones, upheaving the paving. Fresh watches as Jubilee latches on to the tower, snapping their fingers again to create a platform for themselves and for the giant from the sect to drop down onto with a heavy, ungraceful clamber. ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± calls Fresh at the sight of her friend. ¡°Run!¡± yells Jubilee again from across the plaza at her and snaps their fingers. A wall of glass spears bursts out before her, separating her from the chaos. A series of jeers and boos erupts from the line of guardsmen and priests, as the sounds of an intense fight make themselves heard from the other side of the glass barrier. Fresh narrows her eyes. This won¡¯t do. She¡¯s not going anywhere. She¡¯s not going to run away and hide while her friend is out here, while someone needs her help. Right? That¡¯s not who she is, that¡¯s not who she wants to be. The subtle trickling of the fountain in her ear tells her that and she is sure that it is true. Fresh steps back forward again, walking towards the wall of jagged glass that separates her from the vampires. With strained, tedious steps, she marches on, dragging the heavy sword behind herself with both hands, the bone-weapon scrapes noisily against the rock of the plaza. She¡¯s going to get this to him. She¡¯s going to do it. Even if she dies trying, she¡¯s going to do it. Because it¡¯s the right thing to do. Suddenly, something surrounds her. A warmth. A soft light that is alien from the glow of the lantern at her side, as well as from the strange light that seems to be coming from the dark sky. Fresh clenches her hands, looking down at them, as the warm aura encapsulates her shaking body. It feels like sitting in the sun on a warm summer¡¯s day, like having a hot tea during a spring shower. It radiates a deep heat. She remembers this feeling. Looking over her shoulder, Fresh looks back towards the crowd, trying to discern a familiar silhouette. But she doesn¡¯t manage. She feels a lot less alone now however, knowing that both of her friends are here now with her. Smiling, lifting the sword much easier than before, Fresh runs towards the glass wall. ¡°Thanks Basil,¡± whispers the girl under her breath, as she makes her way forward with the heavy sword held in both of her hands. With determined eyes, the girl stares up at the wall of glass, staring at the reflection looking back towards her. Its eyeless face smiles a wide smile which seems entirely out of place. The girl in the mirror-glass winks and the glass wall breaks apart, shattering into thousands of pieces as they fall down to the torn up ground below, shimmering like so many falling stars as they descend. Jubilee probably won¡¯t forgive her for this, but that¡¯s okay, thinks Fresh as she runs forward through the storm. Glass falls down onto her black robe, onto her shoulders, onto her hair as she runs with her eyes held tightly closed through the mess, not breathing a single breath as she lumbers forward with the greatsword in her grasp. Something hisses and she feels something wet splash against her face, the girl keeps running as a massive hand suddenly grabs her shoulder and yanks her back. With a fearful yelp, Fresh spins around to look at the giant man from the sect who pulls her back just in time, pulling her away from a striking vampire that he smashes his free fist against and sends flying. His shining eye, filled with a haunting obsession, looks down at Fresh, who gazes back at him with the same intensity, lifting the handle of the sword up to him with her free hand. ¡°Kill monsters,¡± says Fresh, nodding to him. A heavy breath escapes his wet chest as his only response and she feels it blow over her face like a midnight wind. A giant hand, covered in black blood, grasps the hilt of the sword as the man lurches forward without saying a single word, charging into the swarm that surrounds them on all sides. Glass shatters left and right, filling the air as if it were coated in flocks of falling snow. ¡°I told you to get out of here, IDIOT!¡± Glass erupts all around her, an undead head falls down next to her. Its taut skin is pulled over its hungry eyes, sealing them from the world. ¡°Jubilee!¡± cries Fresh, looking over to her friend who lands down next to her, jumping off of a glass spire. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere!¡± says Fresh, pulling out Jubilee¡¯s glove and handing it back to them. ¡°I -¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee¡¯s hand that is red from top to bottom. It looks like its covered entirely in fresh blood. ¡°Jubilee!¡± Jubilee snatches the glove from her and turns around, slipping it back on. ¡°I told you, glass is dangerous.¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers, skewering another vampire on a long spear. The creature lifts up into the air as the glass blasts through its long throat. Suddenly, the world rumbles, the ground shakes. The glass spear cracks in half as the golem charges through the obstruction as if it were nothing. ¡°LOOK O- !¡± calls Jubilee, lifting a hand back towards her, just as Fresh sees the giant fist flying straight towards her head. She sees her reflection just before herself again, just like a few seconds ago. But this time, it doesn¡¯t shatter, as she looks at the girl in the mirror. The reflection isn¡¯t in glass this time, but rather in ice. She stares at the confused visage who doesn¡¯t wink back at her a second time. Nothing happens. Fresh looks down, looking at the blade of the sword pressing through the golem¡¯s back, pressing through the round core at its center. The world cracks, the stones shattering as the golem lifts up off of the ground. As the man from the witch¡¯s sect stands behind it, grunting like a wild animal as he leverages the giant sword against the stones, as he lifts the golem up off of its feet in a display of incredible strength. As he screams a loud, primal cry, his deep, bassy voice echoing out over the plaza together with the scream of the golem, as it flips over the man who smashes the entire creature down behind himself. It crashes into the broken rock of the plaza. The ice of its body shatters apart, flying in all directions like the shards of a broken plate. Glass flies out left and right, skewering the last vampires that still make their onslaught, lifting the many creatures up into the air, but never killing any of them, as they lash and flail about so far off of the ground. Their mutilated, mangled visages whip wildly in all directions. It all goes quiet as Fresh watches the end of the fight. As she realizes again, as just before, how unusually bright it is outside, despite there being no visible moon tonight. There is a loud crunch, as the man from the witch¡¯s sect stomps onto the golem-core, crushing it beneath his heavy boot. The sound rings out around the plaza, echoing as all of the jeers and the cries from the crowd to the side suddenly go very quiet. Echoing, as the heavy clouds that cover the sky, finally begin to part half-way, as if ushered away by the noise that split the night. As if the death of the golem had set every one of their heavenly bodies into motion. The world erupts into a half-light, as all of their eyes move towards the sudden appearance of the moon. It hasn¡¯t been a moonless night at all. A full, looming moon hangs over the world, as it has done the entire night. The dark clouds that had obscured it now shift, however. The right half of it is still hidden by the clouds that seem to come together into a strange, odd formation, which seems almost unnatural in its construction. Murmurs begin to erupt from the crowd. Uneasy cries and shouts as fingers point towards the moon. Towards the thing that was clearly wrong and misshapen. They all bustle and move, the priests getting ready to cast their spell now, as several people point towards the odd thing that carries with it a strange, soft, purple tinge that hangs above the city. The breath leaves the giant body in an instant as he exhales. ¡°Yes¡­¡± mutters the man from the sect as he stares with possessed eyes at the strange moon. The core crunches beneath his boot as he grinds it into a fine dust. ¡°Yes!¡± he shouts again, lifting a hand and grabbing the lashing neck of a vampire, snapping it in half. The clouds shift, the light of the moon growing brighter and brighter as more if its left half comes into clear sight. The clouds all move towards the right, completely out of the natural order. Jubilee turns towards her in an instant as they realize something, glass starting to form around their hands. ¡°Get inside! GO!¡± they yell. The man lifts the giant sword, slashing it through the air one final time in a wide arc, severing a full half-dozen heads all at once, just as Fresh takes a single step back and away, her eyes growing wide and fearful as it begins to dawn on her. ¡°YES!¡± hollers the giant, his booming through the world as the clouds all move to the right, perfectly obscuring almost half of the moon. As the prophecy of the witch¡¯s sect comes to be fulfilled, as evidenced by the crooked face that forms in the sky. [Level up! You are now LEVEL 8 ! ] {Cooking 3}{Crafting 6}{Gathering 2}{Adventuring 2}{Witch-Crafting 7}{Mercantile 5} STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 13226 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] The clouds finish their movements. Their overlaying of the moonlight gives the moon the clear, undeniable appearance of an unnatural visage. The appearance of a crooked face which stares down at them all, which stares down at the entire world with an eye that gleams expectantly. The clouds form around it, covering the moon in an entirely impossible manner, as if pressed into place by a cosmic sculptor, to give the celestial body the appearance of having a long, crooked nose and jagged teeth that smile down upon the world. The witch¡¯s moon shines bright. But all eyes have left it and its haunting presence now. All eyes, including those of the moon itself, stare down at one thing. At the single glassy window, that floats in the middle of the plaza. The one that shows her picture. Her name. Her class. The dark, glassy screen hovering just next to the girl, as it reflects the soft light coming from a thousand stars that shine above them, like godly eyes peering down onto the world to witness the birth of the witch of the north. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 103: Black-Water Fresh presses herself against the window, swiping it away, not sure what ability she presses on as she simply tries to remove it as fast as she can from the world. ¡°WITCH!¡± yells a voice from the crowd and the entire wall of shields that held steadfast against the wave of fists smashing against them, the wall of shields that didn¡¯t budge an inch for the many vampires howling in the darkness, now shifts, as several of them lower the large pieces of metal to take a look. The anqas behind them, attached to the carriages start stamping into the stones, the priests next to them barely able to keep the animals under control as they go wild. The lanterns attached to the carriages swing madly through the night, the chains that they hang from rattling like the clattering of a fistful of jangling coins. Any screams that were still present before have now fallen silent, together with the final death of the last vampire a moment ago. Murmurs run through the crowd of a hundred fearful eyes that stare her way. ¡°We need to go,¡± says Jubilee quickly. ¡°Now!¡± they hiss towards her, pulling on the hem of her robe. ¡°A witch!¡± ¡°KILL THE WITCH!¡± ¡°DEMON!¡± The light of the night shifts as something adds to the glow of the looming moon that smiles down on them all with a crooked grin. A sudden burst of bright light breaks through the crowd and Fresh stares in fearful shock, as a massive silhouette jumps in front of her. The fireball explodes against the man from the sect¡¯s back, wrapping around him and sending a scorching flame flying off to the sides as it smashes against his armor. ¡°Are you okay?!¡± asks Fresh as she looks in shock at the heavy breathing giant who took the full brunt of the spell meant for her. His metal armor turns scorching hot in an instant, she feels it radiating towards her. He simply exhales again, as the blistering heat begins to singe him with an audible hiss. She can smell a sour burning from where she stands. It almost sounds like a liquid coming to boil. ¡°KILL HER!¡± yells another voice from the crowd. The line of guardsmen don¡¯t move yet however. Only a few take a couple tentative steps forward, but then stay back where they stand, as they notice that none of their neighbors are brave enough to go forward with them. The crowd shifts in a furious rage that has no outlet, Fresh watches as a hundred faces, all filled with a sudden malice, glare her way. Familiar faces, familiar eyes look her way. People she has made things for, whose clothes she¡¯s repaired, who she shared her potions and drinks with, sometimes for free on those rare occasions when Jubilee was looking away, sliding them over the counter with a wink. All of them glare at her with disgusted, indignant eyes that shine with clear malicious intent. A man, an exorcist from the church, stands atop the center cart and he stares over the anarchy, his long, thin scarf billowing in the night. His hand lifts up and those around him fall silent and soon the others, noticing the quiet, do so as well. The people move apart, separating themselves from a small entity in the center of their mass who they have already deemed as unclean. ¡°Evil has befallen our city!¡± preaches the head exorcist. ¡°Kill the witch and everyone she has BEFOULED with her malignancy!¡± He points to the side, towards the opening in their midst. Towards the outcast who stands there, having already been understood to be different, perhaps her prior spell-casting having been witnessed by the many. The crowd shifts, moving in a circle around a single priestess standing in the midst of it all. ¡°BEFOULED!¡± ¡°BASIL!¡± cries Fresh, running past the giant from the sect towards the opening in the crowd. A heavy hand yanks her back and her feet slip off of the ground, her body lurches back and away from the raging mass of people as the fabric of her own robe chokes her from the sudden, forceful tug. A voice yells in her ear, but she can¡¯t discern if it¡¯s Jubilee¡¯s or the man¡¯s or even the trickling words of the fountain, all she sees is the white silhouette standing behind the lowered shieldwall, she sees Basil vanish into the midst of the tightening circle. As the crowd closes in back around her, barring any sight of her, all that Fresh sees of her friend are the splatters of dark red blood that fly through the air, propelled by hacking metal. Fresh screams, reaching back for her the priestess as the giant from the sect throws her over his shoulder, as she somehow moves further and further away despite her legs kicking to move back towards Basil. It feels as if she were swimming, but the heavy current of the black-water is flowing in the opposite direction and she is powerless to fight it. ¡°KILL THE WITCH!¡± yells a clear voice that echoes through the night. The shield wall charges forward, emboldened now, rushing straight towards them, moving now as a unified front as the frenzied crowd behind them pushes their way back to the plaza that they had just run from moments before. More screams than she has ever heard before fill the night, all coming together to mix in with her own into a harrowing sound that howls through the darkness like the anguishing lamentation of a banshee. They barrel through the wreckage of the store, a wall of jagged glass bursting up behind them as a familiar voice rings out. ¡°This way, out the window!¡± yells Jubilee as they run up the ruined stairs. The entire store is destroyed, the floors are coated in broken glass and colorful liquids from the potions together with fragments of bone that float on the surface of the puddles. The wall of glass shatters behind them as the horde barges in after them only seconds behind. A second later, Fresh feels herself in free-fall, as the man from the sect launches them both out of the broken upstairs-corridor window. Just before they fly out, Fresh spares one last glance down the long upstairs hallway that she had walked down nearly every day for these past few happy weeks. The corridor that she had walked down for the last time. It is entirely destroyed. Jubilee¡¯s room, her room, the kitchen, even the door that she never got to look inside of. All of them are torn and ripped apart, as destroyed as the downstairs area and in an instant, as she reaches for them as well, they all leave her grasp, slipping out and away from her fingers as the three of them fall down into the backstreet. She feels herself floating. It''s just a dream, right? This is all just another bad dream. Another nightmare that the fountain wants her to see, right? She¡¯ll wake up any moment now. Right? They land, her gut pressing deeper into the metal shoulder of the man¡¯s armor, screams hollering out of the house behind them as they run. The raging calls ring out through the dark night, filling it with their horrific presence. The many voices echo out beneath the light of the horrible moon, all of the screams give the house behind them the impression that it is haunted. As if it was filled with wailing ghosts who howl in a shared agony. The upper wall that they just sprang out of explodes, an eruption of fire blasting through, tearing it entirely off of the building. Wood and ash rain down behind them as they run, as the exterior facade of the house begins to collapse and peel off entirely, like skin flaking off of an embalmed corpse. It comes loose and falls, as if it had been there for entirely too long to begin with. They round the bend, running down the dark alley in a direction that she has never gone down before, as the destroyed house leaves her sight for what might be the final time. ¡°Let me go! LET ME GO!¡± howls Fresh, her fists smashing against the man¡¯s armor. ¡°No,¡± is all that he says, as he runs after Jubilee who leads the way. ¡°Over here!¡± calls her friend and they turn towards the left, bending into a side alley. Voices ring out behind them as the mob pursues them. ¡°They went around the back!¡± ¡°Cut them off!¡± Bells ring aloud in the night which can find no quiet. Fresh flails and kicks, but the man from the sect refuses to let her go, no matter how often she smashes a fist against the back of his head or a knee against his chest. He just grabs tighter and the two of them keep running. They come to a sudden stop, stopping at a closed door. Jubilee smashes their fist against it. A small slit near the top slides open, a pair of eyes staring out of the darkness. ¡°Password?¡± asks the gruff voice. ¡°Fuck you! Open the door!¡± barks Jubilee. The slit window slides back shut and a second later, the door opens and they run inside. ¡°You seem to be in a bit of a pickle,¡± says the cloaked man coyly, closing the door behind them. ¡°Prophecies, eh? Nothing but trouble.¡± ¡°We¡¯re using tunnel eight,¡± says Jubilee, rushing past him. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend it,¡± says the man from the thieves¡¯ guild. ¡°They know about number eight. They found it three days ago.¡± ¡°Fuck! You useless fucks!¡± snaps Jubilee at the man who stays entirely indifferent. ¡°Take number six and head left,¡± says the man. ¡°Seal it behind you.¡± ¡°How much?¡± asks Jubilee. The voices outside grow louder and louder as the crowd rushes into the alley that they were just in, swarming in from both sides of the street. ¡°We¡¯ll come to collect in the future. When you¡¯re ready,¡± says the man. ¡°After all, we have to protect our investments,¡± he smiles at Fresh, as the giant carrying her runs after Jubilee who is already on the move. The man from the thieves¡¯ guild waves back, speaking to her and her alone in a playful voice as they leave. ¡°The pact is sealed,¡± he says in a tone that almost implies it was a joke of some kind. The door behind him shakes with a violent rattle as something heavy smashes against it. Fresh only sees the first chunks of splintering wood fly past him just before they drop down a hole and she finds herself swallowed by a cold, damp darkness. The flying debris and particulate darken the air around him in that instant and make it oddly visible; the small, red bite-mark on his uncovered calves. As if a snake had bitten him and the area had begun scarring over. The man from the thieves¡¯ guild leaves her sight in a cloud of dust and flying debris as they plummet downward. Fresh isn¡¯t sure for how long they run down the long underground tunnel. It¡¯s well lit. Dozens of their lanterns, of her lanterns, hang here on the walls and fill the entire space with a pale, blue light. The girl hangs there, numb and limp, over the shoulder of the man from the sect. ¡°It¡¯s all gone,¡± she mutters to herself, looking around at the underground tunnel. ¡°It¡¯s all gone,¡± she repeats, her eyes wandering from side to side. As they run, she catches a glimpse of herself, a warped reflection in the matte glass of one of her own lanterns in the fraction of a second, just as they run past it. The girl in the reflection, her gestalt warped and wrong as if she had no eyes, simply stares back towards her as they run. Black-water runs down her face. She doesn¡¯t say anything. But her mouth moves, her body contorting and pressing itself in and out, as the mirror image lifts a finger to point at her. As the girl in the mirror laughs and laughs and laughs, now that she is finally in on the joke as well. Now that she¡¯s finally realized what the fountain has found so funny this entire time. It¡¯s her. She¡¯s the joke. She¡¯s just been playing make-believe this entire time and now, the fun is over. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 104: Emergence ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± says Fresh quietly. ¡°Shut up,¡± replies Jubilee in a loud, sharp tone. Fresh isn¡¯t sure for how long they¡¯ve been running down the underground tunnel which is lined with dozens, if not hundreds of her handmade lanterns. They never sold this many to any one person, not even close. Does that mean that the thieves¡¯ guild had bought all of these through other people? How many of them had been in their store? How often? Have they been watching her? Watching them this entire time? Fresh hangs there, laid out over the man from the sect¡¯s shoulder as they keep moving. Her head droops down and she stares at the dirt that she wants to be buried in. They slow down for a moment and then turn with a sharp turn towards the left. Voices can be heard from behind them, echoing down the tunnel. Their furious tones ring out so loudly, as if they were right there, standing next to her and screaming into her ears. A snap rings out, the sharp tone bouncing off of the dirt walls as a pillar of glass erupts along the roof of the tunnel, cutting through the intersection as it slices diagonally across the compacted dirt on both sides. The heavy weight of the world above crashes down in an instant, just as the glass reaches the other side. The beam of glass shatters as the dirt above it presses down on it, snapping it in half like a stick over a knee, as it begins to rain down, setting the area around it into movement in a chain reaction just seconds later as they continue their escape. They keep running, quickly retreating as the intersection behind them collapses. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± says Fresh quietly, not sure if Jubilee can hear her over the crashing world behind them. ¡°I said shut up!¡± barks Jubilee back at her, apparently having heard her after all. Fresh can¡¯t see her friend, if Jubilee even still is that, as she is facing backwards. But she is sure that Jubilee didn¡¯t bother looking at her as they spoke. She doesn¡¯t blame them. Who would want to look at her? What are they going to do now? The store is gone. The house is gone. Their home is gone. Basil is gone. Why didn¡¯t she just stay inside? If she had stayed inside, everything would have been fine. Everything would have been okay. What did she even do? Drag a sword outside? One that the man perhaps didn¡¯t even really need? She rushed into a situation again, just like on her first day here. She rushed in and didn¡¯t think and this time, it cost her everything. What was it all for? Her eyes, staring at the dirt, look at her empty hands which dangle limply down below herself and occasionally slap against the giant¡¯s back as he runs. What was it all for? They slow down, coming to a halt. ¡°That fuck-head,¡± hisses Jubilee. ¡°He didn¡¯t say anything about this.¡± Fresh looks up, looking back around herself. They¡¯re at a second four-way intersection. ¡°Fuck! FUCK!¡± yells Jubilee, their voice echoing around the chamber. The sounds of Jubilee¡¯s hands clapping together rings out as they slow themselves and take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Fresh flinches as Jubilee swears. They must be upset too, for good reason. They had lost their home because of her stupidity. Jubilee had gone so far out of their way to help her and this is their reward for it. The same thing as it had been since their very first day together. She''s nothing but a pain in their ass. That¡¯s all that she was. All she caused. ¡°I¡¯m sorr -¡± ¡°Will you SHUT THE FUCK UP?!¡± yells Jubilee, the sounds of their boots scraping over the dirt as they turn around back towards her. ¡°If you say one more word then I¡¯m going to shove a piece of glass so far up your ass that you¡¯ll feel it rattling around in that empty skull of yours!¡± they say in one long, quick, breathless threat. Fresh looks back and away, silently turning her head down back towards the dirt. ¡°You! Meat-head. Set her down and help me figure out which way leads out of here,¡± orders Jubilee, snapping their fingers at the man from the sect. ¡°If we take the wrong tunnel and pop up in the cardinal¡¯s bathroom, we¡¯re going to be royally fucked!¡± ¡°No.¡± He lets out a heavy breath. Fresh stares vacantly at the ground as he lurches, as she watches the odd wet trickle down from his battered armor. She wants to remark that he¡¯s hurt, that he should let them check on his injuries. But what is she going to do? Just make it worse. Fresh doesn¡¯t say anything. ¡°She can walk just fine on her own!¡± ¡°No,¡± repeats the man, his fingers pressing down tighter. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± says Fresh quietly. ¡°Please go help Jubilee.¡± He exhales loudly. Loosening his grip, the man from the sect grabs Fresh with both hands, his metal gauntlets digging into her gut as he pulls her off of his shoulder. It hurts, but she doesn¡¯t say anything. Slowly, he sets her down against the wall and gets up, walking over to Jubilee. They stand there for a time. It¡¯s mostly just Jubilee talking to themselves, trying to pinpoint where exactly they are, so that they could decide which way to go. The man from the sect does little except to answer with either a succinct yes or no or with simply nothing at all apart from another heavy breath that explodes out of his body. Lifting her head, Fresh looks at the crossroads that they find themselves at and a strong feeling of uncomfortable familiarity comes to her as she stares at the blue lanterns adorning the walls. It¡¯s like back then. It¡¯s like when she came to this world. If only she had gone right. If only she had gone right, then none of this would have happened. If she had gone right, then the world would have been a better place. She looks at the two of them who can¡¯t seem to make up their minds. ¡°We need to go right,¡± she mutters quietly. Both of them look back at her. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee as the man from the sect already makes his unquestioning return. She lifts a hand, waving him off as she gets up on her own. ¡°We need to go right,¡± repeats Fresh, pointing down the tunnel. ¡°Why?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°I just know,¡± says Fresh, turning towards the tunnel. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that I should go left here?¡± they ask. ¡°Because I clearly don¡¯t trust your decision making abilities!¡± snaps Jubilee and Fresh flinches, not arguing back. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°SHUT UP!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°¡¯Sorry¡¯ doesn¡¯t fix shit! It just makes you feel better, but not anyone else!¡± They lift their finger, pointing to the man from the sect who has already started marching down the tunnel. ¡°You! Where are you going?!¡± He turns around, looking back at them. ¡°Right,¡± is all he says, as he turns his head back around, marching forward down the dark passage on his own. Jubilee lets out a frustrated scream, clenching their hood and tearing it downward to cover the front of their mask. A moment later, after they have screamed themselves empty, Jubilee stomps past Fresh, walking down the right tunnel as well. They turn around, looking at her as she still stands at the crossroads. ¡°Get the fuck over here! You made your choices, now live with them!¡± barks Jubilee as they turn around to keep walking after the man from the sect. ¡°If we die, we better not become fucking ghosts! After this, I¡¯m going to need my eternal sleep!¡± Fresh watches her companions vanish into the darkness and then, looking around and seeing that she is all on her own, she runs after them. The tunnel doesn¡¯t stretch on much further. After a few minutes of quiet walking, all of them brooding in their own manner, they reach a small incline that steadily rises upwards. As they march along, the corridor tightening, as the ramp grows steeper and steeper, they slowly come to what appears to be the end of the passage. ¡°There¡¯s fucking nothing here. It¡¯s a dead-end,¡± sighs Jubilee as they look around. ¡°Go right, she said. It¡¯s this way, she said. Fuck me!¡± Dirt rains down from above. Fresh yelps as she covers her face with one hand, holding her other arm over Jubilee as they both look up at the giant from the sect, his fist breaking through the dirt ceiling of the tunnel that they had risen towards. Smashing his other hand up into the dirt, he pries his hands apart and rips a hole into the ground which tears open beneath his fingers. Roots tear and pop with audible snaps as he gores the world from the inside-out. Air rushes past them in a sudden breeze, as the hole above him opens wider and wider. A strangely familiar sound fills the air that sends the hairs on Fresh¡¯s neck up on end. The splashing of water. A gentle, red light shines in from above, tinged with the stain of a dewy forest-green. ¡°You just need to have some faith,¡± says the man from the sect, looking at Jubilee. ¡°What the fuck are yo- IAGH!¡± The man from the sect grabs Jubilee under their arm, pulling them up into the air in an instant. ¡°PUT ME DOWN, YOU SHIT-HEAD!¡± yells Jubilee, kicking the man¡¯s helmet as he hoists them out through the hole. A second later he grabs Fresh who was already backing away with a nervous expression. With a single hand he tosses her out of the hole as well. She lands with a thud on the grass above the tunnels, next to Jubilee. ¡°Fuck me¡­¡± mutters Jubilee in an oddly surprised tone, as Fresh flops down next to them onto the dirt above the tunnel. A warm, flowing air covers her body as the breeze of the summer¡¯s morning comes to greet them all to this bright morning. The clearing, just outside of the city, the one she had been reborn in, is illuminated by a ruby light. The water of the fountain splashes on loudly next to them, as something heavy pulls itself out of the darkness just behind them. The water of the fountain laughs and laughs and laughs as Fresh lifts her head to look at the point of her rebirth. The sound of the water is almost giddy. As if it were grateful for her having played its game for today. All three of them stare at the thing, the entity, in the fountain, the gestalt covered in black-water that stares back at them with lost, agonized and deeply confused eyes. Like a bloody fawn, fresh from the womb. Its pure body is stained and befouled and covered in rich smears of black-water and afterbirth with only two clean streaks under the damp eyes. Fresh howls as she claws into the dirt, pushing herself up as she sprints forward and jumps into the fountain. As she wraps her arms around a very confused Basil, who sits there in the middle of it, water dribbling down from above over her dark, strawberry-blonde hair that is tinged with a deeper red, by the crimson sunrise that dawns just over the horizon, just beyond the forest that wakes up to greet a brand new day. Razmatazz =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 105: Life goes on Fresh flies back as the two soft hands press against her body and shove her away with a violent push. She yelps as she flies backwards out of the fountain, her bottom hitting the inside stone rim of the basin, as she tips back and flops over, falling to the dirt with her back, her legs still hanging over the edge, inside of the water. ¡°GET AWAY FROM ME!¡± yells Basil, thrashing as she pulls herself away, kicking and splashing as she crawls out of the fountain on the other side. ¡°WITCH!¡± The priestess heaves with frantic breaths as she comes to her senses, awakening from her rebirth in the fountain, her hands clawing at her head as she pulls her wet hair away from her face. Fresh looks up at Basil who is backing away with a clear terror in her eyes, as the priestess clutches her own body, running her shaking hands over the red spots on her white robe. ¡°Wait! Basil!¡± ¡°STAY AWAY FROM ME!¡± shouts the priestess in a frantic terror as she lifts her hands, magic coalescing around her fingers as she walks backwards, away from them. Before Fresh can get up, Basil turns around and runs away down the road as fast as she can. Fresh calls after her, but the priestess doesn¡¯t stop running. Fearfully, Fresh looks back to Jubilee and the man from the sect. ¡°We have to stop her! If she goes back to the city - !¡± Jubilee raises a hand, interrupting her. ¡°Not our problem. We need to get out of here as fast as we can.¡± ¡°Jubilee! They¡¯ll kill her! It¡¯s Basil!¡± Jubilee shrugs, walking over and pulling her legs out of the fountain. ¡°I don¡¯t know what witch-fuckery you pulled here to bring her back and I don¡¯t want to know,¡± they say. ¡°But you saw how everyone reacted when they saw you. I told you this would happen.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°She¡¯s gone, she probably sees you the same as the rest of them do.¡± Jubilee yanks one of Fresh¡¯s boots off and holds it upside down, shaking all the water out of it before throwing it down next to her head that still lays in the grass. ¡°I hope you enjoyed your time in the city, because we¡¯re never coming back here again.¡± ¡°Jubilee! Your house! The store! I¡¯m so- !¡± Jubilee leans over her, their mask hovering above her face. ¡°I thought I told you to shut up about that! It¡¯s done! IT¡¯S OVER!¡± yells Jubilee, swiping their hand through the air. Fresh feels a droplet hit her face from above. Two furious eyes glare down at her, before Jubilee pulls themselves back upright, walking over to her other side to rip off her other boot to shake the water out of it. Fresh lets out a loud sniffle, doing her best not to cry. ¡°What are we going to do now? What will we live off of? Everything we had was back h- ho-¡° Fresh howls, unable to finish the word. ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± says Jubilee plainly, ignoring her distress. ¡°The north is as good as fucked for us. The church is going to send out hunting parties for the rest of the year, if not the rest of the decade,¡± they explain. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to be forgotten.¡± Jubilee tosses her other boot down next to her head. ¡°The south is as good as fucked, as it¡¯s always been. That leaves us two choi- Will you stop crying?!¡± yells Jubilee with a cracking voice, but Fresh just cries louder. ¡°West. East,¡± says the heavy voice from next to them, undisturbed by the emotionality of either of them. Jubilee looks up at him ¡°You! Why are you still here?!¡± ¡°I am chosen.¡± ¡°What the fuck are you talking about, you goon?!¡± The man lets out a heavy, excited breath. ¡°I fulfilled the witch¡¯s prophecy. I am chosen,¡± he looks down at his giant hand that seems to shake just a little as he clenches his fist loosely together, as if that is all the strength he could muster at this point. ¡°You¡¯re going to draw too much attention! Get the fuck out of here and go die in the forest or something!¡± ¡°I will not,¡± says the man from the sect. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°You¡¯re going to bleed to death and leave a trail a mile long leading right to us!¡± ¡°I will not,¡± says the man, breathing extra hard as if to emphasize his point. Wet leaks out of his armor. ¡°The pact was sealed and so it shall remain,¡± he says. ¡°Shove your cryptic-bullshit ¡®pact¡¯ up your ass! You!¡± Jubilee pulls on Fresh¡¯s collar, trying to pull her up from the ground. ¡°Get the fuck up and tell this guy to get out of here!¡± Fresh¡¯s arms shoot up and grabs Jubilee, pulling them down onto the ground with her as she hugs them, pressing them against her drenched robe. ¡°JUBILEEEEEE~¡± ¡°I SAID IT¡¯S OVER!¡± yells Jubilee, struggling, but unable to escape her grasp. ¡°You wanted to be an adventurer, remember?! Well this is what adventuring is! People die! Places get destroyed! Toughen the fuck up already! We need to go before someone finds us!¡± ¡°But what will we dooo~?!¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you listening, goo-brain?! We¡¯re going to go somewhere else!¡± ¡°But the store -¡± complains Fresh. ¡°- We¡¯ll make a new store, shithead! There are other dungeons and other cities!¡± hisses Jubilee, wiggling themselves free from her clutches. Fresh sniffles, pulling herself slowly upright. ¡°All of our money was back in the city!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°We¡¯ll make new money.¡± ¡°But all of our things?¡± she asks, wiping her eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll get new things!¡± ¡°Your teddy-bear!¡± yells Fresh, distraught, clenching her fists and leaning in towards Jubilee. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Just make me a new one, jackass! If you don¡¯t get up, I¡¯m going to start walking and leave you behind with this creep!¡± Jubilee points to the man from the sect who lets out another heavy, excited breath at hearing this prospect. Fresh rubs her eyes, stands upright and grabs her wet boots. ¡°Okaaaay¡­¡± she says. ¡°Are you okay, Jubilee? You were hurt, your arm,¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off, a drip of red running down the outside of their glove. Fresh looks over to the man from the sect who is still covered in a worrying amount of dampness himself. ¡°What about you?¡± ¡°Optimal.¡± ¡°Liars!¡± yells Fresh, pointing at them both. ¡°You¡¯re both liars!¡± Jubilee shrugs and walks towards the forest. The man from the sect says nothing, but stares at her as she slips on her wet boots and walks after her friend. The three of them walk through the forest, ragged, bloody and exhausted. ¡°What¡¯s the east like?¡± asks Fresh, suppressing a sniffle. ¡°Depends how far we go. It gets rocky at first with a bunch of forests, but after that comes the desert,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The eastern dungeon is pretty decent. High level. But the people are a lot more relaxed than around here. Less politics, it¡¯s a real meritocracy,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Turns out desert life doesn¡¯t lend itself well to stupid squabbles when you need to be spending your day killing crabs.¡± ¡°Crabs?¡± asks Fresh, considering what that means. ¡°That sounds nice,¡± she says, rubbing her eyes again as she tries to get her mind off of things. ¡°Do they like witches then?¡± ¡°No. Nobody likes witches,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Oh¡­¡± ¡°I do,¡± says a heavy voice from behind them. Fresh laughs with a nervous smile and waves to the man from the sect. ¡°And the west?¡± ¡°Cold as fuck,¡± says Jubilee as they walk through the forest. ¡°The western dungeon is up in the mountains.¡± ¡°Ooh, mountains are pretty!¡± says Fresh, trying to keep her voice stable. ¡°Sure? I guess?¡± replies Jubilee, looking back to her and shrugging. ¡°The western dungeon is a mid-level thing and the people are more reserved. But they have good food, I¡¯ll give ¡®em that. Things are kind of fucky there though.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°They¡¯re very¡­ magic oriented. Mountain life is harsh too, so they¡¯ve been pretty creative with their ways of doing things.¡± ¡°So they like witches?!¡± ¡°No,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I d-¡± ¡°Shut up!¡± yells Jubilee at the man from the sect. He lets out a long exhale in response, his breastplate sinking a bit. ¡°Won¡¯t the church tell them about us?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat worried. ¡°No. Not in any way that matters at least. The church isn¡¯t really present in the west or the east, apart from the odd missionary here or there. They have their own ways of doing things, you know?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Fresh, shaking her head. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Anyways, we¡¯re going to have a long walk ahead of us. We should have bought that fucking cart and anqa while we had the chance.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± relents Fresh, sighing along with her friend. Suddenly, a scream rings out in the distance, growing louder and louder as it echoes towards them. Fresh turns around, recognizing the voice. ¡°BASIL!¡± calls the girl, turning around to run back. A heavy arm catches her as she runs into the inside of his elbow. ¡°Let me go! Basil¡¯s in trouble!¡± argues Fresh, but the man from the sect doesn¡¯t let go. ¡°Basil made her choice. Let¡¯s get out of here,¡± says Jubilee, walking on ahead entirely indifferent. ¡°You! Meat-head. If you want to keep her safe, then keep her safe from herself.¡± The man from the sect doesn¡¯t say anything, looking at Jubilee and then back to Fresh who is trying to fight free from his grip. Grunting, he picks her up again like before and she flails, striking at him again like before, as the three of them march deeper into the forest. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°Let me go! LET ME GO!¡± yells Fresh, striking against the back of his metal helmet. ¡°BASIL!¡± yells the girl into the forest. The scream grows louder, as if chasing after them. Seconds later, Basil breaks out through the tree-line behind them, having caught up, apparently being chased their way. A dark, glowing silhouette is in pursuit of her. A demonic entity, shining with a deathly purple aura, as it hovers through the air, flying after the priestess. Hounding her. Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide in shock as she watches the cursed lantern fly after Basil, her brown adventurer¡¯s bag hanging from it, as it barely manages to stay afloat in the air with the heavy load. The giant¡¯s other hand shoots out, clotheslining Basil right across her gut. The priestess lurches forward, wheezing as the air leaves her lungs in an instant. Without a word or even asking for Fresh¡¯s permission, the man from the sect hoists Basil up onto his other shoulder, carrying both of them as indifferent to their combined weight as can be, despite his injuries. Feeling greatly relieved, Fresh looks at the lantern that floats towards her and she reaches out, grabbing her bag from the thing that is clearly struggling to stay afloat. Feeling her eyes grow wet again as she looks at the familiar thing, she smiles. ¡°You tried really hard, thank you!¡± she says, rubbing its metal surface with her free hand as the bag droops down, scraping down against the ground. The lantern bobs up and down, before floating to the side and hovering next to Basil who hangs there adjacent to her, over the man¡¯s other shoulder, limply, entirely dazed, wheezing and stunned. The depiction of the corrupted guardian angel shines with a sickly glow, the befoulment of the thing however does not stop it from fulfilling the original intent of its creator, as if the lantern had known all along what its purpose was on the day of its genesis, like a soul finding its passion in life and feeling a spark of particular conviction, it simply knows. She had made it to keep Basil safe and the lantern had fulfilled its obligation. The pact had already been sealed. Fresh smiles, happy that Basil finally got her present. In a manner of speaking. Looking down at the bag in her hands, she shakes it, feeling a familiar weight inside. A thudding of a heavy, wet book can be heard. As well as the jangling of a heap of shining coins, which rings out through the forest with a bright, happy sound that signals one thing; that perhaps, with a little more luck, that everything is going to be okay after all. Razmatazz Road trip! Road trip arc is gonna be about [X] chapters long. 10 - 12 And we''re not going to stop at a rest-stop on the way, so use the bathroom now if you have to. I have sandwitches in a cooler in the trunk and a case of water, so no, we''re not getting McDonalds on the way. What? You didn''t put new batteries in to your gameboy? Then look out of the window and pretend a little stick man is running alongside the car. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 106: Clearing the air ¡°Let me go! LET ME GO!¡± yells Basil, kicking and flailing like Fresh had done before. The priestess¡¯ fists strike against the large metal helmet of the man from the sect, who lets out a disgruntled sigh and jolts straight upright, jostling both of them back into place on his shoulders. ¡°I will not,¡± is all that he says, as he keeps walking, ignoring the fists striking against the back of his head. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Basil. He¡¯s really nice,¡± says Fresh, hanging over his other shoulder. ¡°DON¡¯T TALK TO ME!¡± shouts the priestess, swiping her hand out the other way. Fresh pulls her head back and the fist just misses her by an inch. ¡°WITCH! DEMON!¡± Basil kicks and squirms. ¡°YOU STOLE EVERYTHING FROM ME!¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Huh? I didn¡¯t do anythi-¡± ¡°Will you both just PLEASE shut up?¡± snaps Jubilee from up on ahead. ¡°There might be people searching for us out here!¡± ¡°I WILL NOT!¡± yells Basil as loud as she can. ¡°LET ME GO, YOU MONSTER!¡± The man from the sect lets out a heavy, agitated sigh. ¡°We¡¯re all friends here, Basil,¡± explains Fresh, reaching over to grab the priestess¡¯ shoulder. ¡°AS IF!¡± shouts Basil, slapping her arm away. ¡°I won¡¯t be associated with something so VILE! SO DISGUSTING, AS YOU!¡± ¡°IF YOU DON¡¯T SHUT UP, WE¡¯RE GOING TO JAM YOU IN A TREE AND LEAVE YOU THERE!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°PLEASE DO!¡± yells the priestess, looking back and trying to kick down at Jubilee. Feeling the priestess¡¯ sharp words reach her, Fresh looks at Basil somewhat frightened and then looks away, staring down at the forest ground behind them, which is being stained with a trail of a constant trickle of wet every few odd steps. Just another thing in the world that is being befouled because of her existence. All four of them are quiet for a time, two of them walking silently through the forest. The red sunrise shines in through the trees, the lantern, floating at Basil¡¯s side, hovers quietly up and down, always avoiding her swiping fists as she swings at it, before floating back into place a moment later. ¡°I need to go back,¡± hisses Basil quietly, clenching her teeth and eyes shut. Fresh doesn¡¯t look up, she just stares at the wet trail the man leaves in his wake. ¡°I need to go back,¡± repeats the priestess, starting to cry now that her rage has settled. But she does her best to press it down, judging by the wet sounds coming from her throat that she seems to strain to clench tightly closed. ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± says Fresh, feeling something hot in her chest. ¡°None of us can ever go back, Basil.¡± ¡°I NEED TO GO BA -¡± A sharp crack rings out through the air, echoing through the forest. The tree-line ahead of them rustles, as a small group of birds take flight, perhaps having been frightened off by the sudden disturbance. ¡°YOU CAN¡¯T!¡± yells Fresh as the palm of her hand leaves Basil¡¯s face, leaving a sharp, red mark on the priestess¡¯ cheek. She looks at Fresh with wide, shocked eyes. ¡°THEY¡¯RE JUST GOING TO KILL YOU AGAIN!¡± shouts the girl at Basil, worming her way further outward to reach over and grab the cuff of her robe, pulling her around the man¡¯s back. ¡°YOU STUPID JERK!¡± yells Fresh as she looks at the priestess, who loses control now and starts crying with a loud howl. ¡°We¡¯re friends! If you like it or not! J- JEEEERK!¡± cries Fresh, starting to howl just as loud as Basil now. ¡°Okay. That¡¯s it. ENOUGH!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough! YOU! SET THEM DOWN! NOW!¡± commands their sharp voice, together with a few snaps of their fingers. The man from the sect lets out another loud, agitated sigh. But seems to be willing to follow Jubilee¡¯s instructions this time and bends over forward, setting the two of them down onto the grass next to each other. He stands back up straight and places his hands down against his lower sides, as he seems to stretch himself out, now that the heavy load is off of his back. ¡°I bet you¡¯re glad, huh?¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°That prophecy is really working out, huh?! Dumb-ass!¡± they say to him, pointing at Fresh who has trapped Basil in a desperate hug that the priestess doesn¡¯t fight. ¡°Here¡¯s your witch! I hope it was worth it!¡± ¡°I have faith,¡± says the man, rolling his shoulders. ¡°The moon reveals itself one night at a time.¡± ¡°Shove it, you poetic fuck!¡± barks Jubilee at him, their eyes clearly twitching in agitation as they then look at Basil. ¡°And you! You¡¯re afraid of that wet-mess?! Sort your shit! You should be afraid of the fuckers who killed you in the street!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°Gods! You all make me si- STOP CRYING!¡± Neither of them stop crying. Jubilee clutches their hood in exasperation. ¡°What is wrong with you people!? Haven¡¯t any of you ever had a bad day before!? Why are you all so emotional?!¡± The four of them stay there in the small wooded area for a time. Jubilee flops down, laying on their back on the grass in the tiny clearing between the rings of trees around them. The man from the sect sits down against one of the giant trees. It almost seems to lean back as he places his weight against it, as if it were trying to escape him but unable to do so. All the while, Fresh and Basil sit where they are, the two of them babbling like the sound of water coming out from a distant fountain. An hour passes and the heat begins to grow, but out here in the forest, it seems far gentler than it was inside of the walls of the city. The shade of the lush, green trees combined with the gentle breeze that leaks through the verdant woodland offers a soft calmness which makes the heat not only bearable, but comfortable in a dazy, sleepy manner. The world is filled with birdsong that comes from all around them and even the cicadas seem to make themselves heard out here. Soon enough, the two of them have calmed down enough to hold a reasonable conversation again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± says Basil. ¡°I know that you aren¡¯t evil. I was just¡­ overwhelmed,¡± says Basil, wiping her eyes. A black smear runs across her cheek, as if something dark had just dribbled out of her eye. Fresh sniffs, rubbing her eyes dry. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Basil. I know that dying is really scary.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Oh, uh, I mean, it has to be, right?¡± says Fresh, not sure why exactly she is hiding the fact that she has died before as well. At this point, she¡¯s so deep inside of the ¡®white-lie¡¯ of it, that it would feel wrong to just casually mention it now, after all of this. Especially after all of the strong feelings her friends had shown when they thought she was in danger. It¡¯s a secret, a deception, but in her eyes, a small kindness. She doesn¡¯t want to tarnish their efforts. ¡°Do you think the children will be okay?¡± asks Basil, clearly worried. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll miss you, but I think they¡¯ll be fine,¡± reassures Fresh. ¡°After all, everyone thinks you¡¯re dead.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says Basil, getting up and trying to wipe off her filthy robe. A few crumbs of dirt and grass fall off, but that does little to help its overall filthy appearance. The priestess holds down her hands, helping Fresh get up. ¡°So what happens now?¡± Fresh smiles and takes her hands, standing up next to her. ¡°We¡¯re going to a new city. Somewhere far away and we¡¯re going to make a new store! All of us, together!¡± ¡°That sounds like a lot of work,¡± says Basil, uncertainly. Fresh just nods excitedly. ¡°I hope so! Ah!¡± Fresh grabs Basil¡¯s hands tighter. ¡°Will you come with us? Please?!¡± Basil fidgets with her arms, but Fresh doesn¡¯t let go and simply grabs on tighter. ¡°Okay. But¡­ no more secrets.¡± The priestess looks around at the kind forest around them. ¡°I can¡¯t stand secrets any more.¡± Fresh nods excitedly, leaning in towards Basil. ¡°Mm! It¡¯s a promise!¡± *- Fresh -* Jubilee Basil ¡°Fucking finally,¡± sighs Jubilee from a few meters away. ¡°Can we get going now? It¡¯s going to take us weeks to get there as is.¡± Jubilee pushes themselves up off of the ground, wincing as they use their hurt arm. Limping a little, Jubilee walks over to the man from the sect and without a second thought, kicks his armor right in the stomach area where he¡¯s wounded. ¡°Hey! Freak-show! We¡¯re going. Get up.¡± He lets out a disgruntled groan, lifting his head to look at Jubilee. He turns to the side, staring at Fresh who scratches her cheek and then gives him a nod. Straining himself with a hand against the tree, he gets up. A light drifts out from next to her and Fresh lifts a hand over her eyes, as she watches the bright glow wrap around Jubilee and the man. The white shine, tinged with a rainbow glow like a slick of oil on a sunny day, encapsulates their silhouettes and then fades away a few seconds later, as it is carried off by the drifting wind that pushes through the forest. ¡°Ah, fuck me,¡± says Jubilee as they shake out their arm and legs. ¡°You could have done that half an hour ago, you know?¡± A loud metal clanking rings out, as the man from the sect pounds against his chest. ¡°Acceptable.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, laughing meekly as she looks at Basil who is still next to her. ¡°Ah¡­ I think they mean ¡®thank you.¡¯¡± Basil nods, looking uneasily at the lantern next to her. ¡°What is this thing?¡± asks the priestess as she stares at the mangled depiction of the angel and the horrible monsters that are drawn onto the surface of the metal. Fresh¡¯s eyes light up with glee. ¡°Ah! I made it for you, Basil!¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Basil looks at the cursed lantern which floats next to her. Its deathly purple shine silhouetting her features rather ominously. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have...¡± Razmatazz Ah, the more things change, the more they stay the same =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 107: Not so different ¡°It¡¯s so cute!¡± exclaims Fresh, leaning forward to look at the little, green creature that is wiggling itself out of the hollow tree trunk. Feeling her presence looming over itself, the small, gelatinous body puffs itself out wide, stretching itself thin, but much wider, as it tries to enlarge its appearance. The tiny slime jiggles menacingly. Fresh isn¡¯t sure how to process it exactly in her waking mind, but the wet, slapping sounds come together to form a few noises in her head. Not exactly words, but more the sensation of words being said, as she reads the slime¡¯s body language. ¡°Bad! Bad!¡± says the little slime. She supposes slimes are forest monsters. ¡°Get away from the slime, goo-brain,¡± barks Jubilee, grabbing her hand and pulling her back a few steps as the slime jiggles, flapping its goo around in an effort to look like an imposing threat. ¡°I know you have a lot in common, but this isn¡¯t the time.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± says Fresh, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms. ¡°Rude.¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers. ¡°You, meat-head. Aren¡¯t you supposed to kill monsters? Go for it.¡± ¡°No!¡± yells Fresh, looking down at Jubilee and then lifting a finger to stop the man from the sect who was already pulling out his sword. ¡°Don¡¯t kill it! It¡¯s cute!¡± A heavy breath escapes his body and he lets the sword fall back into the straps holding the weapon on his back. ¡°It¡¯s worth at least two experience-points,¡± says Jubilee with a shrug. ¡°Plus it came to us. I¡¯d say its a freebie from the universe.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Look at it! It¡¯s great!¡± The slime, agitated at being ignored, stretches itself out even thinner in an effort to grow taller as it continues dancing around in agitation. Its body, barely reaching the size of a glass-chicken, quivers as it seems to struggle to hold itself upright like this. The leaves nearby rustle as a soft wind pushes through the forest. The stretched out slime catches some of it and loses its balance. Fresh yelps as the little slime falls off of the top of the hollow log, splatting down to the grass below. ¡°Oh no!¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, dumb-ass. It¡¯s just a slime. Come on, let¡¯s just go. We¡¯re burning daylight.¡± Jubilee looks down at the little slime. ¡°Fucking slimes. Fucking goo. I hate forest monsters.¡± ¡°Awww, but Jubileee~¡± protests Fresh, watching the slime pull itself together. The small creature collects itself back into a tight ball of shiny, translucent goo. Apparently not fazed by its crushing defeat, the creature begins puffing itself up again, trying to scare the intruders away with a wiggly dance that is perhaps meant to be terrifying, but doesn¡¯t quite succeed. ¡°I suppose it does have its charm,¡± says Basil, standing a few feet to the side and Fresh nods back to her excitedly. ¡°Right?¡± Tilting her head, she looks back at its body, watching as it seems to pull some air into itself to create a hollow bubble inside of itself that pushes its goo outwards like an expanding balloon. The girl leans forward, moving closer to the slime. ¡°Will you just leave the damned thing alone? Come on, we gotta go!¡± yells Jubilee from the tree-line. Fresh stares at the slime and the slime stares at her, puffing itself up further and further in its fearless effort to intimidate the giant before it. She gets an idea and takes a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks as far as she can. The slime stops, releasing the air out of itself immediately as it drops down into a tiny, flat, quivering puddle. ¡°Scary-bad! Scary-bad!¡± cries the slime, apparently distraught as it quickly crawls away, vanishing back inside of the tree-trunk. Fresh lets the air out of her cheeks. ¡°Ah! No! I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean it!¡± she calls in to the hole. But the slime has already vanished, quickly fleeing the scene. ¡°Oh nooo~¡± says Fresh, feeling terrible now. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± calls the girl over to her friend. ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®Jubileeeeee~¡¯ me, you slime-brain. It¡¯s great that you¡¯re having fun, but we need to get as far as we can while it¡¯s still light outside and before we get murdered!¡± Jubilee points at Basil. ¡°Some of us for the second time!¡± Jubilee¡¯s finger moves to point at the man from the sect. ¡°You two! Stop encouraging her or we¡¯re all going to die out here, because she wants to talk to monsters!¡± The man from the sect lets out a heavy breath. Basil lets out a relenting sigh and walks on ahead as well, grabbing Fresh¡¯s sleeve as she passes. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get going. Jubilee is right.¡± Fresh frowns, but supposes that her friends do have a point. They are in a kind of a rush. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s go!¡± She looks back to the man from the sect. ¡°Come on, we still have a long ways to go.¡± She scratches her cheek, adjusting the bag on her back with her other hand. ¡°I think?¡± ¡°We do,¡± says Jubilee as they continue walking through the woods. ¡°We¡¯re just heading south for now -¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± asks Basil. Jubilee lifts a hand, going on. ¡°Don¡¯t be a baby. It¡¯s just for a little, then we¡¯ll break off and head west or east. But we have to get away from the city first.¡± Jubilee lowers their hand. ¡°If you think there aren¡¯t witch-hunting parties out for us this very second, then boy do I have news for you.¡± Fresh watches as Basil looks over to her and then back forward, fidgeting with her sleeves the entire time, the bracelet jangling on her wrist. ¡°What about¡­¡± Basil carries an uneasy tone in her voice. ¡°What about the other witches?¡± ¡°The coven is silent,¡± says a heavy voice from behind them. ¡°Only Gauden and Spillaholle remain.¡± Basil shudders, the man from the sect¡¯s eyes shine through his helmet with great excitement. ¡°Perchta has returned. The prophecy begins anew.¡± Fresh looks back at the man in surprise, remembering the word from the anqa. ¡°Prophecy schmophecy,¡± says Jubilee, waving the man off as they walk. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s a ¡®perchta¡¯?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the giant walking behind them. ¡°Can you tell me about witch-stuff?¡± Basil covers her ears and walks on ahead at a quicker pace, starting to hum as she passes by Jubilee. The man lets out an excited breath, his breastplate heaving as he looks at her. ¡°When it is dark.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°When it is dark,¡± repeats the man and Fresh scratches her cheek, shrugging. Basil seems to hear this rejection and slows down, coming back to Fresh¡¯s side a moment later, looking a little relieved. ¡°Okay!¡± she says, agreeing to his terms. It sounds a little odd, but at least someone is around who can finally tell her about her class. She looks back at the man from the sect, the giant towering in his dark-cobalt armor like a monstrous shadow of the specter of death. He seems oddly out of place in the lush, vibrant forest that they find themselves in. Then again, looking down at her own frayed black robe, she supposes she isn¡¯t much better off. Fresh sighs. She wishes she had bought more clothes after all while she had had the chance. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s your name?¡± asks Fresh curiously. ¡°Unimportant,¡± responds the man from the sect. ¡°But I wanna know!¡± argues the girl. The man says nothing. ¡°Please?¡± begs Fresh, walking backwards as she looks at him. She reaches out, grabbing his giant hand. The man¡¯s breastplate lurches. ¡°I guess we¡¯ve known each other for a while, but I¡¯m Fresh!¡± She lifts her other hand, raising a finger and wagging it as she enunciates. ¡°It¡¯s - nice - to - meet - you!¡± The man lets out a long exhalation. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if it¡¯s a sigh or a groan or if the man is just breathing as hard as he always does. She pulls on his hand, trying to lift it up from his side to shake it, but the heavy thing doesn¡¯t budge an inch from her meager attempt to move it. Her perspective suddenly shifts as something in the world around her changes. ¡°IAH!¡± yelps the girl, stumbling backwards, having tripped over a root. A hand reaches out, grabbing her other shoulder and catching her before she falls. Pulling her back upright, the giant spins her around and then gently pushes against her back to get her to keep walking on forward, perhaps in the hopes that she¡¯ll drop the subject. ¡°Thank you!¡± laughs Fresh. ¡°So?¡± she asks, apparently not getting the hint. The man doesn¡¯t answer. Fresh narrows her eyes, not willing to accept this. Taking in a deep breath, she pulls in a large amount of air and puffs out her cheeks as she turns back to face the man, who is very much unlike the small slime from before, attempting to win him over with a display of dominance. ¡°Will you just tell her your stupid name?!¡± yells Jubilee from the front. ¡°You people are going to drive me crazy! I swear¡­¡± Basil doesn¡¯t say anything, but nods quietly in agreement. The man from the sect looks back up and away from her, focusing on the forest ahead of them. The haunting glint of his eyes, hidden under his heavy helmet, shines in a different manner than usual. ¡°Shamrock.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°That¡¯s a really cute name!¡± she says, clearly delighted. The man seems less thrilled. ¡°Damn plant-fuckers,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°They got you too, huh?¡± Basil looks back at the man, apparently surprised. ¡°You were in the church? Why did you¡­ you know?¡± ¡°I kill monsters,¡± says the man, not making eye-contact with any of them. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 108: Fresh fish The water of the river rushes past them with a steady, strong flow. It is resoundingly quiet however, as the crashing noise seems to be absorbed by the densely packed forest surrounding them on all sides. It is close to becoming dark again and the four of them have opted to stop here for a while. Not for the whole night, as they needed to keep moving. But for a few hours at least to rest and to finally have a moment to breathe, all together. Fresh sits at the bank of the river, her damp boots taken off and laid to the side to finally properly air out. The bottom of her dress is hiked up and she has her feet dangling down into the cool water of the river, staring at her own reflection which is waving back and forth on top of the rippling surface. Sparsely any sunlight remains that manages to shine in through the thick canopy. Instead, Basil¡¯s lantern hovers high in the air above the tiny clearing, illuminating the entire space with a rather grim aura that seems to beckon in the dark night to come just a little faster. Jubilee had forbidden her from trying to help get the small campsite ready, saying that she would just set the forest on fire and get them all killed. She lets out a sigh that then quickly turns into a long, deep yawn before it finishes leaving her throat. They had been walking through the forest for the entire morning and then the entire afternoon and then the entire evening. Fresh¡¯s legs feel like slime. At the end of their march, she was basically dragging herself along to keep going and eventually Shamrock had to hoist her over his shoulder again, despite Jubilee¡¯s protest to just leave her behind in the forest. Saying that she¡¯d catch up if she really wanted to. ¡°You¡¯re a lot of trouble, you know?¡± says Fresh, looking at the girl in the water who just shrugs back at her, looking just as exhausted as she feels. Her stomach growls, her gut clenching together as if in response to her own statement. She flops backwards, leaving her feet in the water as she spreads her arms out over the grass and stares up at the tiny fragments of the dark sky that are still visible through the foliage hanging above them. Her hand grazes the fabric of her bag which is set to the side. Pressing a finger into it, she feels the many coins. A small fortune, which could buy them absolutely nothing out here. ¡°Water-water everywhere and not a drop to drink,¡± sighs Fresh in a sing-song voice. ¡°Don¡¯t drink the river water until we figure out how to boil it, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, standing behind her and leaning over forward, their mask hovering above her face. ¡°Especially now that you¡¯ve tainted it with your goblin feet.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have goblin feet!¡± protests Fresh as she stares up, looking at Jubilee who stares back down at her, neither of them say anything further for a while. Perhaps both are too tired from the exertion of the happenings of this recent disaster. ¡°Thanks for not leaving without me,¡± says Fresh, breaking the silence. Jubilee lets out a sigh now as well, their hard eyes softening as they pull back and turn away. ¡°As if. I need you so that we can open a new store somewhere else.¡± Fresh tilts her head back, looking at Jubilee¡¯s back. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your house.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°I know it was important to you.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Jubilee looks back down at her. ¡°It was our house. Not mine.¡± ¡°Jubilee,¡± calls Fresh out quietly, somewhat surprised and touched. Jubilee rolls their eyes and turns back forward. Neither of them say anything further, listening to the water of the river as they watch Basil walk by, carrying a load of sticks for the fire that the man from the sect is starting. His giant hands are clasped around a tiny ember, like a titan nurturing a tiny, budding blossom before the breaking of the first spring of its life. ¡°It was about time anyways I think,¡± says Jubilee rather abruptly. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You have to bury the dead eventually, I think I waited long enough.¡± Fresh stares at Jubilee, not sure what to say. She lifts a hand, grabbing hold of her friend¡¯s leg simply for the sake of it. A loud growl rings out, breaking the quiet as Jubilee¡¯s stomach rumbles this time. Fresh frowns and both of them sigh at the same time. The clearing erupts into a bright, warm light as Shamrock pulls his metal gauntlets away from the newborn fire. His wild eyes, hidden behind the heavy helmet, stare intently at the tiny blaze, the orange light reflecting off of the besmirched metal of his body, painting the dark-cobalt with a kind warmth that seems oddly out of place on his frightening exterior. ¡°Wow!¡± says Fresh, the water splashing as she rolls over, pulling her feet out to look at the growing fire. ¡°You¡¯re really great!¡± The man exhales loudly, the massive breath of his lungs pushing the flames to the side, almost extinguishing them. ¡°It¡¯s just a fire, goo-brain. Literally every adventurer knows how to make a fire without matches. This is day one stuff.¡± Jubilee looks down at her and shakes their head. ¡°But maybe it¡¯s for the best that you don¡¯t know how.¡± Fresh gets up, letting go of Jubilee¡¯s leg and she wipes off her dirty robe, heading over towards the fire with her boots and bag in hand. She looks up to the lantern above them. ¡°Thank you! You can take a break now,¡± she says with a nod and smile. The lantern lowers itself down, floating back over to Basil who tenses up immediately as it floats at her side again. ¡°Does it have to float right next to me?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh proudly, not picking up on Basil¡¯s unease. ¡°That¡¯s what makes it great!¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± says Basil, looking at the spooky lantern hovering close to her head. The priestess tosses the bundle of sticks down next to the fire and looks at the man from the sect. He lifts his head, looking back up at her. Both of them stare at each other, perhaps wondering why the other is doing so, before they break their eye-contact and look back towards the steadily rising fire. Glass shatters behind them, together with a loud splashing. ¡°Jubilee!¡± calls out Fresh in surprise, worried that something had happened. Jubilee stands at the bank of the river, staring up at a spear of glass that rises out of the river-bed. A large, glistening fish flops around on the end of the skewer. Impaled straight through the eyes. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, looking back at her. Jubilee snaps their fingers, sending a second spear out of the embankment that rips the body of the fish off of the skewered head, sending it flying over their way. The mangled, decapitated carcass lands on the grass next to her. ¡°You¡¯re in charge of cooking. Clean it and get rid of any glass,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks around at Basil and the man from the sect and then points to herself. ¡°Me?¡± ¡°You.¡± ¡°Are you sure? I don¡¯t know if I can¡­¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t get one or two more.¡± Fresh rubs her arm nervously. She isn¡¯t much of a cook and she¡¯s never cooked fish before, let alone over an open fire. Another growl rings out quietly, just next to her and Fresh looks at Basil who stares down at the fire, embarrassed. The girl¡¯s eyes wander back to the fish that is still somehow flopping on the grass, despite not having a head and bleeding profusely. It seems like a rather grim spectacle, but she supposes that it is what it is. Her friends are hungry and she can¡¯t do much of anything, let alone anything right, but she can do this. She can try at least. ¡°OKAY!¡± yells Fresh excitedly and far too loud, jumping up to her feet and hurrying over to the fish. She still has a knife and a dagger in her bag if she recalls. Maybe she can do something with those. ¡°Don¡¯t yell, dumb-ass,¡± says Jubilee, turning back to the water as the glass shatters and is carried away downstream. ¡°Okay,¡± whispers Fresh, grabbing the dead fish by the tail and lifting it up into the air. It continues to flop around, slapping against her arm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says to the fish that clearly can¡¯t hear her anymore. But it makes her feel better at least. It¡¯s like with Mr. Mushroom on her first day here. It isn¡¯t anything personal. It just is what it is. Survival. Mr. Fish would understand, she¡¯s sure of it. Heading over to the water, she grabs the athame from her bag. It isn¡¯t really meant for this kind of work, but she supposes that she probably shouldn¡¯t use her cursed-dagger to prepare food. That seems like a bad idea, even to her. Sitting by the water, she cuts a long, vertical cut along the belly of the fish from top to bottom and closes her eyes, holding the fish down beneath the surface. Gulping, she presses her fingers into its carcass and grabs everything squishy and gooey and pulls it out, tearing out all of the organs that she can identify, doing her best not to think about the gross sensations beneath her fingers. It¡¯s for her friends, she¡¯s doing this for them. Pulling the gutted fish back out a moment later, she sets it onto the grass and takes the knife, pressing it horizontally into the open ¡®neck¡¯ of the fish and slices half of its body off, as she runs the blade down towards its tail. Lifting the piece of pink meat up, she stares at it with a rather unexpected feeling of deep pride in her chest. This thing in her hands certainly looks like a fillet. Smiling, she flips the fish over and repeats the movement for the other side, slicing the second half off, leaving only a long bone in the center and the tail. The fillets still have scales on one side of each of them and she considers descaling them, but maybe it would be best to leave these on? To protect them from the heat over the fire. Returning to the water, she washes the two fillets off and pulls out any small bones that she can find in the meat. She thinks for a while, wondering what she is going to cook these on? Should she skewer them on some sticks and just hold them over the fire? Or maybe she could find a big rock and just put them on-top of it? Hmm¡­ she looks around, staring at Jubilee for a moment. ¡°Ah! Jubilee?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, looking back at her. Fresh tells Jubilee her plan, excitedly and Jubilee seems to think it¡¯s workable and makes her a long block of glass that she then cuts into a long plank shape and sands so that it doesn¡¯t reflect. Then she has Jubilee make two thick blocks of glass and sands them down as well using her craftsman abilities. Carefully, she rinses it all off in the river. Carrying everything over to the fire, that only Shamrock sits down by now, she sets one block on either side of the small fire and then places the long glass ¡®board¡¯ down as a bridge over the flames. The light of the fire shines through the glass, filling the clearing with a strange, haunting light that glimmers like a swarm of dancing fireflies, as the flames move back and forth. Smiling, under the curious gaze of the man from the sect, she sets the two fillets down on top of the glass plank, with the scales facing down. The wet meat starts hissing with a satisfying noise almost immediately. Basil emerges from the side, a bundle of plants in her hand. ¡°I found some herbs, they aren¡¯t the best tasting, but they¡¯re good to eat,¡± says the priestess and Fresh beams in delight at her. ¡°Thank you, Basil!¡± Clinking glass can be heard from the river as Jubilee catches another fish. Fresh can¡¯t help but smile brighter despite everything that has happened. Maybe it¡¯s because she¡¯s tired, exhausted and even a little delirious, but looking at her friends, for the first time since her arrival, she feels like she really is on an adventure. The sun finally sets for the night, leaving only the aura of the soft flames and the smell of fresh fish in the air. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 109: They float Fresh covers her mouth as she lets out a loud yawn, doing her best to suppress it so that she doesn¡¯t wake up her friends. Jubilee and Basil are laying on the grass around the small fire-pit, both of them having long since fallen asleep. The lantern has hung itself on a branch and floats there above their heads. She wonders if it¡¯s sleeping as well? Jubilee seemed to have been exhausted too and simply fell asleep on the spot, as soon as they laid down. Basil on the other hand appears to be an active sleeper and constantly kicks and twitches and mumbles in her sleep. Fresh was sure that Basil was having a nightmare at first and she didn¡¯t blame the priestess for having one. Dying is a fairly stressful life event after all. But judging by her sleepy ramblings about orange fishes, she supposes that the priestess is just dreaming about their dinner, which had turned out surprisingly well, given the circumstances. Jubilee had caught them a few more fish and Fresh had prepared them like a champion, with Basil helping her by watching the ones on the glass meanwhile. Fresh didn¡¯t want to tell any of them, because it seemed insensitive, But this was her favorite meal here so far in this world. Maybe it was just the experience itself, being out here in the wild with her friends. Or maybe it was still just the dying down of the adrenaline. It almost seemed romantic in a sense. But then she looks at the deep, bloodied tears in Basil¡¯s robe and pinches the skin on her own arm tightly between her nails for thinking something like that. People had suffered. She should feel bad and here she is thinking about fish. Fresh sits there with her head nodding. Her knees are pulled in and her arms are wrapped around them. She wants to sleep. She¡¯s so tired. But she has to stay awake and watch the fire. The man from the sect, Shamrock, is out there somewhere in the forest. He hadn¡¯t eaten any of the fish, despite Fresh basically shoving a whole fillet into the slits of his helmet and then even ordering him to eat. He simply said that he didn¡¯t like fish, spitting it back out. Basil¡¯s foot swings out as she kicks into the air. ¡°Oh no¡­¡± Fresh narrows her eyes, looking around the forest in suspicion. Are there foot-demons here? None of them are on a bed. Their feet are entirely unprotected, they¡¯re right smack-dab in the middle of demon country. She pulls her legs in tighter, watching her friends sleep for a while. Shamrock is out there in the forest now, killing monsters presumably. After they had eaten, he had gotten up and went into the woods with his sword on his back. Fresh didn¡¯t want to let him go on his own, but Jubilee told her that it was a good idea. The forest is apparently a dangerous place in its own right. It is absolutely full of small animals, but also low-level monsters. More than one person had apparently taken it too lightly and paid the final price for it. So it¡¯s for the best if someone is walking around close to the camp, killing everything that creeps and crawls in the dark. She should sleep too, honestly. But she wants to stay awake. Shamrock had promised her earlier that they could talk at night. She wonders why? Maybe he¡¯s superstitious? She supposes that she can¡¯t blame him. As far as he knows, the prophecy of the witch¡¯s sect came true. He killed monsters and a witch appeared. Just like magic. She doesn¡¯t have the heart to tell him that she was just a dummy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The bushes rustle. Fresh turns around, but then smiles a relieved smile. ¡°Did you have fun?¡± A bundle of gooey monster meat and bits of bone flop down onto the grass next to her. ¡°Tribute,¡± says the man with a heavy breath, walking past her to the other side of the fire. Fresh looks at the monster drops and then back to him. ¡°Ah¡­ uh¡­ thank you!¡± She frowns. ¡°Are you sure that you don¡¯t want a fish?¡± He grunts, stepping over Jubilee as he sits down across from her. Fresh stares at his helmet, tilting her head. She turns to the side, looking at Jubilee¡¯s mask then looks back at the man. She now realizes that she has never seen him take off his helmet either. Even when he drank from the fountain, he opted to dunk his whole head into the water. ¡°How come you don¡¯t ever take off your helmet?¡± ¡°I need it,¡± says the man. Fresh can see his eyes shine beneath the darkened slits of the metal as the firelight tries to push in to illuminate his face. But it never quite seems to reach all the way and simply dots the white of his wet eyes with an orange shine, as if they themselves were on fire. ¡°For what?¡± asks Fresh, scratching a cheek, already having an idea. ¡°To kill monsters.¡± Fresh laughs a quiet laugh, holding her hand over her mouth in an attempt to not wake her friends. That was very much the answer that she had expected. She takes a second to quiet down a little and then looks back at him. ¡°How come the witch¡¯s sect likes killing monsters so much?¡± He stares at her intently and Fresh isn¡¯t really sure what to feel about the gaze. It isn¡¯t one of fear or reverence. It¡¯s simply a blank, but intense, stare. As if the man was trying to win a staring contest against her. Though maybe the night is just playing tricks on her eyes. ¡°To fill the well of souls.¡± ¡°The what?¡± asks Fresh. He lets out a heavy breath. The licking flames of the fire push to the side for a moment as if trying to escape him, despite him being their creator. ¡°Witches float,¡± he says. Fresh realizes that getting an explanation out of him is going to be difficult, given that he always keeps his words short. ¡°¡­Huh?¡± ¡°Witches float,¡± he repeats, his gruff, deep voice booming out despite this apparently being his ¡®quiet tone¡¯. Fresh stares at him for a moment and then looks around as she thinks. ¡°So¡­ you kill monsters to fill uh¡­ the well of souls and then witches float to the top?¡± He nods his head once. ¡°Huh¡­¡± she thinks for a while, not sure if she really understands, though she gets the concept. Sort of. ¡°So why do you like witches?¡± ¡°Witches float,¡± repeats the man and Fresh stares at him, now entirely lost. Her hands press into her legs as she pulls them in tighter. Maybe she¡¯s just too dumb for this? Maybe she should just go to sleep? ¡°Can¡­ can you explain? Please? I don¡¯t get it,¡± she asks timidly, averting her gaze and staring down into the fire. She isn¡¯t sure if they were having a staring contest or not, but if they were, then she just lost. There is a loud clanking as metal strikes metal. Fresh looks up, somewhat startled by the sudden noise. She sees that the man has hit his large gauntlet against his metal breastplate. ¡°Souls are heavy. They sink.¡± He exhales, breathing loudly for a time before going on. ¡°Witch¡¯s souls are light. They float.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡± asks Fresh, pressing her chin against her knees. So her soul is light? Great. That probably just means that even her soul is filled with nothing but air, just like her head. ¡°Too many.¡± Fresh looks up to him, raising her eyes but not lifting her head off of her knees. ¡°Too many heavy souls.¡± Now he looks down and away, averting his eyes from her to gaze into the fire, but keeping the same intensity in his glare. ¡°The world sinks,¡± says the man. ¡°We need to float.¡± Fresh stares at him, waiting for him to lift his head again and for him to say something else. But after a few moments of watching him, she notices that his head is drooping. The man has apparently fallen asleep while sitting upright. She looks at her friends who lie there asleep as well. As she looks at Basil, she notices that the priestess hasn¡¯t mumbled or kicked for a while now. The girl sighs and scoots over a few feet to the right, laying herself down next to Jubilee and closes her eyes, letting herself float away into whatever dream may come tonight. She pulls her legs inward, bending her knees so that her boots touch Jubilee¡¯s. Maybe four feet are too many for the demons to steal all at once. Razmatazz Please choose your complimentary ''floating'' reference below - A) "Hello Georgie!" B) "Who are you, to be so wise in the ways of science?" Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 110: A choice made A gently blowing wind pushes through the forest. The warm current almost whistles in a sing-song manner as it presses through the trees, gliding along the sharp edges of the leaves dangling high above their heads. It is early in the morning and the four of them are walking again, still heading southward for a while. They didn¡¯t have much of anything to pack up in the camp, but they did go through the trouble of hiding any evidence of their having been there. The glass that they used to cook, they had destroyed and thrown into the river. Fresh worried about it, saying that it would be dangerous if any children were playing here, but Jubilee said it was fine. Any children playing out here were going to be eaten by monsters anyways, so the glass was their smallest worry. The fire-pit they extinguished and buried with wet sand from the river bank. Fresh suggested that they bathe in the river. But Jubilee had called her a weird degenerate and Basil didn¡¯t seem pleased with the idea either, fumbling with her sleeves nervously the entire time. The man from the sect said nothing at all and simply stared at a bird sitting on a high branch. Fresh stares at her friends as she realizes how seriously all of them take the privacy of their bodies. Or maybe they¡¯re just all shy? She isn¡¯t sure actually. Then again, it¡¯s not like she wants to undress to bathe in the river either. So maybe all of them are just the same. A bit dirty and a little sweaty, yet somehow they all preferred that to the alternative. She wonders if all adventurers are like this? Shy that is. Or maybe it really is just them. Maybe they¡¯re just all weirdos. They walk along the bank of the river, opting not to press too deeply into the forest as it apparently can get rather dangerous the further you get from the northern city. For each day¡¯s worth of walking, the local monster¡¯s levels rose considerably. But near the river, there were only ever small creatures. An occasional goblin. Some wiggly slimes that Fresh does her best to protect from her friends. They even meet a green mush-mush, but it stands on the other side of the river and glares at them with wary eyes. ¡°Nyeh!¡± yells the green mush-mush over the water. Fresh gasps, shocked at its foul language. ¡°Nyeh~!¡± says the girl, crossing her arms indignantly and looking away as they continue walking. Basil looks back at her. ¡°Don¡¯t ask,¡± says Jubilee. An hour passes and then another and then another. They don¡¯t stop though, apart from a single five minute water break thereafter. Fresh scratches her cheek as she sits down on the stump, exhausted. She looks around herself. Something is out of place. Something that should be a certain way, but isn¡¯t. Her finger points over her friends as she counts. ¡°One. Two. Three¡­¡± her finger turns back and pokes against her own body. ¡°- Four.¡± She lifts her other hand up as she counts the other number in her head. The number of members in their party. ¡°One. Two¡­ three¡­ Oh!¡± The girl shoots up to her feet, realizing immediately what the problem is. She runs over to the giant from the sect who simply stands in the middle of the clearing, not feeling even a little awkward in the least. His towering presence simply stays right there, right in the middle, out in the open, without even a tree to lean against or a stump to sit down on as he waits. ¡°Hey! Wanna join our party?¡± asks Fresh, clenching her fists excitedly as she leans in towards him. He lets out a long exhalation. ¡°I am chosen.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± she scratches her cheek. ¡°Is¡­ is that a yes?¡± He nods once and Fresh smiles, delighted. That was surprisingly easy. *~- Fresh -~* Jubilee Basil Shamrock Jubilee chimes in from the side. ¡°Remember this day, meat-head. You¡¯re going to live to regret it.¡± Basil laughs a quiet laugh. Fresh frowns back at the two of them, wanting to say that it isn¡¯t that bad. But¡­ maybe it is that bad? She supposes she hasn¡¯t been a very good party-leader. They lost their home and one of her friends died, if only for a little while. That was on her. ¡°What?¡± asks Basil. Fresh blinks, realizing that she has been staring at the priestess. ¡°Ah¡­ nothing, I was just thinking.¡± Basil plays with the bracelet on her arm, barely hidden under the torn and bloodied sleeve of her once white robes. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, you know?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Jubilee told me about the golem.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide in shock. Is Basil mad at her? ¡°Ah! I didn¡¯t me -!¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°The dungeon breach was going to happen anyways. So¡­¡± The priestess shrugs. ¡°If anything, the golem helped because it woke everybody up.¡± Fresh stops, thinking for a moment. It makes sense, but she doesn¡¯t like that it does. It absolves her of too much, as strange as that sounds. In a sense, she wants to feel bad about it. Maybe it¡¯s still that piece of herself that she brought with her from her old life? ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± says Jubilee, walking back from the water. ¡°You¡¯re a dumb-ass. But the vampires would have creeped their way around in the middle of the night,¡± they explain. ¡°That many would have taken out half the plaza before anyone noticed and word got out.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°I don¡¯t know how, but somehow you always do the dumbest things at the right time.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, feeling uneasy about it. She turns her head and looks over at the shimmering water. Sometimes she isn¡¯t really sure if the things that she does are really things that she, herself, does. Sometimes ideas just come to her as if whispered into her ears. Sometimes her hands just seem to move on their own, as she rushes to do something new without thinking. But somehow - Her eyes look around at her collection of friends, up to the floating magical-lantern above them, down to the full bag at her side. - Somehow everything keeps working out, as if¡­ as if a force were pulling her along. It¡¯s like she wasn¡¯t making any of these decisions at all, like she was following a single, red string that pulls her from one place to the next, guiding her mind and thoughts with a gentle tug to the left and then a soft pull to the right. She listens to the water trickle, wondering, is the fountain controlling her? Or is that too convenient a thought? It would absolve her again from her own stupidity. She doesn¡¯t want that. She wants to carry it on her own back. ¡°- ey!¡± Jubilee yells from a few feet away and she snaps out of it, looking at the three of them who are standing there collected and waiting on her. ¡°We¡¯re leaving, with or without you, goo-brain!¡± ¡°Ah! Wait up!¡± yells Fresh grabbing her bag and running after her friends. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± she asks, catching up and already feeling winded from the short sprint. All of this walking is very hard for her with her frail body. But she can¡¯t let them see that. Perking up, she adjusts the straps of her bag and stands upright and tall. ¡°We go west or we go east. What¡¯s it gonna be?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. The three of them stare at her. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°You¡¯re the party-leader, dumb-ass. Make a choice. We¡¯ve gotten pretty far away now, we should have a bit of wiggle room.¡± Her eyes wander over Jubilee¡¯s, then Basil¡¯s and then over Shamrock¡¯s. All of them stare at her, expectantly. But she doesn¡¯t know what to tell them. She doesn¡¯t know anything about either of those places apart from the few sentences that Jubilee had mentioned to her. She doesn¡¯t know anything about this world at all. She can feel her heartbeat growing faster, her clammy skin feels colder than usual and a fresh sweat breaks on its surface. Breathing feels hard for her all of a sudden. ¡°I¡­ I -¡± she stutters as something touches her side. Her eyes wander down, to look at her own hand that is digging into her pocket, where it fishes out a single, simple Obol. Without knowing what she¡¯s doing, her hand moves. There is a slight chime, like the ringing of a quiet bell, as the tip of her nail strikes against the body of the coin, flipping it high into the air. The round piece of metal shimmers as it flies, a nigh-ruby reflection bouncing off of the polished coin, sending a quick glimmer over her eyes. The breeze seems to nudge it in the air, twisting the rotation in a strange, almost unnatural manner that only she seems to notice. Her hand shoots out, catching it as it falls down again and strikes against her open palm. She¡¯s surprised that she didn¡¯t fumble it. Though, she¡¯s surprised at what she¡¯s doing to begin with. Her fingers close tightly together, obscuring it. ¡°If it¡¯s the side without the face, we go east,¡± says Fresh. ¡°You mean tails?¡± asks Jubilee, rolling their eyes. Fresh sticks out her tongue. Opening her hand, she shows the coin to her friends and to herself. Five faces are present in the circle that they form. Jubilee sighs a breath of relief. ¡°Thank fuck. I would have died in the desert.¡± Basil nods, rolling her sleeves up as the afternoon heat slowly arrives. ¡°Mhm.¡± Shamrock lets out an indifferent grunt. Fresh smiles, leaning in to her friends. ¡°Let¡¯s go make a new shop in the west then! Better than before! All of us together!¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°Yup.¡± Basil agrees. ¡°Mhm.¡± Shamrock lets out an indifferent grunt. Fresh stares at her friends and then sighs, having hoped for a little more enthusiasm. But she¡¯s willing to accept this. It¡¯s good enough. Not wanting to think about it any more, she pockets the coin and walks together with her friends, as they break off into the forest and start heading west, towards the city in the mountains. Razmatazz [The end of Book {1}] Did you know that you can get super sick DIS merch on RedBubble? Stickers, mugs, journals and more! *Dun dun dun* (?) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 111: Weary March The forest is dangerous this deep inside the heart of it, at least according to Jubilee who Fresh sticks next to. Despite that, they haven¡¯t seen much of anything during their travels. The forest stretches on and on. It¡¯s not entirely featureless, but it¡¯s as good as so, in a sense. Every part of the forest looks like any other part of the forest. The same few species of tall, leafy trees fill the entire area for as far as she can see. Occasionally, there is a hollow log or a few stumps where woodcutters had set up camp some time ago and the forest seemingly had simply never healed those scars shut. Fresh sighs, staring at her friends who are all a little bit ahead of her. Her feet and legs ache with a dull throb and sweat drips down her forehead, despite the gentle calmness of the forest air that seems to temper the edge of summer significantly. Panting, she stares up at the three backs ahead of herself. Fresh blinks her eyes as a bead of sweat drips down from her brows, falling into her pupil. It stings a little. Pursing her lips, she wraps her fingers under the straps of her bags and leans forward, holding her head down as she tries to march a little faster to keep up with them. She doesn¡¯t want to be more of a burden. They march the rest of the day like that, mostly quietly, all of them just focused on walking through the forest that never seems to end. Every tree really does look like the last, every clearing like the one before it. The river is now far behind them and there hasn¡¯t been any source of water to find anywhere during the rest of the day. None of them had any flasks or canteens. Fresh realizes that she should have made a few bottles while they were at the river. She could kick herself in frustration, but her legs are too sore. Why didn¡¯t she think of that while they were there? As the sun sets and the forest quickly falls into darkness, the four of them make camp again. But now, they assign shifts to hold watch during the night. It¡¯s too dangerous out here for all of them to be asleep at the same time. Fresh offers to take the midnight watch, but the three of them politely decline, saying that she could take the morning one. At first she thinks that they are all trying to be nice and all of them want to let her sleep, having perhaps seen how hard she has been trying all day to keep up with them. But then she thinks that she realizes that they just don¡¯t trust her to do it on her own. Fresh sighs and plops down where she stands, falling asleep with her bag still on her back as she lays down sidewards in the grass. The next time she opens her eyes, it is bright outside again and Jubilee is standing in front of her, yelling at her to get up. She yawns, rubbing her eyes. Her entire body is sore. Is it really morning already? Groggily, she looks around at her friends who are already gathering together, the camp is already cleared and cleaned of any of their tracks. Standing up onto her wobbling legs, she hoists her bag into the air and runs after her friends, apologizing for not having helped with anything. None of them seem to mind that much though. The four of them continue their journey. Soon the morning ends, much like the day before. Then the afternoon comes and goes as well. All they do is walk, stopping only for an occasional, short break. The girl feels her stomach growling with some force several times, but never opens her mouth to complain. She knows that none of them have had anything to eat since the fish. But there are no fish around here to be seen and any small animals that they were able to catch have long since run away, scared off by the noise of their approaching. Evening comes, signaling the closing of another full day in which they did absolutely nothing but walk. Fresh still sags behind her friends, but they seemed to be slowing down as well. All of them are hungry, sweaty and exhausted. Thankfully there is shelter from the bright sun beneath the heavy canopy, but there is little else of relief. There is no water, just about as good as no food. As they walk, Fresh looks at every single plant that she can without slowing down. None of them seemed suitable for eating, for the most part. Occasionally, she or Basil would find one of the bitter herbs that the priestess had found the other day. But those did little to satiate them when split four ways. Fresh supposes that this forest is great to be an animal or a monster in, but as an untrained human, it isn¡¯t the best place in the world. At least they were having luck in avoiding any trouble on the way. They break to make camp once again as the day crawls to an end and Fresh falls down, not sure if she¡¯s going to have the strength to get up again tomorrow, at least with the bag on her back. The thought of leaving it behind is very tempting. Or at least the heavy coins that she has to lug around. But they need this money to start over. She can¡¯t just leave it here. They¡­ Fresh looks around the clearing, realizing that she hates herself a little more right now than she just did a minute ago. Taking the bag off of her shoulders, she turns to the side and opens her inventory window. She supposes that at this point, there¡¯s nothing left to hide from her friends anyways. Grabbing fistfuls of the coins, she begins throwing them haphazardly into the water of the inventory with clear frustration present in her movements. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± asks Jubilee, staring at her. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek with a wet finger. ¡°It¡¯s a witch thing. I can put stuff in it and take it out later.¡± Jubilee stares at her along with the rest of them. ¡°The fuck?¡± asks Jubilee, staring at the hole in the window that leaks with a black-fluid, the ooze drips down onto the grass, staining it like ink. ¡°How long have you had this?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± says Fresh again, hoping that Jubilee isn¡¯t going to get mad at her. ¡°¡­Always?¡± ¡°Always?¡± ¡°Always,¡± nods Fresh, throwing another fistful of coins into the window, but doing her best not to stick her hand inside out of fear of what else might be in there. Jubilee takes a deep breath to calm themselves, placing their hands together in front of their body as the exhale. ¡°I¡¯m going to yell at you now.¡± Fresh laughs nervously. ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡± ¡°You have no idea how badly I want to,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°But I¡¯m too tired.¡± They flop down onto their back, laying down in the grass. Jubilee places their hands behind their head as they stare up towards the sky. ¡°Is that good to drink?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s like moonwater, but worse.¡± ¡°Moonwater?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Don¡¯t ask,¡± sighs Jubilee, lifting their forearm and dropping it over their mask to cover their eyes. ¡°Fucking moonwater.¡± Jubilee lifts their head again. ¡°You know?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Fresh, throwing the last handful of coins into her inventory. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just hide all of your creepy, witch bullshit in there this entire time, dumb-ass?¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee and then back to the window and then back to Jubilee. ¡°Because it¡¯s scary.¡± ¡°¡­It¡¯s scary?¡± asks Jubilee incredulously. ¡°It¡¯s a hole. How is it scary?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t get it, Jubilee!¡± exclaims Fresh, clenching a fist as she points with her other hand to the dripping window. ¡°There¡¯s something in the water! I¡¯m sure of it! It¡¯s super weird!¡± Having said that, she quickly closes the window again, not feeling comfortable with it being open behind her. ¡°It might be demons.¡± She looks back into her bag, which now only has the grimoire and her knives in it. ¡°The grimoire?¡± she mutters, bending over to pick the damp book up. Water drips down from it, striking against the grass. Fresh looks at the book in her hands suspiciously, is this good to drink? Or is this creepy-water, like from the window? ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± asks Basil, looking at her. ¡°Huh? This?¡± asks Fresh, holding out the grimoire. ¡°It¡¯s my grimoire! I got it when I got my class!¡± Basil looks at the strange book fairly uneasily. ¡°Why¡­ why is it wet?¡± ¡°It¡¯s always wet,¡± says Fresh, shrugging as she opens the pages in the hopes that there¡¯s something about water. She¡¯s a witch of the black-fountain, maybe that means she can use water magic? Is that even a thing? She flips through the pages. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t drink the water either though. I think it¡¯ll make you sick.¡± ¡°Can I see it?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks up to Basil, somewhat surprised that she¡¯s asking and then looks back down at the book. ¡°No. I think it¡¯s cursed,¡± she says, matter of factly, opening the first page to show Basil the line about not reading any further. ¡°What¡¯s a black-fountain?¡± asks Basil nervously, looking at Fresh. ¡°That sounds really evil¡­¡± ¡°Right?!¡± shouts Jubilee from the side. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh claps the book shut, putting it back into her bag. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. The fountain is my patron and, uh¡­¡± she looks around, noticing something. ¡°Where¡¯s Shamrock?¡± The three of them look around, searching for the missing giant. Somehow nobody had noticed that he disappeared, which is a feat in and of itself, given his stature. ¡°Ah, fuck me. Did he get eaten by the goblins?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Goblins?¡± asks Fresh, looking around the forest warily. ¡°Hmm¡­ maybe the giant spiders grabbed him?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°Giant spiders¡­?¡± asks Fresh, leaning in to her friends with a deeply worried expression. Jubilee nods. ¡°It might have been¡­ no¡­¡± they look away, as they finish their sentence with a quiet clenching of their fists. ¡°Ghosts¡­¡± ¡°Ghosts?!¡± shouts Fresh. ¡°Come on! We have to go lo -¡± Basil and Jubilee start laughing, not able to hold it in any longer. Fresh stares at the two of them. Basil does her best to hold it in and remain dignified, but Jubilee leans back and for the first time that Fresh can remember, laughs. She purses her lips, not sure if she should feel happy or terrified. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± ¡°There aren¡¯t any ghosts, goo-brain! He¡¯s probably taking a leak.¡± Basil nods, wiping her eyes. ¡°Mhm.¡± Fresh sighs, flopping down to the ground. The three of them sit there in a circle, waiting for their companion to return. A minute passes, then two, then three. Soon it is five and then, not much longer after that, it has been ten minutes. The longer they sit, the more restless the three of them become however. Basil is fidgeting with her sleeves, staring out into the forest occasionally out of the corner of her eyes and Jubilee is tapping with their fingers against the dirt. The sun begins to set and the light of the day begins to vanish. ¡°We should make a fire,¡± suggests Jubilee, getting up. ¡°Hey¡­ uh¡­¡± asks Basil quietly. ¡°There uh¡­ hmm¡­ there aren¡¯t really any ghosts here, right?¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes widen in horror and she also looks up at Jubilee with expectant eyes. Jubilee rubs the back of their head. ¡°Jubileeee~¡± cries Fresh quietly in a nervous tone. The forest behind them cracks. Fresh and Basil yelp, grabbing onto each other. All three of them turn with sharp jolts, as they eye the shadowy disturbance coming through the tree-line. The man from the sect stands there, appearing rather emotionless. He points back over his shoulder. ¡°Water,¡± is all that he says as he gestures to follow him. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 112: Salty The four of them stare out over the giant lake. The distant, opposite shoreline is still visible from this side of the water, but only barely so. Really only the blackened silhouette of the far off tree-line gives credence to its presence. If not for that, Fresh would be sure that the lake simply goes on forever and ever. The moon is full tonight and it shines brightly above their heads, together with the many just as full, hanging stars that fill the night-sky. The celestial bodies seem to weigh unusually heavy tonight, as if they all were threatening to crash down towards the world at any moment, ripping through the fabric that holds them suspended in the darkness above. ¡°It¡¯s so pretty,¡± says Fresh beneath her breath, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s shoulder with a free hand and jostling them in tired excitement. She stares out over the calm water of the lake, the light of the night-sky reflects off of the peaceful body, giving it the appearance that the lake itself is simply an extension of the heavens above, which had reached down to the mortal world below. This is perfect, thinks Fresh. She¡¯ll make some bottles of water with Jubilee¡¯s glass and they can fill them up here. Wincing, Jubilee swipes her hand off of their shoulder. ¡°No touching.¡± They look up towards Shamrock. ¡°Good job.¡± He doesn¡¯t say anything and simply walks off to the side, entering into the forest again off on his own. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Basil lifts a hand. ¡°Should we¡­ should we stop him?¡± ¡°Let him go. He knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± Jubilee points at Basil. ¡°You. Get wood and any plants you can find that are good to eat.¡± Their finger moves to Fresh. ¡°Goo-brain. I¡¯ll make some glass, make us some bottles so that we can carry some water with us for tomorrow.¡± Basil looks up, realizing. ¡°That¡¯s a great idea! We should have done that by the river!¡± ¡°Right?¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I was going to say that!¡± cries Fresh, leaning in to her friends with her fists clenched. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°As if. Come on, let¡¯s get to work. Maybe there are some fish in this lake? I¡¯m starving.¡± Fresh sighs, too tired to argue and they all set to work, setting up a camp like the other day by the river. It takes about an hour by the time everything is finished and they have water that is starting to boil in a glass container. Basil had found a few herbs and they had thrown them into the pot, making a very sparse looking soup consisting only of water and a few greens. If there are any fish in the lake, none of them are near the shoreline. As for the bottles, Fresh had managed to make several of them. She started making the small ones shaped like chickens, but then Jubilee had yelled at her. So she ended up making normal potion bottles instead, just a little bigger. The fire roars with a comforting intensity, the orange light shimmering off of the water near their encampment. Fresh lets out a long, tired sigh as she stares at the pot of boiling liquid, stirring it with a peeled stick that she had crafted into a spoon. ¡°Bubble bubble¡­¡± says the girl quietly. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh looks back up at them and shrugs. ¡°Bubble bubble,¡± she repeats. ¡°Bubble¡­ What the fuck are you talking about?¡± Fresh blinks, staring at Jubilee and then down at the pot. She wants to explain, but she isn¡¯t sure how and she¡¯s too hungry to be able to figure it out at this point. A sharp chime breaks the quiet. But neither of her friends look at it, only she seems to notice, as she lifts her head and stares at the window that then vanishes a moment later. Warning: [Breach of Contract]{Black-Contract}(Merchant¡¯s Guild) ¡°- ey.¡± Something grabs her robe and she looks down at Jubilee. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna fall asleep, don¡¯t do it in front of the fire.¡± Fresh shakes her head, not sure what the message means. Did the guild break their contract? About their founding the store? How? Maybe they tried to do something with the building? She taps the stick against the pot and keeps stirring. ¡°Sorry, I was just thinking.¡± ¡°Did it hurt?¡± asks Jubilee sarcastically. ¡°Only inside,¡± answers Fresh, ready for the familiar question this time, yet still surprised that she had anything to respond with at all. She looks around the clearing. Basil sits quietly opposite them. But Shamrock is missing again. Shamrock? Fresh blinks, realizing something again. Though perhaps, once again, too late. ¡°AH!¡± she shouts in surprise, angry at her own, overwhelming brain fog. ¡°Ah?¡± ask both Jubilee and Basil at the same time, staring at her as she digs through her bag. Fresh pulls out the indistinguishably gray monster-meat, tightly wrapped in large leaves that Shamrock had given to her at the river. ¡°I have this! Should we put it in the pot?¡± Jubilee stares at it and then up at her. ¡°How long have you had this?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ since the river,¡± guesses Fresh, scratching her cheek. ¡°Since the river?¡± asks Jubilee, their eyes narrowing in agitation. ¡°Since the river,¡± repeats Fresh, nodding. Jubilee looks over to Basil. ¡°You hear that?¡± Basil nods. ¡°Since the river.¡± The two of them look at each other for a while and Fresh¡¯s eyes wander back and forth over them, trying to discern what their expressions are saying. ¡°If you grab her arms, I¡¯ll take the legs. I think if we squish her together, she¡¯ll fit into the pot,¡± says Jubilee. Basil nods, agreeing. ¡°That sounds like it could work. I think we¡¯ll need some salt though.¡± Fresh laughs nervously. ¡°So¡­ you don¡¯t want it?¡± The two of them stare at her. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s monster-meat, so I don¡¯t know if it''s good to eat,¡± she says, peeling the leaf off to the side. ¡°Oh,¡± says Jubilee, relenting with a disappointed sigh. Basil¡¯s shoulders droop as well. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say that from the start? Where did you even get that?¡± A silhouette breaks through the forest as Shamrock returns, tonight with empty hands. All three of them look up at him and he stares back at them with his eyes shining intently. ¡°Giant spider,¡± is all that he says, as his wet breastplate heaves, lake water still dripping out of it. ¡°GIANT SPIDER?!¡± yelps Fresh in disgust, quickly dropping the gray bundle in her hands. ¡°AH!¡± It falls down into the pot. Boiling water splashes out on all sides, the fire hisses with a loud searing noise as the flames meet the wet. The three of them scramble back away in that second as the water splashes out in all directions, most of them only barely managing to avoid it. (Fresh) takes: [ENVIRONMENTAL DAMAGE {1}]{WATER} [{9} HP remaining !] Quietly. The three of them sit there in the circle as the fire rejuvenates itself, not deterred by the little bit of water. Her friends look up at her as Fresh nurses a small burnt spot on her finger where the water had gotten her. Fresh looks at them and then down to the pot where the chunk of spider meat begins to break apart into a series of stringy strands that float around. Shamrock steps over, sitting down next to them, apparently indifferent. ¡°So¡­ uh¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, laughing quietly as she thinks of a way to defuse the situation. Something that doesn¡¯t involve her getting yelled at. ¡°How do you like your spider?¡± she asks jokingly, with a very meek smile. Basil seems to be close to crying as she looks at the floating herbs that she had spent the last of her energy collecting. Nervously, Fresh looks at Jubilee, who she can tell is about to shout at her. She winces, getting ready for the verbal barrage to come. ¡°Ten minutes. Salt,¡± says a heavy voice. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh opens her eyes, looking at the man from the sect who stares at the pot intently. ¡°The forest is clean,¡± he says, as he leans forward, seeming oddly excited about the thing boiling before him. ¡°Ten minutes. Salt.¡± Basil and Jubilee exchange an uneasy glance and then look down at the pot. ¡°We don¡¯t have salt,¡± says Basil. ¡°Besides¡­¡± A smell fills the air. It¡¯s oddly greasy. A film begins to build on top of the pot as all four of them stare at it, only one of them with excitement. Shamrock shrugs. ¡°Ten minutes. No salt.¡± ¡°Are you fucked in the head?¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°We can¡¯t eat monster-meat! That¡¯s a great way to die, dumb-ass!¡± ¡°Besides,¡± adds Basil again, shuddering as she watches a strand of meat rise up to the surface, only to be carried back down by the rolling boil. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ you know¡­¡± She plays with her tattered sleeves. ¡°- dirty.¡± ¡°The forest is clean,¡± says Shamrock again. Neither of them seem convinced however. Fresh looks around. This adventure is already turning out to be harder than she had thought. Her friends are quickly losing faith and are angry at her for having blundered yet again. Or maybe just because she¡¯s useless in general. She can¡¯t decide which it is. Maybe it¡¯s both? Were they going to start hating her? Did they already? Were they going to regret having stuck by her side? Did they already? She feels her legs shake beneath her as she stands on her knees before the fire. She has to do something. She has to take control of the situation, before it gets bad. They needed to eat. They were all tired and cranky and hungry. She¡¯s the party-leader, right? It¡¯s time for her to lead her party. Fresh gulps. Stirring the pot with the stick that she had carved into a spoon and then pulls it back out, full of oily water and a small, stringy piece of gray meat. ¡°We have to eat,¡± says Fresh, looking at her friends as she blows on the spoon for a few seconds. ¡°Don¡¯t eat the spider, goo-brain!¡± yells Jubilee. Before she can be stopped, Fresh sticks the spoon into her mouth and closes her eyes. She can hear Basil and Jubilee yell at her, but she ignores them. It¡¯s hot. She can feel a slick grease coating the inside of her mouth as the still too hot soup runs along her tongue, burning it. Doing her best not to chew on the stringy meat in her mouth or to yelp in pain, she swallows it whole. Opening her watering eyes and hitting her chest with her fist a moment later, as she coughs. Jubilee and Basil stare at her nervously, Basil already having a small glow of white-magic around her fingers. Fresh smiles at them, waving the spoon as she clears her throat. ¡°It could use some salt.¡± Razmatazz Mmm... lukewarm, raw spider soup Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 113: The zest of life The rest of the night had passed without anything of note happening. Basil and Shamrock sat around the fire, eating their soup out of glass bowls, one of them clearly feeling much more awkward about it than the other, who simply poured it into his helmet without any real hesitation. Fresh and Jubilee sat on the side, a tree separating themselves from each other. Fresh didn¡¯t want Jubilee to have to eat alone, so she left the fire too, to sit with them. The soup is very filling and hearty, carrying with it a deep and surprisingly rich aroma. Though, the gray strands of spider meat certainly didn¡¯t manage to become more appealing through the process of being boiled in lake-water. Still, convinced by either Fresh¡¯s example or their own gnawing hunger, they all ate the soup without any further complaints. Though the look in Basil¡¯s and Jubilee¡¯s eyes certainly still signaled that they were unhappy about it. It really did need some salt. Afterwards, with full stomachs, the mood was much brighter and happier and they all took turns sleeping deeply with one of them always staying awake to hold the watch. Even Fresh was asked to do so and the girl took the task perhaps a little too seriously, marching around the camp in a tight circle the entire time, until Jubilee yelled at her to sit down and be quiet. Once morning comes, Fresh and Jubilee set to making a load of glass bottles for them to fill up with water. ¡°How many can you fit in that window of yours?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°As many as I need to, I think. But we shouldn¡¯t put food or water in there,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It will be really bad if any of the black-water leaks into it.¡± ¡°Fucking¡­ what? What-water? Nevermind. I don¡¯t care.¡± Jubilee rubs the back of their head, sighing. ¡°Fine. Then we¡¯ll just have to carry them.¡± Fresh nods in agreement. Jubilee fills the bottle with water from the pot, capping it with the glass lid and then handing it to her. Vacantly, Fresh looks at the bottle and then back to Jubilee, not sure what to do with it. ¡°You have the only bag, dumb-ass,¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Huh?!¡± Fresh looks around, realizing that it¡¯s true. She really does have the only bag. She suddenly realizes that all of her friends had to leave everything that they had behind. ¡°Can¡¯t you make some?¡± she asks Jubilee. ¡°Out of what?¡± ¡°Out of¡­ uh¡­¡± her eyes scan the campsite, trying to find anything that could be turned into fabric. But there is no such thing to be found here. Fresh sighs, relenting as she takes the bottle. ¡°Okaaaay~¡± They end up making a large amount of bottles, easily two dozen, until the bag is so full that it can¡¯t even close right anymore. ¡°Jubilee!¡± complains Fresh. ¡°I can¡¯t carry that!¡± cries the girl, pulling on the straps in an attempt to get the bag to lift off of the ground even an inch. It doesn¡¯t budge, despite her best efforts. ¡°Are you stupid?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head. Closing her eyes, ignoring Jubilee, she leans back, digging her heels into the dirt, giving her very best to try and hoist it up despite the ache in her back. Suddenly, the bag lifts into the air. She opens her eyes in shock, surprised that she did it. Fresh blinks, staring at the large, metal gauntlet in-front of her face, its fingers wrapped around the fabric. Without a word, Shamrock takes the bag from her and effortlessly hoists it over his shoulder with a single hand. The strap of the bag pulls taut, pressing tightly against his armor as it barely manages to slip through and around his upper arm, the glass clinks noisily. She stares at him. ¡°Thank you!¡± beams the girl. Shamrock nods once and walks to the edge of the clearing. Soon enough, the campsite is cleared and they all gather to keep walking. ¡°So how much further is it?¡± asks Fresh as they set out. ¡°How much further is what?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh shrugs. ¡°The west.¡± ¡°About a week. Maybe two,¡± answers Basil. ¡°Huh?!¡± Fresh clutches Basil in horror. ¡°Two weeks?!¡± Basil nods. ¡°It¡¯s faster with an anqa. We could cut a lot of the travel time out if we used the road. But we should stay clear of it for another few days.¡± ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Any mounted patrols from the city will catch us in no time if we head to the road now.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re still looking for us?¡± she asks nervously. Jubilee looks back at her, clearly raising one of their eyebrows. ¡°Still?¡± Basil and Jubilee exchange a glance before looking back at her. ¡°They¡¯re never going to stop looking for us.¡± Fresh rubs her arm, feeling somewhat distraught at this. ¡°Is it that bad?¡± ¡°It¡¯s that bad,¡± replies Jubilee dryly, turning around to keep walking and waving for her to follow. ¡°I don¡¯t know how many witches there are left now, but -¡± ¡°Three,¡± interjects Shamrock. ¡°All in the south.¡± Jubilee nods to him, understanding something. ¡°Three. There are three witches left now, including you and there are a lot of people in high places who would prefer that number to be lower. A lot lower.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Didn¡¯t you tell me once that sometimes nobles liked to hire witches to do stuff?¡± ¡°Yeah, but fuck that,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s not a life-strategy, that¡¯s a pipe-dream. Like I said, those are fringe cases and done in secret,¡± they explain, shaking their head. ¡°No noble estate is going to tarnish their reputation and hurt their societal power by getting near a witch if they can avoid it.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Honestly, they¡¯d probably be better off if they showed your public execution. It would get them a lot of clout.¡± Somehow this is all getting worse and worse, notices Fresh. ¡°Will we be safe?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°In the west. Will people look for us there?¡± ¡°They might. But we should be fine. Political tensions being what they are these days, no official search party is going to look for us there and no unofficial search parties are going to feed back any good information to anyone who hires them.¡± ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild?¡± asks Fresh curiously. ¡°Why are they helping us, Jubilee? How do you know them?¡± Jubilee looks back at her. ¡°We¡¯re merchants, remember? We do business with everyone.¡± Fresh purses her lips, not happy with the answer. But she drops it for now, not wanting to let the fear, which is obviously present in her, spook her friends. She has to put up a brave face as the party-leader. Nodding to herself, she lifts her hands to adjust the straps of her bag so that she can keep walking. Only after her fingers graze the empty spot on her shoulders, does she remember that she isn¡¯t even carrying her own bag right now. Rather quietly, they walk for the rest of the day. It¡¯s a lot easier with water to drink and they end up taking a few more breaks than the days before. There are two dozen bottles in the bag, so six for each of them. But given their non-stop walking and trekking in the summer heat, these seem to empty faster than they had expected. They agree to try and ration them as well as they can. It could be several days before they find another lake or river. The night comes and they set up camp as they had so many days before now. Then in the morning they continue. Then again for another day. Then again for another day. Day after day, they simply walk through the forest with nothing happening at all. No monsters, no animals, no scares or discoveries; there is simply nothing but empty forest in all directions. Flat, featureless forest. It might as well be a desert. Fresh shakes her last water bottle out over her open mouth, trying to get the last drops out of it. The bag on Shamrock''s back is empty now. She sighs, setting the empty bottle back into it, thanking the large man for bending down a little so that she could reach. They walk for another day, now out of water again. Suddenly, there is a disturbance at their side. ¡°NYAH~!¡± yells the mush-mush, which turns out to be a fatal mistake for it. As soon as the creature lunges out of the tree-line, a glass skewer blasts through it, right between its eyes and holds it aloft in the air. With a disgustingly wet squeak, it begins sliding down the glass pole, the gaping wound widening as the weight of its own body presses it down further. ¡°Let¡¯s eat it!¡± shouts Fresh excitedly, her stomach growling before the creature even hits the ground. ¡°You can¡¯t eat mush-mushes, dumb-ass,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Didn¡¯t you ever learn not to eat random mushrooms?¡± ¡°You can eat them, I did once!¡± says Fresh, clenching her fists. She wants to say that it was really good, but it wasn¡¯t. It really wasn¡¯t. At least not on its own. ¡°It was¡­ okay!¡± Jubilee and Basil seem unsure and look up at Shamrock. ¡°The forest is clean,¡± is all that he says as he grabs the dead mush-mush, lifting it off of the glass pole. They make their camp early today and Fresh sets to work, preparing the mushroom creature. She takes the cap off, setting it to the side. Maybe she can make a potion out of this? She hasn¡¯t made any moonwater in a while. Oh¡­ wait. The girl sighs, realizing that she doesn¡¯t have any water to make moonwater with. She never realized how much she took the fountain in the north for granted. But maybe there¡¯s an idea here anyways? She thinks for a moment, before setting to work. Fresh slices the exterior of the mush-mush into long, thick slices that look like steaks and begins frying them on top of a glass stove. They hiss as they touch the surface, releasing a very earthy smell. Fresh realizes that they are full of water. She only cooks them lightly, flipping the steaks only once each to get a strong sear on both sides. It¡¯s important that they don¡¯t lose their moisture. ¡°Here you go!¡± Fresh proudly hands Basil the first ¡®steak¡¯ on a glass plate. ¡°Ah, wait!¡± she grabs a pinch of the orange mushroom-cap that she had ground into a fine powder and sprinkles it over the steak. ¡°The cap powder gives it a little zest!¡± Basil looks at her and then down at the orange-dusted chunk of monster meat in her hands. ¡°If you say so¡­¡± Fresh nods, smiling. ¡°Mm! I do say so!¡± she says confidently with a lifted finger and a wink to the priestess who looks away, staring down at her food with an unsure and oddly confused expression on her face. Fresh scratches her cheek as she watches, somewhat confused herself, getting a smear of orange dust on her face. Shrugging to herself, she gets the rest of them ready and they all sit down to eat, all of them scattered around with Jubilee out of sight as alway Without any hesitation, Fresh lifts the mushroom steak and bites into it. The water inside of it drips out as her teeth sink into the pliantly firm texture of the meat. The body of the steak is oddly soft and mushy as soon as it breaks off of the rest. It has a very plain, bitter and earthy taste. But the bright tang of the orange mushroom-cap livens it up in a notable way. Fresh places a hand to her cheek in delight as she chews. ¡°It¡¯s really good!¡± she exclaims excitedly with a full mouth. It¡¯s not really that great, but she¡¯s trying to be encouraging. Basil takes the initiative and bites in as well, her tightly clenched eyes opening a moment later in surprise. The priestess chews and swallows. ¡°You¡¯re right. This is pretty good.¡± She thinks for a second. ¡°You¡¯re a pretty good cook. Maybe we should open a restaurant instead of a store?¡± Shamrock just exhales loudly, turning his steak sideways and shoving the whole thing into his helmet at once. ¡°Yeah, not bad. I can really taste the dirt,¡± says Jubilee sarcastically from behind her. She smiles as she takes another bite. Once again, she sits here, grateful for the sacrifice that has been made for her. She lowers her head, saying a quiet thanks for Mr. Mushroom who has never once let her down. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 114: Adventure The night comes to an end and once again they set off, marching towards the west in a loose grouping. Fresh does her best to stay in the front, not wanting to be the one to slow them down as they push through the forest. Despite everything, their spirits seemed to be higher now than the days before. Perhaps because now all of them have had the time to recover somewhat from the shock of their hasty exit from the northern city, or perhaps because now they were coming together more and more as a party, capable of surviving outside of the comforts of civilization. They all do their part in a way, as their journey continues. Basil, having an eye for plants that is even better than Fresh¡¯s, constantly finds them small bundles of herbs and leafy greens and tends to any small bumps and bruises, most of which end up on Fresh, who stumbles left and right as she hastily tries to keep up with their pace on her weak, tired legs. The man from the witch¡¯s sect, Shamrock, ends up carrying most everything that Fresh doesn¡¯t want to keep in her inventory, as he is apparently entirely unfazed by the weight on his shoulders and by the looks of things, not entirely unthrilled to be of use to Fresh in some form. Jubilee keeps them on track, apparently having an impeccable sense of direction. During their idle conversations during the trip, Fresh notes that nobody else in the group seems to have the faintest idea where they were, only Jubilee seems to know exactly which way true-west lies. They had explained to them more than once that it was easy enough, just orient yourself by the sun during the day and by the brightest stars at night. But every time that Fresh stares up towards the heavy forest canopy above them, she realizes that she can¡¯t see any of those things at all, let alone orient herself by them. But despite that, she is happy that she herself is able to make herself useful by preparing any plants that Basil finds or any meat that Shamrock or Jubilee provide when a wayward monster finds their way. Another day passes and then so do several more after that, all running about the same. They are all rather worn down and weary, but still hold themselves aloft, surviving well enough, if not exactly thriving. Fresh notes that her own face feels a little more taut than usual and she sees the same in Basil¡¯s. The priestess, who was always already a little gaunt, is now close to wispy. But all of them remain in good spirits, perhaps having found a sense of enjoyment in the adventure of it all. Or perhaps that is simply Fresh¡¯s own perception, as she walks with a bright, but closed smile on her face, much to Jubilee¡¯s annoyance who tells her to stop being so happy for no reason. During the next day, the starkest change begins to happen and the flat, densely vegetated terrain that they had found themselves in for so long becomes more uneven and bumpy, as small hills begin to dot the landscape, much to Fresh¡¯s dismay as they start having to walk up the first one. Though with the small, green hills, on which nature flourishes as if they were small islands of refuge from the forest, come small basins and small valleys in between them, in which tiny creeks and brooks run through. The fresh water is a great relief to all of them who have subsisted on old mush-mush steaks and the odd bird that Jubilee managed to skewer off of a tree now and then. Fresh isn¡¯t sure however if she didn¡¯t lose more water in the process of preparing them, as she had to constantly cry every time that she had to prepare one of the small creatures for herself and her friends. Especially the birds. Another day passes in this terrain, the landscape is somewhat more difficult to navigate, yet also far more forgiving, as with the running water, come abundant amounts of fresh herbs that grow on the embankments of the small basins and ponds, as well as small, vibrantly colored fish with glistening, jewel-like eyes and soft, tender white-meat beneath their lustrous scales. ¡°It¡¯s so pretty~¡± says Fresh, holding the rainbow scaled fish in her hands and looking down at it. ¡°Sorry Mr. Fish,¡± mutters the girl as she looks into the creature¡¯s questioning eye that stares up her way, as its lips smack and its cold body flops around in her hands, struggling to break free, struggling for its life in a beautiful, desperate fight. Fresh sets the fish gently down on top of a flat rock, biting her lower lip as she lifts the dagger high into the air. Her throat feels tight, her eyes burn. She howls as she does what she has to. Mr. Fish knows that it¡¯s just the nature of the game of survival and so does she. But that doesn¡¯t make the knife in her hands any lighter, or the burning in her throat any less, as she cries. The knife goes through Mr. Fish as she makes it quick, her shaking hand pressing down against the blade to keep it steady as it touches the rock, having gone through the body. ¡°It never gets any easier for you, huh?¡± asks Jubilee from the side, shaking their head with a sigh. ¡°Noooo~¡± cries Fresh, looking at her friend as fish blood runs over her fingers. Jubilee rolls their eyes and gets back to work, setting up a place for them to cook. ¡°The fish is in a better place now.¡± Fresh looks down at Mr. Fish¡¯s curious, sad eye that stares back up at her and she hopes that it¡¯s true. Though, in her heart of hearts, she doesn¡¯t think so. It absolves her of too much. It¡¯s another life that she¡¯s taken and this one won¡¯t just respawn in the dungeon next week. It¡¯s gone forever. Asleep forever. Sniffling, she leans forward, pressing her eyes close to the body of the fish as she makes sure to put her very best effort into preparing it right, so that not a single strand of it is wasted. She can¡¯t do much, but she can do that for him. It won¡¯t make it right in her mind, but it will make it better. That¡¯s all that she wants to be able to do. For herself, for her friends and this new life that they¡¯ve embarked on. She wants to make it better. Another day passes. The fish was the best one that she had ever made and she even gained a level in cooking, much to her delight, despite a small pang of guilt. She had received high compliments from Basil and Jubilee, who seemed surprised that she could cook so well despite her low cooking ability. But Shamrock had denied eating any, saying simply that he didn¡¯t like fish. Apparently so much so, that even the witch herself offering to hand-feed him a piece, simply so that he would eat, didn¡¯t sway his resolute conviction in the least. Soon enough, the week comes to a close. Then, the next one begins and runs on much the same. After another two days of walking, Fresh gains an additional point of strength and dexterity during her sleep in the night, much to her delight. Making a display of it, she hikes up a dirty sleeve and flexes her bicep at Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s sad,¡± states Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°But it¡¯s an improvement.¡± Fresh scowls at her friend. Basil stands next to her and squeezes her arm. Fresh isn¡¯t sure what she thinks is worse, the fact that Jubilee didn¡¯t seem impressed in the least, or that Basil simply stops squeezing her arm and walks away without saying anything at all. She sighs, looking up at the man from the sect with hopeful eyes. ¡°Strong,¡± he says with a single nod and Fresh beams, happy that someone is acknowledging her. ¡°Thank you!¡± she says, beaming a bright smile at him. As she opens her eyes again, she sees her bag being given back to her and she takes it, looking at him somewhat nervously as the heavy thing, filled with glass bottles, clinks down at her feet. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Strong,¡± he repeats, nodding again as he walks away. ¡°Ah!¡± Her eyes wander down to the heavy bag by her feet, somewhat distraught. Maybe she shouldn¡¯t have said anything at all? No. She shakes her head, rolling her shoulders as she looks at her friends who are getting ready to keep moving. Fresh bends down, placing the straps of her bag around her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she holds the straps firmly in place as she struggles to rise to her feet, the glass clinking on her back. Something pops in her lower spine and she lets out a sharp gasp, stumbling forward a few steps, almost losing her balance. ¡°Are you okay?¡± asks Basil, looking at her a little worried. Fresh lifts her head, hiding her wince with a smile as she nods back to Basil once, as she pulls herself upright, the muscles in her core shaking as she holds herself up together with the heavy bag. ¡°Strong!¡± she cries out with a pained voice. The second week goes on as they continue further and further. The longer they go, the more monsters they encounter. Groups of goblins, packs of mush-mushes of varying colors that seem to have banded together, even the occasional giant snail finds its way to them. Fresh likes them the most, because they¡¯re the most delicious of the creatures, though she has found a particular liking for the mush-mushes too. While the orange ones end up tasting sour and tangy, the green ones have a much more fresh and herbal taste. They even find a large, purple mush-mush, or more aptly said, it finds them as it leads a group on the hunt. After the fight is over, Fresh stares in delight at the purple mushroom-cap. Maybe she can make something out of this? But that¡¯s a ¡®problem¡¯ for tomorrow. For now, they simply collect all of the loot in Fresh¡¯s inventory and eat their fill of the forest creatures. The purple mush-mush tastes oddly sweet and almost candy-like. Fresh feels terrible about every single one however, no matter how delicious any of them end up being. As a party, they end up working fairly well together. Especially Jubilee and Shamrock, who easily got into a flow of sorts with each other, work well off of another during the fights. She herself just mostly stands in the back and watches. Her curses are too slow acting to be of any direct use in these short skirmishes. So she just stands back, together with Basil, who also has little to do as none of them ever really get hurt, as they far outmatch the low-level monsters of the forest. Happily enough, Fresh eventually levels up to level nine, which she was secretly dreading this entire journey, afraid that her friends would feel uncomfortable at seeing her window again. But they all seem fairly indifferent, if not curious, though for different reasons. [Level up! You are now LEVEL 9 ! ] {Cooking 4}{Crafting 6}{Gathering 2}{Adventuring 3}{Witch-Crafting 7}{Mercantile 5} STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 13226 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] She ends up choosing one of her newest choices in abilities, to help her cooking skill without even thinking too long about it, as the thought of it makes her happy. She never liked cooking too much, but she enjoys the praise that she receives and she really enjoys being of use to her companions. This is something she can do and apparently do well. All food you prepare offers a bonus stat when eaten, equal to your LOV, for the duration of one day. The chosen stat varies depending on the main base ingredient of the food. More time passes and the terrain slowly becomes steeper and more uneven, the long, rolling hills becoming nigh unclimbable in some areas. The forest slowly grows less dense hour after hour. Fresh is exhausted and dirty and worn out, just like all of her friends. But she remains in high spirits. Then, for the first time in two weeks, Fresh sees something. A place where the trees stop. Not just for a clearing or for a small hill. But where they come to a full stop. They have reached the edge of the forest. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± she cries softly, grabbing her friend¡¯s shoulder, her other hand grabbing Basil¡¯s as she stares ahead of them excitedly. Jubilee brushes her hand off of their shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t be a creep.¡± Basil squirms uneasily and Fresh realizes that she isn¡¯t holding the priestess¡¯ hand anymore, but rather just the edge of her sleeve. The priestess, having wiggled herself free from the girl¡¯s grasp. She scowls at them both, neither of them making eye-contact with her. They head up the hill that rises above the forest, marching up its half-steep, grassy surface. Fresh feels air move all around her, feels the world open up again, as if they were going outside of a house for the first time in months. She raises her head to the sky above, taking a deep breath of the fresh air of the western side of this new world. But as her eyes wander up the hill, trying to find the sky above it, she realizes that it never seems to come into sight, as her gaze wanders up and along the giant mountain that towers out of the world before them, cutting into the heavens above; so high that the clouds themselves seem to crash into it, obscuring its peak. All four of them stand there, atop the small hill as they gaze up towards it. All of them are apparently awestruck in some sense, as none of them say a word. As all of them stand there, as all of them sit down on the grass beneath themselves, tired, exhausted, as all of their eyes only ever find either the giant mountain before them, or the endless sea of waving leaves that they have left behind, the surface of the crowns of the trees that they look down upon, rippling in the wind like gentle waves of an ocean that they had finally crossed, they all find a collective sense of relief. They have arrived in the west. Razmatazz If you''re bored, please check out my latest book, Sin-Eater! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 115: Mountain Road Fresh clutches herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her body and shudders. The shaking of her form is triggered by the cold wind which rushes past them all. The surprisingly frigid gale tosses her dirty, matted hair back against her neck as it surges all around the mountain path. The current strangely twists and turns as it passes them in an odd spiraling motion, as if they were at the center of a whirlpool. As if one body of wind was crashing and cascading down the surface of the mountain, as yet another stream seemed to be rising upwards against it. The two colliding forces surround them on all sides with the moving flow, as both winds appear to be in a constant stalemate with their counterpart. ¡°J- j- Jubileeeee~¡± shudders Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s cooold~¡± ¡°No shit, dumb-ass. It¡¯s a mountain,¡± says Jubilee, turning back around to face her, just so that she can see them roll their eyes. Jubilee points back down behind them, down the trail that they¡¯ve been following upwards. ¡°We haven¡¯t even walked up for an hour. There¡¯s still a while to go.¡± ¡°Do we have to get to the top?¡± asks Fresh, worried about the answer as she sticks her hands under her arms. Basil chimes in, shaking her head. ¡°No, the city is near the lower middle. If we keep up the pace, we should get there before nightfall,¡± she says, nodding. ¡°It¡¯s an easy road.¡± Fresh notices that she seems somewhat more reserved in displaying her discomfort with the cold, opting to stand strangely stiff, rather than to huddle together like she herself has. ¡°Which we should strive to do. It gets cold at night here.¡± ¡°It gets cold at night everywhere!¡± complains Fresh as they keep on walking up the fairly wide mountain-road. There is a sheer cliff wall to their left and the right leads towards a steep drop, that Fresh hasn¡¯t been brave enough to try and look over. ¡°Yeah, no shit? That¡¯s what night is,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Honestly¡­¡± Shamrock says nothing, but Fresh feels particularly bad for him. Surely his metal armor must be the worst thing that any of them are wearing in this environment? At least their fabric did a little to keep them warm, but surely the metal has to be painful to wear in this cold? But if he is suffering, he doesn''t make it seen in the least, as he simply keeps on walking. Fresh purses her lips, wishing that she could do something to help her friends, but there is nothing that she can think of except to keep up with them, so that they could get there as fast as possible. She wonders if maybe they should have gone to the desert? Oh well. That ship has certainly sailed now. She¡¯s sure it will be fine. They just needed some warmer clothes and they could in all likelihood just buy those once they got there. Or maybe Jubilee will make her some? Fresh gasps, realizing something rather abruptly. ¡°Jubilee!¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You never made me that blanket, like you promised!¡± says Fresh, clenching her fists. Jubilee sighs and waves her off. ¡°I was working on it.¡± ¡°A blanket?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Don¡¯t ask. Besides, goo-brain, you wouldn¡¯t have it with you now anyways.¡± Fresh relents, realizing that Jubilee has a point and the four of them continue onwards silently, opting not to speak anymore. Not out of discontent with any of each other, but simply because keeping their mouths closed feels like a more sensible thing to do in the cold. Currently, the temperature is still bearable enough in just their cloth outfits, for now. It reminds Fresh of her first night here, when she had to sleep inside of the dungeon. But if this is the temperature here during the day, then how cold would it get at night? They really did have to hurry, it could be dangerous for them to be here in the dark. ¡°Keep an eye out,¡± says Jubilee, breaking the silence. ¡°F- for what?¡± shivers Fresh. ¡°Monsters,¡± says Shamrock, saying the first thing he has said in hours. Basil nods, quietly agreeing as Jubilee goes on. ¡°The mountain is a higher level zone. Most of the wild monsters near the city have been taken care of, but there are still the odd ones skulking around, the greasy fucks.¡± ¡°W- what kinds of monsters?¡± asks Fresh curiously. Jubilee thinks out loud. ¡°Outside of the city? Minotaurs. Harpies. Maybe a few wolves up further when the plateau comes.¡± ¡°W- wolves?¡± asks Fresh, looking around them, but there is nothing here save for them and the tightly wound mountain path. ¡°Don¡¯t forget the Gryphons. Don¡¯t go near any giant nests if you see them,¡± explains Basil. ¡°They¡¯ll eat you right up.¡± ¡°Dragons,¡± says Shamrock, his breastplate heaving in excitement. ¡°Dragons?!¡± shouts Fresh, now clearly distraught. ¡°Settle down, dumb-ass,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The only dragons left on this mountain are inside of the dungeon. The rest got picked off decades ago by bored adventurers. Probably.¡± ¡°Probably,¡± agrees Basil. ¡°Probably,¡± says Shamrock, nodding once. Fresh is sure that this doesn¡¯t make her feel better. Picking up the pace, she walks a step closer to Jubilee as they continue on for another few hours. Soon, the road begins to tighten further and further, constricting together so tightly that they have to walk in single file, much to Fresh¡¯s horror as she does her best to stare straight ahead, walking with slow, careful steps so that she doesn¡¯t look down towards the right, where she can feel the void below them looming with a hunger that only she seems to notice. Her friends seem preoccupied simply with walking and ignoring the cold. Soon, the path comes to an abrupt stop as they round the next bend. A long, brickwork bridge extends out over a sizable gap, connecting the two stone faces. From here, Fresh can see that the ground on the other side seems to be different than on this side. While behind them lies a rocky waste, the area over the bridge is surprisingly lush and green appearing. Wild grasses grow out from everywhere, swaying in the mountain winds together with thickly budding butter-yellow flowers that dot out from the many stones. ¡°Don¡¯t look down if you¡¯re afraid of heights,¡± says Jubilee, walking on ahead as the first to move over the bridge, that, in all fairness, seems to be well-made and robust. Walking as the second person in line, Fresh extends out a hand to hold onto the stable railing as she crosses on shaking legs. It¡¯s not that she¡¯s scared of heights, she¡¯s just scared of falling is all. Though, she supposes that if she dies then she¡¯ll just return to the fountain but¡­ that would have its own problems. She doubts that she could ever get back here again without her friends. The wind blows, tossing her hair over her face as she stands in the middle of the long bridge. She knows that she shouldn¡¯t, but Fresh turns her head anyways, unable to resist and looks out at what lies below. Her eyes go wide as the blood leaves the rest of her face, her legs, long since numb from the cold, shake beneath the suddenly very heavy weight of her upper body. Fresh¡¯s fingers grip the railing tighter as she stares out at what lies beyond. At what they left behind. The warm air of her chest leaves her lungs, as she looks out over the distance, as she looks out over the vast world that lays stretched out before herself. The wind of the mountain howls at her back, whistling as it sheers along the rock and the bridge with its icy presence, as it tussles her hair, pushing it past her bewildered face as she sees the boundless sight of the expanse below. It stretches on and on and on, seemingly forever; a sea of green. She sees the forest that they journeyed through for weeks. She sees sparse dots on the landscape, villages as far as she can tell and even some smaller cities by the looks of things. A few odd towers dot the world here and there. But most of all, she sees the vastness of it all, as it stretches on towards the horizon. There¡¯s so much. There¡¯s so much to do and to see and she¡¯s only experienced so little of it. ¡°- ey!¡± yells a voice from the side and Fresh snaps out of her call to adventure, turning towards Jubilee. ¡°Either jump off and get it over with or hurry up!¡± yells her friend and Fresh laughs, quickly rushing over the bridge and apologizing to Basil and the man behind her, both of who were still waiting to cross. Her body is still exhausted and worn and deeply cold, but her spirit feels brighter now than before. She smiles as she reaches Jubilee, as she smells the scent of fresh flowers in the air, as her boots touch the soft grass on this side of the chasm. This time. This place. This is going to be it. This is going to be her shot to make it right. All of it. She messed up a lot in the northern city, she made a lot of mistakes and wasted a lot of time and effort. But this time, she knows what she has to do. Fresh smiles, feeling a brand new excitement thrashing around in her chest as she stares out at the world around herself. She¡¯s going to get it right this time. No matter what it takes. She¡¯s going to build that life that she has been yearning for, together here in this new place with her friends. Beaming, she watches as they all catch up. The girl begins walking a little quicker than the rest of them as she feels a deep excitement growing inside of herself, as she wonders what this new city is like? She hopes that Jubilee¡¯s statements are true about the people here and that they¡¯re less treacherous. She can hardly wait. Giddily, she bends down and picks one of the large flowers. She¡¯s going to dry this one and give it to Jubilee later, to make up for the one they had to leave behind. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 116: Go West They seem to have reached a plateau of sorts here on the other side of the bridge. The thin mountain-road quickly widens out further and further as it presses inward towards the heart of the mountain. The gray and lifeless harshness which was all around them on the lower rung, seems to be entirely out of sight now as the grassy knoll here is filled with dark and rich green tones. The grass is tall and plentiful. It is as if they were in the forest again and there, even further along the road, the space is filled with tall needle-trees that grow on both sides of the path. Fresh looks around herself, surprised at the stark contrast found in the landscapes. Her eyes follow the road that vanishes into the small woodland which grows here atop the mountain. Rising up behind it in the distance, as well as to both the left and the right, are high, jagged cliffs that rise higher and higher into three separate peaks that shield this place from the world. Much to her relief however, the path seems to stay entirely flat at this point. The four of them walk down the road together, entering into the forest. The world seems to be just a little kinder here to all of them as soon as they enter into the greenery, as the many trees and the large boulders which fill the area around them block the shearing mountain winds from reaching them any longer. The road slowly becomes more ornate as well, the simple rock and dirt path turns into a loose brickwork that then becomes more tightly compacted the further that they follow it through the woodland. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the crisp air here as she notices how much cleaner it smells than what she had gotten used to in the northern city. It¡¯s so light and clean and so rich in a thick perfume of pine that she almost feels light-headed from it. The cold stings her lungs as well. Jubilee stops, looking around the forest. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Nothing, just checking that we¡¯re alone,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°People here aren¡¯t really into snooping. At least the humans. But you can¡¯t be too careful.¡± Fresh scratches her cheeks, not sure what Jubilee means with that ¡®humans¡¯ remark. ¡°A- are there elves here too?¡± she stutters out, her teeth starting to chatter. ¡°What? No dumb-ass! I mean, yes, elves are everywhere these days, the lanky fucks,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But I¡¯m not talking about them. Just¡­ look, forget it -¡± Jubilee waves her off. ¡°Listen up, shit-heads.¡± Jubilee points at the others. ¡°We¡¯re about an hour out. We need to get our story straight.¡± ¡°Our story?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee stares at her, placing their hands on their hips as they stand there quietly. Fresh looks around at the others. Basil clears her throat and stands upright. Shamrock just stands there, breathing loudly as evidenced by his lurching breastplate. Her eyes wander back to Jubilee. ¡°Uh¡­?¡± Jubilee lets out a long sigh. ¡°If anyone asks us what we¡¯re doing here? Who we are?¡± ¡°Oh! Uh¡­ we¡¯re here to open a shop!¡± says Fresh. ¡°And why did we come all the way here to open a shop?¡± ¡°Because. Oh¡­¡± Fresh realizes what Jubilee was getting at. Obviously they can¡¯t tell anyone here the truth about their arrival. ¡°Uh, we really like the mountains?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not very convincing,¡± says Basil. ¡°The west is big on magic, so we¡¯re going to have to work around that,¡± says the priestess, nodding to Fresh as she thinks. ¡°You¡¯re a wet-crafter, so we¡¯ll just say that this seemed like the best place to make and sell magical items.¡± Jubilee thinks. ¡°Yeah, that makes sense. It¡¯s simple. Okay. We¡¯ll go with that. If anyone asks, we¡¯re from the north-east.¡± ¡°The north-east?¡± asks Fresh, now entirely lost. ¡°Yeah, there are a bunch of villages out there in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. It¡¯s far enough to be a safe bet that nobody will ask too many questions,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°We just have one last problem.¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Fresh as she looks around, trying to discern where Jubilee is looking. She follows her friend¡¯s eyes as they gaze at Basil. Not sure what¡¯s happening, she looks at Shamrock who does the same. Basil looks at all of them, just as confused as Fresh. ¡°Conspicuous,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Huh?¡± Basil raises her hands. ¡°You look like shit, fuck-head. Look at you!¡± snaps Jubilee, pointing at Basil¡¯s destroyed, bloodied and muddied white-robe. ¡°Besides. If you come into town wearing priestess¡¯ robes, people are going to ask questions. What if you run into another kook like you here?¡± Jubilee¡¯s finger raises, pointing at the lantern. ¡°And that ugly fucking thing. Look at it!¡± ¡°Hey!¡± argues Fresh, pursing her lips. ¡°Ah¡­ uh¡­¡± Basil fidgets, pulling on her sleeves. ¡°I uh¡­ that¡¯s a good point, but what should I do?¡± She looks at Shamrock. ¡°And what about Shamrock?¡± ¡°Shamrock is fine,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at the man. ¡°He¡¯ll be okay. They love close-combatants here. Enough to ignore his politics.¡± Jubilee sighs, crossing their arms as they think. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly like we have extra clothes with us. Maybe¡­¡± Jubilee looks up at Fresh. ¡°Can you make anything like fabric?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°Uh¡­ no, I don¡¯t think so, but¡­¡± The girl rummages through her bag, feeling around for it. ¡°Ah!¡± Her fingers feel something soft. ¡°I have this?¡± Fresh pulls out her old white robe from her bag, the one she arrived in this world in. She holds it out to Basil who unfolds it, her eyes widening in horror as she sees the generous cut-outs missing from the fabric. ¡°Absolutely not!¡± shouts Basil, quickly handing the dress back to her. ¡°How would that not draw more attention?!¡± ¡°Stop being a baby!¡± yells Jubilee. Fresh looks down at the old robe and then back towards Basil, not sure what¡¯s wrong with it. Though, then again, she does remember feeling very uneasy about it back then as well. She purses her lips. ¡°You can have my black robe and I¡¯ll wear this?¡± Basil looks at her, but doesn¡¯t seem too thrilled with the idea either. ¡°You fucking people. I swear,¡± sighs Jubilee before snapping their fingers at Basil. ¡°Get undressed.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± yell the priestess and Fresh at the same time. ¡°So I can tailor your robe!¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°You fucking knuckle-draggers.¡± ¡°My robe?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll just cut off the trim on the bottom and on the sleeves and take off the hood.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t! This is my holy cassock! It¡¯s sacred!¡± argues Basil. ¡°It¡¯ll be twice as sacred once I twist it around a stick and shove it up your virgin ass!¡± barks Jubilee. Basil gasps. ¡°What else do you want to do? Either you lose it, or we lose you!¡± The priestess seems close to crying now and she looks over at Fresh, but the girl doesn¡¯t have a better answer herself and scratches her cheek. ¡°Ah, wait! Uh¡­¡± She opens her inventory window, pulling up her sleeve as her fingers move towards it. The girl¡¯s hand stops just short of the water. Nervously, she looks back at her distraught friend, and purses her lips. She has to do this for Basil. Closing her eyes, she sticks her hand into the hole. Her arm is surrounded instantly by a thick, oily wet as feels around for what it is that she¡¯s looking for. Something grazes her hand and she yelps, pulling it back out in an instant together with a green mushroom-cap that she doesn¡¯t recall grabbing. ¡°Ta-da!¡± says Fresh proudly, quickly closing the window again with her free hand as she does her best to hide her nervousness. She smiles at her friends. ¡°I think you¡¯ll look really cute in green, Basil! Because you¡¯ll be more Basily then!¡± explains the girl, looking at Basil¡¯s confused gaze. ¡°If we can¡¯t cut your robe, can we dye it?¡± ¡°Will¡­ will it wash out?¡± asks the priestess nervously. Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Uh¡­ I think so, if we use the purification-mixture. It¡¯s just until we can get you some other clothes.¡± Basil sighs and finally gives in, relenting with a very uneasy nod. ¡°Okay,¡± says the priestess, still sounding somewhat uneasy as Fresh sets to work, grinding the mushroom-cap into a powder that she then mixes into one of their small bottles of water. Jubilee makes a glass chunk that Fresh then carves into a small basin. The hardest part of this process is convincing Basil to take off her robe. The priestess hides behind a tree, shivering as Fresh works on dying the fabric. Basil¡¯s hand constantly swats out from behind the tree, pushing away the lantern that keeps trying to float around to get to her, despite her ever increasingly loud and angry shouts at it. Eventually, perhaps because of the biting cold, the priestess relents and wears Fresh¡¯s old white robe, while the green-dyed priestess¡¯ robe hangs to dry next to a fire that they¡¯ve made. ¡°You look really cute, Basil!¡± says Fresh excitedly, trying to make the priestess feel better. But the woman, holding Fresh¡¯s bag in front of herself, just hunkers down further, hiding herself behind the brown fabric. ¡°I- Is it dry yet?¡± stutters Basil and Fresh isn¡¯t sure if it''s from the cold or if the priestess is trying not to cry. ¡°Not yet,¡± says Fresh, doing her best to be reassuring. ¡°Maybe ten more minutes.¡± Eventually, the process is finished however and Basil, dressed in her ¡®new¡¯ green robes, returns out of the forest. ¡°Is¡­ is it okay?¡± asks Basil. ¡°No, it¡¯s shit,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh, grabbing Basil¡¯s hand. ¡°It looks very nice, Basil! You look like a flower! See? You¡¯re all green except your head.¡± ¡°Dainty,¡± says Shamrock and Fresh nods approvingly, pulling the still distressed Basil behind her as they walk towards the city. ¡°So people aren¡¯t going to be nervous about Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°And what about you, Jubilee?¡± ¡°What about me?¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you conspicuous too?¡± she asks. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty big word for you to be using,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s fine. People never pay much attention to me and Shamrock, well¡­ you¡¯ll see. Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± explains Jubilee. The road widens up further and further, the trees on the sides growing sparser and sparser as they travel and soon, they breach the edge of the forest. Something massive comes into sight again, the details of which were hidden and obscured just a moment ago. ¡°Wow¡­¡± says Fresh as her eyes wander up the road, towards the giant stone wall which spans from one side of the plateau to the other, connecting the two peaks on the side, save for the giant gate before them that looks just like the one from the north. But past that are tall, timber-framed houses for as far as she can see through the giant gate. The mountain peaks rise up higher and higher and dotted all along them are walkways and stone houses, nested into the rock. No, they''re made out of the rock. They''re carved out from it. All along the side of the mountain are windows and balconies out of which shine warm, welcoming orange lights that fill the valley with a calm, heartfelt glow. Strange crystals float through the air, hovering above the city. Just before the large gate of the western city, stand two giant, time-worn statues, one on each side of the entrance, as with the northern city. But these, rather than being close-combatants of sorts, are clearly casters, given their long, flowing robes hewn intricately out of stone and the bent, gnarled staff held in one¡¯s hand. ¡°Well. Here we are,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Caster city. If you can do five push-ups, then you¡¯re basically king here.¡± None of the others say anything. They all just stare together with Fresh as the city before them bustles with life. As hundreds of silhouettes, just on the edge of their sight, hurry all around this new place and the walk-ways along the mountain-sides, like ants scurrying through a nest. Particularly interesting to her are the things that float high in the air above the houses. Those large, radiant crystals that suddenly begin to bathe the city below in a wash of colorful, pastel-tinged light, now that the sun is beginning to set and that the world is beginning to grow dark. A loud growl rings around the edge of the forest and all of them look at Fresh, who only notices their collective gazes a moment later. Laughing, she scratches her cheek. ¡°Let¡¯s get something real to eat and find a place to sleep! My treat!¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 117: Welcome to the West ¡°Wow¡­¡± says Fresh quietly, letting her friends hear her bewonderment as they cross through the precipice of the gate. The giant entry-way towers above them. Its crystal-lit shadow envelops them whole as they cross over the boundary and enter into the city. The ink of the shadow covers them entirely, as if it were the swallowing aura of a dungeon-portal. Despite it being dusk outside, the streets are still very busy, which is an unusual sight for her. In the northern city, the roads cleared very quickly as soon as the sun vanished. But here, the giant, prismatic crystals that linger in the air bathe the plaza with a soft, pinkish light which then shifts to a bluish-purple, before pulsing back. The combined glow of the many sources paints the brightly polished, giant stones of the streets with a pastel aura. It is as if the entire city, despite its harsh location and the coming of night, had been painted with the colors of a bright spring. Mountain run-off barrels down from the sides of the cliffs, past the many windows and houses as it forms a large stream that seems to run through the middle of the entire city. She can¡¯t see where it starts or where it ends, but the entire place is filled with a cool mist from the splashing dew. The dampness exemplifies the already cool and crisp night air. Yet the water too, clean and pure, shines with a bright aura as it also reflects the magical lights back into the air, while absorbing some of it into itself as well. The water almost glows like her own potions from the magical shine, almost as if the entire river itself were enchanted. ¡°Jubileeee~ it¡¯s so pretty!¡± exclaims Fresh excitedly, shaking her friend as she grabs them by the shoulder. ¡°Eh. You get used to it,¡± says Jubilee, shrugging and walking on ahead as the first one to cross the barrier fully. ¡°Have you been here before?¡± asks Basil curiously, beating Fresh to it who was just about to ask the same. ¡°Yeah, once or twice,¡± they say. ¡°You can really see the stars from up here,¡± explains Jubilee, giving an answer that Fresh hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get something to eat and then we¡¯ll get some sleep. We can talk about everything else tomorrow.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a great idea!¡± agrees Fresh excitedly as she runs after Jubilee. There are two streets, divided in the center by the shallow channel of water. Multiple arched, ornate wooden bridges span the gap and on either side of the way are houses with thick, timber-frame beams. The walls are made out of what appears to be a kind of matte, taupe plaster. Interestingly enough, in her eyes at least, most doors don¡¯t seem to be like the kind she is used to. Rather, they seemed to be sliding, wooden constructions, with a lining that she thinks is paper at first, but then realizes it is some sort of dense fabric. Her eyes shine with excitement, reflecting the magical lights as she looks at the many people lining the streets. Most of them are clearly casters with only the odd leather-clad fighter type visible here or there. Most everyone wears cloth robes and fabric, but heavily layered with some people wearing heavier furs and mantles. As they walk, she can¡¯t help but notice the many curious eyes and heads turning their way and at first she thinks its because they must look like a mess. But then she realizes that all of them are just staring at Shamrock, who is well out of place here. ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± calls an excited voice as a smaller figure runs up to them. The boy grabs Shamrock¡¯s giant hand, tugging on it. ¡°Wanna join our party?!¡± Shamrock stares at him for a moment. ¡°No,¡± is all that he says as he keeps on walking. The boy holds onto his hand, being dragged behind him as the giant moves onward, entirely indifferent to the additional weight. ¡°What percent are you getting now? We¡¯ll double it!¡± argues the boy. ¡°No,¡± repeats Shamrock, lifting his hand. The boy doesn¡¯t let go. Instead, his feet lift up into the air. Fresh scratches her cheek, looking at Jubilee who just sighs and shakes their head. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°Beat it, pip-squeak!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°The meat-head is with us!¡± The boy yells back, still hanging in the air off of Shamrock¡¯s arm, as the man lets out an exhausted, heavy sigh. ¡°You beat it! I bet you guys aren¡¯t even level ten! In total!¡± The boy¡¯s party, all rough looking children that are just about his age, stand just a few feet away all nod in unified agreement. ¡°Let¡¯s not get into a fight now,¡± says Basil, stepping in between the two of them. ¡°Get lost, you look like an upside down carrot! What¡¯s with that ugly robe?!¡± Basil flinches, pulling back with a gasp and Fresh grabs her shoulder. ¡°You look nice, Basil!¡± As she moves closer to the priestess, she can feel the fabric of her bag move to the side as the lantern inside of it tries to fly out to her. ¡°Carrot! Carrot!¡± yells the young boy, pointing at her and his party behind him all just nod, not saying anything further. Fresh purses her lips, pulling Basil back to the side and adjusting her bag. ¡°Come on, we¡¯re leaving.¡± She looks up at Shamrock. ¡°Put him down please. Let¡¯s go.¡± Shamrock nods once, lifting his arm higher and before Fresh can react, he flings it out to the side, sending the boy flying off into the shallow channel of water. Fresh winces as he lands, but he seems to be fine and sits upright a second later, soaking wet. The water isn¡¯t that deep here, apparently. His party scatters, only one of them stopping to wade into the water and pull him out. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean like that¡­¡± says Fresh, somewhat worried, as Shamrock walks on towards the rest of them. ¡°What was that?¡± she asks, looking at the others. ¡°Good job,¡± says Jubilee to Shamrock, sounding oddly proud, before turning to Fresh. ¡°There aren¡¯t many fighters here. It¡¯s all magic. So people here are desperate for someone with a little grit.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, not understanding. ¡°You¡¯ll only get so far in the dungeon with only magic,¡± they explain. ¡°Sometimes you need to whack stuff, you know?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Anyways, let¡¯s go. I wanna eat and hit the sack.¡± Fresh nods, thinking that she understands. Maybe there are some enemies that are immune to magic in the dungeon here? She supposes that in a city of casters, that could be a real problem. Shamrock walks up to them and looks down at Basil, nodding once before continuing on forward without another word. Basil looks around, somewhat confused and continues fidgeting with her sleeves until Fresh grabs her hand and pulls her behind her, as they continue on down the road. Jubilee leads them to a large building on the corner of the left-hand street. Water runs just past its exterior, which is ornamented with several wooden posts and lanterns, from which all sorts of chimes and knick-knacks hang. Small metal bells, little skulls that could belong to both monsters and animals, old pieces of equipment and fabric of tattered scarves and robes. Jubilee looks back up at her. ¡°Do you still have the key?¡± ¡°Key?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°For the adventurer¡¯s guild, goo-brain.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh taps her body, fumbling around. She always kept the big iron-key in the pocket of her robe, so it should still¡­ ¡°ah!¡± she pulls it out, surprised that she still has it. ¡°Here! But uh¡­ what for?¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips, staring at her. ¡°For the door? To our room?¡± The girl blinks and Jubilee sighs, relenting as they snatch the key from her. ¡°Every adventurer¡¯s guild has the same key.¡± Fresh gasps, clenching her fists in excitement. ¡°Really?! Jubilee! That¡¯s great!¡± ¡°Uh¡­ yeah? Sure, I guess? Let¡¯s eat first though, then we¡¯ll call it a day. Did you get the money out earlier like I asked you?¡± asks Jubilee suspiciously. Fresh nods with a prideful smile. ¡°I did!¡± ¡°Great. Let¡¯s go,¡± says Jubilee, grabbing the sliding door and pushing it open, heading in first as the rest of them follow after a moment later. Fresh isn¡¯t sure what to expect exactly from the adventurer¡¯s guild here. Will it be as quiet and somber as the one in the north? Standing up straight, maintaining her best posture, the girl crosses the threshold and steps inside, doing her best to look respectful in case this place too was haunted by the mourning wail of an unseen specter. Basil and Shamrock follow closely behind her. ¡°CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!¡± the crowd below them erupts into a series of cheers and screams as they encircle a man in their center, his long wizard¡¯s robe wet with the drink that runs down the sides of his gray beard, as he holds a giant tankard above his head, another three laying empty at his feet. The man takes a final gulp and holds the empty tankard into the air, tipping it upside down to showcase his success. The crowd erupts into an explosion of cheers and hollers that takes Fresh aback. The wizard throws the tankard to the ground, where it smashes down and rolls next to the rest of them at his feet. Lifting his hand, he smashes his fist against his chest a few times and lets out a long burp that Fresh is sure she can smell all the way up here by the door. The crowd erupts into another celebration as they watch as another tankard, apparently the fifth, makes its way around to the wizard who is apparently ready for the challenge. Music fills the air as a band, apparently having taken a break to allow the spectacle, now continue their playing. Fresh blinks, not sure if she¡¯s seeing right. She leans over, down to Jubilee to speak into their ear. Though she has to speak loudly as the ambiance in here is so loud that she can barely hear herself think. ¡°I thought you said people in the west were reserved?¡± ¡°They are. Adventurers don¡¯t count. They¡¯re hardly people,¡± sighs Jubilee. Fresh looks around, surprised, but not unhappy at this new environment. ¡°CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!¡± yells the crowd again as the wizard starts with the next one and she finds herself bobbing on her feet along with their chants and along with the rhythmic playing of the band next to the bar. The wizard suddenly keels over, a spew of vomit leaving his mouth in violent spray as he coats the floor in the center of the circle surrounding him. Again, the crowd erupts into a loud cheer as if this were good too and Fresh watches as the barkeeper behind the bar sighs a heavy sigh, shaking his head that he holds down in his palms. She isn¡¯t sure from up here, but he looks like a dark-elf. The entrance door to the adventurer¡¯s guild is apparently upstairs. Or¡­ the main area is downstairs. She isn¡¯t sure. The building is rectangular and right at the entrance is a large wooden walkway which runs around the inside edge of the building along all four walls in a circle. The entire area ¡®ring¡¯ is filled with tables and chairs and benches, all scooted together as the people there move them out of place to form large clusters with each other as they revel. On the left side of the walkway is a staircase that goes downstairs, towards the open area that the wizard and his crowd stand in. Fresh feels a strange feeling in her chest as she listens to the many happy, festive voices around herself. As she feels the subtle shaking as metal tankards strike each other, as she smells the wet dewiness in the air from spilled liquor and vomit, she feels a giddiness, a glee. This is what she had hoped an adventurer¡¯s guild would be like. The four of them navigate their way through the crowds, finding their way to a table. ¡°I got down to seventeen today!¡± ¡°Ooh, one more and you -¡± ¡°Woah! Look at that guy, he¡¯s huge!¡± The crowd downstairs shouts again and the room turns into a bright orange as a wave of fire spontaneously blasts into the air, the eruption shaking the entire building. Seconds later, the cheers return and a single tankard, that was blown to the ceiling by the explosion, clambers back down to the stones. Jubilee pulls out a chair and climbs on as they find a free table and the rest of them sit down too. Only Shamrock has difficulties, his chair being a little too small for him. ¡°This place is great! I love it!¡± says Fresh excitedly, her eyes shining. ¡°It looks like so much fun! Jubileeee~!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes and taps against the wood of the table twice loudly with their gloved finger. A second later a sound rings out like a little chime as Fresh feels a slight breeze blow past her right ear. She gasps, as she looks at the little fairy woman holding a small notepad. She¡¯s wearing a small, well tailored outfit like the barkeeper and Fresh can¡¯t help but find herself leaning in closer to stare at the fairy from behind. Basil grabs her shoulder and pulls her back, just before the fairy turns around to look at her. Fresh smiles a nervous smile and waves. ¡°What¡¯ll it be, sugar?¡± she says in a surprisingly gruff voice, taking the minuscule pen out from behind her ear. Jubilee flashes the key up at her. ¡°We¡¯re checking in. Indefinite stay.¡± ¡°Sure thing, darlin¡¯,¡± says the fairy, coughing a few times to clear her, apparently, very slimy throat. ¡°You wanna eat somethin¡¯?¡± ¡°Yeah, give us a full spread for the room tonight. Breakfast daily. We¡¯ll figure the rest out ourselves.¡± ¡°You got it,¡± says the waitress, making some scribbles into her notepad before flipping it closed. ¡°One and a half for the month,¡± she says. ¡°One hundred less if you pay now.¡± Jubilee nods, snapping over at Fresh. ¡°Pay the woman.¡± ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh fumbles into her bag, getting the coins ready. ¡°Uh¡­¡± she stops for a second, looking back at Jubilee who lets out a tired groan. ¡°One-thousand four-hundred.¡± ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh digs through the bag, getting the coins together with one hand and pressing the lantern down with the other to stop it from flying out. Quickly closing the bag back up, she sets the money down onto the table. The fairy floats above the coins, counting the fourteen silver coins off with her finger. Fresh can¡¯t help but wonder how she is going to take the money? She¡¯s barely a foot tall. ¡°Alright, this checks out,¡± says the small waitress. ¡°You don¡¯t just have a big one, do you?¡± ¡°Ah¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± apologizes Fresh. ¡°I only have these.¡± The fairy grumbles, flying down to grab four at once and stacks them together, before flying off. Fresh watches in awe as the small fairy leaves, flying out over the ¡®pit¡¯ on her way back to the bar. She feels somewhat bewildered, but also fascinated. The girl can feel her own back aching already, as she watches the fairy gliding through the air, ducking to the side just in time, as another explosion rings out, sending a tankard flying just past her. It crashes against the ceiling and gets stuck, as the edge presses itself into the roof. The crowd erupts again, seemingly willing to cheer for anything and everything. Razmatazz People here are a lot more fun for sure. Must be the mountain air =) Trivia - Mountains Mountains, being some of the most awe-inspiring features of the world, have always been a part of mythology no matter where you go in the world. Much like water and the sky, mountains are held in strong reverence all around the world. The most famous examples of course are Mount Olympus in Greece, which was said to be home to the gods themselves. Greek mythology is loaded with stories of this mountain and honestly, it¡¯s an entire book in and of itself, let alone an after-chapter trivia haha. Another popular one is of course, the famous Mount Fuji in Japan, in which the mountain itself is considered to be a sacred entity that is attributed to be an important spirit. These beliefs stem from the unique mixture of Shinto and Buddhism in Japan, in which, much like old shamanistic beliefs, spirits are attributed to even inanimate things. Interesting for christian mythology is the mountain Ararat, which is said to be the place that Noah¡¯s ark found land. Interestingly, much like mount Olympus, Ararat was held to be the home of the gods by the Armenian people. But, much like in Greece, this belief slowly faded and Christianity spread and overwrote it. Ararat is a highly controversial subject, given its geographical location, so you¡¯ll have to do your own research about it, since I don¡¯t want to get banned for politics haha. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 118: Bathwater ¡°You¡¯re doing good so far,¡± says the voice of the fountain. Fresh looks around as she floats in the black-water. Is she? ¡°Everything went wrong. It was really close,¡± argues the girl as she floats as a disembodied presence in the light-less ocean. The fountain yawns loudly, not too bothered by her statement. She feels the water surging around herself as a presence shifts and moves nearby, the current pressing all around her sides as it flows around her bodiless form in a spiral. ¡°No, it¡¯s all going according to plan,¡± says the voice from the water. ¡°We had a few, little hiccups here and there. But all in all, we¡¯re on the right track.¡± ¡°Plan? Track? What are you talking about?¡± asks Fresh, now entirely lost. ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry about it. I just wanted to check in, really.¡± ¡°I feel like I should worry about it!¡± argues the girl. ¡°We had to run for our lives because of how badly I messed up! Basil died!¡± ¡°She un-died, it¡¯s fine. As long as the others are useful, we can keep them around,¡± says the fountain, its voice drolls on as if it were speaking with a deeply sleepy tone, as if it were fighting the nodding of its head as it drifts away mid-sentence. ¡°That¡¯s really crass! They¡¯re my friends!¡± ¡°Sure, sure,¡± says the fountain, as if disregarding her. ¡°Anyways, you did well. I didn¡¯t expect the shop thing when I gave you your class, but I¡¯ll hand it to you, it all worked out nicely. Very creative.¡± ¡°What are you talking about? It was a total disaster!¡± exclaims the floating girl. ¡°Was it? Hmm¡­ well, maybe for you,¡± says the fountain. ¡°I guess on the ground-level, things look different. You fulfilled your task, so it was time to leave anyway. Things were becoming stagnant. Black-water has to flow, you know?¡± ¡°My task? I didn¡¯t do anything though,¡± says Fresh, feeling herself floating upside-down as the current spins her around and around, as if it were playing with her like a small child would with a doll. ¡°You did everything. We¡­ hmm¡­ what¡¯s the term you people use?¡± asks the fountain. ¡°We just about hit ¡®market saturation¡¯ in that city. There wasn¡¯t anything left for me.¡± ¡°Huh? For you?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. We just bought a lot of time though. With that many, it will make it a lot harder for them to summon that hero to stop us. You did great!¡± ¡°That many what? Stop us from doing what? What are we doing?¡± asks Fresh, feeling more and more distraught at the fountain¡¯s vagaries. Or maybe she just isn¡¯t able to fully understand it, maybe she¡¯s the problem? The water rushes as it picks up its pace, the current churning as the tide comes to carry her away again, to pull her back to the new life that she lives. The fountain sighs a tired sigh. ¡°What we¡¯re doing? Well I¡¯m taking a nap now,¡± says the sleepy voice, as she begins to float off towards the distant darkness. ¡°You? You¡¯re going to open a store,¡± says the fountain. ¡°No rest for the wicked.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes shoot open as the back of a soft hand slaps against the side of her face. The girl lays on her sore back on a blanket on the floor, as she stares up towards the dark ceiling of their room in the western adventurer¡¯s guild. Looking to her side, she stares at Basil who is flailing in her sleep. The priestess¡¯ arm slides off of her face as she twists around, hitting the other way. She really is quite the restless sleeper, apparently. Fresh sits upright, feeling her now damp blanket stick to her skin, as she stares around the half-dark room that they all find themselves in. The room is a bit different than the one in the northern city, though it is just as sparsely furnished with only one bed. Adventurers were apparently expected to buy or make their own furniture, which is fair enough in her eyes. The walls are much like the rest of the architecture here in this city, being made of an off-white plaster with dark timber-framing. Any noises of the sounds of the revelry outside are entirely muted and silent, despite being just a wall away. She supposes that¡¯s because they are in a cut-off space. Nobody sleeps on the single bed, instead, Jubilee had them take the mattress off of it and lean it up as a separator, which they are sleeping behind. Shamrock sits by the door, leaning against the wall. A leg bends out to the side as Basil kicks her through her blanket. Fresh sighs, placing a hand on the priestess¡¯ head, though not really sure why. Is this weird? Is she being creepy? Fresh isn¡¯t sure, but she pets Basil¡¯s hair in the hopes that it will help her settle down. Judging by the sharp kick that she receives again, it apparently doesn¡¯t. The girl purses her lips, thinking about her dream. But the more she thinks about it, the more vague and distant the vision becomes and soon enough she is left with nothing but a darkness in her mind, similar to that of this room. She couldn¡¯t fall back asleep now, even if she wanted to, so instead, Fresh thinks that she should get up early to get ready for this brand new day. Quietly, she gets up, covering Basil with her blanket as the priestess had kicked her own blanket away. She can see the vague lump lying halfway across the room and she steps over it as she gets dressed and creeps towards the sliding door, pulling it gently to the side as she steps into the pale, blue fog beyond and then closing it behind herself before she fades away into the mist. Fresh can¡¯t help but smile as she returns to the party outside that hasn¡¯t seemed to temper itself in the least. Something about the fact that people here are so open and loud makes her really happy. She wonders if adventurers here are kinder? They certainly seemed like it, sort of. Ducking through the rows of tables, she goes through a door upstairs, not far from theirs, that Jubilee had shown her before they went to bed. The crowd by the front door erupts into a series of hollers and loud cheers as a man walks in the entrance, being embraced and surrounded by the many people the second that he walks in. Fresh smiles as she watches his cloth-draped silhouette vanish behind the many excited bodies rushing to see him. She hopes that she can be greeted like that when she walks into a place one day. Nodding to herself, determined to put in some work today to make that dream come true, she opens the sliding door to the bathing area and steps inside. A heavy, dewy steam flows against her and she closes the door behind herself as she steps inside to wash the gunk and grime and goo of the last two weeks off of her body. The washing room and all of its furnishings and features are also made out of the heavy white stones and plaster, their surfaces trickling as the hot steam rolls down them like melting wax from a candle and within seconds it starts to do the same on her, as the dew pearls on her skin. As Fresh heads to the bathing area, she can¡¯t help but notice a small, sink-like fountain. It isn¡¯t particularly ornate or artistically crafted. The decorations are all just vaguely occult¡¯ish, just all vaguely resemblant of something old and spooky, but not so much so that it draws any attention. She leans forward, examining the fish in the center that spews water out of its mouth in a constant trickle and as the water wicks from its body, she can see a vague reflection of herself in it for just a brief moment. It winks. Fresh yelps, quickly shuffling away to wash up in private. Jubilee had said that the first thing that they¡¯ll do today is check out the town for any properties that are available, ideally near the dungeon. At the word ¡®dungeon¡¯, Shamrock seemed to become oddly excited as visible by his frantic breathing, but Jubilee told him to settle down. They¡¯d get to go inside of the dungeon soon enough. Fresh had promised in the meanwhile to go into town with Basil to find some new clothes and provisions for them all. Their plan is to stay in the adventurer¡¯s guild for now. It only made sense, they had everything that they needed here. Plus she really likes it. Somehow, her blunder during her early days here was really paying off, even now, this far into the future. Undressing and stepping into the bath, Fresh submerges her head beneath the hot water, vigorously rubbing her long hair with her fingers as she reaches out and grabs some soap. ¡°It¡¯s all going according to plan, huh?¡± she mutters to herself as she breaches back out of the surface, realizing only a moment later as she scrubs herself, as she stares down at her reflection, that it is staring back up at her. Fresh tilts her head and the reflection does the same. ¡°You know? I¡¯d really like some privacy now and then,¡± says the girl to herself. The reflection doesn¡¯t respond, simply staring up at her as it carries the same expression that she has on her own face, its hands holding the bubbly bar of soap against its pale skin. An hour later, after she finally feels clean from well over two weeks of grime, after pulling out countless twigs from her knotted hair and plucking dirt and hardened gunk off of her robe, she returns outside, feeling like a creature that has been freshly reborn. Her steps feel light and her muscles feel relaxed, there isn¡¯t even an inkling of an ache in her back. Smiling, she rolls her neck as she hurries past the loud party, deciding to go out into town to look around while the others are still asleep. Even if she has to wait on them to do anything, there is still so much to see. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 119: Shopping Spree ¡°Look! Look over here!¡± shouts Fresh excitedly as she tugs on Basil¡¯s hand, dragging the priestess along behind her as they make their way through the new city. Several hours had passed since she had woken up on her own and gone wandering, by the time she got back, the others were awake and ready to set out as well. It makes Fresh a little nervous, but for the first time, they are splitting up. Jubilee told her not to be a baby and she tried her best to oblige, but she still felt really anxious about it and practically clung to her friend who had then threatened to throw her off the mountain if she didn¡¯t stop. Jubilee and Shamrock are heading through the town to look at properties and to work out how the market in this city runs, before they step on any toes again. Basil and Fresh¡¯s plan, meanwhile, is to explore the area and find shops of note and to buy a few provisions and other things that they might need. Basil yelps as she is tugged to the side again, as she is dragged behind Fresh and barely able to keep up with her excited pace. ¡°I found this earlier and I wanted to show you!¡± says Fresh excitedly, pointing down from the ledge they are standing on. Basil comes to her, to stand next to the waist-high railing as they stare down at the world below. The western city up here on the mountain plateau is built on several layers. The mountain faces diverge off into all directions, opening up a few more flat areas that are built over as well. Fresh lifts a finger, pointing towards something odd. A giant hole in the side of the mountain. An ornately carved gate. ¡°Is that the dungeon?¡± asks Basil, squinting. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so, I think it¡¯s just a tunnel, look!¡± she says and they stand there and watch silently for a while as people enter into the mountain and then minutes later, silhouettes of the same color emerge on the other side, out on the distant plateaus. The plateaus of the city are apparently connected by large, gigantic underground passages that run through the mountain. ¡°I asked somebody before, apparently a lot of people live inside of the mountain!¡± Basil looks at her and then up the side of the mountain, the exterior of which is dotted with square cutouts in the rock-face. ¡°Huh¡­ that makes sense, I guess.¡± The priestess looks around the area from their high vantage point. ¡°Where¡¯s the dungeon?¡± ¡°Apparently, it¡¯s inside the mountain too!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°Oh¡­ that makes sense. Wanna go take a loo- iah!¡± Basil yelps again as Fresh abruptly tears her away before she can finish speaking, as they make their way down an inclined path which leads towards the large tunnel gate that they were looking at. The streets here are more narrow than the ones in the northern city and she hasn¡¯t seen a single anqa or cart yet, as they move through the busy roads. But they are just as full of bright, excited faces as the streets in the north. In fact, the people here seem somehow less grim than those of the northern city. Perhaps because any somber expressions or sad looks could simply be turned towards the awe inspiring vastness of the world, which is visible from nearly every precipice and walkway. There is always something to look at. Something far off in the distance to wonder about. The sun shines brightly above their heads, somehow even brighter than she had thought possible. Maybe because they¡¯re higher up, so they¡¯re closer to it? She doesn¡¯t really understand, but it makes sense in her mind. ¡°Where are we going?¡± asks Basil. ¡°I thought we were going to see the stores?¡± ¡°We will!¡± says Fresh, pulling the priestess along. ¡°But you gotta see this!¡± The two of them weave between the busy crowds filling the streets. The lower plaza outside of the tunnel is surrounded by dozens and dozens of wooden stalls, lined with all manner of things. ¡°We should get the provisions!¡± yells Basil, talking over the loud crowd that they have submerged themselves in. It reminds Fresh a lot of the entrance plaza to the northern city. ¡°We can get them inside!¡± says Fresh, looking back over her shoulder as they run towards the giant gate, carved ornately into the side of the mountain. Fresh gazes up at it in awestruck wonder again before they run through it and head into the mountain. The exterior rim of the gate is engraved with dozens of figures, all locked into a giant, indistinguishable turmoil. Some of them are fighting with each other, locked in an eternal fight. Others are helping those next to them climb higher and higher, yet all of them seem to share one thing in common. A desire to reach the top. The two of them enter the tunnel. Immediately, the air shifts. There is an echo audible around them and there is a strong breeze which comes from inside of the hole, as the wind pushes through the mountain from the other side, whistling loudly as it sheers along the intricately carved rock passages. The tunnel branches off into two directions. One path heads to the right, that¡¯s the one they saw the adventurers go through on their way to the other plateau. The other branches left. ¡°Ah, I think the dungeon is this way,¡± says Basil, pointing up to a large sign at the crossroads that describes the way. ¡°Yeah! But look!¡± Fresh pulls the priestess to the side, towards the left inner wall of the tunnel. Both sides of the underground passage are lined with giant glass windows and wide open doors. Giant signs hang outside of them and crowds wander in and out, trickling back into the flow of the people as they exit them and return to their adventures. Fresh points to one sign in particular that they are next to and presses her face against the window and stares in excitement through the glass, towards the colorful crystal ornaments inside of the shop. A quiet vibration can be felt, its soft hammering shaking the glass ever so slightly as it sounds off with a rhythmic tinkling. Tick. Tick. Tick. Fresh stares at the clockwork shop before her, filled with all manner of decorations and ornaments, but also small toys and knick-knacks that move from side to side. A few dolls tilt left and right in unison with the swinging pendulum next to them, as the clockwork locomotion moves them all. ¡°Ah, I¡¯ve heard of this,¡± says Basil, looking inside and standing next to her. ¡°The wet-crafters here are really the best, you know?¡± Fresh nods, staring excitedly as a small crystal hovers past the window, shining with a pale, pastel light that covers the storefront for a moment. ¡°The mountain is a high-magic zone, so they¡¯ve really made the most out of it. Look, there -¡± Basil points to the crystal. ¡°Those crystals get magic from the mountain. They use it to do all sorts of things.¡± ¡°It¡¯s so cool!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Huh? Are you cold?¡± asks Basil. ¡°I suppose it is rather chilly up here. Come on, let¡¯s go find a tailo- IAH!¡± Basil lurches to the side as Fresh grabs her hand and violently drags her off down the left tunnel as they run past all sorts of shops on the way. Shops that Fresh never saw the likes of the northern city. Ornate jewelers, toy-makers, bookstores and even a confectioner that Basil only barely manages to restrain her from entering, reminding her that they needed the money for more important things. As they head down the left tunnel, walking with the crowds, the air becomes damper and a little thicker. But it¡¯s not entirely unpleasant and it carries with it a softness that is a nice contrast to the sharp, thin mountain air outside. A soft trickling can be heard, the noise slowly distinguishing itself from the many voices of the crowd which intermingle with another, echoing around the giant tunnel. ¡°- id you ever figure out that puzzle?¡± ¡°Yeah, after like a week. The hidden wall really got m -¡± ¡°Aaaah! I love this new robe! It¡¯s so sof -!¡± Basil and Fresh step forward as the tunnel opens up into a wide cavern. A noisy cascade of cold, blue water falls from the upper ceiling of the large chamber, which has a small hole in its top. The waterfall rains down over the top of a giant, stone gate, which stands in the center of the space. The mountain runoff trickles down the stone construction, breaking off into several small rivers that then branch out on all sides and flow in all manner of directions, like veins leaving a heart. A series of wooden bridges span over the deep, ancient grooves in the rock towards the small island that the dungeon-gate stands on. Crystals, like the ones seen outside at night, float around near the ceiling and illuminate the entire area. Fresh clenches her fists in excitement. ¡°Wanna go check it out?¡± asks the girl, already running forward towards it. A hand grabs her wrist and pulls her back. ¡°Slow down. We shouldn¡¯t go inside without the others,¡± scolds Basil. Fresh feels an innate desire to argue with her, because she really wants to see this new dungeon and to figure out what it looks like and what kind of monsters it has. But, after staring at her for a moment, Fresh decides that Basil is right. Fresh sighs, lowering her head. ¡°Okaaay~¡± Perhaps seeing that this is all very exciting, but not exactly productive, Basil apparently opts to take the lead and from then on keeps them on a strict regimen, so that they can fulfill their goals for the day. Fresh can¡¯t help but wonder if the priestess isn¡¯t treating her like one of the children that she had looked after. She is certainly being made to carry everything that they buy. Basil argues that it¡¯s because she¡¯s the only one with a bag, which Fresh has nothing to say against. Though she does smile a somewhat smug smile as they pass a small stall outside of the dungeon and she secretly buys a bag for the priestess as well, slapping a silver Obol down on the counter and pointing to one hanging in the back, just like she had seen Jubilee do for her. (Fresh) bought: [Adventurer¡¯s Bag]{15L}(Normal) for [{100} Obols] ! Basil awkwardly takes it, asking her to not buy her things. Fresh sticks her tongue out at the priestess and says that she¡¯s going to anyway. After that, the two of them run around, buying all manner of things. Their first stop is to collect simple provisions. Simple bars made out of dried meats and grains for when they¡¯re in the dungeon or on the go. Then they move on to another stall covered in furs and fabrics, buying two normal sized bedrolls and one extra large one for their room. Depending on what news Jubilee and Shamrock come back with, they might be staying in the adventurer¡¯s guild for a while, so it¡¯s maybe a good idea to get comfortable enough to sleep well at night, at the very least. While they¡¯re on the subject, Fresh asks Basil how she slept last night. ¡°Me? I slept really well, honestly,¡± says the priestess. ¡°It¡¯s nice to have a roof, you know?¡± She shrugs. ¡°But I dreamt weird things.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Like what?¡± Basil looks at her and then awkwardly waves her hands, changing the topic. ¡°It¡¯s not important. Come on, we still have a lot of stuff to get!¡± she exclaims. ¡°I¡¯m dying to finally wear some fresh clothes,¡± says Basil and to Fresh¡¯s surprise, the priestess now grabs her hand and drags her along behind her, as they run together towards the next store on their list. Razmatazz I wouldn''t worry about it Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 120: Long term goals ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee!¡± yells Fresh excitedly, as she runs up to her friend, seeing them standing in the road together with Shamrock, whom she also says an excited hello to. ¡°Look at all of the stuff we found!¡± exclaims Fresh, as she turns around to show Jubilee the full bag on her back. Basil catches up, panting, as she too has her own overflowing bag on her back, but also two of the three bedrolls, as Fresh was unable to carry anything else. Jubilee nods to her, looking over at Basil. ¡°You keeping her on a leash, so she doesn¡¯t wander off of a cliff?¡± The priestess bends over forward, bracing her hands against her knees, as the heavy fabric bag on her back rattles, its contents shifting around. ¡°I¡¯m- I¡¯m doing my best,¡± she says between desperate breaths. ¡°Hey!¡± pouts Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°Strong,¡± says Shamrock, nodding to the priestess and Basil laughs a little nervously. Fresh¡¯s posture loosens a second later as she wants to tell them about her morning, but she isn¡¯t quite sure where to start. ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee!¡± starts Fresh. ¡°We found the dungeon and it¡¯s really great! There¡¯s a bunch of water and crystals and oh! Oh! Jubilee!¡± Fresh grabs Jubilee¡¯s shoulders. ¡°There¡¯s this really nice shop that makes clockwork toys and -¡± Jubilee raises a hand, shushing her with it and pushing her hands off of their shoulders with the other. ¡°Okay, okay. Settle down. Your goo-brain is leaking.¡± ¡°Jubilee~!¡± cries Fresh, leaning in towards her friend. ¡°This city is really great! It¡¯s so pretty and the air is so clean and the -¡± ¡°Okay. Yeah, I get it. You like the mountain air,¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Listen up, we went to the magistrate and asked about setting up a business.¡± ¡°Magi- What does a wizard have to do with anything?¡± asks Fresh, scratching her cheek. ¡°A wi- No you dumb-ass. A magistrate has nothing to do with magic. He runs this place,¡± barks Jubilee at her. ¡°Oh, wow! You got to talk to him?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°No, just some old goon at a desk, but she told us enough. There are actually a few properties for sale in the city.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°Yeah, I asked about ones by the dungeon -¡± Basil jumps in. ¡°Is that wise? What if there¡¯s another breach?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. The gate is pretty well guarded here. There¡¯s no corrupt church to throw us to the wolves this time,¡± says Jubilee, staring at Basil, who doesn¡¯t manage to find a response. ¡°Anyways. There¡¯s one just outside of the dungeon but¡­¡± Jubilee thinks for a second, before looking at Shamrock. ¡°Suspicious,¡± says the man as he gazes upwards at a large crystal that flies on by, shimmering as the late morning sunlight radiates off of its glossy, prismatic surface. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s too cheap,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°They only want half the asking price of any other building. Houses aren¡¯t cheaper by the dungeon here like they are in the north, because the gate here is safe.¡± Basil crosses her arms thinking. ¡°So there¡¯s a catch?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°There¡¯s always a fucking catch, but she wouldn¡¯t tell us anything. Fucking pen pushers.¡± Fresh thinks for a while as they all stand there. The crowd bustles and flows around them. ¡°Is there a merchant¡¯s guild here?¡± she asks Jubilee. ¡°No. The magistrate runs everything. He¡¯s basically a king. But, he keeps his fingers out of the pie, as long as it keeps on coming.¡± ¡°So we won¡¯t have any dues to pay here? Or any tributes to make?¡± asks Fresh excitedly. The prospect of being financially unburdened is greatly enticing to hear about. ¡°Just the taxes and property dues. The rate is a little higher than in the north though, but we¡¯re still coming out ahead.¡± ¡°That sounds great, Jubilee! We should take it!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°Can we look at it? How much does it cost?¡± ¡°After we¡¯ve paid. They¡¯ll let us have it for seventy-thousand,¡± says Jubilee dryly, looking at her and watching as her excited face grows pale in an instant. None of them say anything. Fresh shuffles awkwardly around as she watches Basil fidget much the same. Only Shamrock seems undisturbed as he continues to stare at the giant crystals flying through the sky. ¡°Jubilee, we can¡¯t afford that,¡± says Fresh plainly, rubbing her arm, saying it as nobody else was going to, by the looks of things. ¡°Yeah. No shit. All the money we put to the side is still in the northern adventurer¡¯s guild.¡± Fresh suddenly realizes in horror at how much they had left behind so suddenly. ¡°Jubilee! What about¡­ what about your money?¡± Jubilee shakes their head once more. ¡°It¡¯s deposited.¡± ¡°Oh no¡­¡± mutters Fresh, thinking about the adventurer¡¯s guild. She hopes that the scarred barkeeper doesn¡¯t hate her now too. She thinks that she really ended up taking a liking to the elf, despite everything. ¡°So, what do we do now?¡± ¡°We earn some money,¡± says Jubilee plainly. ¡°The property has been available for a while now, so I don¡¯t think there¡¯s a rush.¡± Fresh lets out an unsure groan. She shivers as a cold breeze rushes past them. The frigid mountain winds press through the crowd and cause the entire river of fabric robes and capes to billow along with its gentle current. ¡°But that much? I mean, maybe when we were selling things at the store, but how are we going to do it without a building?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, dumb-ass. We¡¯re an adventuring party,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll just go on an adventure.¡± ¡°Again?¡± whines Fresh. ¡°But Jubileeee~ we just got here!¡± ¡°What? No! I mean into the dungeon!¡± yells Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°We¡¯re going to start dungeon-diving to earn money. With all four of us, we should be able to get pretty far.¡± Jubilee looks up at Shamrock. ¡°You ever been here?¡± ¡°No,¡± is all that he says as his breastplate lurches outward. ¡°What about you?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Not into the dungeon, no. How much money do you have left?¡± asks Jubilee, looking at Fresh. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh turns to look at Basil. ¡°You have just under ten-thousand,¡± says Basil, pulling on her sleeves for a second as she thinks. ¡°I also have this,¡± she says, pulling up the fabric to show the golden bangle that she wears around her wrist. ¡°It¡¯s not worth much, but we can sell it?¡± suggests the priestess. Fresh looks at her somewhat surprised, but also touched. ¡°That¡¯s really sweet, Basil. Thank you!¡± Basil doesn¡¯t say anything, but nods with a pleased smile. Jubilee thinks for a second. ¡°We¡¯ll take what we can get. I might be able to work something out to get to our savings. I¡¯ll have to talk to some people tonight.¡± ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild¡­?¡± asks Fresh quietly, leaning over towards Jubilee. ¡°Is that a smart idea?¡± she whispers. Jubilee ignores her question. ¡°Together with what you have, we only need to get maybe thirty? Yeah. I think we can scratch that together. If everything works out,¡± says Jubilee looking at Shamrock and at Basil who both nod back. Fresh beams excitedly. ¡°So we¡¯re going to the dungeon?!¡± ¡°Yeah. Don¡¯t get in the way, goo-brain. You two kooks go back to the guild and drop all of your stuff off,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll meet up outside of the dungeon in an hour and check it out. We can take a look at the house from the outside at least too.¡± After that, the four of them split up again into two groups. Fresh and Basil follow the waterway that cuts through the plateau as they head back towards the adventurer¡¯s guild to drop everything off. Entering into the guild, the two of them are accosted by the loud shouting of the constant party that is happening inside. Fresh ducks down at the last second, as the fairy-waitress zooms past her head, apparently straining herself a lot to carry a single empty mug through the anarchy. People are moving every which way as they fill tables, hopping from one group to the next in what appears to be a strange drinking game that she isn¡¯t really able to decipher. Quickly, they unlock the sliding door and duck into the room and take a minute to unload their bags. Since they have time, Fresh suggests that they get the new bedrolls ready for tonight. She bets Jubilee will be really happy with her for thinking ahead like this and so, she proudly sets to work. Humming as she rolls the smaller ones out while Basil takes care of the large bedroll for Shamrock. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh realizes all of a sudden that they¡¯re one bed-roll short. She didn¡¯t think about Jubilee, having forgotten that the mattress was being used as a divider rather than to lay on top of. ¡°Basil, we have to go buy another bed-roll for Jubilee! I forgot!¡± Basil looks up at her as she tucks in the sheet around the corner of the large mat. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you,¡± starts Basil. ¡°But I didn¡¯t want to be rude¡­¡± Basil fidgets a little, pulling on her sleeves. ¡°How come Jubilee is so shy about their appearance?¡± ¡°Huh? What do you mean?¡± asks Fresh. Basil blinks a few times and then shrugs. ¡°You know? The whole mask thing?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Fresh realizes that she doesn¡¯t even think about it anymore. At this point, the mask seemed to be just as natural a feature of Jubilee¡¯s body as any other part of it. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I never asked, I think?¡± says Fresh. ¡°Really? So you don¡¯t know what they really look like?¡± asks Basil. Fresh thinks for a second, placing a finger on her cheek. ¡°I guess not,¡± thinks the girl. ¡°But I mean, I don¡¯t know what Shamrock looks like either,¡± she laughs. ¡°Everyone is so secretive. But at least I can see your face, Basil!¡± She lifts a finger as she explains. ¡°It¡¯s really nice!¡± says Fresh as she goes back to making the bed. A moment later, she stops and thinks for a second. Was that a weird thing to say? Is she being weird again? Fresh looks over towards Basil. She hopes that the priestess doesn¡¯t think that she¡¯s weird now. Basil mutters a quiet ¡°Thank you,¡± as she continues to pull on her sleeves, not looking up from them anymore. A moment later she goes back to making Shamrock¡¯s bed. Fresh shrugs, feeling relieved. It looks like everything is fine. The girl smiles, continuing to hum as she works, her eyes shining with the barely contained excitement that grows inside of her at the prospect of going into the new dungeon together with all of her friends. Fresh is excited about the fact that they could all work together, fight together, so that they all, together, could make a new place to call home. She can hardly wait. Razmatazz Bored? Wanna chat and hang out? Wanna talk about that weird kink you got down in the dungeon that one time when you were a slime-girl? Wanna yell at me because I''m a hack? Just another reminder that we have a cute little Discord server where two of those three things are socially acceptable =P Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 121: All in all ¡°I think it looks nice!¡± says Fresh excitedly as they all stand together just outside of the house that Jubilee had pointed out to them. They are inside the mountain tunnel by the dungeon, along the left-hand path. Water, from the stream that runs from the dungeon-gate towards the entrance of the city, flows a few steps past the tightly closed door of the building. The entrance to the house juts out halfway, as if it were carved from the inside of the mountain from one solid piece of rock. Fresh walks up to one of the two large windows on either side of the door as she stares inside of the darkened room. ¡°Apparently, it has two floors and a basement,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°That could be useful for your¡­ uh¡­ workshop.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh excitedly, rubbing her face against the glass that is dusty on the inside. She turns her head to the right. She can see the dungeon-gate from here. It¡¯s probably not any further or closer than the old gate used to be from their old store. Turning her head around, she looks at the tunnel street that they¡¯re on. Dozens of adventurers walk along the double-sided road, coming to and from the dungeon with all manner of expressions on their faces, but none of which seem all too sour. ¡°The location is perfect!¡± she says excitedly. ¡°How many rooms does it have?¡± asks Basil. ¡°The downstairs is a living space. Basement is one plus the washroom. Upstairs I forget, but it has a balcony.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°The guy who owned it apparently died.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± Fresh looks back at Jubilee as she quickly steps away from the window. ¡°Does that mean -¡± Jubilee cuts her off. ¡°No, dumb-ass! There isn¡¯t a ghost. He didn¡¯t die inside.¡± Fresh sighs in relief. ¡°Oh¡­¡± She looks back at the house and then looks at the others. ¡°I like it! I think we should try to get it. What do you guys think?¡± ¡°Sounds good to me. What else is there to do?¡± shrugs Jubilee. Basil nods in agreement. ¡°I think so too. We need a property and the stars really aligned for this one to be here right now.¡± ¡°It¡¯s close to the dungeon,¡± says Shamrock as he stares over towards the gate. Fresh supposes that¡¯s a yes. She nods. ¡°Okay! Then let¡¯s go to the dungeon!¡± calls out the girl excitedly, clenching her fists. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Jubilee waves her off and turns around to start walking towards the gate. ¡°Why are you always so excited?¡± they ask, shaking their head. Basil runs after Jubilee, sparing a moment to wave back at her. ¡°I think it¡¯s endearing.¡± Fresh purses her lips, looking up at Shamrock who stands next to her, looking back down to meet her gaze. He nods to her once. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Fresh smiles at him, happy that someone shares her enthusiasm. Leaving the house behind, the two of them head after Basil and Jubilee. Though Fresh does stop once as they are halfway there, as she turns around to look back at the house, having had the feeling for just the briefest second, that someone was watching her. But there is nobody there. The four of them head inside of the dungeon. ¡°I-it¡¯s so cold!¡± shudders Fresh almost immediately, clutching herself as she walks on behind Jubilee and Shamrock, who now take the lead as they enter through the dungeon portal together. They¡¯ve barely managed to leave the nebulous fog of the barrier behind before the icy chill begins to assault them. ¡°We r- really need to buy some coats!¡± ¡°Toughen up,¡± barks Jubilee back at her. ¡°Make sure the goo in your head doesn¡¯t freeze solid.¡± They point at Basil. ¡°You! You¡¯re in charge of babysitting.¡± Basil blinks once and then looks at Fresh before turning back to Jubilee and nodding. ¡°Okay.¡± Fresh wants to argue and say that she doesn¡¯t need a babysitter, but she¡¯s too cold. The dungeon itself is cold, but it¡¯s a different cold than what she had experienced outside. It¡¯s more than just a chill. It¡¯s absolutely frigid and biting. Water runs down alongside them, following on the side of the path that they follow. This dungeon is different. There aren¡¯t any stairs right away. Rather, there is a rounded, winding path from the entrance which snakes down along the way, as if it and the tiny river were two serpents coiling around one another. The floors are made up of a light, almost-white brick-work. Small piles of soft dirt and broken off bits of stone rubble have collected together, almost deceiving her eyes into believing that they were mounds of fresh snow. A tinkling can be heard all through the air, it is almost silent, but constantly audible. Yet it¡¯s not like the ticking of clockwork. It¡¯s out of sync and without any form of rhythm or melody. The sound is sharp and clean, as if tiny hammers were striking against the vibrantly colored crystals that jut out of the walls on either side. Some of them are small, just the size of her fist. Others are giant enough to form bridges over the tiny stream, the water of which reflects the pastel light of the crystals back out in all directions, painting the white cavern with an array of colors. ¡°Aren¡¯t these those magic-crystals? From outside?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°S- should we collect some?¡± She raises her hand to touch one of them. There is a loud, sharp crack. ¡°OW!¡± yelps Fresh as she jumps back, bumping against Basil as she shakes her hand out. (Fresh) [ENVIRONMENTAL DAMAGE: {5}]{Magical Shock} [5 HP remaining !] ¡°Don¡¯t touch anything!¡± scolds Jubilee as Fresh looks at the burnt spot on her hand. ¡°Keep her on a short leash, carrot!¡± yells Jubilee, pointing at Basil. ¡°Ca - ?¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°Sorry.¡± Basil looks at Fresh and raises a hand, white-magical energies collecting around her fingers. Fresh shakes out her hand as she feels a warm tingle run through her body. The gentle warmth pushes through her blood and it almost reminds her of the feeling of washing her hands under warm water after they had become extremely cold. They tingle. ¡°Thanks Basil,¡± says Fresh, looking back towards the priestess. But she sees Basil looking at the fading window next to her instead. ¡°Ten?¡± She blinks a few times. ¡°Somehow I didn''t notice before. Huh. I had no idea that you were so¡­ fragile?¡± says Basil in quiet surprise. Fresh watches as a cloud of warm vapor leaves her mouth and floats away. ¡°Well¡­ the thing is¡­ you see¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, not quite sure how to explain to Basil that she¡¯s cursed. Will it just make things more awkward? Basil accepted her being a witch and apparently has done so surprisingly well. But she doesn¡¯t want to push her luck. What if this is too much for the priestess to hear? The girl sighs and just says one thing. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± She had promised Basil that there would be no more secrets between them. But maybe just this one? She¡¯ll tell her when the time is right. Maybe? Probably. ¡°Light,¡± says Shamrock, nodding to her once again before he turns to walk on ahead. Jubilee points back at her as they follow after the man. ¡°No touching ANYTHING! Gods know what kind of fuckery is in this dungeon.¡± A minute later, the path comes to an end already, as a larger chamber begins opening up before them and there, they encounter their first enemy here. Fresh gasps as she looks at the little thing in delight. ¡°It¡¯s so cu -!¡± Before she can finish her sentence, a glass spire shoots out of the ground. The small humanoid creature flies into the air as it is skewered through the head, apparently dying immediately. ¡°Ah¡­¡± she lowers her hand. They all stare up at the dead thing that hangs in the air. As they all look at the glass, it shatters a second later and the body flops down against the stones. ¡°What the fuck is it?¡± asks Jubilee, walking over to the creature. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have asked that before you killed it?!¡± cries Fresh, distraught as she looks at the little, bubbly-faced creature that, apart from the gaping wound in its forehead, she would call adorable. It¡¯s a small thing, about the same size as Mr. Mushroom and has soft, gray skin and has an extremely fluffy outer layer. It almost looks like a goblin that turned into a walking dandelion. ¡°Huh? What the fuck do you think we¡¯re here to do?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head as they walk over to the body and kick it unceremoniously. It flops over, blood sprays out and stains its face. ¡°I think it¡¯s a kobold?¡± ¡°Does it have loot?¡± asks Basil, staring down at the thing. Shamrock grunts, walking past them to keep going on his own. ¡°Maybe the teeth?¡± guesses Fresh, wiping her wet eyes. ¡°Sorry Mr. Kobold.¡± She thinks for a second and then she realizes. Most of the adventurers here had a fluffy trim on the edges of their robes and coats. ¡°Ah!¡± she points to the round, fluffy body of the creature. ¡°It¡¯s the fluff. The fluff is the loot!¡± ¡°Great, then you know what to do,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You two catch up with us when you¡¯re done.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± asks Fresh, watching as Jubilee walks off after Shamrock, raising their hand to wave back to them somewhat lazily as they go. Fresh and Basil exchange a glance and then look back down at the bloodied corpse at their feet. ¡°Nothing ever really changes, huh?¡± mutters Fresh to herself as she stares down at the mangled monster. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 122: The truth is… The air is filled with a resonating whistling sound which stems from the strange creatures ahead of them. They resemble the small kobolds from the higher floors, but they are a larger breed and their bodies are permeated with shards of the crystals that jut out of the cavern walls all around them. The fluff of the exterior of their forms is noticeably thicker in the places that it remains, much like a sheep¡¯s wool. They build a tight circle as they hold hands and dance in a ring around the giant, flat-topped crystal in the center of the floor. ¡°Caster!¡± shouts Jubilee as the ones who have broken free from the odd celebration make their way towards them, obscuring the single figure behind them with glowing hands which are aimed their way. Kobolds jump out from every odd corner of the floor, their many small bodies having hidden up in the crystals that hang above their heads from the ceiling. Several of them drop down at once, falling down next to the crowd as the bolt of shining, blue magic blasts out their way from the single caster sitting atop the largest crystal in the room. Shamrock jumps in-between, swinging his heavy sword through the air and cutting the spell in half, together with a few unfortunate kobolds. The blue, wispy flame arcs around his body as its split halves now press around him. The blue fire however doesn¡¯t extinguish. It keeps its momentum and turns back on course, heading towards the two of them in the back, as a spray of red kobold-blood flies through the air behind it. ¡°Watch out!¡± Basil grabs Fresh, pulling her to the side. Fresh covers her face as the will-o''-the-wisp flames wrap around the priestess¡¯ back, licking fire cascades past her meager form. ¡°Basil!¡± cries Fresh, worried about her friend who has a sharply pained expression on her face. There is a wet gurgling from ahead, as Shamrock smashes the sword down into a particularly large kobold, which lets out a disgustingly wet wheeze, as the air suddenly leaves its lungs. ¡®KOBOLD CRYSTALSPOOK¡¯ HIT ¡®BASIL¡¯ FOR 16 ICE DAMAGE! [Demon¡¯s Tether] absorbed: Kobold¡¯s fire {Damage (16)} Glass erupts out around the floor, a series of prismatic spires shooting up in all directions, the lustrous sparkling of their sleek bodies is nigh-indistinguishable from the many shimmering crystals that fill the area. The dozens of shrill voices of the screaming kobolds mix in together with the jubilant indifference of the ones holding the celebration in the center of the floor, as they continue their ring around the crystal with the fight happening only steps away from them. Basil opens her eyes, looking around herself a little confused. ¡°Ow¡­¡± ¡°Are you alright, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, grabbing the woman and spinning her around to look at her hurt back. The fabric of her robe is entirely intact, but as she pulls the hood down she can see a large, heavy burn on Basil¡¯s skin. ¡°Ow!¡± yelps the priestess, ¡°Don¡¯t! That really hurts.¡± ¡°Ah! I¡¯m sorry!¡± Fresh lets go of the robe. The lantern flies closer towards the woman, its glow intensifying a little as its purple aura seems to wash over the green fabric of her robe as well as over the red tinge on her cheeks. The soft light accentuates the damp collecting near the bottom of her eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t lose any health?¡± asks Basil, staring at her hands for a moment and then turning her neck to try and look at her own back, but then wincing in pain from the movement. ¡°Don¡¯t move too much,¡± says Fresh, as she looks at the glass wall separating them from the screams on the other side, which still mix together with the haunting whistling coming from the joyous circle. ¡°The lantern absorbed the damage for you,¡± she explains to alleviate the nervous priestess. ¡°It¡¯ll heal in a second.¡± ¡°Huh? The lantern?¡± Basil turns to look at the thing that bobs up and down in the air next to her. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have any effects like that?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, realizing that there isn¡¯t really a way out of this at this point. Basil can¡¯t see the curse. ¡°Uh well. Actually it does, I¡¯ll explain later,¡± says Fresh, looking back towards the glass wall, running her eyes along it until she sees her reflection in it. The barrier breaks apart, shattering in a crystal shower in that second in which she had looked at the eyeless face staring back at her from the distance. ¡°Let¡¯s help the others first! I¡¯ll explain after!¡± says Fresh as she looks around at the scene. Shamrock and Jubilee are off to the side, fighting off more and more of the kobolds who just seem to keep on coming. Occasionally some will break off from the circle, but most of them drop from the ceiling, as they slip from the crystals hanging above their heads, like droplets of dripping water. Something blue glows next to the crystal, as the caster readies another spell. ¡°Stand back!¡± calls Fresh as she lifts her hands and aims at him. ''FRESH¡¯ HIT ¡®KOBOLD CRYSTALSPOOK¡¯ FOR 12 DARK DAMAGE! A series of needle-thin strings shoot out of her fingers, their moonlight purple threads arching towards the crowd around the circle. Several of the needles press against the crystal, trying to pierce it, to reach those on the other side, but they fail to do so and instead fall flat to the ground. The spell can apparently only move in straight lines and not through obstacles. But even like this, she still got the caster and half of the crowd. Their dance stops, the ones on the edge getting bumped into as the others continue to try and move in their circle. Many of the kobolds look at their neighbors, who they hold hands with and a second later, they descend down onto each other. The whistling turns into a series of wet screams as they fall into a biting, gnawing frenzy. The little creatures begin to gnaw off the hands holding theirs, while the others gouge at their eyes with jagged crystals that they rip from their own flesh. Blood splatters everywhere, staining the surface of the giant crystal. The caster with the blue glow around his hands lifts them high into the air and blue fire cascades down around the inner circle, leaving only a mass of black silhouettes visible beneath the flames. The writhing shadows claw and tear at each other like demons fighting to escape a deeply buried hell. ¡°Ah¡­¡± Basil watches with horrified eyes. ¡°That¡¯s really¡­ uh¡­¡± Fresh looks back at her. ¡°It¡¯s really something.¡± The lantern, having finished its work, flies away, hovering over the fires as it absorbs the life of any survivors to recharge itself. ¡°What¡¯s with your soul-points anyways?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll uh¡­ I¡¯ll explain later,¡± says Fresh again, somewhat nervously. The fight goes on for another minute as Jubilee and Shamrock clear out the rest of the kobolds. Then, Fresh and Basil start looting them. Now that the fight is over and her beating heart comes to slow a little, Fresh realizes again how cold it is and ends up finding a rather grim enjoyment in the removal of the fur from the bodies. They are still a little warm to the touch, down beneath their thick fluff. Basil seems to be suffering the same as her though. If Jubilee or Shamrock are cold, they don¡¯t let it be seen. ¡°W- was this a sub-boss?¡± asks Fresh, looking as Jubilee comes back with a couple of the glowing orbs, setting them down before her and the priestess. ¡°Sure was, goo-brain. I guess they¡¯re every six floors here instead of eight like our old dungeon.¡± Fresh looks down at the glassy core, it looks different than the ones from the north, as it glows with a vaguely cool, almost white light. ¡°Should w-we sell them?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What''s a boss-core worth?¡± ¡°A low-level core like this? Probably about one-fifty?¡± says Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Maybe two-hundred.¡± Jubilee bends down, running their gloves through the fluff of the body between them. ¡°I could probably make some winter clothes with this stuff. You two need something warmer anyways,¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s only going to get colder from this point on, above the dungeon and inside it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a great idea, Jubilee!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°Right?¡± Jubilee gets back up and looks around the chaos. ¡°Fucking kobolds. Weird little shits. What about you, you good?¡± asks Jubilee looking at Basil who returns an unsure expression. ¡°I think so?¡± says the priestess. ¡°The lantern absorbed the damage I took,¡± she says, staring up at the metal thing that has floated back to her side now and then back to Fresh with curious eyes. ¡°Apparently?¡± ¡°The lantern did what?¡± Jubilee crosses their arms, looking down at Fresh immediately and not saying anything else. Fresh laughs a nervous laugh, scratching her cheek, but doesn¡¯t say anything either. ¡°You absolute dumb-ass!¡± hisses Jubilee. ¡°Give me one reason why I shouldn¡¯t smack you on the head this instant?¡± Fresh leans back a bit, trying to stay out of reach. ¡°Because we¡¯re friends?¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m going to do it,¡± says Jubilee, pulling their leather glove taut and rolling their shoulder to loosen it up in preparation. ¡°Ah, wait! Uh¡­¡± Fresh places the tips of her fingers together as she looks at Basil¡¯s confused expression. ¡°The thing is, Basil¡­ you see¡­ uh¡­¡± ¡°Out with it!¡± says Jubilee sternly. Fresh sighs. ¡°The lantern is¡­¡± the girl mumbles. ¡°It¡¯s a little¡­ you know¡­ cursed.¡± ¡°CURSED?!¡± shouts the priestess, clearly distraught as she jumps to her feet in an instant. ¡°Here we go,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Why is it cursed?!¡± yells Basil, backing off and stepping away from the lantern. However it just continues to follow her. ¡°Get away from me!¡± The lantern does not get away from her. ¡°I can curse items,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°Ah! But don¡¯t worry!¡± she says. ¡°I changed the curse, so it¡¯s good now!¡± ¡°There¡¯s no such thing!¡± yells Basil, her face flush with emotion. ¡°Oh no! Oh no!¡± ¡°Settle down -¡± sighs Jubilee, exhausted. ¡°I will not settle down!¡± yells Basil. ¡°Am I cursed now too?! Am I going to be damned?!¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be fine, dumb-ass. It¡¯s a dinky light, not an arch-demon," says Jubilee. ¡°But it¡¯s cursed!¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± Fresh looks at Shamrock. She supposes now is the time. ¡°The sword is also cursed,¡± she explains, only a little worried about his reaction. She goes on. ¡°But it¡¯s really nice! The sword can¡¯t ever break now, as long as¡­ you¡­ you know. Kill something. Every day.¡± Shamrock looks at the giant bone-sword in his hands. ¡°A blessing,¡± says the man, his chest lurching as his eyes stare at the weapon, transfixed. Fresh can¡¯t help but feel a sense of relief, despite having perhaps expected his kind reaction. ¡°How can you even do that?!¡± yells Basil, pointing at her, clearly distraught. ¡°Is it because of your class?¡± ¡°Uh, well, uh¡­¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee, who continues to glare down at her. ¡°You made this mess. Clean it up,¡± says her friend. Fresh purses her lips, but then relents, letting out a deep sigh. Jubilee is right. She has to come clean now. No more secrets. ¡°I mean¡­ maybe? But the thing is, uh¡­¡± Fresh fidgets. ¡°I¡¯m cursed too.¡± ¡°YOU¡¯RE WHAT?!¡± yells Basil, clutching her hair. ¡°DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?!¡± shouts the priestess, pointing at Jubilee who just shrugs indifferently. ¡°Yup.¡± Feeling a bit worried at what this reaction implies, Fresh looks up at the priestess¡¯ frightened face. ¡°Are we still friends, Basil?¡± she asks, a cloud of warm vapor leaving her mouth as it drifts past her eyes, obscuring her vision of Basil for a moment with a thin fog. Basil looks at her and Fresh isn¡¯t quite able to follow the many expressions that come over the priestess¡¯ face in that instant. All she sees is how Basil falls back down to her knees, placing her hands on Fresh¡¯s shoulders rather suddenly. Basil cries. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! We¡¯ll find a way to fix it!¡± Fresh blinks, feeling a bit awkward and really not sure where to go from here. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Basil,¡± says the girl as the priestess hugs her. ¡°I promise! We¡¯ll find a way to remove it!¡± ¡°Uh¡­ no, really, I¡¯m fine,¡± says Fresh patting the priestess on the back as she looks over to Jubilee who just shrugs. Fresh sighs as she watches Shamrock stand off to the side, swinging his sword through the air in what she attributes to be child-like excitement. Having friends is really a lot of trouble. She feels a pair of hands clutching her back. Fresh smiles, she wouldn¡¯t trade it for anything in the world. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 123: All together They had gotten to floor six of the new dungeon on their first outing before they returned to the adventurer¡¯s guild, where they then ate their fill of greasy bar-food. Fresh made sure to tip the little fairy woman generously. But she wasn¡¯t sure if she was doing her a favor or not, as the fairy has to make multiple trips to get her coins. Despite their expenses, they seem to have made a small profit today and the four of them head inside of their room to fall asleep on their new bed-rolls. The softness of the new bedding makes the night much less cold and is a great relief to all of their sore bodies. Even Shamrock opts to flop down onto his large mat, the floor shaking as he gracelessly lands with a loud thud, in his full armor as always. ¡°Will you ever take that off?¡± asks Jubilee, looking over at him. ¡°No,¡± says the man as he lays on his back, holding his cursed sword above his head as he continues to stare at it through the slits of his helmet. ¡°I bet you stink like all hell,¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°I do not,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°What about you?¡± asks Basil and Jubilee turns their head, glaring at her. ¡°What about me, you garden-escapee?¡± Basil shrugs. ¡°Are you ever going to take all of that off?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll cut your eyes out first, smart-ass¡± says Jubilee, pointing a finger at the priestess. Fresh, who was already getting ready to lay down, walks over on her knees between the two of them. ¡°Let¡¯s not fight, everyone! We had a really great day today!¡± says the girl, looking around at all of them. Jubilee points at her. ¡°And what about you? You¡¯ve been wearing the same dress for almost a month now! It¡¯s disgusting!¡± Fresh clutches her face in horror. Oh no. Her fears were true. Her friends really did judge her for wearing the same clothes all the time. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything else!¡± argues Fresh defensively. ¡°Besides, I washed it the other day,¡± she says, crossing her arms and turning her head away in a huff. Jubilee sighs. ¡°I¡¯m going to start making some new clothes tomorrow. I¡¯ll need the fluff and some fabric. You two go get some.¡± Fresh and Basil look at each other and then back to Jubilee and nod at the same time. These terms are acceptable. Too tired to argue any further, they all fall down onto their bedrolls and before any of them have time to talk about much else, they all fall into a deep sleep. Though Fresh does wake up a few times, as Basil who has opted to sleep close to her for whatever reason, kicks and flails a lot in her restless dreams. Soon, the morning comes. Fresh finds herself losing track of time as they run around the city and the dungeon again. They buy some tailoring materials in the morning and drop them off at the guild for Jubilee to get started with later. Though it will take a while to make their clothes. In the mean-time, they continue on with their dungeon-diving. Those hours blend together into another day and then into another. Those exciting days continue collecting until they merge together into a full week. Her favorite part of this current life is that every day, they all head into the dungeon together. She isn¡¯t able to be too useful all too often though and Shamrock and Jubilee take care of most of the fighting. Fresh does her best though, using her inventory to carry every single piece of their loot that she can. Everything else that is perishable or that would rot inside of the black-water, she carries on her back, pushing through the spontaneous sharp pains in her lower spine with a clenching of her teeth and a firm blinking to remove the dew from her eyes. Soon enough, during the second day, they make it to floor twelve of the new dungeon where the next sub-boss lies. A small, ice-blue, baby dragon. Small is relative of course, as the creature is the same size as Shamrock. Fresh marvels at the thing as they stand at the edge of the arena. The small dragon lumbers around the room at a lazy pace, as it gnaws on the many magic-crystals around it. ¡°A dragon¡­¡± whispers Fresh excitedly, clenching her fists. She grabs Jubilee¡¯s shoulder and points. ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee! Look! It¡¯s a real dragon!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°Yeah, no shit? I see it too,¡± says Jubilee who then swings their right arm out, knocking twice on Shamrock¡¯s leg. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go kill it.¡± ¡°Acceptable.¡± ¡°Ah¡­!¡± Fresh wants to tell them to stop and to leave it alone. The creature is oddly beautiful in her eyes, its sky-blue scales shimmering like the crystal ice that seems to be forming more and more all around them the deeper they go. But she knows it has to be done. She hopes that the dragon understands. She promises that she won¡¯t waste a single bit of it. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go,¡± says Basil, pulling her along after the others. The fight is a success and the day comes to an end with Fresh having leveled up again. [Level up! You are now LEVEL 10! ] {Cooking 4}{Crafting 6}{Gathering 2}{Adventuring 3}{Witch-Crafting 7}{Mercantile 5} STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 9806 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] Basil claps her hands excitedly as she looks at the new menu. ¡°Congratulations! You¡¯re level ten! Ah¡­¡± Basil stops her celebration short as she looks at her stats once again. ¡°You poor thing¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, Basil, thank you,¡± says Fresh as she scratches her cheek, laughing as she takes a new ability under Jubilee¡¯s watchful eyes. She realizes that she still hasn¡¯t ever figured out what ability she chose during that fateful night in the northern city. [Ability Chosen] [Crafting 6]{Glassworker} ¡°Level ten is a big deal for adventurers,¡± says Jubilee, nodding to her. ¡°Congratulations.¡± Fresh beams. ¡°Thanks Jub -!¡± ¡°- Great job standing in the back and being useless for nine whole levels,¡± adds her friend, turning around and waving her off. Fresh reels, feeling the words stab into her heart. ¡°Well, meat-head?¡± says Jubilee, snapping their fingers at Shamrock. The man¡¯s chest heaves as he lets out a loud, excited breath and reaches into his own bag that is usually empty. Fresh had gotten him one as well, but most of the time she just ended up insisting on carrying everything herself anyways. Shamrock holds out a cold, off-white bundle of fabric out towards her. ¡°Tribute,¡± is all that he says. ¡°It¡¯s not fucking tribute, shit-for-brains!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Stop giving her ideas!¡± Basil does her best not to laugh. Fresh looks around at them all, somewhat confused but takes the bundle. It unravels as she grabs it, the new robe flowing out from her fingers. A soft, blueish-white fabric drapes from her hands, the warm kobold fluff trim along the edges tickling her fingers. +4 DEF +3 COLD RESISTANCE Weight: 0.78 kg Color: Blue/Off-white Value: ??? ¡°It¡¯s for me?¡± asks Fresh, feeling her throat tighten. ¡°Yeah. Congratulations,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Great job!¡± says Basil, from behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Strong,¡± says Shamrock, nodding once and flexing an arm towards her. Fresh cries loudly, breaking out into tears as she buries her face in the new robe to hide it. The first thing she does when they get back is change and prance around in her new outfit. Jubilee had apparently spent the week making hers first as they all knew she was about to reach level ten. The girl resolves herself to work twice as hard from now on, to prove herself to her friends. At her request, Jubilee makes her a few long pieces of glass that she carves down using her abilities. Basil and Shamrock watch her work curiously, Jubilee seems indifferent and sits on the bed. ¡°You have to matte the glass, you see?¡± asks Fresh, showing the two of them the long, rough-surfaced glass plank that she made. ¡°How come?¡± asks Basil. Fresh thinks for a second. ¡°Ah, because Jubilee¡¯s glass-magic breaks if you see your reflection in it.¡± ¡°Huh¡­ I¡¯ve never heard of that before,¡± says Basil. ¡°Why is that?¡± asks the priestess, turning around towards Jubilee. ¡°Because you look like a strawberry that got lost on its way to the surface,¡± says Jubilee, not bothering to look over at her. Basil sighs, turning back to Fresh. ¡°So that¡¯s why all of your bottles were always so coarse. I thought it was just a design choice.¡± ¡°Practical,¡± says Shamrock, leaning in as he sits on his crossed legs. Basil thinks out loud. ¡°I suppose the rough surface did make the bottles easier to hold if you had wet hands.¡± Fresh nods excitedly. ¡°Mm! Anyways, see, so I have this glass and now I can just use one of my new craftsman abilities and my witch-crafting abilities to -¡± ¡°Witch-crafting?¡± interrupts Basil, as the lantern floats up from behind her back to hover at her side. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s like craftsman abilities, but for witches!¡± explains Fresh gleefully, happy to be able to talk to someone so openly and even happier that they seemed to be not only interested, but also excited to see her do so. She places the glass plank onto her lap and holds her hands above it. ¡°Careful not to breathe in the dust!¡± +12 DMG Quality Effect: All attacks, even blocked attacks, cause the enemy to bleed, dealing damage equal to the number of strikes every fifteen seconds. After the effect is applied, the counter resets to 0. Durability: Fragile (10/10) Value: ??? The light purple aura around her hands fades away as it is soaked into the glass and she proudly holds up the new weapon. ¡°Ta-da!¡± ¡°Wow¡­¡± gasps Basil quietly and Fresh smiles a smug smile as she looks at the woman¡¯s awed expression. ¡°Right? And if I had some moonwater, I could enchant this to do more damage and it costs next to nothing to make! It¡¯s like with the potions or the bone-weapons!¡± says Fresh excitedly. Basil¡¯s expression turns grim. ¡°Does anyone else know about this?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh opens her eyes fully now, but sees that Basil isn¡¯t looking at her, but rather at Jubilee who stares back intently. ¡°The fuck do you think? I¡¯m surprised that we didn¡¯t get killed more than once,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You don¡¯t know what a pain in my ass it¡¯s been this entire time, trying to keep her from showing the world her fucky witch-fuckery.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asks Fresh, looking down at the glass sword in her hands, feeling suddenly much less confident. Her eyes drift further down, locking themselves firmly onto the floor. ¡°¡­Don¡¯t you like it?¡± ¡°Boundless power,¡± says a heavy voice from across from her. Basil nods in agreement, looking back at her with a serious expression. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? Imagine if some noble house found out about your powers?¡± she says. ¡°They¡¯d want you to make them entire armies worth of equipment for free. Something like this¡­¡± Basil looks down at the sword. ¡°It¡¯s more dangerous than you know. People will die if word gets out. Countless numbers of them.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°I just want to make useful things that people can use on their adventures though,¡± says Fresh, looking at the glimmering sword in her hands. ¡°The sun sets,¡± says a gruff, heavy voice across from her. ¡°Adventures end,¡± says Shamrock and Fresh looks up at the harrowed eyes beneath his helmet. ¡°Then the night will come.¡± She stares at him and then looks over to Jubilee who sits on the bed, adjusting their mask and she catches a glimpse of their eyes shining beneath the obscuring thing. As she looks at their spring-tide dew, she realizes that Jubilee has often carried the same exact look as Shamrock. Harrowed. Intense. This is her first adventure, but the others have clearly had the experiences of past ones. Experiences that made them far less naive and warm than she is. She presses her head down, feeling the warm fluff of the new robe on her skin before looking back up to her friends, promising that she won¡¯t do anything to put any of them in danger. Razmatazz She''s growing up so fast ;_; Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 124: Staying ahead Fresh stands with her hands against the stone railing, feeling the cold evening chill, which has been absorbed into the stone construction, running up her fingers. From atop the lookout, her damp eyes stare over the infinite expanse that is visible from here, wandering over the endless forest that seems to stretch on like a boundless sea, as it vanishes over the distant horizon together with the setting sun, which lowers itself to hide down just beyond it. Today was yet another successful day down in the dungeon. They had cleared another six floors, putting them at floor eighteen now. Floors thirteen to seventeen were filled with a mixture of smaller, crystalline golems and creatures that she calls ¡®snowmen¡¯, given their uncanny resemblance to such things. The only thing that set them apart was the fact that they had jagged bones for arms and that their beady, glassy eyes were more akin to an insect¡¯s than to some shimmering marble or black rock. There was also an occasional baby dragon, barely a third of the size of the small sub-boss from floor twelve. Their scales were apparently worth a lot, given their use in making light armor and their strong cold and magic resisting properties. Much to Fresh¡¯s disgust, the eyes were apparently the most valuable part of the snowmen. They felt oddly hard and dry and she did her best not to touch them with her bare hands, given how gross they looked. Jubilee had said that things were starting to get dangerous the deeper they got. She would have to start staying further back more often. Fresh argued that she had eleven health-points now, Jubilee countered by asking her to bend down and then hitting her on the head as she obliged, costing her one of them. The girl sighs, staring out over the forest. Jubilee is away on their own now, having split off from the group to go talk to the thieves¡¯ guild. Shamrock and Basil went back to the adventurer¡¯s guild to drop off their loot. Apparently, they are simply in every city, the thieves¡¯ guild that is. Fresh doesn¡¯t like it. She doesn¡¯t like Jubilee¡¯s connection to them and she doesn¡¯t like that they have a connection and an interest in her. But they need the money. If Jubilee can get them to get a hold of some of their savings from the northern city, that would make up a giant chunk of what they needed for the house. Sure, their dungeon diving is going great. She and Basil aren¡¯t too useful at the moment, but Jubilee and Shamrock are pushing through the dungeon with basically no real problems at all. But it will still take a while to get the money by just grinding mobs. Jubilee is confident that they can probably get to floor forty if not forty-five with some effort. That would be very lucrative. But it¡¯s dangerous that deep down, even for them and the reset is still a while away. Looking further down, she stares at her fingers that are still wrapped around the rim of the wall, seeing them jitter a little. Not from the cold, but from a steady pulse that she traces up the length of her arms, as she watches the subtle shaking of the fabric of her new robe. The beat of her own heart shakes her body. She¡¯s afraid again. Though now, she feels that she is right to be. Fresh turns around, looking at the large, two story house behind her. The timber-framed construction is well done and, by all objective standards, the building is a beautiful piece of architecture at the edge of the city, with a view from every window that is to die for. But that¡¯s exactly what makes her nervous. Jubilee had told her to wait outside while they went in to handle everything with the thieves¡¯ guild, who apparently didn¡¯t put much effort into hiding their presence here in this city. The front door opens. Fresh sighs in relief as Jubilee exits and closes the door behind themselves, heading towards her, but without the glass sword that she had made last night, despite having gone inside with it. ¡°We got it,¡± says Jubilee, nodding to her. Fresh beams. ¡°That¡¯s great, Jubilee!¡± says the girl in excitement, feeling a giant weight drop off of her shoulders and the pressure in her blood slowly return to normal. ¡°Did they give you all thirty? What did they want for it?¡± ¡°They gave me all seventy,¡± says Jubilee plainly. ¡°Huh¡­?¡± Fresh blinks, staring at her friend. ¡°They did what?¡± ¡°They gave me all seventy,¡± repeats Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Seventy-thousand.¡± In an instant, Fresh drops down and places her hands on Jubilee¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± whispers the girl loudly and desperately, noticing that her fingers are shaking again. ¡°What did you do?! You didn¡¯t promise them anything stupid, did you?!¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes widen in panic. ¡°Why are you always doing stuff like this without -¡± Jubilee swipes her hands off. ¡°First off, no touching!¡± snaps Jubilee loudly, raising a finger towards her face. ¡°Secondly. I didn¡¯t do anything stupid, goo-brain!¡± ¡°You did something risky! I¡¯m sure of it!¡± argues Fresh, her worried expression growing more and more obvious. ¡°It¡¯s just like back when you gambled your house on a coin-flip! You can¡¯t always ju -¡± Jubilee cuts her off again, pressing their gloved finger to her lips. ¡°Shut up, dumb-ass.¡± They dig into their pocket, pulling out a coin and holding it in front of her face, showing her both sides. Lowering their hand, they place the coin on their thumb and Fresh watches as they flip it with a snip of their finger and as the coin flies through the air in the oddly familiar second, she notices, as the evening sun is just about to make its departure for the day, how a single ray of ruby light reflects with an odd gleam, as is strikes the spinning body of the coin in mid-air. Jubilee catches the coin in their palm, closing their fingers oddly tightly around it. ¡°Heads,¡± they say and Fresh looks at them and then back to the coin as Jubilee opens their hand. The coin is facing heads up. Jubilee repeats the process. ¡°Tails.¡± It¡¯s tails. ¡°Heads,¡± they call, flipping it again. It lands. It¡¯s heads. Jubilee holds the coin out to her, not crushing it in their palm this time. ¡°Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, realizing now as she takes the coin and looks at it. She spins it around, looking at the tail side, where there is a thin, but dense, layer of translucent-glass, cob-webbed between the features of the imprinting on the coin. ¡°You cheated?¡± whispers the girl, looking at her friend. Then again, she cheated too by jinxing him. So¡­ ¡°I played it safe,¡± says Jubilee defensively. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m stupid or something?¡± asks her friend, placing their hands on their hips after snatching the coin back from her. ¡°But how? He looked at the coin, I remember,¡± says Fresh. ¡°He seemed so surprised!¡± ¡°It¡¯s glass, slime-brain. It shattered off when the coin hit the ground.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°But yeah, I don¡¯t know what game he was playing, but he was up to something.¡± ¡°That¡¯s so risky! What if he noticed?!¡± says Fresh. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°He didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°What if the coin landed with the glass side up anyways?¡± ¡°It didn¡¯t,¡± says Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Sometimes you have to have a little faith, you know?¡± asks Jubilee almost sarcastically, while shaking their head. ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± she cries, but Jubilee pockets the coin and shushes her again. ¡°Listen. I don¡¯t take stupid risks for no reason. The guild is good for the money.¡± Fresh rubs her arm nervously, watching as Jubilee turns around, motioning for her to follow as they set on back towards the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°What do they want in return?¡± Jubilee looks over their shoulder, but doesn¡¯t slow down. ¡°Remember what Basil said last night? They want that.¡± They turn back forward. ¡°But to start, they want a load of glass weapons in a month and then we¡¯ll pay the rest back in items.¡± Fresh frowns, running after Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee, why are you in such good contact with them? Why do they -¡± she lowers her voice. ¡°Why did they know about me? You know, even before?¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything as they walk through a dense crowd of people, the cool mountain winds pressing through together with them, causing Fresh to shudder even in her new robe. She holds herself, wrapping her arms around her body. ¡°The fountain incident,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks at Jubilee, looking around them as they pass through the crowd and into an emptier street. ¡°The fountain incident?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°When you fucked with the fountain by the dungeon-gate. People asked questions.¡± ¡°Ah, but didn¡¯t w -¡± ¡°No, dip-shit!¡± barks Jubilee, looking back up at her. ¡°The merchant¡¯s guild had no idea how the fuck you did that and they hired the thieves¡¯ guild to look into it.¡± Jubilee turns around, now that they¡¯re somewhere empty of people. ¡°You don¡¯t think they just dropped it and forgot it, do you?¡± asks her friend, incredulously. ¡°It was a huge fucking deal!¡± ¡°Ah¡­ well¡­ actually¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, feeling a little embarrassed. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I was owed an old favor and that we managed to come to a mutually beneficial agreement.¡± ¡°An agreement?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat unsure. ¡°An agreement,¡± nods Jubilee, plucking the satchel from their belt and tossing it to her. Fresh yelps, just barely managing to catch the bag full of jangling metal. ¡°Come on, you¡¯re paying for dinner tonight. We¡¯re going to need our energy tomorrow,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Plus there''s something else that we need to talk about with the others.¡± Fresh blinks, looking at the bag in her hands. ¡°Are we going to the dungeon again?¡± she asks excitedly. ¡°What? No, goo-brain,¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re buying a house.¡± Fresh looks down at the bag in her hands, pulling open the drawstrings to reveal seven giant, golden Obols inside. The largest variants that she knows of. There aren¡¯t any faces on the front of the coins. Rather, there are hollow skulls, smiling the widest smiles that she has ever seen. Razmatazz The truth is, the game has been rigged from the start x) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 125: Stained ¡°There¡¯s something else,¡± says Jubilee, finishing their explanation of the events that had led up to this point, while they are rolling their bed-roll together. All of them are inside of their room in the western adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks over towards them, staring over Basil¡¯s back. The priestess is hunched down forward and fighting to roll her bedroll together as well, but it keeps undoing itself. Jubilee takes a moment to glance at the other two in the room, perhaps judging a second time if this next topic was okay to talk about in their presence. ¡°Did you do something witchy?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°To that fuck from the merchant¡¯s guild?¡± Fresh looks around the room, glancing over her friends who all stare her way now. ¡°Me?¡± she points to herself. ¡°No, why?¡± she asks. Does Jubilee maybe mean back then? When she had jinxed him? Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything, eyeing her carefully as if sizing her up. ¡°Because he melted.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°He what?¡± ¡°He melted,¡± repeats Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°It was a huge scene apparently. Happened while we were out in the forest,¡± they explain. ¡°He was talking to some big-names and he just¡­ melted.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Everything but the eyes.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± says Fresh instinctively, scratching her cheek a second later and wondering if maybe she actually did do something. Wait. He melted? Her eyes open wide as she connects the dots. ¡°Jubilee! Is he dead?!¡± asks the girl, failing to notice Basil knelt down in front of her as she rushes towards Jubilee. Both of them yelp as Fresh stumbles over the priestess, falling down onto the floor. ¡°Ah! I¡¯m sorry, Basil. Are you okay?¡± asks Fresh, climbing back up to her feet but not looking at the priestess. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± says Basil, wheezing a little as the bedroll she had just finished rolling into a tube had pressed itself into her stomach. ¡°Be careful, okay?¡± ¡°Okay, sorry Basil!¡± says Fresh, staring at Jubilee ready to get back to the subject at hand. ¡°Jubilee wha -?!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes, putting up a hand to interrupt her. ¡°What the fuck do you think happened when I said he literally melted like a fucking snowman up a dragon¡¯s ass?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°That he somehow did that without dying?¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips, staring at her. ¡°Dumb-ass.¡± ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± cries Fresh in distraught horror as she clutches her face, as she realizes what this means. If the black-contract that had been broken had killed the man, that means her spell killed someone. A person. A human. That means that she¡­ ¡°What? If you had nothing to do with it, then why are you so angsty?¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°I mean. There are literally thousands of people who can turn someone into a black puddle of shit. Oh. Wait¡­¡± Fresh feels her hands shaking, she feels the ever increasing beat of her heart move her body as a cold layer of sweat wicks on her skin. Fresh feels all eyes on her now. ¡°I- I -¡± she stutters, realizing that she¡¯s a murderer now. Was this it? The worst thing that she¡¯s ever done? Were they all going to be disgusted by her now? Afraid of her now? ¡°That¡¯s not possible,¡± says Basil. Fresh looks back to her, turning around. ¡°She was with us in the forest the entire time. No spell can go that far.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t give a shit. It¡¯s a good thing in my eyes. A long time coming. I just wanna know how she did it, so we can do it to more people in the future.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± yells Fresh. ¡°What? Just being honest. Sometimes people have to be killed,¡± says Jubilee, waving them off. ¡°Right, meat-head?¡± they ask, looking at Shamrock who hasn¡¯t said anything yet, though that in itself is perhaps the norm. Shamrock looks over to them, having long since finished packing by simply crushing his bed-roll into a giant ball that he stuffed into his bag a little too roughly, tearing one of the straps somewhat. ¡°A heavy soul less makes the world lighter.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah. Sure, I guess?¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Everyone¡¯s a fucking poet. Gods give me strength.¡± They turn back to Fresh. ¡°So? Was it a curse? Or did you poison him?¡± ¡°Those are horrible things to say!¡± argues Basil, standing next to her as she starts to argue with Jubilee. Fresh stands there, feeling fairly lost in her emotions right now as she watches the two of them argue. She¡¯s not even really listening to their words anymore. They just float towards her like empty sounds that her mind doesn¡¯t pay any attention to, as it is occupied with other things. She clenches her fists. No more secrets. ¡°I think it was my fault,¡± says Fresh, looking at them. Jubilee, standing on the bed, has their finger pressed against Basil¡¯s forehead, who looks ready to bite it off. Fresh rubs her arm nervously. ¡°There¡¯s something else I should tell you.¡± The girl spends the next few minutes explaining the windows with the black-contract and how they have appeared several times now, including for most of them. Everyone is silent for a moment after she finishes her story, everyone except Shamrock who can be heard through his excited breathing. Jubilee starts. ¡°And you didn¡¯t think that something called a ¡®black-contract¡¯ was ridiculously evil and shady to start with?¡± they ask. Their tone is more amused than horrified. Fresh doesn¡¯t have an answer and rubs her arm, looking away. ¡°I didn¡¯t make it happen on purpose¡­¡± ¡°It makes sense,¡± says Basil, quietly. ¡°With such a suspicious patron¡­ but¡­¡± Basil looks around the room. ¡°I suppose I have no position to argue, since I¡¯m alive because of the contract.¡± Shamrock¡¯s chest heaves as he lets out another breath. Basil turns to look back up at Fresh, who just averts her eyes, not able to meet the priestess¡¯ gaze. ¡°But you really didn¡¯t do it on purpose¡­ right?¡± ¡°No, I promise!¡± says Fresh, somehow managing to look back up after all. ¡°So wait. Are we going to melt too?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°You spooky fuck.¡± ¡°Ah! No!¡± Fresh waves her hands. ¡°I just¡­ I think stuff only happens if the contract is broken.¡± ¡°What the fuck does that mean?!¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh closes her eyes to think. ¡°The seal was broken,¡± says Shamrock¡¯s gruff, heavy voice. ¡°Pacts are sacred.¡± Fresh stares at him for a moment as she realizes. ¡°Maybe he tried to do something with the house, Jubilee? Or something that went against our deal with the merchant¡¯s guild?¡± Jubilee looks at her. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that it was his fault that he melted?¡± Fresh recoils. ¡°That¡¯s awfully convenient for you, but you know what? Fuck em.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°If he tried to go back on our deal because the circumstances changed, then I¡¯m still fine with him being melted. Shady fuck.¡± ¡°A man is dead,¡± whispers Basil, some aghast. ¡°The world¡¯s better off,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°You reap what you sow.¡± Jubilee gets up off of the floor, swiping their hands together as if to dust them off. ¡°Anyways. Now that that¡¯s out of the way, let¡¯s finish up here,¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°If I have to eat bar-food one more night, I¡¯m going to vomit.¡± Shamrock gets up, nodding once as he grabs his bag. Basil seems uneasy, sparing a glance at her for a second, but then gets up as well. Only Fresh remains sitting there on the wooden floors, looking up to her friends, feeling confused and not at all unburdened by this happening. ¡°Is that it? You guys aren¡¯t mad at me?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± says Jubilee rather plainly. Basil looks at her and then just shakes her head as well, saying nothing, as she continues to try to roll her bedroll together. Fresh stares at them, confused. Why aren¡¯t they terrified of her? Furious at her? Disgusted by her? She wants them to be. This is too easy. She¡¯s getting off too easy. Why aren¡¯t they yelling at her? Why aren¡¯t they running off to abandon her here on her own? She wants them to. She wants to be scolded and punished, but all that¡¯s happening is that her friends are continuing to be her friends. The work that needs to be done is being done. Only she is still sitting here, lost and distraught. Why? Why aren¡¯t they doing what she expected them to do? She¡¯s getting off too easy. She always gets away with everything that she does wrong too easily. Wh- Fresh stands up, her legs pushing her up into the air, despite the fact that she had absolutely no intention of them doing so. The girl¡¯s hands reach downward, pressing against the fabric of her own bedroll, as she begins to roll it together, as if someone were holding her arms from behind and coercing her movements. Feeling something wet trickle down her face, she forces herself to squint, sending down a single black tear from her eye onto the bedding, leaving an obvious, dark stain where it lands. ¡°It¡¯s okay to cry,¡± says a soft voice from next to her. Fresh turns her head to look over at Basil. ¡°Would you like to pray together with me tonight?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Don¡¯t indoctrinate her, you kook!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°I am not! I¡¯m simply trying to be supportive!¡± argues Basil, letting out a quiet yelp as her bedroll undoes itself again. Fresh blinks, looking at her friends and then turning back down to look at her own bedroll, trying to find the ink stain that she had seen forming there not a few seconds ago. But there is nothing there to see, except for a normal wet spot and two, pale, shaking hands that press down against the fabric. Razmatazz Huh? What? Everything is fine, why are you all so worried? *adds new entry to the bottom of the list of things that you shouldn''t worry about* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 126: Hole in the wall A cool, stagnant air rushes to meet them as they open the thick, wooden front-door of the house, just outside of the dungeon-gate. The soft current isn¡¯t as cold as the air of the tunnel outside of the building and as that lazy cloud of dusty miasma drifts past her, Fresh feels a tussle of her hair blowing behind her, as it departs to mix in with the constant mountain winds howling outside. The musty cloud fades away like a spirit lost at sea, drifting away as the fresh current takes it to a place so very distant. Fresh stands in the door, taking in a deep breath. It smells dusty. But it¡¯s a different kind of dust than Jubilee¡¯s¡­ she corrects herself, than their old house. It isn¡¯t a dust of stagnation and of faces and times forgotten and repressed. It is simply a dust born of an absence, as if all the surfaces and nooks she sees had simply been waiting for someone to return to them. She shudders, as it all comes to meet her, the air, the dust, the darkness of the room she has still yet to set a single foot inside of. ¡°Well? Are you going to fucking move or are you just going to stand there all day?¡± snaps a sharp voice from behind her and Fresh jolts together, snapping out of her daze as Jubilee¡¯s sudden statement frightens her a little, as it rips her from the depths of her day-dreaming. ¡°Ah, sorry!¡± says Fresh, being the first to step inside the room. She steps to the side of the door, holding her arm out in a welcoming gesture. There¡¯s no time for these strange feelings. She has work to do. Fresh does her best to smile, still not having quite processed the events of the last few days. But she¡¯s the party-leader, she needs to put on a brave face, she realizes, as she remembers what Shamrock had told her once. Just like she does, her friends also need something to believe in. She wants it to be her. ¡°Welcome home!¡± says Fresh excitedly with a beaming face, as the other three step inside, carrying their meager possessions on their backs. The room itself is square, rather than the ¡®L¡¯ shape that the old house had downstairs. The front-door has two large, dusty glass windows on either side of it and the left side of the room has a solid-rock staircase, leading up to the next floor above. In the back corner, where the staircase is at its highest point, there is a door on the very bottom of it. Fresh assumes that it leads down to the basement. ¡°This is great,¡± says Basil. ¡°It¡¯s a little smaller than the old house, but it looks¡­ cozy,¡± says the priestess, suddenly pinching her nose as if to stop a sneeze from forming. ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh, looking at her friend¡¯s dubious expression. ¡°It¡¯s a little dusty, but with some work and some effort, we can make it really great!¡± she exclaims, heading over to the windows to try and figure out how to open them. The first thing that she wants to do is air the place out, in the hopes that this suppressing weight that she feels will drift away. With any luck, it is just a part of the gloom of this old structure and not something that she herself is creating and carrying with her. ¡°Yeah, I can see it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Looks like the basement is back there, so we¡¯ll put a counter up and use that as a back-room for you to do your crafting in.¡± Jubilee turns to the stairs and starts walking up them. Fresh realizes that the stone steps don¡¯t have a railing, she¡¯ll have to do something about that. ¡°It¡¯s a problem that these stairs are right by the door, but we¡¯ll just put something up so no customers wanders upstairs.¡± Fresh nods, looking back to the large window as she pulls on a small wooden handle again. The wood of the frame set into the rock groans as she pulls on it. It bends out a little, but it doesn¡¯t budge, as it is stuck firmly in place. She grunts, trying again, but has little success. Shamrock places his giant hand under her wrists, gently pushing her arms away. Fresh watches as he grabs the handle and with a single tug, pulls the window open wide. For a moment, she is terrified that it will break off because of his strength, but it just seems to swing open as expected. It feels odd to think, but the creaking of the hinge sounds almost oddly satisfied. Like a moan that comes when a stiff body is stretched out after a long day. ¡°Thank you,¡± she says, smiling at the man who says nothing else and heads towards the stairs after Basil and Jubilee. Fresh stands there, all alone, feeling more of the stale air push past her as a draft seeps through the house. Echoing voices ring out aloud from the tunnel, carrying inside of the building now and moving all through the room. The many sounds and voices fill the space with a strangely haunting presence as she stands there all alone, as if she were surrounded by ghosts on all sides. The hairs on her neck stand on end and Fresh lets out a quiet yelp, quickly running across the room and catching up to Shamrock, as they head up the stairs together. She was expecting a corridor up here, but there isn¡¯t one. Instead, there is a nearly square room just about three-quarters the size as the one downstairs. The wall opposite of the front door downstairs is open with a large, thick wooden frame set into the rock with another door in it. Maybe that¡¯s the other room? Ah, wait, maybe not. Fresh turns her head to the right, seeing the other door that Basil is now walking towards. The priestess opens it, peering inside. ¡°I think this is the pantry?¡± she guesses. ¡°No shelves though.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake. How does this count as two rooms? Since when do pantries count as rooms? Fucking mountain-dwellers.¡± They look around the open area and take a deep breath. ¡°Well. It looks like we¡¯re sleeping in the same room again.¡± Fresh lets out an excited squeal as she stands next to Shamrock. Jubilee peers back at her, shooting her a venomous glance which tells her that she better not say anything. Opting instead to just quietly smile, Fresh heads to the left to open the door against the back wall. The door moves with surprising ease, not resisting in the least like the windows downstairs and as she pulls it open, it seems to move on its own as a powerful wind pushes against it from the other side. The handle slips out of her grasp and it quickly swings open, hitting noisily against the rock wall behind it with a loud thud. ¡°Can you not break shit? We just got here,¡± barks Jubilee at her. But Fresh doesn¡¯t pay them any mind, as she steps out of the door, feeling a bright, heavy light wash over her. Mesmerized, she walks towards it, her feet moving as if on their own, her eyes gazing towards the shine as if drawn to the source, like a moth to a flame. The shine of the rising sun, breaking over the distant horizon. Wind encapsulates her as she walks those three or four steps across the small, stone terrace that is carved out of the side of the mountain-face. She almost feels as if the breeze were carrying her away. The railing bumps into her stomach and Fresh stops, staring out over the world as her hands clasp the railing tightly. They aren¡¯t particularly high up, but they are high enough to look over most of the houses on the street. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± calls Fresh in excitement as she turns around, looking at her friends as they walk out after her. ¡°We have a balcony!¡± ¡°Yeah? Didn¡¯t I say that? I¡¯m pretty sure I said that,¡± says Jubilee, standing by the door and leaning against the wall. ¡°So I vote that you have to sleep out here,¡± says Jubilee plainly, raising their hand. ¡°So we don¡¯t have to smell your goblin feet.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± argues Fresh, as Basil walks out trying to suppress a quiet laugh. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± says the priestess, nodding to Jubilee and lifting a hand to Fresh¡¯s shoulder to console her. ¡°She can sleep in the basement,¡± finishes Basil, lifting a finger. Jubilee nods approvingly, lifting their hand to their mouth as they suppress a laugh with a quiet snort. ¡°Hey!¡± yells Fresh again, now a little more distraught and lost for words. She hadn¡¯t expected Basil to tease her. The two of them seem to be enjoying themselves though and Basil also seems to be trying her best not to laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t want to sleep on the balcony or in the basement!¡± argues Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°Dungeon,¡± says a heavy voice from behind them. All three of them turn to face Shamrock. Jubilee and Basil burst out laughing. ¡°HEY!¡± yells Fresh, clenching her fists at her side. ¡°You jerks,¡± she mutters, turning out to face the sun-rise, doing her best not to laugh herself. Razmatazz New house. I''m sure this one will be really nice. Lots of exciting, comfy things planned for it this time! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 127: Cleaning ¡°So is this safe?¡± asks Basil, looking at Jubilee and Fresh. ¡°Taking money from such¡­ unsavory sources?¡± Jubilee stares at the priestess, somewhat dumbfounded. Lifting a hand, they point at Fresh, who is standing next to Basil, carrying some wood across the room that she had bought in order to make them some real beds, as a first order of business. ¡°You¡¯re standing next to the most unsavory source of anything in the world and you¡¯re worried about the thieves¡¯ guild?¡± Fresh sticks her tongue out at Jubilee, not letting it distract her from her work as she carries the single plank over to the wall. Loud, heavy steps thud out behind her as Shamrock sets down his load next to her. The massive bundle of wood on his shoulder is so wide that it might as well have been the entire tree itself. ¡°Thank you!¡± says Fresh, smiling as she wipes the sweat from her forehead. The balcony door is open and a heavy, cool breeze constantly pushes through it, pressing down the staircase and out of the open windows by the front door. Shamrock nods back to her, not saying anything. She sets to work, listening to Basil and Jubilee bicker at each other again. The girl blinks, looking up at the two of them as Shamrock heads downstairs to get more things like she had asked him to do. Sometimes she wonders if the two of them are really fighting because they are at odds, or if they just argue because it¡¯s just become their main form of communication? She tilts her head, wondering about the two of them. It¡¯s an odd dynamic, but she¡¯s happy that they¡¯re engaging with each other at least. Smiling, Fresh sets to work. ¡°So should I make four separate beds, or two bunk-beds so we save some space?¡± She looks around the single open room. ¡°It¡¯s a little¡­ cozy.¡± Jubilee looks past Basil towards her. ¡°Are you fucked in the head? You should make yourself a noose,¡± says Jubilee coldly. ¡°I¡¯m not sleeping out here with you people. Let alone stacked with one of you creeps.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°But Jubileeeeee~¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®but Jubileeee~¡¯ me!¡± argues Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°You¡¯re always making a huge ruckus in the middle of the night and getting weirdly touchy because you¡¯re scared of the dark.¡± ¡°I am not!¡± Jubilee points at Basil ¡°And she¡¯s always flailing around like she¡¯s possessed!¡± ¡°I do not!¡± argues Basil, crossing her arms. ¡°And that giant, spooky fuck breathes so loud that I can feel my bones shake!¡± exclaims Jubilee. ¡°So no, it¡¯s not happening. I need my own space. I need to get away from you people once in a while.¡± ¡°Jubileeee~¡± ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± mimics Jubilee, waving their hands by their head and rolling their eyes as they copy her in a high tone. ¡°Shut up, goo-brain.¡± Basil lifts her nose, closing her eyes and looking away in a huff. ¡°If we¡¯re not good enough for you, you can always sleep by yourself in the adventurer¡¯s guild.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°You¡¯re not good enough for me, no. And also, no. So shove it,¡± says Jubilee poking Basil in the gut. The woman swipes their hand away and the two of them scowl at each other for a moment. Fresh sighs, listening to the heavy thudding steps coming up the stairs as Shamrock returns. Thankfully the other stores are much closer by here than in the northern city, so the general store was just down the bend, only a minute away. Fresh looks around the room. The obvious solution was just to let Jubilee have the pantry as their own room. But then they wouldn¡¯t have a pantry. Maybe the basement? But she doesn¡¯t feel comfortable if her friend is down there with things like the cauldron. What if they accidentally fell in or if something happened during the night? What if vampires escaped the dungeon and Jubilee was all on their own downstairs? No. She won¡¯t accept that either. But she supposes she does understand Jubilee¡¯s point, even if they aren¡¯t getting it across well. Jubilee is a reserved person, she supposes they want an opportunity to just take off all of their gear in peace sometimes too. The girl nods, having made up her mind. ¡°Shamrock?¡± The man lets out a loud breath as he turns to look back at her. ¡°Sorry, can I ask you another favor please?¡± She accentuates her plea, trying to make it sound soft and kind. But she has the feeling that the man would do whatever she asks him, even if she took a harsher tone. Fresh digs into her bag, pulling out a few large, silver Obols. ¡°Can you go to the general store and order a load of bricks for me?¡± Without asking any questions, the man takes the coins and heads down the stairs right away. ¡°Bricks?¡± asks Basil. Fresh nods, lifting a finger. ¡°This is a home for all of us, so I¡¯m going to make an extra room here next to the pantry.¡± Basil frowns. ¡°Seems like a waste of money and time. Some of us aren¡¯t so spoiled.¡± ¡°The only thing that¡¯s going to spoil is your dead body before it''s found in a ditch,¡± says Jubilee, glaring at the priestess who doesn¡¯t respond, opting to take the high road. ¡°Is there anything you¡¯d like, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, knowing that the best way to get them all to cooperate is to have them all be invested in this new place. The priestess blinks, her posture loosening. ¡°What I¡¯d like?¡± she asks, a little confused. Fresh nods. ¡°It¡¯s your home now too!¡± The priestess stares at her dumb-founded for a moment, looking around the room before her eyes land on the back corner, outside of the pantry door. She points towards it. ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble, I think a little kitchen would be really nice¡­?¡± suggests Basil, sounding somewhat unsure of her words, as if they were too much. Fresh nods excitedly in agreement. ¡°I think so too! We can have breakfast every day together!¡± ¡°Will you cook?¡± asks the priestess, fidgeting with her sleeves. ¡°If you want me to,¡± says Fresh without thinking about it, turning back to her work to start making the beds, humming as she begins working, indifferent to the many looks that she keeps getting as the others run around the house, putting in some work as well. Jubilee is sweeping and dusting the entire building. Basil takes her time to delicately polish all of the windows to a crystal clear shine, as well as to oil the squeaky doors and hinges on Fresh¡¯s behest. Shamrock spends the day running around town, buying and carrying all manner of things from raw materials to a new cauldron that Fresh has him put in the basement for her. Apparently, delivery isn¡¯t a really popular thing here, everything had to be transported by the person who bought it. Several hours later, after she finishes upstairs making the beds just like she had made her old one in the old house, she stands before them with pride, ready to receive a heap of praise from her friends. Jubilee walks past her and throws their bedroll onto the one furthest in the back, flashing her a quiet thumb¡¯s up before returning to their work. Basil stands next to her. ¡°Which one are you taking?¡± ¡°Me?¡± asks Fresh, thinking for a moment. ¡°They¡¯re all the same, so¡­ I don¡¯t really care. Uh,¡± her eyes wander over the four beds. Jubilee had taken the right most one. So she wants to be next to that, even if there is a wall between them. She lifts a hand, pointing at the bed that is second from the right. ¡°I guess that one.¡± Basil nods and places her bag on the other one next to it, before returning to her work without saying anything either. Fresh sighs, wondering if a little ¡®thank you¡¯ was really so much to ask for? Maybe it is in this world? She isn¡¯t really sure. Though maybe her friends are just kind of jerkish sometimes too. She isn¡¯t really sure either. A pair of heavy boots comes up the stairs as Shamrock arrives with another load of bricks. She smiles. The man has never let her down yet. ¡°Ah! Shamrock, here,¡± she points to the last bed remaining. ¡°This one is yours. I hope you like it!¡± The man says nothing, setting the bricks down on the stack and then kneeling down by the bed, placing his hands on the foot of it. As he stands in front of it, Fresh realizes that she should have perhaps made his bed a little bigger than the rest of them. She hadn¡¯t thought about that at all. His metal glove runs along the material and Fresh notices that it is shaking a little. The man turns his head and looks at her, nodding once as he rises to his feet to return to work without saying a word. Fresh sighs, louder now, simply out of protest. She hopes that they all can hear her. What¡¯s with everyone here? Looking around, annoyed now at not having been lavished with kind words, she heads down to the basement. Jubilee tags along on the way. The basement is a room just like the two above it. Square. Fresh supposes these shapes were the easiest to make when carving solid rock out of the mountain, though she has no idea how they did it here. Did they use magic? Probably. There is only the downstairs room in the basement and the single staircase in it that stops half-way with a small landing with a door next to it. Through the door is the washroom. Other than that, there is a fireplace that is nested into the wall, much to the girl¡¯s delight and to Jubilee¡¯s dismay. ¡°At least you won¡¯t be able to set the place on fire¡­¡± they mutter, tapping against the rock. Fresh laughs, lifting a hand to feel the air coming from a second small shaft on the other side of the room, which she assumes is for air from above, given the cool draft she feels coming from it. ¡°Ah, wait, I¡¯ve heard of this,¡± says Jubilee, stepping into the fireplace and looking up the chimney from below. ¡°The shaft runs up along the walls of the other rooms. If you light this, I¡¯ll bet you anything that the walls across from the stairs up there will start getting hot.¡± Fresh nods excitedly, looking at her friend. ¡°Jubilee, will you sit and watch the fire with me sometimes?¡± Jubilee climbs out of the dormant fireplace. ¡°Don¡¯t be a creep.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not! I just think it would be nice!¡± says Fresh. Jubilee walks past her just shaking their head. ¡°Sure,¡± they say, waving her off as they head back up the stairs. Fresh beams. Jubilee might call her clingy, but she knows that Jubilee is the kind of person that needs extra attention now and then, to calm their own insecurities, even if they¡¯d never admit it. She wonders if she isn¡¯t being a little manipulative? Fresh shrugs, smiling as she walks back up after her friend to meet the others upstairs. They want to talk about their business strategy. Half-way up towards the landing, she stops, feeling a cool breeze on the nape of her neck that causes her to shudder. But as she looks behind herself, trying to find its source, all that she sees is the little hole in the wall that seems too far away for it to be noticed up here. Looking back up and realizing that she is alone downstairs, Fresh runs after Jubilee, catching up. ¡°Isn¡¯t our plan just to make things and to sell them?¡± asks Fresh as they all sit in a circle on the floor upstairs. Several hours had passed since they began their work this morning and it was close to the evening now. None of them had eaten yet. ¡°No shit, dumb-ass. That¡¯s what a store does,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head again. ¡°But we have to be careful,¡± says Basil quietly, apparently thinking as she pulls on her sleeves. ¡°Conspicuous,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh stares around at the three of them, not sure what they were getting at. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just make potions and stuff like before?¡± Jubilee looks at her, their tired expression perhaps showing that they had seen this question coming. ¡°Yeah, why don¡¯t we just sell the exact same, one of a kind, literally glowing, magical items as in the city we got chased out of, to people who spend their whole lives traveling between them so that they can kill things?¡± The room is quiet for a moment. ¡°Oh, wait! Because that would be suicidal.¡± Fresh rubs her arm, thinking. ¡°Oh, you think people would know that they came from us?¡± ¡°If we sell glowing potions, then yeah, probably,¡± says Jubilee, leaning back against the foot of the bed behind them. ¡°There aren¡¯t many of those going around these days.¡± ¡°We need to come up with different things,¡± suggests Basil. ¡°Things that won¡¯t tie us to the old city. If someone traveled there with a load of glowing potions, it would only be a matter of time before we¡¯re found out.¡± ¡°But I loved making potions! I spent so long learning how to do it right!¡± argues Fresh, even though she knows that they have a point. They would have to come up with a different niche to slide into. General items as always, a bit of this and a bit of that. But they needed a hook. Something to really pull their first customers in when they opened. Her stomach growls loudly. All three of them look at her, as the girl¡¯s eyes go wide. ¡°Guys!¡± says Fresh excitedly, her fingers locking together into two tight fists. ¡°I have an idea!¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 128: Homework They all fall asleep that night in the same room, much to Fresh¡¯s delight. The girl smiles, clutching her blanket tightly with her fingers grasping the edge of the soft fabric, as she turns her head over on her pillow from side to side, looking at the sleeping people who surround her. It¡¯s basically the same arrangement as in the guild, but at least now they¡¯re sleeping at a place they can really call home. She likes that word, ¡®home¡¯, and ends up smiling a little more as she pulls the blanket up higher to cover the bottom of her face, so that the world can¡¯t see her doing it. So that it doesn¡¯t find out that she has something that could be taken away. For tonight at least, she wants to keep it all to herself. Fresh¡¯s eyes feel heavy and soon, her world grows dark. The next day is as busy as the day before, with Fresh building up everything while Shamrock, Basil and Jubilee run around town, getting enough raw materials for her to keep building all the things that they need. They decided to use as little ready-made furniture as possible, not only to save money, but also because Fresh simply insisted on it to an annoying extent, saying that she wanted to make it all herself, so that their home would feel more ¡®homey¡¯. Eventually her friends relented, but Jubilee warned her that if anyone died because of one of her deathtrap contraptions, they¡¯d stick around to haunt her as ghosts. She wasn¡¯t sure if she liked that idea or not. But for the sake of her friend¡¯s safety, she double checks every screw and fastening as she sits there, jumping from construction-site to construction-site, as she works on too many things at once. Making the small wall for Jubilee¡¯s room is easy enough. All she is doing is stacking some thin, light bricks with some ready-made mortar, that just needed a little water, between some timber-framing, which she had set up to separate the small space that was just big enough for a bed and a dresser and then one foot-step more. Space is at a premium here for four people, so it¡¯s a little tight, but she does her best to make it roomy enough for Jubilee. She wonders if it won¡¯t get a little stuffy though and so ponders how to make an opening for some air. Maybe she could figure out how to make a shaft like downstairs in the basement? That¡¯s a luxury problem for a metaphorical tomorrow right now though. Setting the next brick down, pressing it into the mortar, Fresh wipes her forehead on her arm. She¡¯ll need a ladder to reach the top of the wall. Plus there¡¯s still a door missing. Just as she thinks that, the front door downstairs slams loudly shut and she jolts together a little, but then smiles as she turns around. The others apparently had been pretty fast if they were back already. Maybe Shamrock can help her with the wall? ¡°Shamrock? Can you come upstairs please?¡± calls Fresh, waiting for the sound of heavy-footsteps to come her way. But none do. She scratches her cheek, blinking a few times as she walks over to the staircase and peers down it. ¡°Shamrock? Jubilee?¡± calls Fresh. ¡°Basil?¡± Walking down the stairs, she looks for her friends, but none of them are here. She stands on the halfway point of the staircase, staring down into the empty room curiously. Maybe she¡¯s just hearing things? Or maybe it was the neighbors. Hmm¡­ Fresh shrugs as she returns upstairs to get back to her work. Feeling a little cramped, she opens the balcony door to let in some fresh air, happy to have the mountain breeze around to explain the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. The others return an hour later as she has already finished making a series of counters for the back corner, where Basil wanted a kitchen. They¡¯ll have to buy a wood-fired stove, she isn¡¯t sure she knows how to make one and she doesn¡¯t want to risk starting a fire. But for now, a few cabinets and shelving are a good start. Much to her delight, Shamrock helps her stack the rest of the bricks, finishing the small extension of the wall. Only one brick remains and Fresh can¡¯t help but smile a giddy smile as the devious scheme comes to her. Looking around to see that the others aren¡¯t listening, she lifts a finger, waving Shamrock over and whispers into his ear, telling him her plan. He nods once. A minute later, Jubilee comes up the stairs. ¡°Jubilee!¡± calls Fresh. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Look at this!¡± says the girl, holding out a single brick. Jubilee sets down the bag of groceries that they had brought with them. ¡°A brick?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh, nodding excitedly. ¡°But look at it!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes as they walk over. ¡°What? Do you see some of yourself in it or something?¡± They take the brick from her, springing the trap. Jubilee turns it over in their hands. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a brick alright. I don¡¯t see anyt- AGH!¡± Jubilee kicks down, their boot striking against Shamrock¡¯s helmet as he hoists them into the air. ¡°Put me down you SHIT-HEAD!¡± yells Jubilee, lifting the brick into the air and getting ready to throw it down at him. ¡°Contribute,¡± is all that Shamrock says as he hoists Jubilee up to the wall where there is a single hole for a missing brick. ¡°I¡¯ll contribute my foot to your face!¡± says Jubilee, kicking him again. The man seems unfazed however, despite the loud ringing of Jubilee¡¯s boot striking against his head. ¡°Contribute.¡± Shamrock hoists them up higher, nearly pressing them against the wall. ¡°Fine! Fuck off!¡± says Jubilee, placing the brick into the wall. ¡°Happy now?!¡± Shamrock looks at Fresh who nods excitedly back at him and he sets Jubilee down onto the ground, who stands there holding their gut. ¡°Fuck me, that really hurt you know?¡± They wince as they stretch themselves out, rubbing the tender spot on their stomach where Shamrock held them. ¡°Fucking dick.¡± Their eyes shoot over to Fresh. ¡°You!¡± ¡°IAH!¡± Fresh runs away as Jubilee charges at her, escaping out down the stairs and out of the door as fast as she can, as she hears the boots thudding behind her. ¡°I just wanted you to make part of our hoooome~!¡± yells Fresh, not daring to look behind herself as she knows Jubilee is right on her heels, as she bolts out of the front door. Only after it slams shut behind her and she hears the lock turn, does she realize her mistake. The next day comes and by the time the afternoon sun shines brightly through the open balcony, Jubilee¡¯s room is entirely completed with a door and everything. Shamrock arrives, carrying an extremely heavy looking, metal stove and Fresh stands back in awe as he lugs it up the stairs. Basil runs behind him, practically swatting away groups of adventurers trying to approach the man, who has apparently become a sort of celebrity here in town over these two days. All he is ever seen doing is carrying extremely heavy things around. Apparently, according to Basil, they were approached by at least six people during their shopping trip, each of them requesting that he open a tightly stuck jam-jar or other stubborn container, that so happened to be inside of the dungeon every single time. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Fresh, smiling at the man who says nothing in return. ¡°Is there anything you¡¯d like in the house, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Something for you? Jubilee wanted a room. Me and Basil wanted a kitchen. What about you?¡± ¡°Chair,¡± says the man, lifting a hand to point out to the balcony. ¡°A chair?¡± asks Fresh, somewhat perplexed while looking at him and then following his arm. ¡°Ah! You want to watch the stars?¡± asks the girl excitedly, feeling a bit of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Jubilee had said the view of it here was great, which seems out of place for Jubilee. Then again, something as romantic an activity as star-gazing seemed out of place for the giant as well. Fresh nods. ¡°Okay! I¡¯ll make that for you! Uh¡­¡± she taps her cheek as she thinks. ¡°The pact is sealed?¡± Shamrock nods once and then turns around to get back to work. Fresh spends another few hours setting up the stove-pipe to run along the ceiling into a small hole that is apparently meant for just that, according to Jubilee. The kitchenette is small and not as quaint as their old one with the charming window. Especially since the whole area is an open space and so the kitchen is technically the same room as their bedroom, but that¡¯s fine. As long as nobody cooks any fish. They¡¯re adventurers after all, right? Having a home was already luxurious enough and Fresh couldn¡¯t be more thrilled about it. By the time night falls and the sun vanishes behind the horizon on the other side of the mountain, just out of their sight, the entire upstairs area is finished. The kitchen, Jubilee¡¯s room, she even made a number of shelves and boxes for their pantry which was already well stocked with provisions. Most of it is dried and cured food as always, but at least now they were different things than the stuff they had eaten all the time back in the north. Plus, more importantly, she feels very strongly that the stone pantry is rat-proof. Fresh lets out a long, satisfied sigh as she sits outside on the balcony, on one of two chairs now there. The one on the left, which she sits on, is normal sized and the one on the right, where Shamrock sits, is extra large. Both of them stare up at the dusk sky above their heads, waiting for the first stars to appear. Jubilee and Basil are inside bickering at each other about something and at first Fresh thinks it¡¯s going to evolve into a serious argument, but as she turns around and looks through the door, she sees Jubilee giving a very excited and thankful Basil her new robe. It¡¯s the same whitish-blue tone as hers, with the kobold fluff around the trim. Basil excitedly ducks into Jubilee¡¯s room to change and comes out a minute later, doing an excited twirl around in it, perhaps not even realizing that she is doing it as it happens. Fresh claps excitedly from the balcony and Basil stops, rushing back inside of the room. The girl scratches her cheek, looking at Jubilee who shrugs back at her. Oh well. Basil has always been a little shy, she supposes. The thought is an odd one to her as she thinks it. Basil? Shy? Fresh suddenly realizes how un-shy she herself has become over the relatively short span of this new life. She still feels nervous now and then, but¡­ nothing like before. The girl turns back, looking up towards the sky where particularly light and airy clouds drift along, coming together to form one larger whole off in the distance. Much like them, their new life is slowly coming together, at least in her eyes. She¡¯s very excited about this new store and can hardly wait for tomorrow to start. The others were very excited about her idea. As always, they¡¯re going to make a bit of everything. Weapons, equipment, repairs and so on. But as a draw to lure people inside the door, since they can¡¯t make potions, she suggested that she cook small, easy to carry drinks and treats like the sweet-tea from the old city. They were basically like potions, but more delicious. Together with some small, odd candies and bars for the adventurers, some of which could be chicken shaped, it could be a real hit, especially since she can make stat-raising food. The others liked the plan as well, except for the chicken shaped part. They said it was too conspicuous, but she isn¡¯t sure if she believes that. She thinks that maybe they just don¡¯t like the chicken idea to begin with. Another thing that she¡¯s noticing up here is that she seems to be hungrier than usual. Jubilee said it¡¯s a mix of the cold and the mountain air, it made the body burn faster. That¡¯s why food was so popular up here. Fresh ponders as she leans back against the chair, watching one of the large crystals float by their balcony and stares in awe as it begins to bathe the city below with the dewy, pastel light that emanates out from it. Her finger taps against her cheek, as she watches the floating thing and as she thinks about all the things she could make with something like that. Razmatazz Just some cute slice of life. It''s been a while since we had that =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 129: Night-time feelings ¡°Hot! Hot!¡± yelps Fresh as she juggles the little orange ball back and forth in her hands. She quickly drops it down onto a plate. The small, doughy thing squishes together a little, as it flops down against the glassware surface. Fresh frowns, letting out a sad sigh as she stares at the next failure as it begins to break apart. ¡°Just use a fork, dumb-ass,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head as they lean back against the stairway railing, watch her as she stands in the kitchen and experiments with her cooking. ¡°But a fork will make the surface uneven!¡± says Fresh. ¡°They¡¯ll stay round if they cool off, but they¡¯re squishy if they¡¯re hot.¡± ¡°Then use a cold spoon,¡± sighs Jubilee. Fresh looks over at her friend and then back to the pot before her that is filled with small, doughy balls. She had formed some flour, some honey and a tiny bit of jam together in a ball with a sprinkling of mushroom powder for flavor. She had used a variety of different caps, though none from her inventory that they collected on the way. She doubted they were good to eat anymore. She had bought some in town instead, but they were a bit more expensive here, as mush-mushes weren¡¯t so common up on the mountain. Only adventurers coming up from the forest below would have any, but thankfully there seemed to be plenty of those types around, as many beginners here were simply too weak to start off right away in this dungeon. A cold spoon? She wishes that they still had an ice-golem-core and is about to say exactly that to Jubilee, but she stops herself before the words form in her mouth, as she realizes how insensitive that could come across. Maybe¡­ Fresh closes her eyes, listening to the noises of the outside world seeping in through the open balcony door. She listens to the soft winds creeping through the house, listens to the sounds of her breath leaving her body, as she focuses on trying to find that one sound in particular that has always helped her so far, every time she was stuck and looking for a new idea. The fountain has never let her down yet, but there is no fountain here. Opening her eyes again, she picks up a bottle of water and a second empty bottle and slowly pours one into the other. ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡± ¡°Shh,¡± says Fresh as she stares at the water flowing into the other bottle. ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything, simply opting to sigh and to walk away, leaving her alone upstairs. Basil and Shamrock are out getting her some of the magical-crystals, or at least to see how expensive they are. But Fresh assumes they can¡¯t be that pricey, given that they could be found right at the start of the dungeon. She wonders why she never saw anything like them in the north? They seem really useful. The bottle in her hand becomes lighter and lighter by the second, but the longer she pours the small stream into the other bottle, the wider her eyes become as she stares at it, transfixed. She feels it, that whisper that seems to creep towards her from the sounds of the splashing wet. That small, quiet voice that seems to never quite differentiate itself from the whisper of the draft moving past her ears, but that she nonetheless notices, as she sees the hairs on her arms stand on end out of the corners of her eyes. Her hand becomes lighter. The bottle is empty. Fresh sets it down, having her idea now. Excitedly, she turns around and runs into the pantry, grabbing one of their boss-cores and a heap of the dragon scales. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she calls out over her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m gonna use one of the boss-cores!¡± she says. No response. Fresh shrugs. It¡¯s probably fine then. She hurries back to the stove and sets the small boss-core from the first boss into a pot, along with several ice-dragon scales and then holds her hands out over it. First she grinds the scales into a powder. Then she mixes it in with the water in the bottle, giving it a good shake. The liquid inside of the bottle turns into a pale, blue mixture. Most of the particulate dragon-scales don¡¯t dissolve and end up loosely floating around inside of it. Boss-cores are particularly interesting magical items, as far as she¡¯s been told. Apparently there is something that adventurers just in general call ¡®dungeon-magic¡¯. It¡¯s the magical force that runs through the dungeons of the world and it is what makes them work to begin with. The same magic flows through particularly strong monsters inside of them, making them stronger by condensing into specific points of their body. There, the magical energies compress together to form a physical core, from which it then leaks out into their bodies. She holds her hands above the small core that came from the first boss of the western dungeon and repeats the process, before adding the new crystalline powder into the same bottle. It¡¯s almost like ground glass and she doesn¡¯t think it¡¯s safe to eat. But that¡¯s fine, she doesn¡¯t want to eat it. She just needs its power for a moment. Looking over, she sees that Jubilee has come back upstairs again, standing now on the far side of the room, apparently having just come back up the stairs a second ago. Fresh smiles, looking back to her work as she is eager to show off. She¡¯s sure this will work, the fountain has never led her astray yet. As the dungeon-core powder seeps into the bottle with the ground up ice-dragon scales, there is a sudden sharp crackling sound. The wicking moisture that forms on the body of the glass bottle begins to solidify, as the core of the bottle begins to freeze over in an instant, far faster than she had expected it to. The glass splits, cracking in half loudly as the ice inside of it expands out much too quickly and presses the glass bottle apart. Fresh yelps, jumping back a step. As her breath leaves her mouth, she sees it form a thick cloud of vapor just before her eyes, as the air around her begins to freeze immediately. The temperature in the room has dropped far, far below what it was only a few seconds ago. Something grabs her robe. Keeping her balance, Fresh looks down at Jubilee who stands next to her and gets ready to be yelled at for her latest blunder. ¡°Run away,¡± says Jubilee, gazing up at her. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, looking at her friend who stares back up at her, not blinking at all, their gloved hand still clutching her robe. ¡°Demon,¡± says Jubilee¡¯s voice, but it doesn¡¯t stem from the figure below her, but from behind her in the shadow of the corner of the room. She feels a second hand grab her shoulder from behind and she lets out the start of a quick scream, just as a third one comes to cover her mouth and silences her. Fresh shoots up in her bed, her sweaty, tousled hair flying past her face as she looks around the dark room. It¡¯s the middle of the night. It was all just a dream. It was all just another bad dream. Fresh sighs, leaning back against the wall at the head of her bed, as she pulls the blanket higher to cover her knees which she holds against her chest. Basil and Shamrock are sleeping. Shamrock simply is splayed out over his bed, his arms and legs hanging off the sides as he lays there spread-eagle, still wearing all of his armor, as always. She makes a mental note to herself to make his bed bigger, so that his feet are inside of it at night. Maybe she can even convince him to finally take his armor off? Her vision of the giant is interrupted by Basil¡¯s flailing form, as she flops around, her sleeping body kicking out in all directions every odd few seconds. Her blanket is knotted all around her, as if a snake were coiling around her body. Lifting a hand, she places it onto the stone wall next to herself, feeling for Jubilee¡¯s presence. With a quiet groan, the girl grabs her robe and covers herself with her blanket as she gets dressed beneath it and then gets up out of bed, feeling that she is unable to fall back asleep now, even if she wanted to. Fresh shudders, as her bare feet strike against the stones beneath herself, they¡¯re icy cold. Her sleepy eyes wander towards the balcony door that is wide open. Did one of them open it in the night? She¡¯s sure that they closed it before going to bed. Quietly, she slips past her friends and heads out to the balcony. At first she just wants to close it, but as she sees the bright stars shining up above herself again, she can¡¯t help but take a few steps outside to admire their radiance. The stars were always bright up in the north, but up here, up on the western mountain, they seem so close that she feels that she could touch them, if she just lifts her arm really high and stands on the tips of her toes. Fresh smiles, the beautiful sight of the looming heavens above fills her with a warmth that dispels the cool chill of her nightmare, that is already on the verge of being forgotten. Someone breathes behind her, the exhalation of their soft breath touching her neck just above where the fluffy trim of her robe ends. Fresh turns around, staring somewhat shocked at first and then somewhat embarrassed at Basil, who stands there in the doorway in her white undergarments. ¡°Y- you¡¯re gonna get sick. It¡¯s too cold out here with just that, Basil,¡± says Fresh nervously, not really sure what else to say in a spontaneously awkward situation like this. She looks away. Do friends usually see each other in their underwear? She isn¡¯t sure. She certainly hasn¡¯t done so thus far. Basil lifts a hand, not saying anything as her palm presses against the center of Fresh¡¯s chest. ¡°Ah¡­ Basil¡­?¡± asks Fresh, looking down at the slender hand touching her body and then following its length with her eyes back up to Basil¡¯s face. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Basil looks at her, the icy night-wind that cascades down the mountains moving her long, strawberry-tinged strands past her brow, as it blows and encapsulates the both of them with its bitter chill. The starlight reflects off of the glossy surface of the priestess¡¯ hair and as it drifts past her moonlit eyes once again, Fresh realizes that Basil hasn¡¯t blinked once this entire time. ¡°Get out,¡± says Basil. Fresh yelps, stumbling backwards with her arms flailing, as she flies back over the railing, shoved back by the sudden force of Basil pushing her over the edge. The girl plummets and then, a moment later, she dies. Razmatazz 1) Wew. Still no romance tags in this story. We''re safe for another day x) 2) I am once again kindly requesting that you rate/review <3 Just click the little stars according to your true feelings please ;_; Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 130: The haunting Fresh floats. Her senses are entirely drowned out by the roaring water that rushes past her head. What happened? It¡¯s so cold. Did she die? She thinks so. It¡¯s been a while. This is only her second time dying, right? Well¡­ maybe technically her third time? Basil pushed her. Why would Basil do something like that? She wouldn¡¯t. Basil would never, Fresh is sure of it. No¡­ it was¡­ She opens her eyes, coughing and spluttering as she pulls herself out of the warm water of the ornate bath, inside of the western adventurer¡¯s guild. Her wet robe clings to her skin as she sits upright, water running down her soaked body. She looks around, fearful for a moment that someone else is in here to see her. Thankfully, the bath is empty. She supposes the rowdy people outside aren¡¯t exactly too big on leaving the party in order to take a warm bath. She feels a little weak on her legs. Did she lose some stats because she died? Probably. Fresh runs her hands over her head, rubbing the water out of her hair and eyes. That¡¯s not important right now. She shakes herself out and hurries towards the door, ringing out as much of the water from her sleeves and robe as possible as she moves. Her friends are in terrible danger, she has to hurry. There¡¯s a ghost in their house. A real ghost. She knows that she¡¯s dumb. But she is certain that she knows what a house ghost looks like. Cold air? Terrible nightmares? Spooky, blank and possessed expressions from her friends before they murder her? Ghost city. She has to hurry back, before something happens to any of them. She can take it if she dies, but she won¡¯t accept anything happening to them. She won¡¯t forgive that stupid ghost for doing something weird to Basil. Fresh opens the sliding door out to the upstairs ring of the adventurer¡¯s guild and the world explodes with loud sounds and rich smells immediately. Only a second after the first few people who are seated at the tables by the washroom door turn her way, does she realize her mistake. The gravity of it is only amplified as they erupt into loud cheers and hollers. Someone tosses a coin her way and it rattles with a loud clamber down at her feet. ¡°Shut up!¡± yells Fresh running past them as her wet, almost white robe clings to her skin. ¡°LEAVE ME ALOOONE!¡± she shouts as she hurries through the party, half expecting to hear a loud ¡®bakaw¡¯ behind her as she runs away. Thankfully, the blue-tinge of the fabric of the robe stops it from being too bad, but as she runs past the dozens of tables and nearly five times as many people who sit there drunk and revelling, she tearfully misses the haunting, respectful atmosphere of the old adventurer¡¯s guild. She¡¯s sure the barkeeper there would have helped her out. Fresh runs out of the door, closing it as quickly behind herself as she can as she immerses herself in the freezing night air. In an instant, she feels a bite on her skin from the frozen mountain winds as they gnaw on her wet body, the sharp fangs of the icy chill, ripping through her soaked clothes. She grits her teeth and ignores the dew in her eyes, attributing it to just being some left-over bathwater as she runs as fast as she can through the, thankfully, mostly-empty city. Pastel light from the large crystals, hovering over her head, wash her body with a soothing glow as they move over her. But she doesn¡¯t feel any warmer. Just better lit, which honestly makes the situation worse in her eyes. Fresh runs, sprinting back to the house, the rock of the streets biting her bare feet, as her damp soles slap against the road, the wet fabric of her robe clinging to her skin and rubbing somewhat painfully beneath her arms and legs as she hurries towards the dungeon. It¡¯s cold. Deathly cold. She can feel her entire body burning as it nips at her, as the winds that creep down the midnight-lost mountain wrap themselves around her form, pressing her back, as if trying to stop every single step that she takes forward. Fresh lifts her arms, covering her face as the wind grows stronger and stronger. But she keeps moving forward until eventually she reaches the tunnel. By then, she can¡¯t feel her fingers or toes anymore, but she doesn¡¯t let that stop her either and keeps going, opting to just clench her teeth down tighter and tighter to stop them from chattering so loudly, that she¡¯s sure the entire street will wake up from the noise. There is little to do however, to stop the violent hammering that she hears accompanying her. The loud thudding that doesn¡¯t come from her running feet hitting the stones, but rather from the heavy beat of her fearful heart. Are her friends okay? Fresh runs down the tunnel, seeing the house just ahead of her now and rushes to the door, grabbing the wet key from her pocket and jamming it into the lock, before dashing inside without a second thought. A familiar, dusty air comes to meet her. It is cool, but not as cold as the air outside that claws at her back, as if trying to pull her back outside, not for her own safety, but as if it doesn¡¯t want her to escape, only to let her be devoured by something else. Fearfully, Fresh looks around and closes the door firmly behind herself as she turns left and runs up the stairs, her toes painfully tingling as they strike against the somewhat warmer rock. Despite the fact that they haven¡¯t lit the fireplace downstairs once yet, the building managed to stay almost close to comfortably warm, perhaps because of all the warm feelings she has been letting flow out of her heart? Though more realistically, because four people were sitting in the same cramped space together all day. She reaches the top of the stairs, terrified of what she is going to see. Her mind races from one gruesome, horrible image to the next, as it shows her every possible, disgusting, blood-soaked fate. Fresh stops. The hairs on her neck stand on end as she looks across the room towards the kitchenette. Towards the two figures, standing outside of the door to Jubilee¡¯s room. ¡°B¡­ Basil?¡± asks Fresh nervously, lifting a hand to cautiously wave at the still mostly undressed priestess. ¡°Shamrock?¡± cries the girl, her voice cracking as she looks at the armored giant standing next to her. Basil and Shamrock, who both stand in the back corner, both turn to face her and as they do, Fresh notices that there is something wrong with the way they move. As they turn, they don¡¯t use their legs to face her, taking a half-step to the side as someone usually would. They instead simply rotate, as if some force from above were turning them towards her, spinning them flat on their heels like two little dolls. ¡°¡­Guys?¡± Any warmth that could be felt in the room a moment ago vanishes instantly and as that last word leaves her mouth, so does another puff of vapor just like in her dream. Basil and Shamrock slide towards her, not walking, their feet staying perfectly flat on the ground as they are pushed her way. Their hands lift up into the air and reach for her. Fresh shrieks in terror and runs back down the stairs out of pure instinct. Her hands grip the front door, trying to yank it back open. It doesn¡¯t budge. With wide, terrified eyes, she looks behind herself, seeing the two silhouettes standing on the top of the staircase and yells again, letting go of the door and running to the only route left, the door to the basement. Grabbing it, she yanks it open and bolts inside, only realizing as she goes down that there is nowhere to go. Terrified, she holds the door closed from the other side, pulling back with all of the weight of her body to keep it shut. Her feet slip, as something grabs the door from the other end and tries to pull it open, doing so successfully, at least for an inch. The wood lets out a loud slam as she digs her heels in against the frame on either side and pulls back as hard as she can. ¡°Basil!¡± yells Fresh. ¡°Shamrock! It¡¯s me! Snap out of it!¡± The door rattles again. ¡°Guys! It¡¯s me!¡± The door rattles again, opening an inch wider, in the second that it pulls open, a giant, metal hand slips through the gap, wedging itself between the door and the frame. Fresh screams, as it grips the door and begins to pull it open no matter how hard she presses back with her legs. ¡°Hey!¡± yells a voice from the other side. Jubilee. ¡°Up here, you fucks!¡± ¡°Jubileeeeee~!¡± yells Fresh. ¡°Run outside! I¡¯ll break the door!¡± There is a loud sound on the other side as glass explodes just beyond the door. Something heavy thuds out, striking against the rocks. The giant hand pulls itself out of the basement door, the wooden construction slamming back tightly shut. ¡°Now!¡± yells Jubilee. Trusting in her friend, Fresh ignores the terror in her heart and the tears in her eyes as she rips the basement door open and makes a break for it. Shattered glass lies everywhere and she is amazed that she doesn¡¯t step into any of it as she runs towards the front door which is torn off of its hinge, by a giant glass spire that holds it aloft in the air, just outside of the building. As Fresh runs out through the broken door, back to the outside, she spares a second to glance over her shoulder. She sees a pale, soft hand reaching for her, stopping only an inch from her face. Fresh stumbles, falling backwards and crawling away in terror, as she looks at Basil who stands at the precipice of the doorway. ¡°Get out of my friends, you stupid ghost!¡± yells Fresh, crying as she glares at the priestess¡¯ lifeless expression. She jumps to her feet, ignoring the voice in her head that screams not to, as she reaches forward, wanting to grab Basil¡¯s wrist and to pull on her as hard as she can. Basil slides to the left before she can reach her, her body sliding up the stairs as if a force were dragging her up by her head. Fresh stands there, whimpering as she doesn¡¯t know what to do. Confused, lost, she stays outside for a few minutes and shivers as she holds herself, not hearing anything else except for the drafty wind that pushes past her wet body as it moves through the tunnel, as well as the slight trickling of the river that flows out of the dungeon-gate. Clutching herself, she feels a new wave of tears come on. Is Jubilee okay? What should she do? What¡¯s going to happen to Basil and Shamrock? Should she¡­ Fresh lowers her gaze. Should she cast a curse on them and kill them? They¡¯d respawn in the guild then, right? Apparently the ghost can¡¯t leave the house. But¡­ what if her curse stays with them after they respawn? She can¡¯t risk that. She - ¡°Hey!¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes widen as she turns around and sees Jubilee running down the tunnel towards her. ¡°Jubilee!¡± cries Fresh, running to her friend and grabbing them in a tight hug as she falls onto her knees. ¡°Get off!¡± snarls Jubilee, trying to push her away unsuccessfully. But she just holds them tighter as she sobs into their shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re all fucking wet, can you not?¡± Fresh can not not, doing her best to suppress her howls by shoving her face into Jubilee. ¡°Ju-Ju-Jubileeeeee~!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re alright!¡± She pulls back, holding onto both of her friend¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Are you okay? How did you get out?!¡± Jubilee pushes her arms off of themselves, this time successfully and then rolls their shoulders. ¡°I broke the balcony door and climbed down with some glass,¡± says Jubilee, looking at the door behind them. ¡°Fucking ghost can¡¯t leave the building. The spooky fuck.¡± Fresh sniffles, looking at the house. ¡°What do we do? Basil and Shamrock ar -¡± Jubilee cuts her off, pointing to the two figures standing in the very back of the room behind them, both of them staring out towards the two of them. The broken front door rattles, as something grabs the corner, breaking it free from the glass spire that punctures it. The heavy wooden thing is pressed back into place, swinging shut with a loud slam and then, all there is left to hear is a silent click as the lock is turned back shut as well. Razmatazz OoOoOoooOooO~ *Waves arms* Trivia - Ghosts Ever since the dawn of religious philosophy, there has been the idea that there is a separation between the body and spirit. It doesn¡¯t matter what continent you¡¯re on, Europe, Asia, Africa, etc etc, every single one has stories and mythologies regarding the human spirit as an entity in and of itself, separate from the physical body. Though here, right off of the bat, we¡¯re already in muddy water. Since this itself is more of a concept of ¡®the soul¡¯ rather than a ¡®ghost¡¯, which is what I want to talk about. While it is difficult to separate, today we will be looking at ghosts in the sense of spooky-bed-shoot oOoOooo~ kind of ¡®classical¡¯ ghosts. Of which, there are many different variations of haunting spirit. Poltergeists, revenents, phantoms, spectres, wraiths, apparitions, haunts, spooks are all names for the same thing, spooky ghosts. Though, depending on what string of ghostlore you follow (Ghostlore is an offshoot of folklore that revolves explicitly around ghosts. It¡¯s a real word!) these are either all the same thing, or each an individual ¡®type¡¯ of ghost, if they are even counted as ghosts. In some modern mythology for example, the poltergeist is considered to be a result of latent psychic ability manifested by strong emotions of a living person, rather than an actual trapped spirit of the dead. It is impossible to say when the first ghosts were told of, though the oldest records we seem to be able to find are¡­ you guessed it, in Mesopotamia, Babylon, Sumer (Everything starts there in western mythology. EVERYTHING). Here, ghosts were as we understand them today, created at the time of a person¡¯s death. But in the old lore, they didn¡¯t ¡®stay¡¯ with us, rather, the ghost departed and left for the underworld. From there, it would cause misfortune for the living if it received no offerings of appeasement. Ghosts appearing as ¡®physical¡¯ things in our plane of reality seems to have (In western mythology) originated from the ancient Greeks, most notably in Homer¡¯s odyssey, where they appeared as physical manifestations of transparent vapor and smoke. Myths of bodily possession only ever seemed to start appearing during the middle ages in Europe, where the myth of the ghost likely became someone interwoven with the church¡¯s mythology regarding demons. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 131: Spirits ¡°Are you sure that this is gonna work?¡± asks Jubilee, looking around nervously to make sure that nobody is watching them. Surprisingly, no doors are opened along the street, no windows are lit up and no faces peek out of any shadowy glass-panes. Despite the noise, everyone here is either fast asleep or simply doesn¡¯t care in the least. Fresh appreciates that a lot right now, ironically enough. The two of them stand at the end of the tunnel, next to the crystal clear stream of water that runs out from the dungeon-gate. ¡°It has to!¡± whispers Fresh loudly, as she holds the bottle of freshly made moonwater up into the air to take a closer look at it. Dew pearls off of the sides of the quickly made glass flask in her hand, shimmering with a strange hue as a mixture of moonlight of the full moon and the pastel wash of the crystal¡¯s glow combines inside of the droplets. ¡°Do we gotta make them drink it?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Basil we could get. We could pin her down. She¡¯d probably be into it.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± hisses Fresh. Jubilee ignores her and goes on. ¡°Shamrock though? Not a fucking chance, he¡¯ll body the both of us before we get near his mouth.¡± Jubilee thinks, rubbing the chin of their mask. ¡°If we can even get his damned helmet off. I¡¯m starting to wonder if it isn¡¯t just melted on?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I think we just have to splash them. Maybe on their skin?¡± ¡°Great idea. Oooor -¡± starts Jubilee, lifting a finger as they are about to make a suggestion. ¡°We could just k -¡± ¡°We¡¯re not going to kill our friends!¡± hisses Fresh, leaning in close to Jubilee so that they can hear the venom in her voice. ¡°What if the ghost goes with them when they come back?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± cries Fresh quietly. ¡°Why is there even a ghost here to begin with?! I told you! I told you there were gho -¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± says Jubilee, interrupting her this time. ¡°We got the place half-off, okay? We should be thanking the damned thing,¡± says Jubilee, grabbing the moonwater from her and holding it, along with another few bottles that they made. ¡°That¡¯s so heartless!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°Poor Basil! Poor Shamrock!¡± Jubilee walks away, heading back towards the house. ¡°¡¯Poor Basil¡¯ and ¡®poor Shamrock¡¯ tried to kill us both in our sleep, so maybe don¡¯t go so easy on them.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not their fault!¡± ¡°The dumb-asses shouldn¡¯t have let themselves get possessed.¡± Jubilee looks back at her, shrugging. ¡°I say the two of them had a good run, you know? Easy come, easy go,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll just axe them off and run the store ourselves. It¡¯ll be fine! Three problems less!¡± ¡°Ju-bi-leeee!¡± scolds Fresh, nearly horrified as she clenches her fists. Jubilee waves her off. ¡°It¡¯s just a joke, goo-brain.¡± Jubilee stops, thinking for a second. ¡°Well¡­ it is for Shamrock, maybe. But the ghost can keep Basil if he wants -¡± ¡°No!¡± says Fresh as they approach the house. ¡°As party-leader, I say that we aren¡¯t going to murder each other!¡± Jubilee sighs as they stand before the broken windows, the two of them peeking inside. They hand her some of the flasks. ¡°Fine. This should be easy enough,¡± suggests Jubilee, lifting a hand with some dirt pinched in their fingertips. ¡°We go in, we splash Basil. We pull her out. We go in, we splash Shamrock. Easy. We¡¯ll be done in time for you to make me breakfast, to make up for all the garbage you put me through every day.¡± ¡°I had nothing to do with this,¡± pouts Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°Yeah, yeah. See anything?¡± Fresh gazes into the dark window. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think they¡¯re down here.¡± ¡°Great.¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers and a spire of glass shoots out instantly from the stones below as the dirt trickles down out of their hand. The door caves in and as it flies, Fresh realizes that she hopes that neither of her two other friends are behind it. It crashes down on the other side, inside of the downstairs room with a loud thudding. The glass spire shatters just a second later, before the door even finishes rattling, but Fresh is sure that she didn¡¯t look at it this time. That means¡­ ¡°Jubilee! Wait!¡± cries Fresh as Jubilee steps inside the house. Basil slides along the floor, having been wedged down beneath the window where she couldn¡¯t be seen and wraps her arms around Jubilee¡¯s legs. ¡°Get out,¡± says the priestess, entirely emotionlessly. ¡°AGH! FUCK!¡± Jubilee slides along the ground as the ghost pulls Basil, who pulls on Jubilee, back towards the back of the room, towards the basement door. Jubilee grabs hold of the door-frame, holding on tight. ¡°SPLASH HER!¡± yells Jubilee and Fresh snaps out of it, fumbling with the bottles on her waist and swinging one out more haphazardly than she would have liked. She hopes Basil¡¯s mouth is closed. Jubilee¡¯s grip fails as they¡¯re pulled back across the room. Fresh yelps and runs after her friend, grabbing another bottle from her waist. ¡°Get off of me, you spooky fuck!¡± yells Jubilee as Basil climbs on top of them, their hands clenching together as she tries to reach Jubilee¡¯s throat, who holds her wrists to keep her off. All the while the two of them slide further and further towards the basement. Fresh swings out her hands, flinging the second bottle out as hard as she can. The wet glass, despite being matted and rough, slips from her fingers and there is a loud shattering as the bottle of moonwater breaks against the back of Basil¡¯s head. ¡®FRESH¡¯ HIT ¡®BASIL¡¯ FOR {4} PHYSICAL DAMAGE! Fresh gasps. Basil¡¯s body falls limp and she falls down forward ¡°Ah! I¡¯m sorry, Basil!¡± says Fresh, running over to her two friends. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Basil doesn¡¯t respond with more than a mutter as she lays there motionless. Jubilee kicks, trying to pull themselves free from beneath the woman. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake, get the fuck off of me, you shit-head!¡± Fresh grabs Jubilee, pulling them out from beneath the priestess. The two of them take a deep breath, as they stare down at their handiwork. ¡°Where¡¯s Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh nervously. ¡°Get out,¡± mutters Basil as if half-asleep. ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± barks Jubilee, lifting a leg to kick her. They freeze, taking a deep breath and then lower their boot back down to the ground a second later. ¡°Come on. I¡¯ll bet you anything he¡¯s in the basement.¡± ¡°Why?¡± asks Fresh, looking around nervously as she tries to peer up the stairs. ¡°Because it¡¯s a ghost, slime-brain. Of course it¡¯s going to be in the creepiest fucking place.¡± ¡°Ah, what about Basil?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. ¡°Ghosts can¡¯t possess someone more than once,¡± they explain, grabbing the door handle to the basement. ¡°I mean, maybe someone will kidnap her while we¡¯re downstairs. But I¡¯m willing to take that risk.¡± ¡°Stop being so horrible!¡± shouts Fresh, walking after Jubilee since she can¡¯t let them go alone, but still looking back at the slumped over Basil who is bleeding a little from her head. ¡°I get cranky when I don¡¯t sleep, okay?¡± Jubilee yanks the door open and looks. ¡°Coast is clear. Come on,¡± they say, heading in without her. Fresh yelps and runs after her friend as the two of them head down the stairs to the basement. Jubilee keeps going, as Fresh opens the washroom door and peers inside. Nothing but the usual sights, together with the trickle of water from their bath Something laughs and Fresh¡¯s hairs stand on end, as she thinks that it¡¯s the fountain again, playing some cruel joke on her. But as she turns around, she sees that it¡¯s Jubilee who stands down near the middle of the railing-less stairway and clutches their stomach as they howl. ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, walking down the stairs to look. ¡°AH!¡± cries the girl, distraught, running down the staircase and towards the fireplace as fast as she can. ¡°Shamrock!¡± She stops, looking at the legs of the giant man that jut out of the hearth, his upper body is pressed tightly inside of the chimney. He is firmly stuck. ¡°Oh my fuck,¡± laughs Jubilee, walking across the room. ¡°Fucking ghosts, I swear. They get a little loopy with time, you know?¡± ¡°Why is he in the fireplace, Jubilee?!¡± asks Fresh, worried. ¡°We have to get him out! What if he can¡¯t breathe?!¡± ¡°Sure, sure,¡± says Jubilee coyly. ¡°We could also pull down his pants?¡± they suggest. ¡°Can you imagine?¡± ¡°JUBILEE!¡± snaps Fresh. Jubilee sighs. ¡°You¡¯re no fun sometimes, you know?¡± They wave her off. ¡°Loosen up a little.¡± ¡°How are we going to splash him with the water?¡± asks the girl. ¡°I just told you.¡± ¡°NO! We¡¯re not doing that. Just¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Just pour some into the gaps of his armor.¡± ¡°Fine! Fine!¡± Jubilee grabs one of her flasks, despite still having some of their own that didn¡¯t break before. ¡°I swear, you people would be the worst at parties.¡± They lift the bottle, hesitating for a brief second as they decide on a spot, before jamming the neck of the flask into Shamrock¡¯s knee. His legs become limp. ¡°Come on, you grab that one. I¡¯ll take this one. Let¡¯s get him out.¡± It takes a few tries, especially since Fresh barely manages to lift his limp, armored leg up even an inch. But eventually, the man slides loose, flopping down into the base of the hearth and blowing a large cloud of old ash out in all directions as he lands. Fresh sighs in relief, as she sees the particulate wafting past his helmet start floating the other direction, as a heavy breath pushes it away. ¡°Thank goodness, everyone¡¯s alright,¡± says Fresh. A second loud thud can be heard, as something heavy falls from above, striking against Shamrock¡¯s head. A pile of old bones that lands squarely in his lap, before shattering out in all directions. The skull rolls towards her feet, stopping just before herself, as it stares up her way with two large, empty eye-sockets, as if they wanted to tell her something. Something truly important. Jubilee grabs the skull, lifting it up into the air. ¡°Aaah, you spooky fuck! Nice try!¡± They think for a second. ¡°I guess dying in the chimney doesn¡¯t count as dying inside of the house?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Is there truly any creature more scummy than a real-estate salesman?¡± ¡°Jubilee! Have some respect for the dead!¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°What? He started it.¡± They grab a flask from their belt, setting the skull down onto the ground. ¡°Good night!¡± says Jubilee, jamming the neck of the open bottle into the eye-socket. Water dribbles down the sides, leaking out of its teeth. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± mutters Jubilee, grabbing another bottle from their belt. ¡°Hold on.¡± They take out a second one, pressing it into the other socket. ¡°Good night!¡± they repeat. This time it works. Fresh clutches her arms as a sudden chill fills the room, as the temperature drops to clearly below freezing, as she sees her breath leave her own face. The puff of loose vapor flies away and it wraps around the skull at their feet and begins to swirl around it. Fresh frowns, as she stares at the thing and bends over, grabbing the two bottles and pulling them free from its eye-sockets, setting them to the side as she looks at the rattling skull. The impossibly strong wind that surges around the basement blows her hair past her face. It is as if all of the air in the room were being pulled up the now unblocked chimney, having finally found a way to escape. She sees the eyes of the skull still looking up at her as if transfixed. It knows something. But she shakes her head, putting the palm of her hand softly against its forehead as she looks at it with a warm smile on her face that contrasts the icy winds piercing her still wet clothes. ¡°Sleep tight, okay?¡± says Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll put you somewhere nice. I promise.¡± The skull opens its mouth. ¡°Run-run-run-run-ru-¡± It stops and clatters back down to the ground, falling out of her hands. The wind stops as well. The temperature rises in an instant, as if a switch had been flicked and as her hair falls back against the skin of her clammy, cool neck, she notices that the skull seems to feel somehow less ¡®present¡¯ than it had just a moment ago. She sighs in relief, looking up at Jubilee and then at Shamrock who begins to stir. Razmatazz I wouldn''t worry about it Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 132: Home-made Both Basil and Shamrock are fine, though one of them ends up being far more distraught about the situation than the other. Neither of them remember what happened, having no memories of anything between their having fallen asleep and their waking up the next day; one of them half-naked on the floor and the other covered in old ash. Shamrock takes the news of his possession in stride, as expected, simply asking if the ghost still needed to be killed. Basil however is more flustered and refuses to stop profusely apologizing, despite being told that it wasn¡¯t her fault. Though Jubilee does yell at her and tells her to buy some pajamas so they don¡¯t have to look at ever see the things that they saw again. Fresh decides not to tell Basil that she had been killed by ¡®her¡¯. Another secret for the list. Somehow they keep piling up, but this one she feels is worth keeping. Right now, Basil is only embarrassed. But if she knew the truth, she¡¯s sure that the priestess would never forgive herself for it. As far as anyone knows it, Fresh¡¯s story is that she was outside because she couldn¡¯t sleep and she stumbled into the river. By the time she got back Shamrock and Basil were outside of Jubilee¡¯s door. ¡°How come the ghost only possessed you two?¡± asks Fresh. Basil shrugs. ¡°Ghosts can be odd. It¡¯s hard to say what its intentions were.¡± She looks around and Fresh notices that she pulls the cuff of her robe up higher to hide more of her neck. ¡°Being trapped for a long time will make one stir-crazy, you know?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks, scratching her cheek. ¡°It was telling us to run when we chased it away.¡± ¡°You mean when you killed it,¡± throws in Jubilee from the side. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill him!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°We¡­ put him to rest,¡± mutters the girl, looking away. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Why was he even in the chimney to begin with?¡± asks Basil, shuddering. ¡°Was he¡­ you know¡­¡± she lowers her eyes to the ground as she quietly mutters. ¡°- murdered?¡± Jubilee waves her off. ¡°In the chimney? The dumb-ass probably just wanted to clean it and decided to climb up inside and got stuck.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil, clearly not convinced. Fresh shrugs, returning to her work. She¡¯s exhausted, not having slept a wink, but there is too much to do as always. She can sleep tonight, assuming they don¡¯t have a second ghost. She runs around downstairs, jumping from construction site to construction site as she sets up a counter and the shelves. Having learned from their old store, she adds some more inner shelves to the inside of the counter, as well as a few small cabinets with doors and one with a lock. The most exciting project for her is when she works on a single, long drawer for their money, so they don¡¯t have to use a bowl anymore. ¡°See?¡± Fresh points to the dividers that she¡¯s stacked a few different coins of hers inside of, to show by example. The silver Obols, worth one-hundred and the gold Obols, worth one-thousand, are lined up neatly in two individual rows. ¡°This way we can make change faster and it will be easier to count at the end of the day!¡± says Fresh excitedly. Jubilee looks skeptical at first, but then nods approvingly. There is a further empty row for the giant skull-engraved ten-thousand Obol coins, but that one sits empty now, as they spent all of those on the house. The section for the single Obol coins is by far the widest and they aren¡¯t neatly stacked, but rather haphazardly thrown into a pile. This section serves as the spiritual successor to the coin-bowl. ¡°Good work. I like this,¡± says Jubilee, pulling the drawer in and out, listening to the coins rattling. They point back at the wall behind the counter. ¡°Can we get some shelves there too, for your poisons?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t make poison!¡± ¡°Anyways,¡± starts Jubilee. ¡°I have a bigger question. Why is the counter here, goo-brain?¡± Fresh looks around the room. The counter, rather than being opposite the front door like in the old store, is now adjacent to it. If someone comes inside, they could basically already touch it with their left hands. Fresh nods excitedly. ¡°This way, the stairs and the basement door are both blocked off and even better, people will buy more things!¡± She starts explaining how the room is a square, not like the old house which had an ¡®L¡¯ shape, so she uses the same principles of floor-design, but carried over to this form. ¡°The things people will want a lot, like the snacks, they¡¯ll be more towards the back right,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°Isn¡¯t that inconvenient? Shouldn¡¯t they be by the door?¡± asks Basil. Fresh smiles a smug smile. ¡°We¡¯re not about convenience, we¡¯re about making money!¡± Jubilee nods, signaling a deep approval. Basil pulls on her sleeves however, apparently not convinced about this either. ¡°See? Look,¡± says Fresh, walking around the room. ¡°If I want a snack, then I¡¯ll have to walk past aaaaall the other shelves to get it.¡± Basil watches her, still confused. ¡°But on my way, I might see a lot of stuff that I like, so I¡¯ll grab that too, even if I didn¡¯t want it at first!¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Basil thinks. ¡°Sure. I think that makes sense. And since they already walked this way, they¡¯ll keep going through the rest of the store too?¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Fresh goes on, raving, explaining every little detail to Basil that she had explained so excitedly to Jubilee back before their first opening. The next day comes and Fresh finishes making the last of the shelves and bins for the store. In a strange thought, she notices that the layout reminds her a lot of something from her old life. Some layout of some over-priced place that she can¡¯t really remember. Her old life is becoming deeply blurry, so much so that she really only remembers that she had one. But everything more than that is simply not available for her to remember. But she isn¡¯t really sad about that. She spends the rest of the day upstairs, making furniture for their room, Jubilee¡¯s room and the pantry. For Jubilee, she makes a simple dresser and with a mischievous smile, she carves down a brick into a cylindrical shape. Then she sands down the neck and the base, sinking them both deeper inward. Then, wondering if she should have perhaps done this part first, she begins hollowing out the inside, going in through the top. And then with a final smile, she sands the brand new vase down with a smooth finish, to make the thing turn out surprisingly glossy, despite being made of such rough material. Fresh admires the small, stone vase and sets it down onto the dresser before quickly running to her bag and digging through it. Triumphantly, she returns, running back to Jubilee¡¯s room with the little, yellow flower in hand. Dried out, but not entirely flattened just yet. Still carrying that bright, warm smile, she sets it inside of the vase and then sneaks out of the room, closing the door tightly behind herself. This was a surprise for Jubilee to find later. The pantry is simple enough, just a few shelves and boxes with lids. Though she had already made most of those while building up the kitchen the other day. All that¡¯s left now is the bedroom. She makes a promise to herself that she¡¯s going to have more clothes and she¡¯s sure that Basil would appreciate the same luxury, so she sets to work making a pair of tall, but thin wardrobes that sit to the left of their respective beds. They¡¯re perhaps more ¡®lockerish¡¯ than she was hoping, but space is at a premium, after all. They¡¯ll have to do. But with that fact in mind, she does her best to make them look nice. Fresh does eventually find herself frowning though as something bugs her, but she isn¡¯t sure what. Then, after a look around the room, she realizes what it is and rubs her tired eyes before setting to work to make a third one for Shamrock. She¡¯s sure he will never use it, but she wants him to have one too. She doesn¡¯t want the giant man to think that he¡¯s been forgotten or ignored. Despite being exhausted, she also extends the man¡¯s bed out another foot, but then realizes that the sheets and the bedroll are now too small for the frame. Fresh spends her last very productive hour of the day begging Jubilee to fix it, who only after the hour comes close to an end, ¡®willfully¡¯ agrees. Basil returns, carrying a load of monster drops on her back, strapped to her full bag. She flops down, setting it onto the floor. ¡°I¡¯m back,¡± sighs the priestess, leaning against the railing. ¡°Welcome home, Basil!¡± says Fresh excitedly as she stands in the kitchen, making them dinner. Though, ¡®dinner¡¯ is just her failed attempts at cooking snacks and treats for the store. She hasn¡¯t quite figured it out yet, but takes inspiration from her bad dream the other night. ¡°Those smell really good,¡± says Basil, walking over to her, looking at the batch of colorful, but misshapen snacks on a plate next to her. Fresh beams, lifting a fork as she explains. ¡°That¡¯s because they¡¯re made with - ¡°L-o-v-e,¡± she says, wagging a finger with every letter. ¡°Huh? Ah, is that so¡­¡± asks Basil, leaning over and poking one with a finger before picking it up and popping it into her mouth. ¡°Actually,¡± says Jubilee from inside their room. ¡°They¡¯re made with some monster gunk and river-water.¡± Basil coughs in the middle of swallowing, already too far gone to spit it back out and Fresh drops the fork, rubbing her back. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Basil! It¡¯s just mushroom powder from the forest,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s okay to eat, remember?¡± She grabs a bottle of water and hands it to the priestess, who takes it gratefully. ¡°Here, drink something.¡± Basil downs the water, clearing her throat. Jubilee comes out of the room, staring at the commotion. + [Stat Boost] - [Mushroom Doughball]{Green}(Normal) + [5 DEX] Basil opens her eyes, taking a deep breath as she sets the bottle of water back down. ¡°And? How was it?¡± asks Jubilee sarcastically. ¡°Pretty¡­ good,¡± says Basil with a surprised nod, still clearing her throat. ¡°Uh¡­ I think it could use some salt.¡± Fresh nods excitedly, grabbing the box of salt that she had gone out of her way to buy. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 133: Product Development Fresh plays around with a ball of kobold fluff, trying to figure out what to make out of the material. But she can¡¯t really think of too much, honestly. It¡¯s soft and fluffy and warm, so it¡¯s great for tailoring with. Maybe Jubilee can make some clothes out of it? Should they sell clothes? ¡°Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°Should we sell clothes?¡± ¡°What? Like robes and stuff?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh as she nods back at Jubilee, who is standing next to her, just behind the counter. ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± she asks curiously, watching as Jubilee walks along the ¡®wall¡¯ of the solid stone staircase that leads upstairs and knocks on it. ¡°Looking to see if we can''t bust this up a little,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°You¡¯re gonna do your work in the basement, right?¡± they ask. ¡°So I figured we could just put a shaft here that slides down,¡± they explain, gesturing down to the floor. ¡°That way we won¡¯t have to carry armor and weapons down the stairs a hundred times a day, we can just chuck it into the hole and it will fall down into the basement, which we¡¯re going to lock you down in, by the way.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a joke, goo-brain.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Fresh thinks for a second, but then nods. ¡°That¡¯s a really good idea, Jubilee! If we make it big enough, we can slide on it too!¡± ¡°Yeah, no, we¡¯re not going to do that,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Or do you want to end up like chimney-guy?¡± Fresh frowns, a little disappointed and returns to her work of making new items. She sets the fluff down, still not sure about it just yet. Maybe some stuffed animals? Maybe she could enchant some stuffed animals with moonwater? She wonders what that would do? Pushing it to the side, she slides the small magical-crystal towards herself and looks at it. It¡¯s a small shard, about the length of her hand from her longest finger down to her wrist. It feels almost like glass, but it¡¯s warm to the touch. She had asked the salesman why these were nowhere else to be seen in the other cities. He had explained to her that they only worked on the mountain. Something about mystical energies or whatever, she didn¡¯t really get it. But if you leave the mountain, the crystals lose just about all of their magic. They aren¡¯t so expensive either, this small one in her hand was only about twenty Obols. Though, she supposes that the price is relatively cheap for her now. Back during her first days here, it would have seemed like an impossible fortune. Her eyes wander back and forth between the two things and she gets her idea, jumping up excitedly to run up the stairs. Basil and Shamrock are sitting outside on the balcony and Fresh waves at Basil, who turns around to look at her as she runs past the balcony door, towards the pantry. She¡¯s glad that the two of them are getting along, even if they¡¯re just sitting outside without saying a word to each other. As she opens the pantry door, the enchanted lantern flies out and heads straight towards the balcony. Grabbing some fabric rolls from the shelf, she quickly runs back downstairs and sets to work, carefully retracing the steps in her mind, as she begins to make a stuffed animal. Just like she did together with Jubilee back in the old house. Ignoring the surprised squeak from the balcony upstairs as she reaches the counter, Fresh sits there hunched over and begins fiddling with her latest project. Jubilee sits down next to her, writing a list for something. First she takes the roll of beige cloth and cuts out a few large pieces, then she starts sewing them together to make a roundish shape for a head and four similar tubes for the legs. Afterwards, she grabs the crystal, holding it tightly in her hands. It radiates a deep warmth out into her and she tries to do the same back to it. Closing her eyes, she thinks of all the warm things that she can. She isn¡¯t sure if it does anything, but she feels better having done it. She wants the crystal to know her intentions for it, if it is even capable of such a thing. It continues to glow with a gentle, spring shade that covers her hands and glows no brighter or dimmer than before. But its continued calmness is a relaxing sight for her and it puts her mind at ease. Grabbing some fabric, she wraps it gently around the crystal, making the naked body of the creature. After that, she sews the head on to the front of the long-end and then the four legs beneath it. Then, grabbing a couple big pieces of kobold fluff, she attaches them to the exterior of the body, wrapping them around the crystal. Fresh looks at her creation, smiling a giddy smile. But it¡¯s still missing something. Something important¡­ ¡°Ah!¡± says Fresh as she realizes, running back upstairs and then down a second later, carrying two black buttons and some thread of the same color. Carefully, she sews the eyes on one at a time, making sure that the buttons are firmly attached and then, taking the thread, she starts making a big, goofy smile on the stuffed creature¡¯s face, underneath a black nose. Though as she works, she turns around, hiding the project from Jubilee. To cap it off, she reaches back and snatches the inkwell from Jubilee, dipping each of the bottom of the legs into it once to paint the feet black. Delighted, Fresh holds out the little stuffed sheep before herself, its glossy button eyes staring back at her, together with its wide, goofy smile. She lets out a noise, that is either a gasp or a delighted squeal or a mixture of both, as she looks at it. Remembering what the crystal-salesman had told her, she leans forward and purses her lips, blowing gently onto its face as she thinks about what she wants it to do. The stubby legs of the tiny, stuffed sheep, filled with kobold fluff, start moving back and forth stiffly, as it tries to walk in mid-air. Barely able to hold her giggle in, Fresh sets it down onto the counter, planting her head flat down behind it with her cheek against the wood, as she watches it march straight forward along the surface in an awkward locomotion. Jubilee hasn¡¯t noticed yet, still engrossed in their work, whatever it is. The little sheep marches forward and Fresh smiles, unable to hide it any longer as she eagerly awaits Jubilee¡¯s reaction. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Jubilee looks down at the fluffy thing walking across the counter, leaning back in surprise. ¡°Bleeeeeeh~!¡± bleats Fresh from the side, as the sheep passes Jubilee, walking over their papers as it runs straight along the counter. Jubilee turns their head, watching it walk away without a care in the world. ¡°The fuck is that supposed to be?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s a sheep!¡± says Fresh both excited and at the same time let-down, since Jubilee didn¡¯t recognize it. The sheep, having moved at a slight right-ward angle, walks off of the counter and flops down to the ground. ¡°AH!¡± Fresh jumps to her feet, looking at the thing. It simply lands on its side, its legs still moving in the same mechanical rhythm, but now finding no ground to walk on. Fresh sighs in relief, seeing that it¡¯s okay. ¡°You know - ¡± Jubilee looks back at her as they talk, but then stops abruptly, as their eyes run along the counter. Apparently, having now seen the smear of ink from the sheep¡¯s wet feet, they follow the trail towards its end, their eyes lowering down right before themselves, as they stare at the list which they had been writing for the last half hour. A trail of ink, of smeared, tiny footsteps runs across it, ruining the entire top half of the page. Jubilee¡¯s head shoots back up, looking at Fresh who has already begun sneaking up the first stairs in a bid to make an early escape. The girl freezes the second their eyes reach her, like a prey animal, caught in the eyes of a hunter. ¡°YOU DUMB-ASS!¡± yells Jubilee, pointing a finger at her angrily. ¡°GET BACK HERE AND CLEAN THIS UP!¡± Fresh yelps, running up the staircase as Jubilee gives chase. ¡°Nooo~!¡± Frantically, she tries to make her escape, already making a mental plan to rush to the pantry and lock herself in, until Jubilee calms down. Sprinting up the stairs as fast as she can, she nearly reaches the top, just as something grabs her ankle from behind. Fresh falls forward, catching herself at the top of the staircase. ¡°Baaaaaaasil~!¡± yells Fresh, dramatically reaching for the distant balcony door. Basil turns around, looking through the open door from her chair to look back at her. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Jubilee is going to eat meeeeeEEEIAH-!¡± Fresh yelps, as something drags her back down the stairs. The last thing she sees is Basil waving an uneasy goodbye to her, not having bothered to get up from her chair outside, leaving the girl subjected to her horrible fate. The next day, Fresh makes several more stuffed plushies, starting with a chicken. But that project was quickly scrapped as soon as the others found out. She sighs, deciding that maybe she should just stick with sheep for now. Fresh takes extra care to let their inky feet dry first this time, before setting them to life. ¡°They¡¯re pretty cute. But what do they do?¡± asks Basil, looking at the sheep that Fresh is holding. ¡°What do you mean? It¡¯s a sheep,¡± explains the girl. ¡°What¡¯s it supposed to do?¡± The priestess blinks. ¡°I don¡¯t know? Does it¡­ does it give stats or anything like that?¡± Fresh blinks back at her in return, looking at the sheep and then back towards Basil. ¡°Bleeeeeeh~!¡± bleats Fresh at the priestess, setting the sheep down and letting it walk towards her across the floor. It bumps into the Basil¡¯s leg and then topples over, its own legs still flailing helplessly in the air. All they can do is walk straight ahead. But Fresh thinks that¡¯s already impressive enough, even if the others didn¡¯t seem to think so. Regarding the mushroom snacks, she¡¯s also managed to figure out the trick to keeping them hard. By coating the exterior with a thick, sweet syrup and then hardening it over fire, they would get a solid, non-sticky glaze that holds the dough in place. She forms each of them into balls that are about the size of the gap between the tip of her index finger and her thumb. They come in the usual orange, green and purple variants. What¡¯s very exciting for her is however, the fact there are also blue and red mush-mushes, which apparently live down on the other side of the mountain. So she ends up buying some of those as well, though they¡¯re a little more expensive. A ball of dense, hearty sweet-dough. Coated with a crystallized honey-jam lacquer. Effects: + [5 DEX] Weight: 0.02kg Color: Green Value: ??? ¡°That¡¯s a terrible name,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Why are you so bad at naming things?¡± Fresh sticks her tongue out at them and proceeds to make the rest of the batch. Each color of ball corresponds to a different raised stat and most importantly, because of the lacquer and dry dough, they have a long shelf-life. ¡°See?¡± she asks, sliding the bowl over to her friends. ¡°We can sell them individually for a few Obols a piece, or - !¡± Fresh pulls out a little sachet that she has decorated with a ribbon. ¡°We sell little baggies like this one, that have one of each color!¡± Jubilee inspects the bag, handing it off to Basil and Shamrock. ¡°These could work. Good job,¡± says her friend and Fresh smiles, feeling pleased with herself. She even remembered to put a little salt in each of them, so not only do they taste better, but that also helps raise their shelf stability even more. ¡°I like them too,¡± agrees Basil, playing with one of them. Shamrock takes one, lifting it up to his helmet. He presses it against one of the slits. It doesn¡¯t fit. ¡°Ah!¡± says Fresh. Seeing this, she gets up to help him. ¡°Hold on, Shamrock. I¡¯ll get a kni -¡± He just presses harder, crushing the ball into the slit and breaking off the sides of it that crumble down to the table. He nods once, apparently also approving. ¡°Tasty.¡± + [Status] [Dungeon Candy]{Red}(Normal) + [{5} STR] ¡°Are you ever going to take that fucking thing off?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°No,¡± says Shamrock, grabbing another one and getting up. Fresh raises a finger, explaining to him. ¡°The buff only works once. If you eat a different one it will replace the old buff.¡± He looks down at the thing in his hand and shrugs indifferently, cramming the next one into his helmet. ¡°Tasty,¡± is all that he says, as he walks back towards the balcony. + [Status] [Dungeon Candy]{Purple}(Normal) + [{5} LOV] ¡°So, let¡¯s get down to brass-tacks,¡± says Jubilee, tapping a single finger against the table. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We have candy and we have toy sheep, what about some equipment?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Equipment?¡± ¡°Yeah? Goo-brain. We¡¯re the ¡®dungeon¡¯ item shop, remember? People who go into dungeons need weapons and armor.¡± Fresh thinks, scratching her cheek for a moment. ¡°There aren¡¯t any goblins here, but I can make glass weapons?¡± she suggests. ¡°But I¡¯ll need a lot more glass from you then, Jubilee.¡± Jubilee gets up. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s get to work. We¡¯re opening soon.¡± ¡°Huh? We are?¡± ask Fresh and Basil at the same time. Jubilee nods, grabbing some of the candies as they head back to their room. ¡°Yeah,¡± they say plainly, waving both of them off with their hand full of candy. ¡°Tomorrow.¡± ¡°HUH?!¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 134: Back in business The mountain wind blows past Fresh¡¯s face, pressing the loose fabric of her robe against the side of her body as the frigid breeze continues to flow down the crest of the mountain. It moves as if it were water, splashing out from an endless source. The starry night hangs over her head, yet it feels surprisingly light tonight, not in brightness, but in its perceived weight. It¡¯s not melancholic or sad, despite her reasons for being outside right now. Despite that, as she looks around herself, Fresh shudders just a little as the wind encapsulates her and her alone, as she stands there by herself, surrounded by the field of yellow flowers near the edge of the mountain. The others are back at the house, getting things ready in her absence. In truth, she should be there too as she needs to make a lot of items tonight, including new items that she still has to think of. But this comes first. Breaking off from the path, Fresh walks in and through the forest, thankful for the bright light of the stars that feel so very close tonight, as they dot the sky behind the flowing loose clouds which break up the calm surface of the heavens; their cumulative presence shimmering like sunlight off of the surface of a disturbed ocean. Walking for a few minutes, she pushes out through the small forest atop the mountain plateau, feeling a fresh push of wind rush against her from the front now instead. The breezes push against her body, as if two motherly hands were holding her back from the cliff ahead of her, out of fear that she wouldn''t see it. This looks like a good spot. Fresh stares out over the night-washed expanse before herself, listening to the rustle of the waving trees so far beneath them. The sound of the million billowing leaves is entirely indistinguishable from the rush of the mountain gale. All of it mixes together into a calm, serene ambiance which seems to carry out over the cliff, as it drifts away towards the unreachable horizon. Bending over, she sets the wrap full of bones gently down at her side and starts digging. ¡°I hope you like it here,¡± says Fresh to the pile of bones. The others had forbidden her from going outside on her own, especially into the forest where there might be monsters. So Fresh just ended up sneaking by herself while nobody was looking. They didn¡¯t seem to understand her desire to have the man buried as quickly as possible. Even Basil, much to her surprise, said it was fine, since his spirit had moved on by now. His body was just an empty shell that held no more significance than that. Only Shamrock seemed to acknowledge her desire, but she wouldn¡¯t be able to escape Jubilee with him in tow. She hopes he understands her leaving him behind tonight. Maybe it¡¯s a cultural difference of sorts, or maybe she¡¯s just overthinking it. But she feels that the dead man can rest easier if he knows that his body is somewhere where it can sleep quietly. And also, more to the point, she doesn¡¯t want to sleep in a house with a dead body inside of it, let alone work in the same room as it. A dead body, repeats Fresh in her mind, looking at the bag of bones and realizing that it doesn¡¯t disturb her as much as she thought it would. Sure, she doesn¡¯t want it in the house, but she isn¡¯t terrified or disgusted by it. By having a dead person next to her, that is. Maybe she¡¯s become desensitized? Fresh shakes her head and returns to her work, making a bed for the man to sleep his final sleep inside of. Pursing her lips, she sinks her hands into the dirt, promising to make it good. The night is young and there is still so much else to do, but that¡¯s no reason to not take this seriously. A few hours later, she returns back home, sweaty and covered in grime, but with a satisfied, calm smile on her face. Even as she stands outside the door and gets ready to open it, feeling prepared for the scolding that is to come in a few seconds. It comes about as expected, with Jubilee yelling at her for being irresponsible. Basil stands next to them, nodding in agreement like a disappointed mother. But soon enough, everything settles back down and she sets to work, making a slew of new items for their opening tomorrow with the help of Shamrock and Basil to fetch her materials from the pantry or to carry things downstairs and to start stocking the shelves. Jubilee is busy making a new ledger and thinking of appropriate prices for their items as they are created. They don¡¯t have any marketing strategy or anything for their opening to drum up excitement, especially since they didn¡¯t know about it themselves. Their plan is to just open the doors and to see what happens. A few hours pass. It is now past the middle of the night, but still a few hours before daybreak. Basil, looking just as tired as she herself feels, comes from the kitchen and sets down a cup of tea next to her. ¡°Thanks, Basil,¡± says Fresh, looking at the steaming fruit tea. Basil nods to her with a tired expression, bringing another two cups downstairs for Jubilee and Shamrock. Fresh looks back at the thing in her hands. A long, glass staff. It¡¯s still missing something though. Glass weapons had the interesting attribute that they all caused monsters to bleed, but that did little to help the casters of this city. She ended up making a few swords, just for posterity¡¯s sake, like the one she had made in the adventurer¡¯s guild the other day. As well as some daggers that had equivalent, but slightly weaker attributes. But now, more interestingly, she¡¯s finishing up their primary sellers in Jubilee¡¯s eyes, equipment-wise. Glass staves and wands. But¡­ she tilts her head, right now it¡¯s just a glass stick. There¡¯s nothing to make it ¡®castery¡¯. The idea comes quickly enough though. She takes one of the magical crystals from the dungeon and sets it atop the staff. In an instant, as if it knows what she wants from it, it locks into place atop the head, pressing down against the glass. There is a crackling and for a second, Fresh thinks the staff is about to shatter and holds it away from herself. But the crackling isn¡¯t a breaking, it stems instead from the glass growing out of the head like fresh ice over a lake, during the onset of a frigid winter. Several glass prongs rise up, slowly growing around the crystal, encasing it with bars as if caging it. She beams, looking at it in excited delight. Jubilee will love this! She should enchant it too. Jumping up, she gets up to make some fresh moonwater. Tonight is a full-moon after all, so she makes a lot of it. Sitting by the balcony door on the inside with a pot of water, with Shamrock watching over her shoulder, having come upstairs again, she enchants the glass staff. The first of many. 2 DMG +8 SPELL-DMG (PHYSICAL) -15% SPELL SOUL COST Effect: Regenerates 1 SOUL every minute while on the mountain Quality Effect: Passively collect ambient SOUL energy inside of the crystal up to a maximum of 40. Once a day, this can be depleted to restore the wielder¡¯s SOUL equal to the amount saved. Enchantment: All spells do an additional 10% HOLY DMG/HEAL Fresh lets out a tired sigh, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Despite the fact that her crafting abilities cost her nothing to use, they¡¯re still fairly tiring to use so many of, especially since it is late at night. But she doesn¡¯t let that exhaustion deter her as she continues to work. The next project is a wand, which she ends up making with the same process as the staff. It¡¯s just a lot smaller. 1 DMG +4 SPELL-DMG (PHYSICAL) -7.5% SPELL SOUL COST Effect: Regenerates 1 SOUL every minute while on the mountain Quality Effect: By condensing magic into the fine tip of this wand, a spell can be made more impactful once a day at great durability cost Use: Your next spell costs 3x SOUL and does 3x DMG/HEAL. This wand loses 9 points of DURABILITY Enchantment: All spells do an additional 10% HOLY DMG/HEAL ¡°Wow,¡± says Basil, flicking one of the little glass wands around the air a few minutes later. ¡°These are really charming!¡± Fresh nods in excited agreement. ¡°I think they¡¯re really going to like them! Look!¡± says Fresh, pointing to the window. ¡°They make spells do a little physical damage too, so maybe we can help some of the people here out in the dungeon with that?¡± Jubilee rubs their mask, thinking. ¡°You might actually have something here too. Good job, you¡¯re on a roll.¡± They look at Basil and Fresh sighs, already knowing what¡¯s coming. ¡°Ninety-nine Obols?¡± Basil flicks the wand around, listening to the satisfyingly sharp swishing noise that it makes as it cuts through the air. ¡°No, that¡¯s too cheap. Hmm¡­ well¡­¡± she looks at the thing in her hand. ¡°Maybe for the wands, actually. I would do double for the staves though.¡± ¡°How about we do one-hundred-ninety-nine then for the staves,¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s a cleaner price.¡± Basil nods in agreement. Fresh sighs, a second time because she wants them to hear her, but decides not to get involved. She still wants to make a batch of sweet-tea, a few more candies, a few more sheep and a lot more of the glass weapons and the night is already drawing to a close. She¡¯ll also have to make something new up for the tea, since they didn¡¯t have the same things here as they did in the north. By the time the early morning rolls around, all four of them sit downstairs, exhausted. Fresh doesn¡¯t let it bother her as much as it seems to get to her friends though, as she stares with wide, bewildered eyes at the sight downstairs. The shelves are filled with shimmering glass. Swords, daggers, staves, wands all line the walls, catching the faint light that illuminates the tunnels outside; the glow, which seeps in through the windows. Yet the translucent constructions themselves seem to emanate a soft, pastel light much like the magical crystals outside. Fresh attributes it to the moonwater enchantments, but it gives the entire storefront a soft, kind spring-washed aura that reduces the harshness of the mountain stone dramatically. Walking through the store, she runs her fingers along everything as she goes down the small aisles that they¡¯ve made, towards the back corner where the mountain of sweets is laid out in an open bowl, next to a shelf filled with ready-made packets containing one of each color. Next to them are several bottles of the sweet-tea, made using roughly the same formula as in the old house, just with different fruits. At the front just near the counter, they have a bunch of the sheep who stand atop a shelf that Fresh is particularly proud of. It¡¯s jagged and multi-triangular shaped, like the mountain and stands freely on its own at the end of the shelves, facing the front door. Sheep line its exterior, looking like they¡¯re climbing upwards, standing on little cliffs. Was this project a wise investment of her rare time? She thinks so. But there¡¯s one final thing left to do. Smiling giddily, she heads back to the counter where everyone else is waiting on her. ¡°It really came together, didn¡¯t it?¡± asks a tired Basil. ¡°Thanks for helping me carry everything,¡± she says, patting Shamrock on his back, much to Fresh¡¯s surprise. He looks down at her and nods. ¡°We serve the witch.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± asks Basil. ¡°No we don¡¯t!¡± says the priestess. Shamrock lets out a loud huffing breath. ¡°Shut up you two, I¡¯m trying to concentrate,¡± barks Jubilee, forming a long piece of glass. ¡°And don¡¯t either of you look at it and shatter it with your ugly mugs.¡± As the glass block forms on the counter, everyone looks away from it, as Fresh raises her hands over it to cut it into a thin rectangle and to sand it down afterwards. Before carving in the three words into the sign. ¡®Dungeon item shop,¡¯ mouths Fresh as she works. ¡°Should we really use the same name? Isn¡¯t that conspicuous? What if an adventuring party comes from the north and recognizes it?¡± asks Basil cautiously. ¡°If they did, they would have recognized us anyway. So that¡¯s not really a huge problem,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Let her have the stupid name, unless you want to listen to her crying for the next week.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not stupid!¡± says Fresh, grabbing a hand-made tincture of colorful mushroom powder. She sticks her finger in it, covering it with paint as she carefully traces the engraved letters in the glass sign. ¡°Here, you guys do some letters too!¡± ¡°Why?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Because it¡¯s our store!¡± says Fresh, pushing the inkwell towards them. Not needing to be asked twice, Shamrock tries to stick his finger in but it doesn¡¯t fit. ¡°Ah! Wait.¡± Fresh grabs his hand, pulling it back out and then smears some of the paint onto his fingertip. The man, almost giddily, paints in a few letters of the sign. Basil and Jubilee look at each other, somewhat unsure still, but both relent as Fresh starts pouting at the two of them. Once the last finger leaves the glass, a window appears between them all. + FRESH + (JUBILEE) (BASIL) (SHAMROCK) Shamrock lets out a heavy breath. ¡°The pact is -¡° ¡°SHOVE IT!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°No spooky fuckery in this shop, got it?!¡± They point at Shamrock and Fresh. Basil nods in quiet agreement. ¡°But Jubileeee~¡± ¡°No! Talk like normal people, you moonlight-bathing fucks!¡± Fresh sighs, grabbing the sign as she heads to the door. She stops, listening to a strange, but familiar sound. ¡°Do you hear that?¡± ¡°Hear what?¡± asks Basil and Fresh lifts a finger, quieting her as she listens and then recognizes the sound as that of a flurry of excited, eager voices, all on their way to the dungeon. The day is starting. Nodding with an excited smile to her tired friends, she rips open the door and holds up the sign. ¡°Hello everyone!¡± she cries out into the crowd of people who are starting to stream towards the dungeon. ¡°Having trouble in the dungeon without a fighter? Or do you need some new equipment or something to eat?¡± She holds the sign up higher into the air, smiling. ¡°We¡¯re open for business!¡± Half of the crowd stares at her and half of it moves on, uninterested in some hawker trying to sell them something. But the half that looks at her all lower their gaze to her feet, as they watch the small, stuffed sheep that had escaped from the shelf, run out of the door in a bid for freedom, as it runs through her legs. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 135: Free Sample ¡°Bleeeeh!¡± calls out an elf wearing a wide-brimmed wizard''s hat, shoving a sheep into the face of his party-member. ¡°Are you nine?¡± asks the man, draped in a heavy cloak with a high trim that rises up to his gaunt cheeks, as he stares down at the stuffed toy being held up his way. The little sheep¡¯s legs kick idly in the air as it tries to move. ¡°Look! They can walk!¡± says the elf wizard, setting it down on the ground. The sheep marches forward towards the counter, bumping into it and then falling over helplessly onto its side, its legs still continuing to kick. ¡°Can we get it? Huh? Huh?¡± asks the elf, picking it back up excitedly. ¡°Pleeeeease?!¡± they beg, clenching the sheep in front of themselves as they stare up at their annoyed party member who rolls their eyes. ¡°We don¡¯t have the money for your stupid sheep. We need to buy some gear,¡± they explain. ¡°If we get a wand, we can use the physical damage to make it through another two or maybe even three floors!¡± ¡°Pleeeeease?!¡± asks the wizard with a cracking voice, sounding as if near to tears. ¡°Gods! You¡¯re such a giant baby!¡± scolds the dark-cloaked man. Fresh watches them from the counter, standing next to Basil. She wonders why she has such an odd sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu as she stands there with her hands full, having stopped to watch the scene unfold. The elf lets out a throaty noise, sounding as if they¡¯re about to start crying. ¡°FINE!¡± yells the man, snatching the sheep from their hands and heading to the counter. ¡°I swear, you¡¯re going to drive me crazy one day. If we don¡¯t have enough money for food this week, I¡¯m eating your stupid sheep!¡± He glares back at the wizard. ¡°And then you!¡± he warns, jabbing a finger into their head through the cone of their hat. The wizard runs after him, entirely unfazed by his threats. Fresh presumes that to signal that they know that there is no weight behind them to begin with. The elf¡¯s eyes are clearly filled with excited delight, as they bob up and down on their feet behind the man, jumping to try and look over his shoulder as he looks away, more annoyed now than before. Fresh heads down to the basement, carrying the next load of items that they¡¯ve been buying downstairs to the basement. ¡°One¡­¡± the man¡¯s eye twitches as he sets the sheep down onto the counter. It starts walking across to Basil, who catches it from falling. ¡°One sheep. Please,¡± says the dark-cloaked man, appearing to have great difficulty in forming the sentence, which is the last thing Fresh hears of the oddly familiar conversation, as she heads downstairs to sort away the items. She hasn¡¯t made any shelves or anything like that down here just yet. But for now, she just sorts the drops into different piles. Mush-mush caps from the forest, kobold fluff and ice-drake scales seem to be the biggest things coming in so far. There is a bit of odd equipment here and there that people found in the dungeon, but she has little idea about that stuff. Jubilee assesses most of it and decides what to buy and what they don¡¯t need. She comes back out of the basement a few minutes later, noticing that Basil is gone and that Shamrock has taken her place behind the counter, that he barely fits behind. ¡°Two-hundred Obols!¡± says an extremely fluffy and thickly dressed man across from him. Shamrock shakes his head. The boy, that Fresh recognizes as the one who confronted them during their first night here, stands there too. ¡°We¡¯ll give you three-hundred, plus priority choice on drops!¡± he says, clenching his fists. His party, all about his age, stand behind him and silently nod. Fresh scratches her cheek, wondering why they wanted Shamrock to begin with? They seemed like kids. Did they really need to go into the dungeon at their age? She looks around, trying to figure out what it is that they¡¯re bidding on. ¡°If you want physical damage, then buy some wands, you shit-heads!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°The employees aren¡¯t for sale!¡± ¡°Shut up, pipsqueak!¡± yells the boy at Jubilee who narrows their eyes. Fresh quickly runs over, noticing that it¡¯s time for her to intervene, before Jubilee finishes reaching into the bag of dirt on their waist. It takes another few minutes, as well as a group-discount on a set of glass weapons for her to talk everyone down and to get them to leave happily. Or at least happily enough. Though she has to endure a new scolding from Jubilee for giving away their merchandise again. She sighs, leaning over the counter once everything is resolved. ¡°Where¡¯s Basil?¡± ¡°Lunch break,¡± says Shamrock, having trouble opening the tiny change drawer with his large hands, looking up for a moment to stare at the window, at a group of three giggling adventurers standing outside. They run away with shrill shrieks and flustered faces as his eyes, buried deeply beneath his scarred, dark-cobalt helmet, move towards them. ¡°They all really like you, huh?¡± asks Fresh, laughing and patting the giant on the back. ¡°I¡¯m glad that nobody here is afraid of you. Shamrock.¡± ¡°They¡¯re probably more intimidated than afraid,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But like I said, the church isn¡¯t big here in the west. That means their dogma isn¡¯t either. Still¡­¡± Jubilee rubs the chin of their mask. ¡°Maybe we can use him as a mascot? Like to draw people in. It seems to be working so far.¡± They look him up and down. ¡°Maybe we could get you some less spooky armor? Something bright and heroic? Really sell the image.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a great idea!¡± says Fresh, looking up at Shamrock. ¡°What do you think?¡± The man shakes his head and lets out a loud breath. ¡°I keep the faith,¡± is all that he says ,as he finally finishes pressing the coin into the drawer. Fresh takes that as a ¡®no¡¯. Shrugging, not exactly let down, she returns to work. Another hour passes and Basil eventually returns. Fresh doesn¡¯t make a big deal out of her absence and to her surprise, neither does Jubilee. ¡°Thanks for covering for me,¡± says the priestess to Shamrock who just nods in return. ¡°Hey! Check this out!¡± says a voice from the back, stemming from a figure who is swinging a glass wand around. Her friend jumps away as the thing swishes through the air. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re swinging that! It¡¯s really fragile!¡± yells the smaller one at the girl with the wand, who is wearing extremely puffy, gray pants and a tighter fitting top that Fresh notices is made out of small ice-dragon scales. She makes a mental note. Maybe there¡¯s some kind of armor that she can make out of the scales? ¡°But it¡¯s pretty and look!¡± she says, opening the window for the wand. ¡°It has soul-regeneration!¡± ¡°Huh? The wand does?¡± asks her companion curiously, leaning in closely to read, apparently having bad eyes. ¡°Just by holding it?¡± ¡°Yeah! I used my points up already, but look. They¡¯re coming back now!¡± she says excitedly, swishing the wand around some more and listening to the sharp sound that it makes. ¡°We should get some! Think about the money we¡¯d save on potions!¡± ¡°You think?¡± Their friend leans over, looking at a staff. ¡°They¡¯re really fragile though. If you trip once, that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°So we just won¡¯t trip, duh!¡± says the girl, walking past their companion and tapping them on the head once with the wand, as they head down the aisle towards the candies. The window closes a few seconds later. Fresh shrugs to herself and heads upstairs for a moment to get some water from her bottle up in the kitchen and then comes back down a minute later to see Jubilee standing there with an annoyed posture, as they talk to a confused man standing across the counter. ¡°So¡­ what do they taste like?¡± asks the man. Fresh notices that he has a particularly sleepy demeanor to his body language and tone. It¡¯s as if his entire body and voice were both hanging slack. Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°What color you got there?¡± they ask in a tone that Fresh recognizes as vivid sarcasm. But the man apparently doesn¡¯t, as he lifts the red candy towards his face to look at it. ¡°It¡¯s red.¡± ¡°Then it tastes like red,¡± says Jubilee plainly. ¡°Five Obols each, unless you buy a bag of five for twenty,¡± they explain. ¡°But what if I don¡¯t like the taste?¡± ¡°But what if I gave a fuck?¡± Jubilee taps the counter. ¡°Five Obols and you can find out if you want to buy a second one after that.¡± ¡°You¡¯re very rude,¡± says the sleepy man, sounding not too shocked or even bothered however, as his tired eyes stare at the thing in his hand. The statement sounded more matter of factly than anything signaling that he was offended. ¡°You¡¯re wasting my time. But I¡¯ll tell you what,¡± Jubilee leans in, pointing a finger at the man. ¡°I''ll give you a bag for free if you shov -¡± ¡°Jubilee~!¡± yells Fresh, coming down the stairs, having heard enough of the conversation to realize that it wasn¡¯t going anywhere productive. She waves to the man. ¡°You can try that one if you want, on the house.¡± ¡°What?! You social-reject!¡± snaps Jubilee back up at her, swiping her hands off of their shoulders. ¡°How many times do I have to tell yo -¡± Jubilee looks back over the counter. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t eat that without paying for it!¡± The sleepy man takes a bite of the red candy, the hard shell crackling with a loud crunch as he bites through it, his teeth sinking into the sweet-dough filling inside. His eyes, blood-shot and tired, open in surprise as he chews and looks back at them. ¡°How was it?¡± asks Fresh, wincing as she feels a small boot step down onto her toe-cap. The sleepy man looks back down at the candy in his hand and then back up towards them. ¡°It tastes like red,¡± he says, as his attention turns towards the stat window that had appeared. ¡°I fucking told you!¡± snaps Jubilee. Fresh winces as they twist their heel, squishing her toes through her boot a little more. She laughs a nervous laugh. ¡°If you like it, please come and buy some more!¡± says Fresh. The sleepy man looks at her and sets down the remaining half of the candy onto the counter, walking away without saying a word. ¡°Ah-!¡± He leaves. ¡°What was that¡­?¡± asks Fresh, feeling somewhat offended now as she looks at the half-eaten candy laying on the counter. ¡°Fucking deadbeat,¡± says Jubilee, lifting their foot off of hers and shaking their head as they turn around towards her. Fresh gets ready for another lecture as she feels Jubilee¡¯s glare reach her. But it never comes, Jubilee just lets out a defeated sigh and shakes their head. Their tight posture loosens. Perhaps they are unwilling to scold her again a second time, or maybe they¡¯re just wondering if there¡¯s even a point to using the energy. ¡°Clean that up,¡± says Jubilee dryly, pointing to the half-eaten candy. ¡°But Jubilee¡­¡± starts Fresh. ¡°Shut up! You said he could have it, you clean it up!¡± Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°And no. You can¡¯t have my gloves,¡± barks Jubilee up at her. Razmatazz It has come to my attention that some of you are confused about the physical size of our characters. Behold, the official DIS character height chart. No, I will not give you any specific numbers. Where do you think you are? What kind of story have you been reading, where you expect to get specific details? Friend, please. You need to have realistic expectations, this obsession of yours isn''t healthy. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 136: Sleepover Fresh shuts the door as the last two people walk out. Some lovey-dovey couple who can¡¯t stop feeding each other with the candies from the two bags that they bought, as they walk together, heading towards the right and away from the dungeon. ¡°Disgusting,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head as the door slams shut. Basil lets out a long sigh, pressing her back against the wall and sliding down to the ground. ¡°I forgot how exhausting store-work was.¡± Fresh turns around, looking back at all of them. Only Shamrock doesn¡¯t seem to be fazed by the long-work day and the lack of sleep that all of them are suffering under. In truth, she¡¯s feeling it too, but she resolves herself not to show it. ¡°Good job, everyone!¡± says Fresh excitedly as she heads back towards the counter. ¡°We did really great today!¡± ¡°Well. Good enough,¡± says Jubilee, rattling the drawer full of coins. ¡°But considering we had zero marketing, I¡¯d say we did alright.¡± Basil nods, not opening her eyes. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of foot-traffic here. I think the light from the crystals drew a lot of them inside too.¡± ¡°Like moths to a flame,¡± says Jubilee as a heap of coins rattle against the counter. ¡°Let¡¯s finish up and go to bed. I¡¯m tired as shit.¡± ¡°It was your idea to open today with no warning,¡± remarks Basil. ¡°We could have just done tomorrow. What¡¯s the rush?¡± ¡°It¡¯s also my idea to pay you today, but I might think about it again if you don¡¯t get up,¡± says Jubilee to the priestess, who seems far less intimidated by them now than they did during her initial employment. Basil goes out of her way to open her eyes just to roll them at Jubilee, before closing them again and leaning back against the wall that she is slumped down against. ¡°If you roll your eyes at me again, I¡¯ll pop them out of your head,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh laughs. ¡°Come on guys, let¡¯s not fight.¡± She leans over the counter. ¡°Basil? Shamrock? Will you help me restock the shelves, please?¡± She thinks for a second. ¡°I also think we need to sweep, I heard somebody drop one of the wands. I think it broke.¡± Basil sighs a tired sigh, grabbing hold of Shamrock¡¯s armor to pull herself back up to her feet. ¡°Of course,¡± smiles the priestess at her and Shamrock just nods a silent nod, going upstairs to get a broom that he comes down with a moment later. As Fresh restocks the shelf with glass-wands, she watches out of the corner of her eye as the giant squeezes in-between the shelves next to her with the broom in his hands, which seemed almost comically tiny in comparison to the rest of him. It was a long day today, but Fresh is happy with the results, feeling an oddly familiar feeling as she runs through the shelves, lining everything up neatly as she restocks the items that Shamrock carries down from the pantry for her. Though, even her tired eyes don¡¯t fail to notice that every time he comes down from the pantry, he seems to have a new smear of colorful crumbs on the slits of his helmet. She smiles a smug smile. Looking past the man, to see if Jubilee is still busy, she gestures for him to come closer as if about to whisper something to him. As he lowers himself forward, she lifts her hand and wipes the candy smears off of the helmet, hiding the evidence before Jubilee can see it and scold him. She places a finger to her lips as she winks, signaling that it¡¯ll be their secret. With the three of them doing the work, it¡¯s a quick job to finish. Especially since they don¡¯t have that many different items yet. The worst part of it, as far as she sees it, is that she¡¯ll have to get up early to make some extra wares, since they didn¡¯t have enough to restock entirely. But that¡¯s fine. She wants to make a real breakfast for them all tomorrow anyway to celebrate. About an hour later, the four of them meet at the counter, as Jubilee slides the ledger around and then pushes three heaps of coins their way. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± asks Basil, looking at the large pile of money, that is at least four times the size of anything she had gotten before, rather suspiciously. Her tired eyes are wide and she leans in closely to look, as if suspecting that the coins weren¡¯t real. But she never touches them. ¡°It¡¯s your money, dumb-ass,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head as they tap the ledger. Fresh looks at the spot that Jubilee is pointing at. ¡°This much?¡± asks Basil, lifting a finger to touch the coins. Jubilee waves her off, sliding the ledger her way across the counter as they turn to be the first one to head upstairs. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s our net profit split four ways.¡± ¡°Split?¡± asks Basil, looking around at them all. Jubilee stops, already most of the way up the stairs so that only the bottom of their legs are visible from where they stand. ¡°We¡¯re a party, aren¡¯t we?¡± they say, before they vanish away up the stairs. Fresh smiles, lifting her hands to pat both Basil and Shamrock on the back. ¡°Make sure to save some of it for a rainy day, guys!¡± In truth, she didn¡¯t even think about the fact that Basil had ¡®only¡¯ had a two percent commission this entire time in the old store, let alone that Shamrock would probably be earning the same amount, while she and Jubilee made a killing. It would still have been a high wage, especially for a priestess. But Jubilee is right, they¡¯re a party now. Basil and Shamrock aren¡¯t employees, they¡¯re her friends. The girl yawns, heading down to the basement to wash up before going to bed. She¡¯s all dusty and sticky from working all day. The last thing she hears is Basil stammering as she talks to Shamrock, the coins clinking noisily in her hands. The washroom is quaint. Smaller than the one in Jubilee¡¯s old house, but far less rickety and with fewer cob-webs. Everything is made out of stone and in the back, through a wooden sliding door, there is a constant stream of hot running water that flows through a long, horizontal stone basin, dug out of the rock. It¡¯s almost like a tiny river, like the one outside. But this one is hot. There are two thin-meshed, metal grates on either side, where the water runs in and out from the walls. Hot-water isn¡¯t exactly rare in the cities, as apparently every adventurer¡¯s guild at least has it. But to have it at home apparently is a luxury as far as she has seen. At least in the north. Then again, they did live in the poor part of town. She¡¯ll have to ask Basil if the church had any. Here in the west, it¡¯s more common, as the hot water seems to come from the core of the mountain itself. Closing the door behind herself, she throws off her robe, about to toss it haphazardly to the ground. But then she stops herself, catching it on the tips of her fingers just as it begins to slide out of her grasp. Shaking her head, Fresh grabs the robe and lovingly folds it together, placing it to the side instead. It was a present after all, one that was made with a lot of effort and emotion. That should be respected, even if she is tired. Fresh looks down at the reflection in the water, watching as it lets out a long, exhausted yawn, as it gazes back up at her with sleepy eyes. Lowering her hand, she finishes getting undressed and lets herself sink into the water, submerging herself down beneath its warm surface for a while, as she holds her breath and closes her eyes, holding her knees in against her chest, as she just listens to the quiet rush of the stream bubbling past her suspended form. It¡¯s so relaxing. She¡¯s so tired. She just lets herself float there, beneath the water. The basin isn¡¯t particularly deep, but it¡¯s deep enough that she can stay underwater if she pulls her legs in. So she does exactly that for as long as she can comfortably manage, just feeling the warm water run over her body, feeling the gentle current running through her hair like a warm hand tousling it. She likes being in the water. The next day comes soon enough, though Fresh doesn¡¯t wake up as early as she had hoped. Her body, feeling unusually heavy, presses into the bed. The desire in her mind to get up early and to be productive is overpowered by the softness of her blanket and the cushion of the mushy pillow she is squeezing. Opening her eyes for a fraction of a second, she sees Basil laying across from her over in her bed. Shamrock stands on the balcony, watching the morning light grow in the distance. Fresh closes her eyes again. But she doesn¡¯t manage to fall back to sleep, despite wanting to, as the gnawing guilt that wells in her core becomes too much to ignore, as it creeps and crawls its way past her heart and reaches her waking mind. She sighs, her hand slapping against her smushed face as she rubs her tired eyes and forces herself to get up. She has to, even if she¡¯s tired. There¡¯s a lot of work to do before they open again and first things first, she wants to make breakfast for everyone. As she sits upright, she wraps the blanket, drooped over her shoulders, around her body as she wishes, now more than ever, that there was coffee here in this world. She would love one right now, even if she never really liked it to begin with. Fresh blinks, somewhat confused and then presses her eyes tightly closed to squeeze the new tears out that came together with the yawn, before she looks around the room. Coffee? ¡°What¡¯s coffee?¡± she mutters, setting her feet down onto the stones, as she gets ready for the day. It must¡¯ve just been some left-over fragment of a dream she had had during the long night. Some shard of a memory still left over, from the deep abyss of sleep that she has only barely managed to pull herself out of. It isn¡¯t important. Fresh yawns again, only covering her mouth to quiet herself after she notices Basil stirring. What¡¯s important is everything right here and right now. Slipping on her robe, she steps over to the kitchen, waving a quiet wave to Shamrock who turns around to look at her, as she starts fumbling around with some pots and pans. A sound comes from behind her and at first she thinks it¡¯s from Jubilee¡¯s room. But then she sees that Jubilee is sitting in the pantry with the door open, as they hand-snip some bright blue fabric with a pair of large, metal scissors. Fresh looks down at her friend, sitting on the floor just behind the door, a dried yellow flower stuck in the fabric of their hood, just behind their ear and she waves with a smile. Jubilee nods to her and silently returns to their work, leaving Fresh to do the same. She takes a deep, satisfied breath of cold, morning air, as she stares at the kitchenette before herself. What an interesting dream she had. ¡°Caw¡­fee¡­¡± she mutters to herself under her breath, as her fingers tap against the counter. She thinks that it¡¯s a novel idea. Some kind of¡­ stamina-potion? Or maybe a broth? Something quick, simple and hot to help start the mornings a little easier. Maybe¡­ maybe something that just needed water? Any other steps would be too much work for a tired mind and would defeat the point. She nods to herself, carefully stepping over Jubilee¡¯s legs as she heads into the pantry, digging around for something that could light a spark in her eyes and give her the idea that she is looking for. Razmatazz New table, who dis? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 137: Morning preperations ¡°There are less of them here than I remember,¡± says Jubilee, joining in on the conversation that Fresh is having with Basil, who has awoken and now sits on the foot of her freshly-made bed. Apparently she always does that first thing after getting up and getting dressed. Fresh does her best not to look at her own still unmade bed. So that she doesn¡¯t draw attention to it. ¡°Fairies are fucked. I hate the nosy, little shits.¡± ¡°There were more?¡± asks Fresh, looking at her friends as she stirs the pot. She realizes that they needed a table upstairs for all of them to sit together at. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Used to be that you couldn¡¯t swat a fly here without accidentally spanking someone buzzing past your face,¡± they explain, walking past them both and heading towards the balcony. ¡°Guess they died off. Must be about that time of the decade.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh taps the metal spoon against the pot, getting some of the residual gunk off of it. ¡°They died off?¡± Basil nods, rubbing her face as she is still a bit tired, by the looks of it. ¡°Fairies don¡¯t live long. About four years. Six if they get really old,¡± says the priestess. ¡°I think the oldest one ever almost got to eight, but he couldn¡¯t fly or do much anymore in the end.¡± Basil leans back, feeling a cool breeze wash over her from the balcony. ¡°Though he was part of the last hero-party. So the church took care of him.¡± ¡°Whaaat?¡± asks Fresh, thinking about the waitress at the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°That¡¯s so sad, how come they die so fast?¡± ¡°It is what it is,¡± says Jubilee, sounding oddly dry in their voice. ¡°Some things just live longer than others. Fairies are fucked. Elves do a bit better than humans, but not much.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, staring back down at the swirling mixture in the bubbling pot before herself. ¡°There will be a new generation soon, then,¡± says Basil, getting up and rolling her shoulders out. ¡°Fairies are born in waves, not one at a time like humans are,¡± she explains, adding on at the end after seeing Fresh¡¯s confused expression. ¡°Oh,¡± answers Fresh, not sure what else to say as she lifts the pot off of the burner and then sets it down onto the side of the stove to cool off. She doesn¡¯t really get how that whole fairy business works, but she doesn¡¯t really feel like questioning the logistics of it right now. Looking down, she gazes at the reflection cast in the swirling, burnt, off-green liquid. Her eyes stare at its, as if waiting for the reflection to do something. But nothing happens. Since the new drink is supposed to be energizing, it only made sense for her to use some green-mushroom powder. But that first batch of boiled mushroom powder had a very unappealing color, so she threw it out and tried again. This time, she browned the powder in a pan first, cooking out the moisture and then leaving it in a little longer, until it was on the edge of becoming a heap of burnt, crumbling dust. Apparently, if left in the pan long enough, mushroom powder loses its color. The bright-green powder has now turned into a dark, woody brown that almost looks like a very soft, fine dirt. It smells like it too. At first, her first instinct was to add some orange mushroom powder, perhaps out of reflex. But the zingy zest didn¡¯t feel right, so she instead tried her way through the different kinds of mushroom-caps. Orange-caps are tangy and sour like juice. Green-caps are more crisp and fresh like a thick, wet, root vegetable. The red ones are very metallic and savory. Blue mushroom-caps taste sweet, like a dewy fruit and the purple variants taste like¡­ purple. Fresh had opted to mix a tiny pinch of the red and purple caps together, creating a mixture out of it that she had poured together with the burnt, green powder. Mixing it all together, she then added some boiling water, creating the concoction that she has before herself now. Grabbing a cup, she pours a small amount of the mixture into it and swirls it around, letting it cool a little before she holds it to her nose. She isn¡¯t sure what she expected apart from the smell of burnt dirt, but it smells exactly like that; a bit undefinable and vague. But she leans towards it being bitter and a little like the wet smell of the ground on a rainy summer¡¯s day. After there had been a fire. Closing her eyes, she takes a small sip. There is still a lot of grainy particulate in the mixture and it leaves a crumbly film on her lips as she presses the cup to her mouth. She wonders what she should call it? Assuming it wor- Her eyes shoot open wide and she sets the glass down onto the counter with a loud ¡®clack¡¯, hitting her chest with her other hand as she lets out a raspy, desperate cough, strained tears forming in her eyes. ¡°-Iech!¡± splutters Fresh. Made from a blend of roasted ingredients. This bitter drink offers a regenerative effect on both energy and mood, as well as stimulation for a tired mind. +1 [STAMINA-REGENERATION] per minute Minor Poison: Overconsumption for extended periods may result in [STAT-DMG]{INT, WILL} ¡°You good?¡± asks Jubilee from the balcony and Fresh nods. ¡°It¡¯s disgusting,¡± says the girl, clearing her throat and looking at the mixture somewhat disappointed. ¡°Yeah? No shit,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°That¡¯s what happens when you mix a bunch of monster-goo together. Great job with your newest poison.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t monster-goo!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It was monster-powder! And it¡¯s not poison!¡± ¡°It says poison right there on the menu, dumb-ass,¡± sighs Jubilee, looking back out over the city and shaking their head. Shamrock walks towards her, the floor almost rattling as he walks across it towards the kitchen. ¡°May I?¡± asks the man holding out his hand and Fresh nods gratefully, handing him the cup. ¡°Careful, it tastes like goo,¡± warns the girl. ¡°And it¡¯s ho- AH!¡± Shamrock leans his head back, pouring a large amount of the cup into the slits of his helmet. ¡°Careful it¡¯s hot!¡± finishes Fresh with a cry, but Shamrock doesn¡¯t seem to care about that. (Shamrock) + [Stat Boost] - [Coughee](Normal) [+{1} Stamina-regeneration per minute] The man lowers his arm, holding the half-empty cup down in front of his waist, standing there for a moment without saying a word or making any noises. Not even his massive chest moves to signal that he is still breathing. Fresh blinks, looking at him and then over to Basil, trying to figure out what¡¯s going on. Without saying anything, Shamrock sets the cup down onto the counter and walks away. ¡°AH!¡± Fresh cries, reaching after him, her fingers stretching out towards his broad back. ¡°- I¡­ Is it that bad?¡± Shamrock stops in the middle of the room, his back still turned to her. He turns his head around, looking over his shoulder towards her. The shine of the morning sunlight, reflecting off of his rough armor, glistens, as his eyes, shining with the same jubilant intensity, lock onto her fearful gaze with a strong, unwavering, resolute stare. ¡°Yes,¡± is all that he says, as he returns to the balcony. Fresh dramatically clutches her heart and leans back against the counter. The coughee is a failure. ¡°There, there,¡± says Basil, laughing as she gets up and pats her on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s just teasing you,¡± reassures the priestess, leaning in closer to whisper into her ear. ¡°I think he¡¯s picking up a bit of Jubilee¡¯s aura, you know?¡± Fresh looks at Basil. ¡°¡­You think?¡± She nods reassuringly. ¡°I saw it all the time when we got a new arrival in the orphanage,¡± explains Basil, reaching over to grab the cup. ¡°They always ended up taking after the loudest voice in the group. At least at first.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, thinking as she looks past the priestess towards the two standing on the balcony. That makes sense to her, she supposes. She looks back, hearing that Basil is taking a sip of what¡¯s left in the cup. The priestess¡¯ smile doesn¡¯t vanish, but it does seem to stiffen rather suddenly, as if her face had been replaced with one carved out of stone. Basil silently nods and hands her back the glass. (Basil) + [Stat Boost] - [Coughee](Normal) [+{1} Stamina-regeneration per minute] ¡°Well?¡± asks Fresh, curiously and a little worried. Basil clears her throat, apparently having trouble with it. ¡°You clearly put a lot of care into it,¡± says the priestess somewhat monotonously, quickly turning around and Fresh watches as she also walks away, rather quickly in fact, heading towards the balcony. ¡®A lot of care¡¯? What does that mean? She looks down at the cup in her hands and sighs as she swirls the mixture around. Shrugging, not entirely sure why, she takes another sip. She winces. It still tastes terrible. Setting her project to the side for now, deciding that it still needs a little fine-tuning, she sets to make them all breakfast instead and throws together a few things from the pantry, frying up some eggs and some thick slices of bread for them to eat. Though she takes a minute to cut one of the portions into long slices, for Shamrock, so that he can just push them through his helmet. After rushing to finish eating quickly, Fresh then sets to work with Jubilee, sitting outside of their room on the floor and making a heap of wares for the store. They¡¯re going to open soon. Basil and Shamrock handle the dishes, standing next to them in the kitchenette. ¡°Here, I got a bunch of these ready too,¡± says Jubilee, pulling a fabric bag from their dresser. Fresh looks up, grabbing it. ¡°That¡¯s great, Jubilee! But we don¡¯t have time to draw on them t- ah!¡± she unfolds the bag, looking at the embroidered letters sewn into the fabric itself with a thick, silver thread. ¡°That¡¯s really nice!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Yeah, my tailoring leveled up to six,¡± says Jubilee, pulling a stack of bags out of the drawer of the dresser in their room. ¡°That¡¯s really great!¡± exclaims Fresh excitedly, as she turns the bag around in her hands. ¡°These always sold well! Good job, Jubilee!¡± ¡°When do you think we¡¯ll be able to start repairs again?¡± asks Jubilee, ignoring her praise. ¡°Repairs?¡± asks Fresh, lowering the fabric rather nervously. She had been afraid of this question. ¡°¡­Are you sure we should¡­ you know?¡± Jubilee lifts a hand, gesturing for her to stop. ¡°Just don¡¯t throw any more monster drops into it.¡± Fresh feels an arm rubbing hers and she looks down, seeing that it¡¯s just her own hand holding her. ¡°The new moon should be soon,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°I can use the spell again then.¡± ¡°Great,¡± nods Jubilee as they get up. ¡°We¡¯ll handle the business side today. You focus on setting your haunted basement up and on making things.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not haunted!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s not haunted, anymore,¡± corrects Jubilee, wiping their hands off on themselves as they get up, before picking up a stack of bags and some glass wands to carry downstairs. Fresh frowns, looking back over her shoulder to the others. Shamrock is busy rubbing a plate with a particularly squeaky cloth. Basil looks over her way, appearing as if she wants to ask something, but then changes her mind at the last minute and returns to her work. Shrugging, Fresh gets up and goes to head downstairs too. The girl stops half-way there to the staircase though, as her head wanders towards the right, towards her own, still unmade bed. The only one. Even Shamrock had made his, which is a sight that Fresh somehow managed to miss seeing. Nodding to herself, she slaps her cheeks once to liven herself up and then grabs the sheets, getting ready to let the day start for real. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 138: Down to business The store is surprisingly busy, considering that this is only their second day of being open. But word of mouth seems to spread pretty fast here in this city. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if it makes much sense, but her theory is that it¡¯s because of the tunnels causing voices to echo and carry. So when people left their shop, talking about the things that had gotten, they were far more easily overheard. Then again, that might be a bit of a reach she thinks, as she squeezes past Shamrock on her next trip to the basement. The man is busy demonstrating one of the stuffed sheep to an excited caster. As her hand touches the handle of the door, she stops, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She knows this feeling. This cold sensation of being watched. Fresh turns her head around and looks back over her shoulder towards the window, wondering why those adventurers standing outside of it were shooting her such nasty looks? She frowns, shaking her head and opening the door. Maybe they didn¡¯t like the snacks she made? ¡°Oh no¡­¡± mutters Fresh beneath her breath. As she returns her gaze back forward, she sees that Shamrock is looking her way too and before heading downstairs, she flashes him an approving thumbs up for his hard work. The excited caster pulls on his gauntlet, trying to get him to show her the sheep again. The third time now, as far as Fresh knows. She barely has time to close the basement door behind herself, before she hears the complaints coming from the other casters standing in line. One of which she recognizes as the wizard from the center of the drinking circle that they saw during their first night at the new adventurer¡¯s guild. She sighs, leaning back against the door for a second, as the sounds of voices outside are dampened by the heavy wood of the door and the stone walls. It almost sounds like she¡¯s underwater. Fresh slaps her cheeks, shaking her head once as she pushes herself off of the door and heads downstairs. There¡¯s no time for her to have the blues because some people outside didn¡¯t like her items. Maybe she didn¡¯t add enough salt? Or maybe they thought the wands were flimsy and dumb? Fresh frowns. She¡¯d just have to make these new items better then, so that the people outside the window would smile at her like she wants them too. That feeling, that warm, glowing sensation of joyous bewilderment she felt when entering the western adventurer¡¯s guild with her friends, she wants everyone to feel exactly that when they come inside of their store, every time, every day. So, she sets to work, determined to make that happen. Convinced that that¡¯s the solution to make these weird, sad feelings go away. Her eyes wander around the piles of monster loot and raw materials that they had been collecting downstairs for her. The first thing she does is to make herself a table and a chair, as well as some small, simple shelves. The process is quick and dirty and thanks to her crafting abilities, it is done within a few minutes flat. She wipes her forehead, wiping off some of the sawdust and sweat. Casting is always a mildly exhausting process, but not terribly so. Like running up a single flight of stairs. It¡¯s not the end of the world, but do it often enough and long enough and then it adds up. Grabbing the table, she pushes it against the back wall, realizing that she should have just crafted it there to save herself the effort. There is a loud screeching as she barely budges it over the stones a few inches. It takes all of her strength. She pushes it again, moving it another few inches. Fresh realizes that she could just go up and ask for help, but she doesn¡¯t want to do that. Everyone already has enough to do without her making their lives even harder than she already does. So, she pushes it again. Eventually, she gets the table across the room, wondering if it hadn¡¯t taken longer to move the table than to make it? In all likelihood, it had. She takes a deep breath, looking back behind herself and then getting the chair, which she manages to carry at least. There¡¯s only one last thing to do. Fresh looks over at the fireplace, heading towards it to light it like Jubilee had explained to her. She stands in front of it, scratching her cheek for a moment as she wonders what it is that is bothering her this time? Today is a really weird day for some reason. Something else is nagging at her, but she can¡¯t figure out what it is. She tilts her head, hoping that perhaps looking at the fireplace from a different angle will help. It doesn¡¯t. There¡¯s something about it, but¡­ Curiously, she looks inside of it and then, bending over, looks up it. Though she isn¡¯t sure what she expects, if anything at all. There is little to see but a dark hole. Sighing, wondering what¡¯s going on with her mind today, she sets some wood and kindling into the fireplace and lights it, using the stones just like Jubilee had shown her. It quickly catches, the small smolder quickly bursting into a flame that then rises upward, licking the cool, stone walls. ¡°Hello, Mr. Fire,¡± smiles Fresh at the fire. The fire doesn¡¯t respond. Finally free of distractions, she gets to her work and begins wondering what new items she can make. Something from the ice-dragon scales seems like a good idea. They were buying them, but not using any so far. Plus armor is always good. Fresh grabs a batch of scales from the box, throwing them onto the table as she excitedly thinks about some adventurer coming into the store in the future and giddily telling her how the armor that she had made for them saved their life. Fresh smiles, spreading the scales out. How do you even make armor? She¡¯s never made anything like this before. The woman from the other day had a sort of chain-mail on. It looked like a lot of small scales woven together with some thick string or cord. But¡­ hmm¡­ weaving a hundred or so scales together sounds like a lot of work and it feels like it would be super expensive to make and to sell. She taps her fingers onto the counter, thinking about the adventurers that she¡¯s met. A lot of them didn¡¯t have a lot of money. A lot of them needed a little extra nudge, to push them forward towards their goals, a helping hand, reaching down towards them to pull them up. Her eyes wander over towards the very red fire, crackling loudly in the corner like a snickering voice. ¡®A lot of them¡­¡¯ Fresh begins to repeat the thought, as she feels her mind begin to meander. She looks down, seeing that her left hand has left the table and now rubs the side of her chest, just beneath her right arm, feeling her ribs where she feels a small knick in the bone where she had been kicked once by something red. Maybe she didn¡¯t do a good enough job? She gazes into the fire again, losing herself to its spell for a while as its flickering flames dance in the black of her eyes, filling them with a vivid light and at the same time, fill her nose with the smell of acrid, burning smoke. Her eyes sting from the heat of the flames that she stares into, the sharp pain reminding her of the feelings of that bad night. Of when they had to run away, from when they lost their home because of her carelessness. Because she didn¡¯t do good enough, because her lack of efforts had let a bad-thing find them and their home. If she had been something of value, people wouldn¡¯t have just left her laying there, right? She isn¡¯t sure if she is asking herself that, or if her thoughts had turned into words for the fire to hear. But the only answer she gets is a loud thudding, as the wood in the fire collapses together. The clamber snaps her out of her daze. Fresh blinks, squeezing some moisture back into her eyes as she returns her focus back to her work. ¡°No more distractions,¡± mutters the girl, seeing that her hands were already above the dragon-scales, as well as a crystal that she doesn¡¯t remember grabbing. As the glow leaves her fingers, the crystal shatters, falling into a heap of jagged pieces. Taking the broken crystal-shards and the heap of scale powder, she scoops it into a pot and then adds a dash of moonwater. In all truth, she has no idea what she¡¯s doing in the least. She¡¯s just going with her gut-feelings. Swirling the water in the pot around, letting the mixture mix together, she sets it next to the fire, confident that this plan of hers will work, despite it just being an average fire. Though she has no idea why she thinks that. Holding her hands out, she focuses on using an ability she hasn¡¯t tried out yet. Grabbing the pot, she looks inside and sees a shimmering ingot. It¡¯s dark, almost nightshade, but has shimmering fragments in it that she supposes is crystal dust. It reminds her of a starry sky. Fresh flips the pot over, flopping the bar onto the table. It lands with a surprisingly dull ¡®thwup¡¯. She had expected it to sound like metal, though she, again, has no idea why in hindsight, considering that she put no metal into it. Setting the pot down, she leans forward and pokes it. It¡¯s warm, but pliant to the touch, giving way a little beneath her finger. Almost like a thick, dense and very sleek leather. Picking it up, she grabs both ends and bends it. It gives way with very little force, up to a certain point at least and then springs back once she lets go. She pulls on it, seeing if it''s stretchy. It stretches out a tiny bit, but barely any. At least not with the force that she can apply to it. Fresh thinks, not disappointed with the outcome, but also not sure what to do with it either. ¡°Weapons¡­?¡± she wonders. But apart from a whip, she has no idea what kind of weapon to make out of this floppy material. That¡¯s apart from the fact that she doesn¡¯t want to leave whips lying around the house that might get used against her by Jubilee. Maybe stretchy bags? No. She shakes her head, deciding not to use that idea either, so that she doesn¡¯t steal Jubilee¡¯s thunder. It¡¯s important to her that everyone has something to contribute. She realizes on that note, that she needs to figure out something for Basil and Shamrock to make, even if both of them aren¡¯t crafters. Do they have sub-classes? She just realizes that she¡¯s never asked. Fresh sighs. Didn¡¯t Basil say something once about that? ¡°I¡¯m such a terrible friend.¡± Her plan was to make armor, but¡­ hmm¡­ She swings the thing through the air, watching it flop around. Maybe it¡¯s no good? Maybe by mushing the scales down, the entire purpose of them is defeated? Well, one way to find out. It¡¯s only a small bar, so she can¡¯t make much. But¡­ ¡°AH!¡± Fresh realizes what she can make that will solve a lot of her problems, plus she has just enough material for one. Smiling, she holds her hands out over the ingot. Maybe this is a little like leather-working? She¡¯s never done that before. But she assumes that it¡¯s a little like tailoring. So maybe with a bit of abstraction¡­ Fresh focuses. The single dark glove, meant for a left hand, flops down onto the table and Fresh beams with pride upon seeing it. A stretchy, lightweight glove made out of Crystal-Drakonium. It smells vaguely of fire. 2 DEF -) Increases maximum SOUL by 2.5% -) Increases COLD damage by 2.5% -) Reduces PHYSICAL damage taken by 2.5% +4 COLD RESISTANCE +1 DARK RESISTANCE Quality effect: +1 HOLY RESISTANCE Razmatazz *The jungle trees rustle as ''Fortunate Son'' plays quietly in the distance* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 139: Comfy The rest of the day passes. Fresh, after getting both Jubilee¡¯s blessing and praise, spent the last of it making more gloves. Though now, for both hands and in different sizes. Jubilee, having appraised the item, had said that it was decently strong for just a single glove. With one on each hand, the bonuses would stack nicely. Especially if she figured out how to make more armor like it. Some chest armor or some spaulders, or just a whole outfit really. They could sell it as a set then, rather than individually. Given the lightweight, almost cloth-like properties of the material, it seems to be well suited for the casters here in this town, most of whom didn¡¯t wear anything heavier than fabric. Basil makes one suggestion, to add some of the kobold fluff to the trim of the gloves. It¡¯s cold up on the mountain after all. Fresh thinks that¡¯s a good idea and makes sure to do that with each pair. It drives up the crafting price a little, but as always, they have such a huge profit margin that it makes next to no difference. Plus, they look a lot more comfortable and professionally made now. As she sets a few of them from her first batch down onto the counter in the late evening, shortly before their closing, the crowd around the front all come over, curious about these new items. ¡°They¡¯re so stretchy!¡± says a hooded caster, covered in trinkets and hand-crafted ornaments that dangle from his robe as he pulls on the fingers of a glove and watches it snap back into place. ¡°What¡¯s this material? I¡¯ve never heard of this before.¡± ¡°It sounds expensive¡­¡± says an elf, leaning over his shoulder to look. ¡°I really like that they sparkle,¡± adds the woman next to him, staring at his hand as he slips it on, pulling the fluff attached to the back of the long glove down to past his wrist before wiggling his fingers. ¡°They have pretty good stats too,¡± says the man, still wiggling his fingers and nodding in approval. He ends up buying the pair he is wearing. Fresh doesn¡¯t know who he is, but apparently the people here take a lot of stock in his words and actions, as they then rush the counter, picking out every last pair of gloves that she had made today. Though, most of them go out of their way to try and pay Shamrock for the gloves, rather than walking over to an annoyed Basil who stands idly by the money drawer. He lifts a hand, pointing towards the priestess. ¡°Over there,¡± is all that he says to the crowd, most of whom walk away dejectedly to pay for their items by the priestess. Happy at the praise she receives from all of her friends, Fresh feels a new burst of energy that washes away any melancholy that had still lingered from the morning and heads straight upstairs, throwing together some food from the pantry so that they could eat a hot dinner tonight. ¡°Need any help?¡± asks Jubilee, to her surprise. In truth, she doesn¡¯t. But Fresh makes up some work for Jubilee to help her with in the kitchen. They still don¡¯t have a table to eat at, but they simply make a circle on the floor. Jubilee sits in their room with the door open and the rest of them just outside. Once they finish dinner, Basil and Shamrock take care of the clean up, heading down to get some water, for which she is more than thankful. Though she would have done it herself anyways if nobody had offered. Still, maybe a bit of extra sleep will do some good to brighten her spirits a little more. Fresh looks down at her bed which she had made this morning, noticing that there is a lump underneath the blanket. She looks around. Jubilee is locked inside of their room as far as she knows and Basil and Shamrock are outside. Her eyes wander back down to the square disturbance beneath her thin sheets and she lifts it up, looking at the sky-blue heap of fabric. Reaching down and lifting it up, she unfolds it in her hands. The bottom ends of the thick, hand-made blanket fall down against the bed as she feels the material between her fingers, squishing it. It¡¯s thick and fluffy on the inside, but the fabric itself is expensive and sleek. Looking closer, she stares at the stitching, noticing the imperfections. It¡¯s hand-made, not with magic. Holding it to her face, she takes a deep smell of the material, noticing that it carries a faint scent of the yellow flowers outside of town. Quickly throwing her robe off while everyone is gone, she jumps into her bed and buries herself underneath the new blanket. Pressing her head underneath her pillow so that nobody can hear her cry, though this time, happily. The blanket is very heavy and warm and it presses down against her with a weight that she can¡¯t help but feel is deeply comforting. That night, she dreams of a sunny spring day, in which the pristine, bright-blue sky is filled with beautiful colors and feelings, as if the entire world were awash with a floral paint. Waking up early, she leaps into the next day with high spirits. After getting ready, the first thing she does is restock their shelves with as many items as she can. The glass weapons are by far the easiest. The snacks are a little trickier, since cooking is a time intensive process, even with magic to speed it up, so she tries to juggle both tasks at the same time to her success; much to her own, as well as her friend¡¯s surprise. Fresh doesn¡¯t say anything to Jubilee about the blanket, but Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything to her about it either. But that¡¯s okay, the silence. Not because she¡¯s embarrassed to show emotionality around the others or anything like that or because Jubilee might expect something. But because it¡¯s just what it is. Not every kindness had to be turned into a giant show, sometimes, the simple act of knowing that your friends care is enough in and of itself. You do things for other people to show that you care, not because you expect something. So to show that she cares, she promises herself to try extra hard today. Once the food and the weapons are done, she makes a few extra gloves, asking Basil to try buying as many dragon scales as she could. They¡¯ll need them if she is going to make an entire set of armor out of the new material. In the short while they have left before they open, Fresh sits upstairs, tinkering with some wood that Shamrock has carried up for her from the basement as she makes a table. This time, already in its end position. Given the tight constraints of the square room that is already filling up with furniture, she has to make the table longer and rectangular and sets it against the railing of the staircase, so that one side is inaccessible. But that¡¯s fine. It¡¯s big enough for one person to sit on each end and long enough for two to sit on the free side. She supposes Jubilee will never use it with them, but there¡¯s a chair for them here anyways. Maybe one day. Fresh nods to herself, taking a sip from her bottle of sweet-tea as she looks over to the cabinet next to Basil¡¯s bed, seeing the weak glow coming from inside of it. Basil had locked the lantern in there, so that it didn¡¯t follow her downstairs. Fresh feels really bad for it though. Basil said she liked it, but somehow it never ends up anywhere except locked away. Calling downstairs, she gets Basil¡¯s permission to open her cabinet and then catches the lantern before it can fly away. Holding it against herself and petting it as if it were an animal, Fresh walks to the pantry and sets it inside. ¡°You¡¯ll have more room here, but you gotta leave Basil alone when she¡¯s working, okay?¡± The lantern doesn¡¯t respond, simply flying back towards the door as soon as she lets go of it. Fresh sighs, not sure if the lantern can even understand her. Maybe it can and it¡¯s just ignoring her? She doesn¡¯t know and walks out backwards, pushing the lantern back with one hand while she quickly closes the door with the other. Grabbing a sheet of paper, she makes a little sign by drawing a picture of a lantern and hangs it up onto the door. Finally, Fresh quickly makes her bed, taking a minute to make sure that the new blanket is straight and tucked in neatly, before she heads downstairs just as Jubilee opens the shop. Excited people run inside, flowing in like a stream and heading straight towards the counter, grabbing up the pile of gloves. Already feeling their strange gazes, Fresh scoots downstairs to her basement and sets to work, making as many new gloves as she can. If she¡¯s counting right, tonight is a new moon. The next time she heads upstairs, she asks Shamrock if he can run into town and get her a cauldron. The biggest one he can find and also manage to carry. He lifts a hand, pointing at Basil and Fresh stares at him and then at her. ¡°Ah! Uh, sure,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Basil! Can you go with Shamrock on some errands?¡± Basil agrees and as the two of them walk out, Fresh can¡¯t help but notice that the crowd seems to go with them. Still. She stands behind the counter, standing next to Jubilee, now that they had next to no customers inside of the empty shop. ¡°Just like old times, huh?¡± Jubilee looks back up to her and nods. ¡°Just like old times.¡± Fresh closes her eyes, smiling as she lazily leans forward over the counter, listening to the distant sounds coming from all around the tunnel. She pretends that the voices, that the trickling of the river-water, that the humming of the magical crystals, that it is all a single buzzing of lazy cicadas. As if it were a warm summer¡¯s day. For a moment, she is sure that she can smell the indistinct, dusty odor of the old house and that same calmness and warmth that she had always felt back then, in that strange memory of an old life returns to her now. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 140: Two in the dark Fresh sits out on the balcony, leaning back on the smaller chair. It is the middle of the night, the day having now come and gone. Shamrock had gotten her the cauldron, one that was significantly larger than her old one and carried it down to the basement. The crowd trailing him, following the giant man in excited fascination as he carried the thing over his shoulder, had to be stopped by Jubilee after they tried following him down into the basement. Fresh is pretty sure that the same people who left with him were the same ones who came back over an hour later. Apparently, the entire city was just fascinated with him to an unhealthy degree, as far as she sees it. She sighs, lifting her head as she stares up at the night-sky, pulling her blue blanket up higher to cover herself. She looks over at Shamrock, who sits on the other chair on the other side of the balcony, staring up towards the nearly vanished moon. There isn¡¯t much of it left to see, except for a smooth crescent. The rest of the soft light of the celestial body is hidden behind the night by a darkness so deep, that not even the thousand bright stars that fill the heavens are able to illuminate it. The man says nothing, showing no signs of being bothered by the cold or by anything at all in the least, as he just continues to gaze at the moon. Tomorrow night would bring a new moon with it. She could make a new cauldron of rebirth then. Fresh turns her head back to the sky, following his eyes towards where he looks, trying to find out what mystifies him so about it. At the same time, as her attention seems to become tightly drawn to that pale moon, as if spellbound, she wonders what mystifies her about it? A quiet rustling can be heard in the background. Basil is tossing and turning as uneasily in her sleep as always. Fresh isn¡¯t sure how long they sit there for, neither of them saying a word, neither of them diverting their eyes from the moon. She isn¡¯t sure if he blinks once the entire time, let alone if she does herself. ¡°Shamrock?¡± asks a voice, breaking the spell to Fresh¡¯s surprise. Blinking, somewhat bothered by the sudden interruption, she looks around to see whose it was. Only a moment later, as she turns her head towards him and sees that he¡¯s looking at her, does she realize that it was her own. As he looks over to her from his side of the balcony, the two of them stare at each other, waiting for her to continue. But Fresh doesn¡¯t even know what to ask, she doesn¡¯t even know why she¡¯s asking anything. Beneath the heavy, warm weight of the blanket pressing down against her body, she can feel her nervous heart beat a little faster, she can feel the cool air touch her skin, which is suddenly just a little dewier than it was a few seconds ago. Feeling a trembling start in her muscles, she quickly looks away, staring back up towards the sky as she thinks of some random question to diffuse the situation. ¡°How come people don¡¯t like witches?¡± There is a loud clamber that comes from the distance, from the direction of the adventurer¡¯s guild. She assumes the party there is going on non-stop as always and has hit a particular high-point by the sounds of it. Soon, the cheers and hollers die down again, leaving only the night-quiet to fill the air. ¡°The night is frightening,¡± says a heavy voice next to her. Its words carry such weight, that she feels like the balcony might give way beneath them, as she looks back over towards him, her fingers pressing into the soft, thick fabric of the blanket as if to hold on to it and to stop herself from falling. ¡°There are monsters.¡± Fresh nods, thinking she understands. So it¡¯s just an aversion to the darker elements? A literal, societal fear of the dark? She sighs, looking back up. That¡¯s sad, but at least she can understand that reason, even if it isn¡¯t as dramatic as she was expecting it to be. ¡°There are monsters in the day,¡± says the man, going on to her surprise. ¡°But they walk on two feet,¡± explains Shamrock, who then takes a moment to breathe with a breath that is almost as loud as his words. ¡°- Unseen.¡± He lets out a heavy exhalation, the vapor formed from the warmth of his body rising out of the slits of his helmet like the soul of a departing essence, leaving its mortal shell as his head rises upwards. The vapor vanishes, dissipating, as if becoming a part of the star-glow which coats the world. ¡°Isn¡¯t it scary for you?¡± asks Fresh, looking at him somewhat worried. ¡°I mean¡­ people here are nice, they don¡¯t seem to care so much about you being in the sect. But¡­¡± she fumbles with the blanket. ¡°Back in the north. Isn¡¯t it¡­ wasn¡¯t it scary?¡± asks the girl, not sure why she isn¡¯t able to look at him anymore, as she lowers her gaze to her fingers which fumble with the edge of the blanket. Fresh pulls her legs in, sitting criss-cross on the chair as she huddles herself tighter into the fabric, noticing now how cold the night seems to have suddenly become. ¡°I walk on two feet,¡± responds Shamrock. ¡°- Seen,¡± he adds on to the end, saying nothing more after that. ¡°But aren¡¯t you scared?¡± asks Fresh. Shamrock doesn¡¯t respond but lowers his gaze back down to her again. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried? What if something bad happens?¡± asks Fresh, watching as the man gets up without saying anything and takes a step towards the door. ¡°What if people come after you?¡± asks the girl, her anxiety having taken over now and having washed away any semblance of calm that the night might have brought with it just moments before. ¡°What if everyone hates you because of who you are?¡± she asks, not entirely sure if she¡¯s even talking about him anymore. He doesn¡¯t do what she expected him to do. He takes another step past the door, not going inside and instead heads towards her. ¡°What if -¡± Fresh lets out a quiet yelp as Shamrock grabs her under her arms and lifts her out of the chair, blanket and all and for a brief second, she is sure that he is going to toss her over the edge of the balcony. He turns around and sets her down onto the ground in the middle of the balcony. The soles of her bare feet touch the cold stones beneath them, as he lets go and turns to walk away back inside, leaving her standing there alone. A cool wind tousles her hair, the long strands tickling the back of her neck. Shamrock turns his head back to look at her, his haunted eyes gazing over his shoulder, as he stands on the precipice of their home. ¡°I¡¯d walk on two feet,¡± is all that he says, as he enters back into the house. Fresh stands there, her fingers pulling so tightly against the blanket that she can feel the fabric that is wrapped around her neck begin to cut off her airway. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she lets loose and heads inside, sparing only one final glance back at the moon, which is now covered by a thick veil of clouds. Another cheer erupts from the adventurer¡¯s guild off in the distance. The next morning comes sooner than she expects it to and Fresh groggily drags herself out of bed and gets ready for the day, despite her exhaustion. Despite her short sleep, a new idea comes to her in the night and after washing up, she excitedly heads back upstairs to the kitchen. Basil and Jubilee and Shamrock all sit at the table, making a list of sorts. ¡°What¡¯re you guys doing?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Talking about a plan, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee to Fresh as the girl walks past them, towards the kitchen. She grabs the jar with the dried coughee mixture, opening it to smell it before pulling back with a wince. ¡°A plan?¡± asks Fresh, looking back at them with one watering eye. ¡°A long-term business plan,¡± says Basil, jumping in. ¡°To figure out where this is all heading. Wanna join us?¡± asks Basil, patting the free chair next to herself. Fresh scratches her cheek and shakes her head, getting some very fine, thin fabric from the pantry instead. A business plan? ¡®Where it¡¯s heading¡¯? She¡¯s fine with just keeping her money in her inventory and living the shop life day by day. But what does she know? The others are smarter than her. Best leave it to them. Fresh takes a pot, covering the top with the fabric and then tying it into place with some thick string. Grabbing a spoonful of the powder, she places it on top, in the center. The cloth sags down a tiny bit, all of the crumbly, woody dust piling up in the middle. In a different pot, she boils some water and then slowly pours it over the heap of grounds, watching as the concoction slowly drips through the fabric, leaving the wet, mushy sediment behind. Smiling, she unties the stained cloth and sets it aside, looking at the filtered liquid inside of the pot. Made from a blend of roasted ingredients. This bitter drink offers a regenerative effect on both energy and mood, as well as stimulation for a tired mind. +1 [STAMINA-REGENERATION] per minute Minor Poison: Overconsumption for extended periods may result in [STAT-DMG]{INT, WILL} Inspecting it, she sees that it has the same exact values and description as the last batch. But she notices that the smell is a lot woodier and less fungal now. Grabbing a cup, she pours some inside and lifts it to her mouth, feeling the worried eyes of her friends all looking her way. Shamrock even scoots his chair back a few inches. ¡°Can you not kill yourself in public?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s very inconsiderate.¡± Basil laughs a nervous laugh, apparently agreeing in a way. Fresh frowns at them and takes a sip defiantly. She lowers the glass a second later, not saying anything despite the six expectant eyes watching her. Fresh sets the glass down, abruptly running into the pantry. ¡°No throwing up inside!¡± barks Jubilee after her. Fresh runs back out of the pantry a second later, with a bottle of milk in her hands. Double checking to make sure it isn¡¯t dragon¡¯s milk, she takes off the lid and pours a tiny bit inside of the cup, just enough to change the color of the drink and then, excitedly, she takes another sip. ¡°Guys!¡± cries Fresh with a jittering hand. ¡°You¡¯ve got to try this!¡± Razmatazz You may not know it, but there is a lot of foreshadowing in this one. Come back and see me in the distant future =) Also. Everyone should have a Shamrock in their life. If you don''t, then you should be the Shamrock in your life Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 141: Bitter ¡°Will it make me strong like you?¡± asks an excited caster, jumping up and down in front of Shamrock. ¡°No,¡± is all that the giant says, looking down at the pointy wizard hat which bobs up down beneath his gaze. He stands just outside of the door of the store, towering behind a somewhat dinky, small stall that Fresh and Basil had put up together an hour before they opened for the day, with Jubilee¡¯s sanction. As long as they didn¡¯t block the road and they stayed by the house, apparently it was perfectly fine. Shamrock¡¯s large arms hang limply at his sides, the man showing absolutely no signs of any body language whatsoever. But apparently that doesn¡¯t bother him in the least either, as the only part of him that isn¡¯t facing straight forward is his head, which looks down at the ring of casters standing before the stall. ¡°Can it boost my magic?¡± asks a giddy elf from the left of the stall, pushing her way through the crowd with a glass wand in her hand. ¡°No,¡± replies Shamrock dryly, turning his head towards her. ¡°Does it taste good?¡± asks a man from the front, raising his hand, chewing on one of the candies he had bought a minute earlier. Shamrock is quiet for a few seconds, staring down at the collection of labeled jars filled with a fine, ground powder that covers the stall and the shelves down at his feet. ¡°It is acceptable,¡± he says, his breastplate lurching as he releases a heavy breath, which seems to push the entire crowd back all at once. Somehow, this explanation is enough for them though. The spellbound crowd surges back towards him like the returning tide, as they begin to snatch up every glass that they can. Bickering and arguing as they get in each other¡¯s way, trying to be the first to give him their money. Fresh, standing in the doorway with Basil and Jubilee next to her, lets out a sigh and purses her lips. She had hoped Shamrock would have described the new product a little more poetically, but she supposes that she should have known better. Though it seems that Jubilee¡¯s intuition was on the mark. The crowds here are drawn to him. ¡°I hope they¡¯ll like it,¡± says Fresh, turning around to head back inside of the otherwise empty store. ¡°I¡¯m sure they will,¡± says Basil, patting her on the back as she walks with her. ¡°Who gives a shit? As long as they keep buying it,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that people are literally lining up to poison themselves.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not poison!¡± argues Fresh, looking back. Jubilee eyes her. ¡°The menu has a skull on it.¡± Fresh frowns, crossing her arms. ¡°It¡¯s only bad if you drink waaay too much of it!¡± explains the girl. ¡°That¡¯s why we wrote the instructions and the warning on the back!¡± ¡°It still surprises me every time that you can write,¡± sighs Jubilee, waving her off. ¡°It still surprises me what a jerk you are!¡± says Fresh, sticking out her tongue afterwards for emphasis. Basil walks between them, raising her hands to try and diffuse the situation this time. ¡°Let¡¯s not fight,¡± says the priestess, trying to calm them both down. But this time, both Fresh and Jubilee start laughing. Not because of the absurdity, but because they both know that they¡¯re not being serious right now. The day begins with a rush as the crowd, who more or less buy their entire stock of coughee out within an hour, then begins to head inside. Fresh is certain that this is just because that¡¯s where Shamrock is, having come in after he had nothing left to sell outside. As the customers head inside, they quickly start picking the shelves clean. All day, there is a steady stream of patrons trickling in and out of the store, buying any and everything that they have to sell. Apart from the glass swords and daggers, that is. Only a few of those leave the store and Fresh is sure that they were more novelty purchases than anything else. Still, even if she isn¡¯t quite the center of attention and adoration like she wants to be, for some reason that she can¡¯t quite explain, it still fills her with a warm feeling that is more than good enough, as people walk out of the door, carrying armfuls of the things that she¡¯s made. Jubilee¡¯s tote-bags are starting to pick up now as well. Now all Fresh needs to do is figure out something for Basil and Shamrock to make. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. Basil, standing next to her and playing around with one of the stuffed sheep, looks over her way. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°You wanna think of something that you can make too?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Me?¡± ¡°Yeah! For the store to sell!¡± explains Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a great feeling, when people like your stuff!¡± Basil waves her off. ¡°I¡¯m not really¡­ you know, handsy, when it comes to making things.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you have a sub-class?¡± asks Fresh and Basil nods. ¡°My sub-class is herbalist,¡± explains Basil. ¡°There isn¡¯t much for me to make.¡± ¡°So you pick flowers?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I can do that without a sub-class.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just picking flowers!¡± argues Basil, crossing her arms, the sheep still in her hands. ¡°There¡¯s a lot to know,¡± says the priestess ¡°Which plants are good to eat or how some plants can only be picked in certain seasons or -¡± ¡°Okay, we get it. You like plants,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Who would have guessed with a name like that?¡± Basil frowns, shaking her head. ¡°Most of us end up with gathering sub-classes,¡± she explains. ¡°It¡¯s where we got a lot of our food during the adventuring off-season.¡± ¡°Man, they sure treat you people like shit, huh?¡± asks Jubilee, giving a customer his change. Basil frowns, looking away and back towards the shelves. There isn¡¯t much for her to do right now. ¡°Holy work is a calling,¡± says the priestess. ¡°It¡¯s a calling to get fucked over,¡± says Jubilee. Neither of them say anything else and Fresh sighs, placing a hand on Basil¡¯s shoulder this time. ¡°Baaaaasil~?¡± starts Fresh. ¡°Try to think of something that you would like to make, okay?¡± asks the girl. ¡°Please?¡± she begs, shaking the priestess¡¯ shoulder. Basil doesn¡¯t say anything else as she turns back to face her, but nods once to Fresh¡¯s delight. She smiles and then runs past her. ¡°Shamrock! Do you have a sub-class?¡± She stops. Actually, what primary class is Shamrock even to begin with? She just realizes that she¡¯s never asked. He looks over to her, as does the suddenly very sour looking dark-elf on the other side of the counter. ¡°No,¡± is all that he says, much to Fresh¡¯s surprise. She assumed everyone had one. ¡°Oh, uh. Well, would you like to think of something to make for the store too?¡± ¡°No,¡± responds the man plainly. ¡°Please?¡± asks Fresh, clenching her hands together and making her eyes as large as she can. ¡°Yes,¡± responds Shamrock immediately, nodding down to her once as well. Fresh beams at him. ¡°Let me know if you need any help!¡± says Fresh, as she walks behind him towards the basement. ¡°We can figure out something together then! Ah - that counts for you too Basil!¡± calls Fresh back, opening the basement door and heading downstairs before the glaring eyes of the dark-elf who was talking to Shamrock can finish digging through her heart. The girl sighs. Why are people so oddly intense up here? ¡°Must be the mountain air,¡± she sighs, as she heads downstairs and returns to her crafting work. Tomorrow, they will start accepting repairs again. So for today, she wants to keep herself busy with the next part of the armor set, the boots. They seemed like the next easiest thing to make. Her total plan is for the set to have gloves, boots, leggings of some kind and a robe. Though she isn¡¯t quite sure how to make that last one work in any optically pleasing way, given the stretchiness and the leathery-shininess of the material. So boots it is, for today. Heading to her table, she slaps one of the rubbery crystal-drakonium ingots onto the surface and holds her hands above it, wondering if one is enough for a single boot. The single, dark boot, meant for a left foot, flops down onto the table with a dull ¡®thwup¡¯. Fresh stares at it. ¡°Yup, that¡¯s a boot,¡± says the girl, scratching her cheek. Pleased, but not too surprised at the result. They had about the same stats as the gloves. 2 DEF -) Increases maximum SOUL by 1.5% -) Increases COLD damage by 1.5% -) Reduces PHYSICAL damage taken by 1.5% +2 COLD RESISTANCE +1 DARK RESISTANCE Quality Effect: Absorbs and radiates ambient magical energies Though what does surprise her, is how the boot, the sole of which lays flat on the table, starts to rise up into the air. It stops, floating up only a fraction of an inch above the surface, but it stays there. Curious, she presses her hand into it and pushes it back down to the table. It sinks beneath the meager force that she is adding to it, but she feels a slight push, as the boot which she presses down, tries to rise back up into the air, pressing against her hand as it tries to float. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 142: Heavy stuff ¡°Why is it floating?¡± asks Jubilee, grabbing the boot out of the air. With an arc of their arm, they throw it across the room and it smacks against the wall, flopping down to the ground a second later. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh yelps, trying to stop Jubilee, but failing to do so. ¡°- Jubileeee~!¡± complains the girl. A moment later, the boot, laying on the floor of the empty store, rises up an inch and hovers there, the top of it hanging limply to the side. It is late in the evening. They have closed the store and finished restocking all of the plundered shelves. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Jubilee, scratching their head. ¡°Is this like that freaky lantern of yours?¡± Fresh picks up the boot, dusting it off. ¡°No, I think this is because of the crystal dust I put into it. I guess there¡¯s some mountain-magic going on here?¡± she suggests, looking at the boot to see if it¡¯s broken. ¡°Looks like fuckery to me,¡± says Jubilee, crossing their arms. ¡°Does it still float if you put it on?¡± asks Basil curiously. ¡°How do you walk?¡± Fresh shakes her head, slipping off her old boot and putting on the new one, standing up a second later. The boot presses flat down against the ground. ¡°It can¡¯t really hold any weight,¡± says Fresh, lifting her foot and setting it down again for emphasis. ¡°So it¡¯s a waste of time, then?¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Whatever. I guess they¡¯ll look good on display at least.¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°I mean¡­ It¡¯s hard to explain, but it feels like it¡¯s pushing up against me, you know?¡± explains Fresh, gesturing with her arms. ¡°It¡¯s a really weird feeling,¡± says the girl, scratching her cheek. ¡°I guess I feel a little lighter?¡± ¡°Maybe you left your brain in your other boot,¡± suggests Jubilee, pointing to the old boot next to her. Jubilee ignores Fresh¡¯s scowl and goes on. ¡°The poison sold well though, good-job, meat-head,¡± they finish, patting Shamrock on the side of his leg. Fresh scowls harder, as she watches her long awaited praise be given away right before her eyes. A moment later she relents however, her features softening. Shamrock did a good job too. Fresh smiles. ¡°Shamrock, I know you¡¯re probably tired, but I need your help again one last time today,¡± says Fresh, lifting a finger. ¡°Will you carry the cauldron for me, please?¡± she asks. ¡°We need to make the water tonight so that I can start repairing things.¡± ¡°Can we watch?¡± asks Basil to Fresh¡¯s and, apparently, also Jubilee¡¯s surprise. ¡°Uh, sure. But be careful around the cauldron,¡± warns Fresh, heading towards the basement. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous.¡± Jubilee waves them off. ¡°Thanks, but no thanks. I¡¯m not going to miss any sleep for that,¡± they say, starting to walk up the stairs. ¡°Okay! Good night, Jubilee!¡± calls Fresh up after them, wondering why her gait feels so weird. Looking down, she realizes that she still has the one, sort of, floating boot on. A minute later, Shamrock carries the empty cauldron upstairs onto the balcony, as Fresh marches on happily behind him. Basil waits somewhat nervously until they, and the heavy cauldron, are both clear from the staircase, before she heads up after them. ¡°So¡­ now what?¡± asks Basil, as Fresh quickly and with a hasty yank, grabs her grimoire out of her inventory window, closing the window as fast as possible as soon as her hand is back out. She takes a few steps to the side, so that she can double-check the instructions without the others seeing. Cauldron of Rebirth A magical cauldron that is able to revive the dead. 1) Place the body of the departed into a cauldron filled with moonwater from a full moon, during the next moonless night 2) Add the second branch of a tree 3) Channel your energy to activate the cauldron Once activated, the cauldron will continue to work until emptied or as long as the light of the sun doesn¡¯t reach the water. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s pretty easy,¡± says Fresh, relieved. ¡°I just need some¡­¡± she blinks, turning her head to look at the cauldron and then back at her book. Sighing, she slams it shut with one hand. ¡°Shamroooock~?¡± pleads Fresh, having something new to ask of him. She clasps her hands together. Shamrock, having already seen where this is going, wordlessly lifts up the cauldron and heads back downstairs without a single complaint. They needed it to be full of water, after all. Fresh turns her head, looking over at Basil. ¡°Baaasil~?¡± she starts, having a second wish. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Can you go get me the second branch from a tree, please?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The second branch? That¡¯s¡­ oddly specific.¡± ¡°Please?¡± Basil sighs and waves her off with a smile, heading down after Shamrock. ¡°Fine, fine. I can¡¯t say no to you.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± calls Fresh down the stairs. Once the two of them are gone, she looks back into her book, flipping back to the page with the cauldron. Tilting it to the side, she watches as the wet ink on the second page runs down along the paper. Didn¡¯t there used to be something here? Some words or some warnings or something? They¡¯re gone now. As if the ink had melted, as if it had pulled itself entirely free from the damp paper and now pearls on the exterior of the page. She sighs, slamming the damp book shut again. This is too spooky for her to deal with right now, after the whole ghost incident. Which reminds Fresh to ask Basil to make a ghost-warding-seal for the house, which the priestess agrees to do after watching her make the cauldron. ¡°Okay!¡± nods Fresh after the two of them have returned. ¡°But it¡¯s really not that exciting,¡± says the girl, as Shamrock sets the three-quarters full cauldron down onto the balcony. ¡°Thank you, Shamrock!¡± she says, walking past him. ¡°Strong!¡± she says, flexing one of her arms and grabbing his with the other hand. He says nothing, simply nodding to her and then standing back next to Basil, both of them curiously watching her from a safe distance. Fresh shrugs and turns to the cauldron. Taking a look around to make sure that nobody else is watching. She holds her hands above the surface of the water that is shimmering in the moonless night. The surface of it is still mildly disturbed and ripples back and forth, distorting the reflections of the heavenly auras shining down from above, from the many bright, warmly colored stars in the sky. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, holding her hands above the water and focuses with all the calmness that her mind, tired after this long day, can muster. ¡°Ta-da!¡± says Fresh, turning around and opening her eyes, her arms held out to the side, as she proudly and somewhat ironically, presents the cauldron. Basil and Shamrock both don¡¯t say anything. She sighs and lowers her arms, sparing a second to wave her fingers at them. ¡°Told you.¡± Basil breaks the silence. ¡°So? How does it work?¡± asks the priestess, rubbing the back of her head. Fresh shrugs. ¡°I just put items and stuff in here, use the spell and it makes them good as new!¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil, leaning forward. ¡°Just like that?¡± ¡°Just like that,¡± says Fresh as Shamrock approaches and carefully picks up the cauldron, just as easily full as when it was empty. He makes his way down the stairs. Fresh almost wishes he¡¯d talk a little more, just so she doesn¡¯t feel bad because she wonders if she¡¯s asking too much of him. ¡°But don¡¯t touch the water, okay? It¡¯s super bad!¡± warns Fresh a moment later and Basil nods. After Shamrock returns, Basil shows them how to make a ghost-warding sigil. It¡¯s fairly simple, just a few different symbols on a sheet of paper together with a single spell of hers does the trick. Apparently, once the signs were in place, any healing spell at all would add the proper energy to it. Fresh gets an idea, asking what would happen if she used one of her witch spells to charge the sigil. Though that suggestion is met with horror, as Basil quickly snatches the paper out of her hands and reprimands her with a wagging of her finger. Fresh can¡¯t help but laugh an uneasy laugh, as she feels that she is being scolded like a child who was caught playing with something hot. As they get up, Fresh scoots her chair back and stands up, rubbing her tired eyes, more than ready to go to bed. Her lower back pops. The girl¡¯s face goes pale, as she catches herself on the edge of the table, slouching over forward with a sharp gasp. ¡°Are you okay?¡± asks Basil, looking over from in front of her bed. ¡°Noooo~¡± cries Fresh, straightening herself back upright, trying to fight against the pain shooting up through her body. ¡°I always get this stupid back pain,¡± sighs the girl. ¡°Baaaaasil~? Can you heal me?¡± she pleads, sure that she is about to cry. Basil shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it doesn¡¯t work like that. I can only restore health-points, but bodily damage like that¡­¡± she fidgets with her sleeve. ¡°There isn¡¯t much I can do. You¡¯d need a druid for that, but they¡¯re more towards the south-east.¡± Fresh lets out a disappointed sigh and picking up her chair, she sets it forward and starts scooting herself over to her bed, holding herself upright with it. Two large, metal hands grab her sides and Fresh has an odd feeling of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, as she feels Shamrock hoist her into the air. She winces, it hurts a lot as her feet leave the ground. Apparently the giant is going to carry her to bed? How swee- ¡°IAgHghg- !¡± shouts the girl, as his hands, locked under her arms, lift her up high into the air and shake her around like a rag-doll. ¡°What are you doing?!¡± asks Basil from the side, clutching her hair in horror. A crack runs up her body. A burst of intense, burning pain filling her blood for a brief flash of a moment in which she is sure that her mind will leave the conscious plane. As her body hangs there limply in his grasp, her mismatched boots dangling in the air, one foot lifts up slightly higher than the other as the enchanted boot that she is still wearing pulls on it. ¡°Adjusting,¡± is all that Shamrock says, as he carries Fresh over to her bed and then haphazardly tosses her down into it without a care in the world. Fresh stares through tearful eyes up at the man, as he lifts his hand, staring at it for a moment as he tries to adjust his own fingers before managing to form the ¡®thumbs-up¡¯ gesture, as if he didn¡¯t know how to make it. Taking a deep breath, she lifts her shaking hand and gives him a thumbs-up in return, which he acknowledges with a single nod as always, before walking away. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will be better by tomorrow,¡± consoles Basil, sitting down on the edge of her bed. Fresh¡¯s arm flops down to her side, as her body sinks into the mattress that, like all mattresses here, is far too soft for her liking. As she feels the weight of the priestess getting up off of her bed, Fresh¡¯s eyes shoot open as she grabs a hold of her sleeve. ¡°Basil!¡± winces Fresh. ¡°I have a really great idea!¡± she says. Razmatazz In German, Fresh''s back pain is what is known as a ''Hexenschuss'' (Witch''s shot, referring to being hit by a witch''s spell) Though in English, it is unromanticially called LBP (Lower Back Pain) Have I said this before? Dunno. Is it important? Not really, but I thought you should know =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 143: Lightweight The night comes and goes. Fresh, much to her relief, wakes up early in the morning, having apparently slept her back pain away. The girl leaves the others to fend for themselves, regarding breakfast today, as she hurries downstairs into the basement and sets to work with her latest idea. Basil had forbidden her from doing so last night, the priestess wagging her finger at her again and telling her to go to sleep. She even tucked her in, so that was nice at least. Fresh pulls open the basement door and hurries down the stairs, past the washroom as she goes over to her table and looks around. Grabbing one of the rubbery crystal-drakonium ingots, she flops it down onto the surface and watches it softly jiggle back and forth like a small slime from the vibration of the impact. ¡°Maybe¡­¡± she lowers her head down, pressing her chin against the table, as she eyes the ingot, trying to get a feel for how much material exactly it contains. If it¡¯s pressed half as flat, then it would pancake out a ways further to the sides. So¡­ she¡¯d need a few. Way more than a glove or a boot, the crafting processes for those seemed to be somewhat more forgiving. ¡°Maybe eight?¡± Fresh frowns, Jubilee would probably be mad at her for wasting materials like this. But maybe if she says it was an experiment, then Jubilee will believe that? It¡¯s also technically true, since she has no idea how this will turn out. Though, it shouldn¡¯t be too exciting in all honesty. Grabbing a stack of ingots from the heap, she starts laying them in a long, multi-rowed grid that takes up just about the entire surface of the tabletop. If this didn¡¯t work, she could always just press them back into ingots, in the worst case. She needed a few more ingots than expected. Twelve in total. Lifting her hands above the first ones, she sets to work. The rubbery ingots that her palms are above smush down into flat rectangles, as if something were pressing down on them from above. The compressed material fills the gaps between themselves. Moving along the whole table, she repeats this process for all of them, until eventually, the surface is covered entirely by thick, rectangular shapes which are set tightly next to each other. Taking a moment, she hand-adjusts all of them, pushing them tightly together and leaving no space in between any of them. This part would be a little trickier, but she thinks she can manage if she stretches her arms out. Fresh holds her arms up above the table, spreading them out as wide as she can, as she tries to reach from one side of the tabletop to the other. But she doesn¡¯t quite manage. She hopes this is good enough. The gaps between the strange, glittering material grows together, like regrowing skin, fusing into one giant piece of rubber. Even though she knew this would happen, she¡¯s still somewhat surprised at how oddly gross it looks. After a couple seconds though, the process is complete. The long, thick, rubbery mat flops back down to the table with a loud slap, having become one whole unit. Grabbing a handful of crystal-dust, she blows it off of her hand and out over the mat, closing her eyes for a moment as she thinks about her intent for it. Then, a moment later, it rises up an inch off of the surface of the table. Fresh beams as she grabs the mat by the sides and then pulls it off onto the ground. It¡¯s very light, to her surprise. It flops down to the stone floor and then rises up again a second later. Lowering herself down, she sits on the edge of the mattress and then lays down on top of it. It immediately sinks to the ground beneath the weight of her body. It¡¯s very firm, far firmer than the down and fluff filled mattresses that she has slept on so far. While her back doesn¡¯t pop, she does feel a satisfying sensation run up along her spine, as if she were stretching out a sore, cramped muscle. It hurts just a tiny bit, but it¡¯s an oddly satisfying, dull pain. She closes her eyes and lays there on the floor of the basement, trying to get a feel for the mattress and for her own body. It pushes up against her back, but never enough to lift itself off of the ground. It¡¯s a hard sensation for her to describe. But she likes the feeling, the pressure pushing off against the floor, pressing the mattress against herself from below. It¡¯s like being held in a way. Plus it feels great for her back. One other thing that she notices, is that despite the stone floor of the basement being icy cold, she doesn¡¯t notice a thing temperature-wise. The fact that the thin mattress is barely a few inches thick doesn¡¯t seem to matter, as the material is so dense and cold resistant that it just seems to stay warm on its own. Smiling, she gets up, rolls it together and heads upstairs to show off her newest creation. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± says Jubilee, poking the floating mattress with a gloved finger. ¡°Why does all of this shit float?¡± ¡°It¡¯s magic, Jubilee!¡± explains Fresh excitedly, leaning in towards her friend. ¡°Mountain-magic!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°What¡¯s with this effect though?¡± asks Basil from the side, somewhat taken aback as she stares at the window. ¡°Yeah, pretty good. Five-hundred?¡± asks Jubilee and Fresh gasps, realizing that it¡¯s starting all over again. Basil thinks, her hand on her chin. ¡°Six,¡± says Shamrock from just next to them. ¡°Not you too!¡± yells Fresh at the giant, her eyes wide and distraught. Shamrock looks over at her worried features and then nods understandingly, as if knowing her plight, before turning back to Jubilee. ¡°Five-ninety-nine.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant!¡± yells Fresh. Basil nods in agreement. ¡°It¡¯s very strong, you know? If word spreads¡­¡± ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips as they shake their head. ¡°This place will be fuckery-city within a month.¡± Fresh looks back and forth between them. ¡°What¡¯s up, guys?¡± she asks. ¡°Do you think people will like it that much?¡± She frowns, scratching her cheek. ¡°It wasn¡¯t really meant to be something for sale¡­¡± Jubilee looks at her. ¡°Will people like a levitating, lightweight mattress that never gets cold or wet or worn through and gives you a significant stat boost for free?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°In a town full of adventurers and soldiers?¡± They think for a second, or at least pretend to do so. ¡°Naaah. I can¡¯t see it happening.¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so either,¡± says Basil, also shaking her head ¡®no¡¯. Shamrock joins in also, also shaking his head. ¡°Unlikely.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, somewhat surprised, as she looks back at the mattress. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good then,¡± she says. ¡°I was worried this was going to become a whole thing.¡± She looks back up and around the room, at the three pairs of eyes staring her way. Jubilee sighs a tired sigh, Basil says nothing but continues to smile and Shamrock just lets out a heavy breath. Jubilee claps their hands together once. ¡°Okay, Shamrock. You grab her arms. Basil, you grab her legs.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, not liking where this is going. ¡°Which one of these candies raises intellect again? It was the blue ones, right?¡± asks Jubilee, sifting through a bowl on the table. ¡°I think it was the blue ones,¡± says Basil, nodding. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that double her stat?¡± ¡°You think she¡¯d die?¡± asks Jubilee, looking over their shoulder for a moment. ¡°Like¡­ she¡¯ll explode or something?¡± They shrug indifferently. ¡°Eh, it¡¯ll be fine.¡± Basil chimes in. ¡°Maybe the purple ones. I think wisdom might be better than intellect in this case.¡± ¡°Red,¡± says Shamrock from the side. The others look at him as he flexes his arm. ¡°Strong.¡± ¡°Shut up, meat-head. Get over here and ho- GET BACK HERE!¡± yells Jubilee at Fresh, who has already slipped past Basil and Shamrock and is running down the stairs, grabbing a sheep from the ¡®mountain shelf¡¯ during her escape. She locks herself in the basement to get back to work, having gotten away for now. Fresh sighs, leaning back against the door for a moment, before heading back to the table. ¡°Having friends can be very stressful, right Mr. Sheep?¡± she asks the sheep in her hands, setting it down onto the flat surface. The sheep doesn¡¯t respond, simply kicking its legs as it proceeds to walk against the wall at the back of the table and then flops helplessly over onto its side. She frowns, realizing that Mr. Sheep has a hard life too. Picking him up, she looks at his floppy legs and then gets her next idea. Beaming, she hums as she sets to work. Today is going to be a great day, she can feel it. Grabbing another ingot, she takes her knife and cuts a thin, horizontal slice of it off. It takes a little wiggling, but the blade cuts cleanly through pretty quickly. Holding Mr. Sheep, she begins the operation, hoping that it won¡¯t hurt him too much. Fresh waves the knife at him once with a playful smile. ¡°This is going to sting a bit, so close your eyes and count to ten!¡± It¡¯s for his own good though thinks Fresh, as she sets to work, pressing the knife into his body. Razmatazz Bleeeeeeh~ Trivia - Sheep Sheep are pretty popular in a lot of mythology, particularly Abrahamic religious mythology. In fact, the use of sheep in religious symbolism and rituals has been a longstanding tradition, given that sheep and ram skulls have been found in ancient proto-religious sites dating all the way back to 8000(!)BC in southern Anatolia (Turkey) (Note, rams are just male sheep) In fact, sheep were also used for religious purposes by our very favorite friends, the ancient Mesopotamians. The goddess ¡®Ishtar¡¯, who we have spoken about once before in brief, was often depicted with sheep/ram features. Similar designs can be found in the neighboring Babylonians with the god Ea-Oannes (A water god of wisdom) and the old Phoenician god Baal-Hamon, who may possibly be related to the entity known in Semetic religions as ¡®Baal¡¯. In ancient Egypt of course, there were also several deities with sheep characteristics, most notably Amun in the form of a fertility god, though that last one isn¡¯t relevant for this story. Don¡¯t even think about getting any funny ideas. If you are one for zodiacs, Aries, the ram, is the first sign of the ancient Greek zodiac and is of course, the coolest one. You might not agree, but that¡¯s just because you aren¡¯t an Aries. Sorry, better luck next time. *Climbs up on a rock* Anyways. Sheep were regularly sacrificed for religious practices among most of these ancient religions, but that also includes modern religions. Remember that most of our Abrahamic religions seem to find their roots in these ancient cultures. In the biblical story of Abraham, when he was asked to sacrifice his son, a sheep was offered in his place. In Islamic tradition, Eid is still celebrated as an annual festival in which sheep are sacrificed in remembrance of this event as well and the meat is distributed to the poor and the hungry. In Judaism, sheep were once sacrificed as what is called a ¡®Korban¡¯. As you can see, there is a strong root connection between all of these religions and sheep. Though the poor sheep seem to always get the short end of the stick. That last sentence is of course, what is relevent for this story. On a more fun note, sheep are pretty smart. Almost as smart as pigs. They can recognize faces and voices and remember them for years. But not only that, they can also read facial characteristics. There has also been a bit of anecdotal evidence that they have strong problem-solving abilities, though this has yet to be ¡®laboratory tested¡¯ =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 144: Distant thoughts Jubilee knocks the sheep over, throwing it off of the counter with a single hand. ¡°JUBILEE~!¡± yells Fresh, looking over the counter down at the sheep which flops onto the floor, landing on its side. The sliver of crystal-drakonium, implanted into its back along its spine, floats upwards, pressing the inside of the fabric up into the air. The sheep lifts up, its feet finding its balance as it keeps on walking straight ahead, having survived the fall. Fresh sighs in relief, watching the sheep walk away towards the mountain-shelf that she had already restocked with the ¡®reworked¡¯ sheep plushies. ¡°What? It¡¯s called product-testing,¡± says Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Not bad though. Looks like a cheap fix.¡± Fresh watches as the sheep runs into someone¡¯s leg and flops over again. It gets up again on its own, as the caster, wearing a very fluffy robe, almost akin to the sheep¡¯s fluff, looks down at it. The little sheep turns inadvertently to the side and walks down the aisle, not out of any conscious movement, but just by sheer happenstance. ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± says the fluffy-robed caster, running up the counter and pointing at the sheep as it runs through a group of surprised adventurers looking at wands. ¡°How did you make it do that?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, looking at Jubilee for a moment before turning back to the caster. ¡°Uh¡­ magic?¡± suggests Fresh, lifting a finger to explain with a smile. ¡°Huuuh?¡± asks the caster, looking at the sheep and then back to them. ¡°If I get five of them, can I get a discount?¡± ¡°The fuck?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Uh, sure,¡± they say, rubbing the back of their head. ¡°Get five and we¡¯ll give you ten percent off and a bag,¡± they say, shrugging indifferently. ¡°Great!¡± says the caster, grabbing a handful of the sheep and running back to the counter. Fresh beams in prideful delight, seeing this many sheep find a home at once and so suddenly. She clasps her hands by her face, smiling brightly. ¡°Do you have a lot of friends and family to give presents to?¡± asks the girl curiously, wondering if her sheep would be received by excited children or by giddy adventurers who have managed to remain unfazed by the cruelties of this world. ¡°Huh?¡± asks the caster, giving Jubilee their coins. ¡°Ah, no, no,¡± they reply, waving to her with a laugh, as if seeing the misunderstanding. ¡°I want to let them run ahead of me in the dungeon. So that they¡¯ll trigger any traps for me.¡± Fresh stops smiling. ¡°Huh?!¡± Jubilee gives them their change back and hands them the sheep packed into a free bag. ¡°Here you go, enjoy!¡± they say with a particularly chipper tone. ¡°Thanks!¡± replies the fluffy-robed caster. ¡°You guys make great stuff, keep up the good work!¡± they say, waving with a free hand at the two as they run out of the store, turning towards the dungeon. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± cries Fresh, her shaking hand reaching after the sheep that leave the sanctuary of their home, heading towards a dark fate that she is unable to protect them from. A little leg kicks tragically out of the top of the bag, as if one of the sheep was trying to reach back towards her. ¡°What? It¡¯s a great idea,¡± says Jubilee with a nod as their hand rubs their chin. ¡°We should market them as trap-checkers and say it was our idea all along.¡± They look up over the counter at a dark-elf who walks by. ¡°Hey! You! Long-ears!¡± calls Jubilee suddenly. ¡°Huh? What? Me?¡± asks the man. ¡°Yeah you,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°That staff of yours looks pretty fucked. Want us to repair it?¡± The man looks down at his wooden staff that is covered in trinkets and feathers. It has a long crack running along the sides that is covered by a dirty, tightly wound fabric that holds the wooden rod together in one piece. ¡°The material is very rare, I don¡¯t know if you can.¡± Jubilee taps their finger onto the counter. ¡°Looks like wood to me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s rare-wood,¡± says the dark-elf, plainly. Jubilee rolls their eyes before looking up at Fresh. ¡°Can we fix rare-wood?¡± Hearing this, Basil hurries over and looks at the staff. ¡°Uh¡­¡± stammers Fresh, having no idea what that is. ¡°Yes!¡± she says, seeing the twitch in Jubilee¡¯s eye. She holds her hands out, looking at the staff for a moment. ¡°We can have it fixed by tomorrow morning, if you¡¯d like,¡± says the girl, looking back up at the man. ¡°That quickly?¡± asks the caster, fumbling with the patchy beard on his face. ¡°That quickly,¡± repeats Fresh with a convincing smile. ¡°Mm¡­ I wanted to go into the dungeon today,¡± he thinks. ¡°Well then come back tonight,¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°Or take a glass staff as a loan until then. But don¡¯t break it or you¡¯re paying for it.¡± The man looks behind himself to the weapons on the shelf and then back down at his wooden staff. He nods and hands it over to Fresh. ¡°Alright, sounds good to me. But please be careful, rare-wood is hard to come by around here.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t I know it?¡± says Jubilee, knocking on their mask twice. ¡°Ah! You¡¯ve been?¡± asks the dark-elf. ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s been a while. Can¡¯t say that I miss it though. Fucking snobs,¡± says Jubilee. The man laughs, waving with a hand as he grabs a staff from the shelf. ¡°It certainly takes some adjusting to get used to,¡± says the elf, heading to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be back tomorrow morning then.¡± ¡°You better be, or we¡¯re selling it,¡± calls Jubilee after him. Fresh looks down at the staff and then at Jubilee and Basil, not quite sure what just happened. Shrugging to herself, she heads to the basement to carry the staff down to safety, as it is apparently expensive. The two of them scoot past Shamrock, who is busy explaining the different flavors of candy to a human caster, covered in an odd robe. Fresh only realizes after a moment that it is actually several thin robes layered over each other. Fresh is sure that the customer had asked Shamrock the same questions at least six different times now though. Not that she minds. Seeing the previous social-outcast, Shamrock, socializing like this makes her happy in a way that she can¡¯t really explain. ¡°So what flavor is this one?¡± asks the caster. ¡°Red,¡± says Shamrock, looking at the red candy she holds towards him. ¡°Do you like red ones?¡± asks the caster. ¡°It is acceptable.¡± ¡°What about this one? It¡¯s blue? What does it taste like?¡± ¡°It tastes like blue,¡± says Shamrock. She laughs, somehow finding this answer acceptable as well. Fresh feels like butting in and explaining that the blue ones actually tasted sweet like berries. But she feels like she¡¯ll just get another sour look for her efforts. Heading downstairs instead, she goes towards the table with Basil in tow. ¡°So what¡¯s rare-wood, Basil? Do you know?¡± she asks, setting the staff down next to the cauldron and fumbling with it. ¡°It¡¯s from the center,¡± says Basil, touching the wood too with a single finger, as if afraid to touch something that is apparently very expensive. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The center?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± says the priestess. ¡°In the center, between the four cities. It¡¯s where the noble-grove is.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± repeats Fresh, looking back at the wood. ¡°The noble houses. They live in a city of their own in the middle, between the other four cities,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Rare-wood only grows there, in the giant-tree dungeon.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Is it nice? The city?¡± ¡°Not for people like us,¡± says Basil with a sigh and a smile, patting her on the back. ¡°People like us aren¡¯t welcome there. That¡¯s why rare-wood is so hard to find.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, looking down at the staff. She shrugs. ¡°Oh well. Come on, Basil. Let¡¯s get back upstairs. I¡¯ll take care of all the repairs later.¡± ¡°Can I help you?¡± asks Basil as they walk away. ¡°Uh¡­ there isn¡¯t much to help with honestly,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Can I watch?¡± asks Basil. Fresh scratches her cheek and looks at the priestess, nodding with a smile. ¡°I¡¯d like that!¡± says the girl, always happy to spend more time with her friends. ¡°If you aren¡¯t too tired after work!¡± The two of them head back upstairs. Fresh, having nothing else to help with down in the storefront, goes upstairs and changes out her mattress for the new one, sliding the old one into the pantry. Maybe one of the others wanted it to double-stack theirs, no sense in throwing it out. It isn¡¯t even that old. It¡¯s a bit of a hassle, fitting the bed-sheet around the levitating mattress, but she manages eventually. Fresh stands there, with the balcony door open, feeling the breeze run past her face as it makes its way down the staircase and out the open front door. As she stands there alone, listening to the exciting sounds of the lively city around her, her mind wanders to the sound of distant waters, as she stares at the floating mattress before herself. With a wandering thought, she wonders how much crystal-drakonium it would take to lift a person? She shakes her head. That¡¯s silly. Smiling to herself, she heads to the kitchen to cook up some more snacks for the shelves. She isn¡¯t really sure where she gets the idea from, but she as she stares at a bottle of sweet-tea on the counter, she can¡¯t help but wonder if they couldn¡¯t sell a lot more of it, a lot faster, if they offered it both hot and cold, instead of just room temperature? Maybe there¡¯s a way to do that? Grabbing some materials from the pantry, she sets to work, happy that another new idea has come to her so effortlessly, as if by magic. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 145: Cold storage Fresh fiddles with the thin railing beneath the sliding door that she is making, trying to get it to work just like the sliding doors that adorn most of the buildings here in this city. Though, her design for the sliding door is a little different. The doors here that she has seen so far were a wooden frame with a wooden grid inside, the gaps of the grid are usually filled with square sheets of dense fabric. She however, is just making a single, rectangular door-frame and fills the whole thing with one, large, single sheet of glass. It isn¡¯t a pane of Jubilee¡¯s glass though. Fresh had gone into town and paid a lot of money to not only get these sheets of cut, polished glass, but to have them delivered straight away to the shop. For this idea to work, she needed glass that was transparent. The matte glass simply wouldn¡¯t do in this case. She had explained as much to Jubilee, but that didn¡¯t stop them from grumbling at her and the delivery-men, who, to her relief, weren¡¯t spooky, living mannequins. - As far as she could tell. The shelved, open-faced cabinet, lined on the inside with crystal-drakonium padding for insulation, which she had already made, lays on its back on the floor. Fresh grabs the edge of the framed glass window and carefully lifts it upright, surprised that she is able to do so. ¡°Strong,¡± mutters Fresh, doing her best impression of Shamrock, as she slides the glass onto the open surface and then nudges it into place. With a little more fumbling around, it clicks down into the groove on the bottom of the cabinet. Crawling around to the top of it, she grabs a second detached railing, fixed onto a thin wooden board and holds it against the top of the construction, popping it into the top of the window. Bits of the left and right ends of the little board fall off as the glow dissipates, leaving a jigsaw pattern and a matching pair of holes on top of the cabinet. Dabbing some glue into the holes, she presses the top railing into place, making sure that it sits snugly and firm. Fresh smiles, looking at the shelved cabinet with the large, sliding, glass door with a smug satisfaction painted on her expression. Though, there is one problem left. But it¡¯s a quick fix. Running into the pantry, she grabs a small iron chain from a bucket full of them and checks the length of the chain to find the right spot on the cabinet, before attaching it to the inside, against the ¡®ceiling¡¯ which is a dense, wooden grid with a hollow compartment above it. The other end, she attaches to the top of the inside of the door-frame. Now, with the chain, the door can only slide so far and can¡¯t jump out of the railing. There is only one other thing left to do. The cooling and heating mechanisms. Though, this is going to be the cold one. Heating is easier, she can just place it with its back against the chimney pipe and with some metal rods and a little trickery, so that it didn¡¯t start a fire, everything would work out fine. Cooling, though? Sure, it¡¯s cold outside. She could just make an air-shaft from the outside to the back of the cabinet, but she doesn¡¯t like that idea. What if a rat crawls in? Fresh shudders. Bending down, she sifts through the heap of crystals, trying to find one that feels right. Picking one up, she asks it - ¡°Do you like water, Mr. Crystal?¡± The crystal doesn¡¯t respond and she sets it back down. ¡°I guess not.¡± Fresh frowns, picking up another one. Now, she knows that the crystals can¡¯t talk or are even capable of understanding her. But she still looks for one that ¡®feels¡¯ right, that feels like it would be compatible with water. Does that make any logical sense? Not really, but she sticks to her principles. ¡°What about you?¡± she asks again, picking up the fifth crystal. ¡°Do you like water?¡± The crystal doesn¡¯t respond, as expected. But as Fresh tilts her head, staring at the prismatic sliver held in her hand, she sees the light of the evening sun shining in through the balcony door pushing its way through the slender body in her grasp, setting it alight with a strong, refractive glow. She can only interpret this as a good omen. Fresh beams, nodding at the crystal. ¡°I look forward to working with you!¡± she says, smiling at the crystal, as she sets it to the side and cleans the others up. ¡°Stop talking to the crystals, dumb-ass!¡± yells Jubilee up from downstairs, already knowing what her plan is. Fresh sticks her tongue out at the ground, aiming it towards the spot she thinks Jubilee is standing at. Getting up, Fresh then closes the balcony door, shutting out the light of the sun. Grabbing a lidded pot filled with moonwater, she takes the chosen crystal and nods to it, before pursing her lips and blowing against it once, softly, to impart her intentions onto it. ¡°If you don¡¯t like it anymore, let me know and I¡¯ll get you out, okay?¡± says Fresh, setting the crystal into the pot of moonwater. She watches, as it glows with a vibrant, prismatic shine, which seems to intensify as it sinks into the water. So far so good. Heading into the pantry, Fresh takes a deep breath and does something she doesn¡¯t want to do. Grab a pair of the black, insectoid eyes from the snowmen monsters in the dungeon. The girl smiles a second smug, victorious smile however, as she slips on a crystal-drakonium glove that she had extra placed in here for just this kind of occasion. Then, with her gloved hand, she touches the gross things. They¡¯re oddly hard, for eyes. Almost like they have a crunchy shell around them. She tries not to think about it or to squeeze them too much as she heads back to the glowing pot of water. One thing that is useful though and is exactly why she needs them, is that they seem to have just the slightest chill to their exterior. A magical cooling effect. Fresh grinds them up into a fine dust, sprinkling it into the water. At first, nothing happens, the black eyeball dust simply floating on top of the water. She had expected this though. Place her hands against the exterior of the pot, she closes her eyes and focuses on putting her energy into it. Despite her closed eyes, she can see the purple tinge shine through her eye-lids, stemming from the magic in her hands. Then, the water begins to move. The crystal pulsates a little, fading in and out like a chest moving with constant, deep breaths. The water looks like it¡¯s bubbling at first. Like a pot of boiling water on the stove. But there is a difference. The bubbles seem to form on the surface and push their way down to the bottom of the pot, as if it were boiling in reverse. Slowly, as the crystal finds its rhythm, this process speeds up. The black-dust begins to swirl with the water, being pulled down into the center around the crystal, before then being pushed to the sides of the pot by the stream and then rising back up along the edges, creating a constant cycle. Fresh smiles, placing the lid onto the pot again and she waits a minute, leaving her hand on the exterior of its metal body as she feels the process continue, just beneath her fingers with a slight vibration. The metal of the pot slowly becomes colder and colder with every minute. This was a great idea! The snowman eyes would last about two or three days for each pair to keep the pot running. As for the crystal, well, it will probably last longer than she will, as long as it stays on the mountain. A pair of heavy footsteps comes upstairs. Fresh looks over to Shamrock. ¡°Hi, Shamrock! What¡¯s up?¡± asks the girl. ¡°Closing,¡± replies Shamrock. ¡°Great!¡± says Fresh excitedly, smiling at him with her warmest smile. ¡°I need your help again, please. When the customers are gone,¡± says Fresh, scratching her cheek. ¡°If you have the time,¡± she says, adding on to the end. Shamrock nods to her, looking at the heavy cabinet that lays on the floor, as if he already knows exactly what is needed of him. The same thing as always. Fresh laughs, seeing his chest heave. ¡°Sorry that I always ask you to do hard, boring things like this, Shamrock,¡± apologizes Fresh. She thinks for a second. ¡°I¡¯ll cook dinner tonight to make up for it, okay?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Shamrock with an unusually quick nod. After the customers are all gone a little later, Shamrock carries the large cabinet downstairs and Fresh honestly isn¡¯t quite sure how he did it. She was sure that she and Basil would at least have to help keep the unwieldy thing steady on the stairs, but apparently not. Fresh removes some of the shelves on the back wall with Basil¡¯s help, next to the candies and then she has Shamrock place the new cabinet there in the gap, pressing it against the wall. ¡°So? Cold drinks?¡± asks Jubilee, sounding somewhat unsure. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, making the final adjustments. ¡°Do people even want cold drinks up on the mountain? Can¡¯t they just leave their drinks outside?¡± asks Basil. ¡°You guys don¡¯t get it!¡± says Fresh with a laugh, waving them off. ¡°After a long day of adventuring, a nice, cool drink is very refreshing!¡± she explains. ¡°It¡¯ll be just what everyone wants!¡± ¡°How would you know that, you slacker?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. Fresh turns her head away with a ¡®hmpf¡¯, pulling open the small compartment at the top of the cabinet, above the sliding door. Lifting the pot, she carefully sets it onto the dense wooden gitter and then slides the compartment back shut. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± asks Basil. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± replies Fresh excitedly, pulling on the sliding glass door to open it as a demonstration. ¡°Ta-da!¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil, sticking a hand inside. ¡°Yeah, it really is a little cooler, at least up here beneath the pot,¡± admits the priestess. ¡°Don¡¯t worry! By tomorrow, the whole cabinet will be really cold!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°Especially if we put some bottles into it now!¡± she says, as she starts to do exactly that, removing some of the sweet-tea from the nearby shelf. ¡°See? The cold air sinks from the top and it¡¯ll make everything else cold inside too!¡± Fresh stops, holding onto the bottle in her hands as she looks back at her friends. ¡°Interesting¡­¡± says Jubilee, thinking. ¡°I guess we can¡¯t sell these, though, right?¡± ¡°What? The cabinet?¡± she asks. Jubilee nods. ¡°No, they need moonwater and stuff to keep running. So we can¡¯t really sell them¡­¡± explains Fresh. ¡°Too bad. Man, these would have been great during summer.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± sighs Fresh. She doesn¡¯t want to admit that while, sure, it would have been very refreshing, that she somehow holds the past summer heatwave as a very fond, nostalgic memory. Despite it only being a few weeks ago. It feels like it is already a year¡¯s old memory. It feels like a distant, foggy, half-forgotten dream. ¡°Oh well,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Couple more months and it¡¯ll be autumn.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh with a smile, as she stocks the cooling shelf with different bottles. She wonders if autumn is nice here too? Razmatazz Dungeon 7/11 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 146: Customer Feedback A yellow-robed adventurer stands outside of the door of the store, her group forming a half circle on one side of it, as she holds the bottle of pre-brewed coughee in both of her hands. ¡°Aaaah~ it¡¯s so warm,¡± says the human, as she holds the bottle snugly against her face. ¡°I don¡¯t know about the taste,¡± replies the bearded wizard standing across from her, swirling the bottle in his hands around a little. A tiny draft of steam rises up from it, flowing out into the cool tunnel. ¡°It tastes a little bit like sour dirt?¡± ¡°That¡¯s because you got the dark one,¡± says a hooded man next to him. He points to the label on the bottom of the bottle that says ¡®bitter¡¯. ¡°Huh? You got a bitter one too,¡± he asks, puzzled. ¡°Mine¡¯s cold though,¡± he shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s different.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± laughs the yellow-robed caster at the hooded man who has an icy bottle of black coughee in his hands. He looks at it and shrugs. ¡°It tastes better cold.¡± Fresh smiles as she listens in on the conversation. The weight of her tired eyes is made lighter by the happy feeling that she feels in her chest, after hearing them talk about the thing that she made. It was worth it, staying up a few hours longer to make the second cabinet for the hot drinks. As planned, it¡¯s heated by the chimney pipe and some metal rods. The crystal-drakonium really does an excellent job at insulating the heat. The cabinet isn¡¯t hot like an oven, but it gets hot enough that it makes the bottles too hot to hold comfortably with just your bare hands. So she had to put up a warning sign on the cabinet. But it seems to have been working well so far. In fact, it seems to have attracted a lot of attention, as people started looking at the new cabinets and playing with the sliding glass doors. So much so, that Jubilee had to start yelling at them to stop letting all of the cold and hot air out. The sweet-teas, which had only been moving fairly slowly these past few days, mostly as a novelty, had already sold twice as many units as usual and it isn¡¯t even midday yet. There doesn¡¯t seem to be a clear consensus on what is more popular in general, the hot or the cold drinks, to her surprise. She was sure that the hot drinks would sell a lot more up here on the frigid mountain. As far as she can tell however, it just seems to come down to everyone¡¯s individual preferences. Same as with the sweetness of the coughee. Fresh had gotten up early after staying up late to brew a large, new batch of it, which she had filled into bottles with varying amounts of milk. Half of them went into the cold section, half into the hot section. The heated cabinet fills the storefront with a deeply warm fragrance. The smells of the hot herbal and fruit teas, mixing in with the more baseline, bitter-note of the coughee. The combined aroma gives the entire store a strong, but welcoming and very comforting smell. The scent overpowers the old scent that seemed to linger in the forgotten building. That odd tinge of dust and wet rock, neither having left together with the ghost, both being overwritten by the new, beckoning odor that seems to draw more than one person in, judging by their wiggling noses as they step through the door and look around. ¡°Don¡¯t drink any before bed,¡± says Basil, handing a customer their bag with a jar of the dried coughee powder. ¡°It¡¯ll keep you up all night.¡± ¡°That¡¯s perfect!¡± says the customer, too young to be an adventurer in Fresh¡¯s eyes. She is wearing, to Fresh¡¯s extreme delight, a flower-crown lined with many different yellow flowers from outside of the city. Though age seems to have little meaning here in that regard, those who needed to earn money went into the dungeon one way or the other apparently. ¡°I¡¯m getting my class in a few days, so I still need to study a lot!¡± ¡°Oh, congratulations!¡± says Basil, handing her the bag and her change. ¡°What class are you taking?¡± ¡°My family runs the forge down on the second plaza,¡± she explains. ¡°But I don¡¯t really have the body for it. So I¡¯m going to become an enchanter instead!¡± says the girl excitedly. ¡°But I need to pass the exam first, or I won¡¯t get accepted into the academy,¡± she sighs. ¡°Do your best, okay?¡± says Basil. ¡°That¡¯s an excellent class choice!¡± The girl nods, grabbing her bag and leaves. Fresh scratches her cheek, walking over to Basil. ¡°Isn¡¯t enchanting a sub-class?¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°You can take any class as a primary class.¡± ¡°But how do you fight in the dungeon, then?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± shrugs Basil, leaning over the counter towards her as she explains. ¡°People with primary crafting classes only ever craft. Enchanters, well¡­ they enchant things that other people make.¡± The priestess nods. ¡°If her family already runs a forge, that¡¯s a great choice. She can accentuate their already existing work.¡± ¡°But why not just take it as a sub-class?¡± asks Fresh, scratching the back of her head. ¡°Not everyone wants to be an adventurer, goo-brain,¡± throws Jubilee in from the side. Fresh looks back and forth between the two of them. She had never even considered that. Why wouldn¡¯t someone want to be a dungeon-crawling adventurer? Though, after a moment of reflection, she supposes that it does make sense. It¡¯s a dirty, dangerous job and there isn¡¯t much glory in it. Now that she thinks about it, she doesn¡¯t think she¡¯s ever even seen someone who is very high-level, apart from Shamrock. Which means that either it takes a long time, longer than any human has to live. Or that simply nobody ever lived long enough for that to happen to begin with. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Basil. ¡°Having a primary crafting class has its merits. Sub-crafters can¡¯t make items of a higher quality than ¡®excellent¡¯,¡± she says. Seeing Fresh¡¯s confused expression, she adds on. ¡°That¡¯s what comes after ¡®high-quality¡¯.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, tapping her chin. ¡°So does anything come after that?¡± ¡°Yes, there are two more levels, but only primary-class crafters have access to them.¡± Fresh sighs, not really excited to hear this news. Sure, it means that there is still progress for her to make with her craftsman-sub-class. But it also means that there is a cap approaching that she can¡¯t do anything about. A limitation. A boundary that she can¡¯t cross. That bugs her a lot, even if it¡¯s still a far away problem. ¡°They¡¯re floating!¡± shouts an excited, raspy voice. Fresh turns around and looks at the customer. She can¡¯t tell if they¡¯re a boy or a girl. The person, wearing a hood with two lumps beneath it, points at the crystal-drakonium boots on the shelves. ¡°Yeah,¡± says someone next to them. ¡°I wonder how you walk in them? The stats are really good though for this price.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you just fly?¡± They press down on the boot, it sinks to the shelf. ¡°Ah, no, look,¡± they say, still sounding fascinated however, as they let go and the boot rises back up into the air. ¡°Weird. Why does it do that?¡± ¡°I bet it¡¯s the crystals,¡± says the strange customer, pointing at the glitter in the leathery material. ¡°They probably have some screwball enchanter here,¡± they say, laughing. Fresh frowns, puffing out her cheek, as she heads down to the basement and closes the door tightly behind herself. She returns to her work, trying to come up with new items for the shop. Things have been going very well so far. She thinks that she likes the west a lot. Despite everything, people here seem to be¡­ well, she isn¡¯t sure if ¡®kinder¡¯ is the right word. But there¡¯s certainly an openness here to the customers. That polished veneer of a polite society, enforced by the church in the north, simply didn¡¯t exist here. People were open and loud and honest and liked eating and drinking and celebrating just as brashly. Grabbing a small log, she tosses it into the fire, feeding it a little, before placing her hands on the table and looking around, trying to come up with something new. She still needs to think of some more crystal-drakonium armor. ¡®Celebrating¡­¡¯, the word from a moment ago returns to the forefront of her mind for some reason. She wonders if the others would go with her to the adventurer¡¯s guild to celebrate? Though she doesn¡¯t even know what. Maybe they could go to just have a fun night once, all together. She likes the quiet life together with them, but maybe getting a drink or two and joining in on the never-ending party could be a lot of fun? Isn¡¯t she here to try out new things and to live a new life, after all? Fresh looks around the basement that she has retreated down into, noticing rather abruptly that she is all alone. Somehow, that bothers her much more than usual right now. She sighs, lifting her hands from the table and goes back upstairs, seeing if there is any store-work that she can help out with. Razmatazz Kawfee Gweentee Kawfee Gweentee ~ Trivia on ghosts added to chapter 130 Trivia on mountains added to chapter 117 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 147: Moonshine ¡°Should I be doing anything?¡± asks Fresh, listening to the water rushing past her ears. The voice of the fountain yawns loudly. The direction that the sound comes from is indistinct and she feels like it¡¯s resounding in both of her ears at the same time, as if there were two voices talking to her from either side at once. ¡°No, no. Just keep doing what you¡¯re doing,¡± it says. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to scrub behind your ears.¡± ¡°Huh? What?¡± Fresh floats around, her shapeless gestalt drifting through the black-water and slowly turning upside down as she stares around herself. ¡°But what are we doing?¡± asks Fresh, ignoring the odd comment. ¡°Selling equipment? Why are you helping me with all of this? What do you want?¡± She spins around in a circle, as if a whirlpool were forming beneath her, twisting her around and around in a spiral. ¡°It¡¯s a manager¡¯s job to lead their employees,¡± explains the fountain, as she feels herself being pulled down into the deeper darkness, far below the surface of the water. ¡°It¡¯s an employee¡¯s job to hush and to do what they¡¯re told. Don¡¯t forget to breathe.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, as the voice grows distant and quiet, as she is swallowed into the deepest reaches of the black ocean. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to breathe,¡± it repeats, somewhat annoyed. Fresh opens her eyes, feeling an intense pain in her chest, which feels like it¡¯s on fire. Her hand shoots out of the surface of the bath, grasping onto the stone edge of the basin, as she pulls her head out of the water, gasping for air and spitting out some bathwater at the same time. Her wet hair sticks to the front of her face. Blinking a few times, she rests her head sideways on the edge of the bath and lets out a long, tired sigh. It¡¯s about time to go to bed. She gets out and dries off, before getting dressed. Fresh smiles an exhausted smile to herself, looking forward to rolling up inside of her heavy, blue-blanket and to finally getting some good sleep tonight. She opens the washroom door and stops, wondering why it¡¯s so bright in the basement? The fire is lit. Looking across the room, she sees Basil hunched over the work-table. Hearing her, the priestess looks up at her with an expression that Fresh can¡¯t exactly decipher. ¡°Hey Basil,¡± yawns Fresh, covering her mouth. ¡°You making something?¡± ¡°Me? I¡¯m uh¡­¡± Basil scatters some stuff around the table with a swipe of her arm. ¡°I¡¯m just messing around with some ideas. For the shop,¡± says the priestess, covering her mouth and then yawning too a second later, having been infected. Despite being exhausted, a wave of excitement comes to the girl upon hearing this. Fresh, clenching her fists quickly jogs down the stairs. ¡°Really? Let me see!¡± she asks giddily, happy that Basil was working on something too for the store. ¡°Ah, no!¡± Basil lifts her hands, gesturing for her to stop. ¡°Please don¡¯t look,¡± she asks. ¡°It¡¯s not ready yet.¡± Fresh frowns, but stops where she is. ¡°Are you sure? Can I help you with anything?¡± Basil shakes her head, her hands still in the air. ¡°No, no. Thank you.¡± She turns to look over her shoulder back at the table. ¡°Go to sleep, okay?¡± Fresh starts puffing out her cheek, but then lets the air leave her mouth as she deflates and nods in acceptance, turning around to go back to the stairs. ¡°Okaaay~¡± she says with a somewhat droll tone. ¡°But let me know if I can help, alright? You can just wake me up!¡± says Fresh, looking back at Basil who still blocks her sight of the table. ¡°I will, thank you. Good night,¡± says Basil with a tired smile. ¡°Good night, Basil!¡± says Fresh, heading up the basement stairs. Basil doesn¡¯t move from the spot. Shrugging to herself, Fresh walks behind the counter and then heads up the next staircase. She looks over the empty aisles of the shop, as she rises up the second staircase, heading to the upstairs floor. Something catches her attention, something that stands out above the high shelves of the store. A giant, dark-cobalt metal helmet sticks out above the top row, in the back, in the corner in front of the snack shelf. She does her best to hold her laugh in and quietly sneaks up to the sleeping area, making a mental note to make a few extra candies tomorrow morning. Fresh smiles, wondering what¡¯s up with everyone tonight? It isn¡¯t like them to miss a night¡¯s sleep like this. Heading up the stairs, she wraps her arms around herself as she notices how drafty it is. The balcony is open, Jubilee sits outside, laid back on Shamrock¡¯s giant chair with their hands folded behind their head and their legs kicked up and crossed. ¡°Hey Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, stepping out onto the balcony and holding herself. ¡°You¡¯re awake too?¡± Jubilee turns their head to look at her, before leisurely staring back at the night sky. ¡°Can¡¯t sleep. Dunno.¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± Fresh looks around and grabs her blue blanket from the bed before heading back out onto the balcony, sitting down in the small chair and covering herself. ¡°Everyone¡¯s still up and being weird tonight,¡± remarks Fresh. ¡°Must be the moonlight,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s pretty bright tonight.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks up at the moon. It looks like a perfectly normal, crescent moon to her. ¡°You know how it is. The moon makes people weird,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Does it?¡± asks Fresh, leaning back and staring at the sky curiously. ¡°Sure,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Humans, elves, fairies, the whole bunch are influenced by the night-sky. They don¡¯t even know it, the poor schmucks.¡± Jubilee waves a hand at her. ¡°No offense.¡± Fresh stares over at Jubilee, the obvious question on the tip of her tongue. But she presses it back down and looks back towards the perfectly normal moon. ¡°But the moon is like it always is, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Must be the stars then,¡± explains Jubilee, looking at the night-sky. The tone of their voice suggests that they hold this explanation to be just as plausible as the last one. ¡°Do you like looking at stars?¡± asks Fresh, lifting her hand out of her blanket to scratch her cheek, remembering the telescope in the old house. The one she had discovered during her exploration of the place. The memory returns, bringing with it a fresh pang of guilt at her betrayal of her friend¡¯s trust. She pulls a strand of still damp hair out of her face. Jubilee doesn¡¯t say anything. A distant cry erupts, as a fireball flies into the air, rising to the sky, from just outside of the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°Better that than the other way around,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh tilts her head, not sure if she gets what they mean with that. Jubilee is being weird tonight too, apparently. The girl takes in a deep breath of the night air, thinking about her ¡®dream¡¯ from a little while ago. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± replies Jubilee, looking over to her, their hands still behind their head. ¡°What are we doing?¡± ¡°We¡¯re sitting on a balcony.¡± ¡°No, I mean, what are we doing? With the shop?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°We¡¯re working so hard, but where is it going?¡± asks Fresh, an uncertainty growing on her face. ¡°We¡¯re making new things, to sell to people to earn money, but¡­¡± Fresh looks back to the sky. ¡°What¡¯s after that? Do we just¡­ buy things? Why? What for? What¡¯s the big goal? Why does the thieves¡¯ guild want to help us do whatever it is we¡¯re doing?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Are you asking me what the meaning of life is?¡± They shake their head. ¡°Moon¡¯s fucking with you too, huh?¡± they imply, laughing quietly to themselves as they turn back to the sky. Fresh scowls, pursing her lips in silence. ¡°What else is there to do?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°What else is there to do?¡± repeats Jubilee dryly, as they stare up at the night sky. ¡°We¡¯re adventurers, aren¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Sure, but¡­?¡± ¡°We¡¯re on an adventure, goo-brain,¡± states Jubilee. ¡°Enjoy it while it lasts,¡± they say. Another fireball explodes in the air in the distance and Fresh watches as the wave of orange light born of flames washes over Jubilee¡¯s mask, bathing it in a infernal glow for just the briefest second. Jubilee had avoided her question. ¡°They all end eventually.¡± ¡°And then?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee looks over to her and shrugs, turning back to watch the fireballs flying into the air, likely cast by some drunken reveler. ¡°Ask me when we get there.¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t really know what to say to that, but has no need to say anything, as she yawns loudly again instead, unable to stop herself from doing so. The two of them sit there, watching as the distant sky erupts into a series of explosions, as other casters now join in, filling the air with an assortment of vibrant spells. There is a loud screeching of wood being dragged over stones. Jubilee turns to look at Fresh, staring warily into her eyes. Fresh, half-standing with her hands clenched around the bottom of her chair, maintains unblinking eye-contact, while scooting closer to Jubilee. She noisily drags it the last few feet, until they¡¯re next to each other. ¡°Really?¡± asks Jubilee with an audible, forced sigh. Fresh doesn¡¯t say anything, sitting back down on her chair. She grabs half of the blanket and throws it over Jubilee. She can hear Jubilee take in a sharp breath, probably getting ready to lecture her on personal space or something. But no words ever come. Jubilee leans back on their chair and Fresh does the same, as the two of them sit there for a while and watch the sky fill up with lights. ¡°Moon sure is bright tonight,¡± says Fresh, sparing a second to look at the perfectly normal moon. ¡°Yup,¡± agrees Jubilee. Razmatazz -) I bet you thought this chapter was going to be about alcohol, but it was me! The power of cute, socially awkward friendships! -) Now that Respawn Condition and Oratoria are both finished, expect Sin-Eater to start regularly updating by the end of this week. I''ve updated the tags because uh, I guess it has romance now =x -) Moon sure is bright tonight. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 148: Banter Fresh stares at the little, yellow flower that is planted in the center of a small, hand-made pot. Its petals are a little saggy and hang downward with a slight droop. ¡°It¡¯s really cute, Basil!¡± she says excitedly. ¡°It¡¯s just a dumb flower and an ugly pot,¡± says Jubilee, staring at it. Fresh nudges them. Basil frowns, rubbing her tired eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not about the flower or the pot,¡± she explains, as she pulls out a tiny sachet from her pocket. Opening it, she pulls out a small, crude, chalky stick that is hardly thicker or longer than a broken piece of a twig. It looks hand pressed and lumpy, with a pale, yellow color. Tiny bits of glitter are stuck inside of it. ¡°It¡¯s about this,¡± says the priestess, excitedly. ¡°What is it?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the tiny, yellow stick that Basil hands over to her. Filled with nutrients and a tinge of magical energy absorbed from the mountain, this nutrient rich plant food contains all the things a plant needs to grow healthy and strong, even in poor-quality dirt. Quality Effect: 10% chance to cause the plant to become malnourished or deformed. Weight: 0.06kg Value: ??? The tired looking priestess counts off her fingers. ¡°First I made some dough out of some dried flower petals, some dirt, a ground up crystal and a tiny, tiny bit of water,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Then I rolled them into these sticks and let them harden over the fire.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a nice idea, Basil!¡± says Fresh happily. ¡°So you made fancy dirt?¡± asks Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sure the adventurers will love that. They¡¯re real gardening types.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be mean, Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°I think it¡¯s a great idea.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not surprised,¡± sighs Jubilee, looking at the somewhat droopy and sad looking flower. Fresh presses the stick softly into the dirt next to the stem, trying not to damage any of the roots, as she pushes it down with a single finger. ¡°Like this?¡± she asks. ¡°Yes,¡± answers Basil, grabbing a glass of water from the side and pouring a little of it over the stick. ¡°If you add some water, it¡¯ll slowly start coming apart again over the next few days, but not too much.¡± ¡°Aww,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s cute!¡± She watches, as the droopy leaves of the plant lift up a tiny bit, as if the little thing were straightening its posture, having just a little bit more energy. ¡°Nourishing,¡± says Shamrock, standing by the side and watching with crossed arms. ¡°Don¡¯t eat the plant-food, meat-head,¡± says Jubilee, not bothering to look up at him as they watch the plant straighten itself upright. Basil goes on. ¡°The important part is the crystal powder,¡± she explains. ¡°The magical residue really helps perk them up right away.¡± ¡°So you want to sell these?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°What about the side-effects? You need to up the quality to at least normal to lose those.¡± ¡°Well, we could,¡± says Basil. ¡°Maybe a few on the side? But actually I wanted to do something else with them.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the little flower and then back to Basil. ¡°There¡¯s still a lot of room down in the basement. Is it okay if I use the empty half?¡± asks the priestess. Fresh scratches her cheek and nods. ¡°That¡¯s fine! I only need the table corner anyways.¡± She looks around. ¡°So what do you want to make then, if this isn¡¯t your final idea?¡± ¡°I want to grow a lot of different plants!¡± says the priestess, sounding oddly energetic all of a sudden, despite the heavy bags under her eyes. ¡°There are a lot of interesting plants here on the mountain and I think I can make a lot of useful blends with their dried powders.¡± ¡°So you want to make tea?¡± asks Jubilee, poking the head of the flower once. Fresh swipes their hand away. ¡°Tea, herbal medicine, maybe some perfumes?¡± suggests Basil, thinking about it. Jubilee and Fresh look at each other and nod in agreement. ¡°That¡¯s a great idea, Basil!¡± says Fresh. ¡°But how will the plants grow in the basement? Don¡¯t they still need sunlight?¡± ¡°I actually have an idea about that, but uh¡­¡± She looks at Shamrock. ¡°I need the day off and can you help me today, please?¡± He nods once. ¡°Fine with me,¡± says Jubilee, looking at the two of them. ¡°About time you slackers started pulling your weight.¡± Jubilee nods to Fresh. ¡°Guess we¡¯re running the store today.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh excitedly, looking forward to doing that. ¡°Let us know if you need any help, okay?¡± she says to Basil and Shamrock. They split ways for now. Basil and Shamrock take their money with them, as they head into town to buy materials. Fresh and Jubilee get the rest of the shop set up, as they¡¯re opening in an hour. ¡°Hey,¡± snaps Jubilee back at her from between the shelves, pointing at the candy shelf. ¡°You forgot to refill this, goo-brain.¡± Fresh yelps, quickly running upstairs to make a fresh batch of the candies before they open, she had forgotten to do it last night. After they open the shop, Fresh and Jubilee stand behind the counter, watching as the first people begin to walk inside. Rather than heading to the shelves, a caster, who Fresh recognizes as one of their usual customers, heads to the counter with a curious smile on her face. Fresh looks at her and she waves a friendly wave with a warm smile. The caster quickly loses their happy expression and turns the other way, walking towards Jubilee instead. ¡°Hey, where¡¯s the big guy?¡± asks the caster. ¡°What?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°He¡¯s in town today.¡± The caster sighs and turns around, leaving straight away without buying anything or saying anything else. Overhearing this conversation, another two or three people turn to leave as well. ¡°Fucking degenerates,¡± mutters Jubilee, tapping their fingers against the counter in agitation. ¡°They sure do like Shamrock,¡± sighs Fresh, rubbing her arm, not sure why she had gotten such a mean look first thing in the morning. ¡°What can I say? Opposites attract,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°But don¡¯t birds of a feather flock together?¡± asks Fresh, lifting a finger and feeling particularly proud of that saying as she utters it. Though she isn¡¯t quite sure where she drew it from? Jubilee looks up at her. ¡°What? The only birds flocking here are the ones nesting in your empty head,¡± says her friend. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it, dumb-ass?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Get what?¡± Jubilee stares at her for a moment, clearly deciding on what to say next. They sigh and wave her off, shaking their head. ¡°You know what? Never mind. It¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t you worry your empty, little head about it.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ okay,¡± says Fresh, still having no idea what was happening. A droopy, slouching man walks inside. Fresh and Jubilee stare at the tired man, the one who had been here on the first day of their opening. Both of them watch as he shambles his way through the aisles, shuffling like a zombie. A moment later, he comes back around the bend, a bottle of cold coughee in his hands as he heads to the counter. ¡°Hey,¡± he says listlessly, holding the bottle up. ¡°Fuck off,¡± replies Jubilee straight away. ¡°Jubilee!¡± hisses Fresh, nudging her friend. ¡°You¡¯re so rude,¡± says the tired man, sounding exhausted, but not offended. He points to the bottle in his hands. ¡°What does this taste like?¡± Jubilee sighs, tapping their fingers against the counter again. ¡°It tastes like it looks,¡± they explain. ¡°Brown.¡± He looks at the dewy bottle in his hands, full of the tanned liquid, diluted with a little milk. ¡°Is it good?¡± ¡°It¡¯s even better if you pay for it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°And for the candy from last time.¡± ¡°That was free,¡± he says, pointing to Fresh. ¡°She said so.¡± Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches. ¡°Pay for the fucking thing. Then shove it up your ass and do a cart-wheel into the dungeon, you goon!¡± ¡°Jubilee~!¡± The tired man lets out a long, exhausted, emotionless sigh. But then, to Fresh¡¯s surprise, he starts laughing. ¡°You¡¯re funny,¡± he says, reaching into his pocket before putting a silver coin onto the counter. ¡°You want to get a drink sometime?¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather drown in the river,¡± replies Jubilee, taking the coin and throwing it into the drawer, not bothering to give the tired man any change. He laughs, turning to walk away as he opens the bottle and takes a sip. His tired eyes open wide and he looks down at it, surprised, before looking back at the two of them. ¡°It tastes like brown.¡± ¡°I fucking told you it would!¡± yells Jubilee, pointing at him. The tired man laughs to himself and walks out of the door, taking another sip. Fresh stares in confusion. ¡°Jubilee? What was that?¡± Jubilee lets out a tired sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry your empty, little head about it,¡± they say again, closing the change drawer with a loud rattle. Fresh blinks, shrugging once to herself. A minute later, Shamrock and Basil return. Shamrock, carrying a giant crystal on his shoulders and Basil with a bag full of materials and wooden planks. A small crowd runs in after them. Razmatazz The same goes for you, reader. No thoughts. Shh~ -) After running a pretty decisive Patreon poll, my decision from yesterday has been confirmed. So I am no longer doing the ''Special Thanks'' section below every chapter. Though this is mostly because of the nature of Sin-Eater''s content. I''ll have some other perks ready by this weekend to compensate <3 -) This story is probably going to undergo a scheduling change and move away from the ''every day'' format in the nearish future. No details yet, still working out everything Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 149: Quiet morning ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want any help, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. The day has come to an end and Basil is still downstairs in the basement. A bucket of nails sits beside her. The priestess sits on the stone floor, a piece of wood laid out in front of herself and a hammer in her hand. Wiping her forehead on her rolled up sleeve, she smiles and shakes her head. ¡°No, thank you. I really want to do this myself,¡± replies Basil. Fresh nods, having expected that answer after seeing the determined look in the priestess¡¯ eyes. Smiling, she sets down a bottle of herbal tea and a plate of sandwiches that she had brought downstairs with her. ¡°Alright, but try to get some sleep too, okay?¡± Basil nods to her. ¡°Yes, I will. Thank you. Good night.¡± ¡°Good night, Basil!¡± calls Fresh as she turns to head back up the basement stairs, sparing a moment to look at the giant crystal suspended between two fastened, wooden beams that she had seen Shamrock carrying down earlier. Scratching her cheek, she shrugs and heads upstairs to go to sleep. The rest of the night passes. Fresh wakes up once in the middle of the night and she sees that Basil¡¯s bed is still empty and undisturbed. Rolling over, she falls back asleep however, her mind being too tired to want to do anything else. Fresh wakes up in the morning, feeling the cool, refreshing draft of the open balcony wash over her bed. Opening her heavy eyes, she turns her head and stares at Shamrock who stands on the balcony, bathing in the morning sunlight. Two small boots walk past her bed, a small hand hitting her leg. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s time to get up. Come on,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh yawns and sits upright. The girl rubs her eyes and gets out of bed, getting ready for the day. As part of her morning ritual, she makes four cups ready and sets them onto the table. One with coughee for herself and three with tea for the others, all of whom didn¡¯t like the former so much. Feeling in a particularly good mood today, for no real discernible reason, Fresh cooks up a hearty breakfast and sets the table too. By the time she is done however, only herself and Shamrock sit at the table. Basil still hasn¡¯t come up from the basement and Jubilee is in town, running some errands apparently. Of course they had only mentioned that after she had already started cooking their portion of the food. Fresh sighs, taking a big sip of her coughee, as she looks over the fully garnished table towards Shamrock who sits there quietly. ¡°Are you hungry? Dig in,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t think the others are coming today.¡± The man doesn¡¯t need to be told twice, stacking his plate full of eggs, bread and jam-coated slices of thick bread. Fresh watches in a half-dazed, morning awe as he devours everything that lands on his plate. His portion is gone in two minutes and then he moves on to Jubilee¡¯s. Fresh blinks, sipping from her cup as she nibbles on the single piece of toast with an egg on it that she has. She appreciates that the man is always so honest. He¡¯s not afraid to tell her when he doesn¡¯t like something, but more importantly, he¡¯s not afraid to show when he does. She blinks, watching as the second plate slowly starts to empty itself. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh realizes that she has to save some of the food for Basil and gets her plate ready before that is eaten too. ¡°I¡¯ll bring this down to Basil, okay? Take your time, I¡¯ll clean up once I come back up,¡± she tells him. ¡°Unacceptable,¡± says Shamrock, lifting a hand and stopping her. Fresh blinks, staring at his arm that is barring her from passing and then looks over to his head. A bit of egg clings to the slit of his metal visor. She frowns and grabs a napkin from the table with her free hand, wiping it off. ¡°I will do it,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh smiles, nodding to him and setting the napkin down. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock. You¡¯re the best!¡± she says happily. The man lifts his hand, letting her pass by as his chest lurches with an excited exhalation. ¡°I serve.¡± ¡°Alright!¡± calls Fresh as she walks down the stairs. ¡°But don¡¯t serve too much, okay?¡± she says, heading down to the basement. Opening the door, she peeks down the stairs. ¡°Basil?¡± ¡°Down here,¡± calls a tired voice. Fresh goes down into the basement. ¡°Good morning, Basil!¡± calls the girl. ¡°I brought you breakfast!¡± She stops, reaching the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes wander to the row of wooden boxes that have been set up, but her vision gets caught on the still full plate and bottle that she had set down for the priestess last night. ¡°Ah, sorry!¡± says Basil, seeing her sour look and the fresh plate of food in her hands. ¡°I got caught up in my work.¡± As if to make a point out of it, Basil grabs one of the old sandwiches and takes a bite. Fresh sighs, walking over to look at the things that Basil had built. They look like two shelves, each with three long, wooden boxes filled with dirt, set at a slight inward angle so they all face inward towards the giant, suspended crystal in between both of them. Both shelves are just a bit less tall than Basil is. ¡°Woah, that¡¯s really nice, Basil!¡± says Fresh, looking at the boxes. In truth, the construction looks a little wobbly and dangerous. Jubilee might say as much and call it an inevitable death-trap, but she isn¡¯t going to. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil, taking another bite of the sandwich with her dirt covered hands. ¡°I just need to plant the seeds.¡± ¡°So what does it do?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a planter-box. Well, it¡¯s six planter boxes,¡± explains Basil, tapping into the dirt filling one of the long boxes. ¡°In each one of these I want to plant a few different kinds of easy-growing plants. When I harvest them, I want to dry them out near the fire,¡± she explains, nodding sideways to the fireplace. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, understanding. ¡°So what¡¯s the crystal for? That¡¯s a big one,¡± she says, looking up at her distorted reflection in the crystal that hangs above the shelves from some heavy chains. Basil sets her sandwich down and wipes her mouth, covering her mouth for a moment as she swallows. ¡°That¡¯s where they get their light from. Watch.¡± She turns around, lifting her hands to the crystal. A wave of soft white-magic flows out of the priestess¡¯ hands, flowing towards the crystal which seems to draw it into itself. It pulsates with a stronger and stronger resonation, increasing in frequency and intensity like a steadily faster racing heartbeat. The chains, holding it aloft, grow slack as it slowly rises into the air, glowing brightly in all directions with a warm, bright, multi-colored aura that shines down around them. ¡°The magic that the crystals draw out of the mountain is really potent,¡± explains Basil. ¡°By adding a little white-magic to it, I think it¡¯ll be really great for the plants,¡± explains the tired priestess. ¡°That¡¯s really great, Basil!¡± says Fresh excitedly, looking at the mostly finished project. ¡°I think your plants are going to love it!¡± Basil nods. ¡°I hope so,¡± she says. Grabbing the bottle of tea and taking a long drink from it. Fresh pats her on the back. ¡°If you want to rest today, I¡¯ll cover for you.¡± Basil shakes her head, lowering the bottle. ¡°Thank you, that¡¯s very kind. But I¡¯ll manage.¡± She closes the lid on the bottle. ¡°After all, there was no rush and if I hadn¡¯t been so eager to finish this tonight, I wouldn¡¯t be tired now. It¡¯s my own fault.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, looking at the priestess. Everyone is being so responsible today. Happy, she shrugs and lets Basil return to her work. She heads back upstairs, leaving the plate of breakfast down with her. Opening the door, she pops up behind the counter. ¡°Hey, Jubilee,¡± she says, seeing Jubilee writing in the ledger, having come back from their errands. ¡°How did it go?¡± ¡°All good,¡± they reply dryly. ¡°Just tweaking the numbers a little.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Are you hungry? Should I get you something to eat?¡± ¡°No thanks,¡± they say, waving her off. Fresh nods and heads further upstairs. Sparing a glance at the table, she sees that it¡¯s already cleared, wiped off and freshly set. Shamrock stands in the kitchenette, taking care of the rest of the work. She beams, glad to have such hard-working friends. Not sure what else to do, since nobody needs her help today, she heads out onto the balcony, staring out over the bustling town that has also been long since awake and by the looks of things, is now busy at work. Several stalls and vendors are being built up all along the streets. Craftsmen and workers bustle in all directions, swarming between the many adventurers, as they work to set up what looks suspiciously like a festival of some kind. At least she thinks so, judging by the bright ornaments and banners being hung around the area. A festival? Fresh can hardly contain her excitement. This is just the kind of thing that she wanted to do together with everyone! Razmatazz No bumper-cars though, I''m afraid =( Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 150: The fair It is the evening of the next day and a soft dusk-glow covers the side of the mountain, the rays of ending daylight shimmering with a particular luminosity, as they reach between the gaps of the many wooden stalls that are set up on either side of the four of them. Despite that warm-tinged glow, it is becoming colder and colder as the night approaches. Fresh pulls on the cuffs of her robe, adjusting them a little higher so that the fluff on the ends of them forms a tighter seal. She grabs her friend¡¯s hands again. ¡°Look! Look!¡± calls Fresh excitedly, dragging Basil and Shamrock behind her. Jubilee had refused to hold her hand. She drags the two of them over to a stall that is filled with dozens of colorful, apparently handmade wooden toys and trinkets. ¡°Yes, they¡¯re very ni -iEH!¡± Basil is unable to finish her sentence as Fresh drags the two of them away after just a second, already running to the next stall. Shamrock isn¡¯t so much being dragged like the priestess is, but he seems to be playing along, following the two of them as they move through the crowd. Fresh stops, looking at a stall filled with candy and roasted nuts, covered in sweet-glazes and deeply fragrant seasonings. ¡°It smells so good!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°You guys want some?¡± she asks, turning around to the out of breath Basil and Shamrock, the latter of whom is already nodding in eager agreement. ¡°Slow down, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, catching up at an extremely leisurely pace. ¡°You¡¯re gonna end up running off of the mountain.¡± Fresh slides a few coins across the counter to the mustached man behind it. ¡°I¡¯d like some of these, please!¡± she says, pointing to a row of red candied-nuts. The man nods and scoops out a bag, taking the coins before handing it over to her. ¡°Enjoy!¡± he says with a smile. (Fresh) bought: [Spiced Nuts]{Red}(Normal) for [{10} Obols] ! ¡°Thank you!¡± replies Fresh, taking the little paper cone-shaped bag and turning around towards her friends, offering them some. Basil blinks before staring at the bag for a second. ¡°Ah, I think those are -¡± Fresh, not listening, pops the first one into her mouth. Shamrock, having grabbed some, almost crushing them beneath his large fingers, does the same. ¡°¡­spicy,¡± finishes Basil, looking at the two of them with a little worry visible on her face. Fresh and Shamrock both freeze, as if the cool mountain breeze pushing through the hustling crowds all around them had frozen both of them solid. ¡°Wait for it,¡± says Jubilee with an annoyed sigh from the side, as they stare at the two of them, together with Basil. Fresh, a single tear forming in her eye, does her best not to start crying. She quickly shoves the bag of candied red nuts into Basil¡¯s hands. Feeling her face become hot and red, she turns away, seeing a stall down the path that seemed to be selling drinks. Grabbing the still frozen Shamrock¡¯s hand, she quickly runs down towards it. It¡¯s a party-leader¡¯s duty to take care of their party, after all. The giant man¡¯s armor shakes as if a single violent shudder were running through him. ¡°Be strong! Shamrooock~!¡± cries Fresh, running through the perplexed gazes of the crowd around them as she drags him towards safety. It turns out that the festival taking place is meant to celebrate the birth of a new generation of fairies. As it is apparently quite the spectacle, there is a massive assortment of foods and drinks and exotic goods in general. Traveling merchants come from far away to sell their wares here. Apparently, that also includes merchants from the east, where spicy food is a lot more common. While this is being explained to her by Basil, as she is trying to get her mind off of the pain, Fresh continues downing the bottle of juice that she had bought. Shamrock, still not having said a single word this entire time, is busy drinking his second one. ¡°Don¡¯t just eat random things, you animal,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. Fresh lowers her bottle, water still running down her face. ¡°But it looked really good!¡± she argues, rubbing her eyes on her sleeve. ¡°Are you alright, Shamrock?¡± she asks, worried about the man. He looks down towards her, not saying anything for a moment, his armor still rattling a little. She supposes he doesn¡¯t like spicy food either, having more of a sweet-tooth apparently. Perhaps seeing the worry in her face, he simply nods. ¡°Yes.¡± Fresh sighs in relief, taking another sip of her juice before looking around the fair. ¡°So what do you guys want to do?¡± she asks, trying to restore the mood. She lifts her fingers, counting off. ¡°I want to eat a lot of weird food! And I want to try some weird drinks! And I want to play some weird games!¡± ¡°I want to go to bed,¡± says Jubilee, bored. ¡°Jubileee~! Please have fun with us tonight!¡± cries Fresh, leaning forward. ¡°Do you have to cry about it?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Fine,¡± they say, shaking their head a second later. ¡°I¡¯m not crying! It¡¯s still from the spice,¡± replies Fresh, sniffling, but happy that Jubilee has agreed to stay. Jubilee sighs. ¡°There¡¯s good stuff to buy at these places sometimes. Guess I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t find something more useful than you three.¡± Basil chimes in. ¡°I¡¯d like to see the wave spawn,¡± she says excitedly. ¡°To see new life coming into this world is really a blessing,¡± says the priestess. Fresh stares at her for a moment. ¡°Huh? Is that already tonight?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± says Jubilee dryly. ¡°That¡¯s why there¡¯s a celebration, goo-brain. It should be right around midnight. The fair will probably last for two or three days.¡± ¡°Snacks,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Sweet snacks,¡± he adds, making a point of it and Fresh nods in quiet agreement. ¡°Do you think we can meet a fairy?¡± asks Fresh, looking around the fair at all of the humans, elves and dark-elves who she sees wandering around the area. She wonders if the waitress from the adventurer¡¯s guild is here too. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be able to avoid it,¡± says Jubilee with some annoyance. ¡°By tomorrow, this place will be full of a swarm of the energetic, little fucks.¡± They place their hands on their hips. ¡°Anyways, you already met one, remember?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Do you think she¡¯s around the fair too? I bet it must be weird for her.¡± Jubilee stares at her for a second and then looks up towards Basil who returns the same expression back down to them, one that Fresh is unable to decipher. Jubilee loosens their posture. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure she¡¯s around here somewhere,¡± they say. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get going. There¡¯s a lot to see.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± Fresh jumps up excitedly, feeling a bit better now. For the next few hours, which seem to pass unusually quick, the four of them run around the fair together. Fresh and Shamrock spend far more money than is perhaps responsible on an assortment of foods, as they try their way through just about everything that they find. Sweet candied-fruits and nuts, greasy fried meats and breads in all manner of combinations and hot puddings and cakes are available everywhere and there seem to be more kinds than they can manage to eat, but not for lack of trying. That of course is before they fill the other half of their stomachs with the many arrangements of odd drinks and cold teas. At least Fresh does, Shamrock never quite seems to run out of space for more. Basil only ever nibbles on something now and then and mostly at Fresh¡¯s behest. Jubilee makes a point of stopping at a stall full of equipment and laughs, nudging her in the side. Fresh looks over at the table adorned with all manner of strange looking weapons. Mostly staves and wands, but a few daggers and an odd shield or two as well. But her eyes follow Jubilee¡¯s, as she sees what they were trying to show her. In the back of the stall, set in the middle of a table is one of their very own enchanted lanterns, from the northern city with a proud starting price of one-thousand Obols. As well as a large sign above it, saying ¡®Enchanted lantern, made by the horrible (ugly) witch of the north.¡¯ There are a few glowing potions lined up neatly in shelves as well, each bottle is five to six times the price that they had sold them for. The glowing objects apparently have drawn in a large crowd, as a bidding war starts for the lantern. Basil has to drag her away before she can start yelling at the vendor, not so much because of the sign, but because of her growing anger as she listens in horror, as the price of the single enchanted lantern, which she had made for a few loose coins, shoots up another few hundred Obols by the time she¡¯s out of ear-shot. ¡°It¡¯s so rude!¡± she argues. ¡°I know,¡± replies Basil, patting her on the back. ¡°Shame we can¡¯t start making those again without getting beheaded,¡± says Jubilee quietly. ¡°Ah, fuck em.¡± Shamrock is busy shooing away a crowd that has started to gather around him. Several of the casters who hound him, now clearly drunk and openly reveling, fight over each other to make their intentions for the giant explicitly clear. But Fresh never quite gets a word of it, as Basil rather abruptly drags her away towards the lookout point at the end of the market-place, while Jubilee stays behind, promising to ¡®take care of¡¯ the situation. ¡°City life sure is interesting,¡± laughs Basil awkwardly, heading towards the railing on the edge of the mountain. The spot overlooks the large forest below and as it grows darker and darker as the night falls, the giant moon hanging above in the night-sky illuminates the world below the mountain. The moonlight bathes everything in a soft, white shine and as the trees rustle and billow in the distant world which they themselves have risen above, the swaying beneath them looks almost like stirring water. As if the peak they were atop were a single island in the middle of an endless, churning ocean. ¡°Mm!¡± agrees Fresh, happy to have escaped the crowds for a moment. But it doesn¡¯t last. Jubilee and Shamrock make their approach as well, now free of onlookers. The rest of the space quickly fills too however, as others make their way towards the railing. ¡°It looks like it¡¯s going to start soon,¡± says Fresh excitedly, listening to the people talk all around them. All four of them stand on the edge of the mountain, looking down over the forest for the next while, as something deep down below them all seems to shimmer, as soft lights begin to twinkle between the trees. Razmatazz If you haven''t checked it out already, my other story, Sin-Eater, is now officially running with updates MWF! It''s very different than DIS, same universe though =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 151: Fairies A gentle bell rings from somewhere higher up on the mountain. Vivid moonlight shines out over the forest beneath them all, covering the entire world in a wash of pale, haunting light that seems to illuminate not only every crack and crevice in the rock-face beneath their feet, but also every wrinkle, scar, fold, wound and crease in the faces of every single person present there. The night-glow gives credence to the fact that here, atop this mountain, thousands of moments happened every single day. Moments of violence and loss, moments of adventure and joy, moments of pride and glee. Hundreds of eyes stare out towards the forest below, rippling in the soft winds. Yet all of them, despite all of these moments that they have experienced, are filled with nothing but wonder, as the first baubles begin to rise out of the trees. ¡°Jubilee! Look!¡± says Fresh in an excited, but quiet voice, tugging on Jubilee¡¯s arm. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± says Jubilee, pushing her hand off. ¡°I see it.¡± Lights, bright, shining orbs fly out of the woods, rising into the air as if a mass of departing spirits were releasing themselves from the ground. The many spirits float so lightly and so effortlessly into the air, that Fresh is sure that they will all be blown away by the next gust of wind. The first dozen rise, shimmering in all varieties of colors that are unnatural to the night. Bright, fiery reds. Luxurious, hallow tones of golds and yellows. Vivid, venomous greens and bright, summer-sky blues. Bewildered murmurs and excited whispers run through the spellbound crowd, as they gaze down at the spectacle unfolding beneath them. ¡°They¡¯re so pretty!¡± says an excited caster. ¡°Do you think this wave will like it here?¡± ¡°I hope so,¡± replies a man in leather. ¡°The last bunch was a bit surly.¡± After the first dozen glowing baubles, rise a dozen more into the air, followed by a further dozen more. Soon a hundred of the shining orbs fill the world above the woodland, then a hundred more after them. The forest is alight, illuminated as if a rainbow had been flattened out and laid out over the treetops, the multi-colored light drooping down into the darkness deeper below, like the sagging fabric of a burial cloth, draped over a dead body. Fresh bobs on her feet excitedly, grabbing and yanking on Basil¡¯s sleeve. She doesn¡¯t really say anything, apart from letting out an excited, sort-of, but not quite, squeak as she points to a collection of fairy-lights that are circling around each other. The fairy-ring spins around itself as they fly into a tighter and tighter pattern and the tighter the ring grows, the higher they rise into the air. Below them, another ring forms, then another, then another, all of them layering beneath each other as they rise into the air one after another, constructing what appears to be a giant column that pushes itself up into the sky. The formation of the rings shifts, as each ring breaks in its middle segment, the fairies there flying lower as they reach into the ones below them, joining all of the rings together into one winding spiral that climbs upwards, like a serpent swimming to the surface from the bottom of a dark, endless ocean. The sounds of delighted voices and excited gasps fill the air, as everyone watches the spectacle unfold. The lights draw closer and closer as they pick up speed, pushing through the mountain winds with little difficulty as they fly, as they rise higher and higher towards the onlookers who beset the mountain. She hears a long, heavy breath exhaled from just next to her. For a second she thinks it''s Shamrock breathing loudly in excitement, but she notices that the agitated sigh, which had come from next to her, stems from Jubilee. She watches in some confusion as Jubilee seems to be practicing their usual breathing exercise which they do when they want to calm themselves down. Usually because she herself had done something wrong. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Are you tired?¡± Jubilee finishes their breathing and looks up at her, their eyes steeled as if ready for a fight. ¡°I¡¯m just preparing myself mentally.¡± ¡°For what?¡± asks Fresh, scratching her cheek. ¡°Fairies,¡± is all that Jubilee says, as they turn back to watch the spiral of lights coming now to reach the outlook, having flown up the entire mountain in a matter of minutes. The string of small bodies comes into clear sight, as they not only move closer towards the curious crowd, but also as the colorful lights surrounding them slowly fade away. ¡°I hate fairies.¡± Fresh blinks, looking back towards the approaching cloud of buzzing, small bodies that heads their way. Each of them is roughly the size of the span between the tip of her longest finger and her palm. She hears a chirping in the air, it¡¯s almost like a swarm of singing crickets. It¡¯s shrill and out of sync with the rest of the noises. Just a jumble of squeaks and peeps. As they fly closer and the sound grows louder, she realizes that it isn¡¯t anything like that at all. They¡¯re voices. Dozens, hundreds of tiny voices all talking at the same time over each other. The adventurers around them wave excitedly, calling out and greeting the arriving fairies. The swarm reaches them, hundreds of fairies flying off in all directions into the crowd, with ecstatic, wildly curious looks on their faces that are adorned with equally bright and wide eyes. ¡°Hey! Look!¡± calls a fairy next to Shamrock. ¡°Hey!¡± it says, poking him. ¡°Why are you so big?!¡± ¡°Food,¡± says Shamrock to the fairy that seems to lose its mind over this revelation, clutching its face in excitement, as it proceeds to start to want to pester him. Though it flies off a few seconds later, before even finishing asking its own second question, as it sees something else that has caught its attention. ¡°Wooooooah!¡± A fairy darts past Jubilee. ¡°What¡¯s with this mask? Are you ugly?¡± It zips around left and right. Another five fairies fly down around them. ¡°Hey! Why are you so small?!¡± ¡°Hey?! Are you a fairy too?!¡± Jubilee lets out a long, tired sigh, simply ignoring them and staring into the distant darkness. Fresh watches in awe as the fairies dart like energetic children all around the market, looking at literally everything there is to see with incredible bewilderment to their faces and voices. Every rock, face and piece of cloth is an instant object of fascination. At least for a few seconds, before their focus shifts to something or someone else. ¡°Hey!¡± asks a fairy, stopping in front of Fresh. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± it asks excitedly, its fingers clutching its hair as if about to tear it out. Fresh smiles at it. ¡°My name is -¡± It flies off, darting straight towards someone else. Fresh stares at it, before looking down at the squeaky voices next to her. A large ring of fairies has built itself around Jubilee, all of them hold their hands and seem to be dancing in a tight circle around them. ¡°Fairy queen! Fairy queen! Fairy queen!¡± chant the fairies, as they spin around Jubilee. Fresh can see that Jubilee is doing their best to stay calm, though she can¡¯t help but laugh as she sees their fists clench in agitation, the leather of their gloves creaking with an audible groan. She looks back at Basil whose hair is being lifted up into the air by a few of them. ¡°Hey! What¡¯s with your hair?!¡± ¡°It¡¯s so soft!¡± says another one, crawling out from inside of it. Basil doesn¡¯t really seem to know what to do, simply laughing nervously at the creatures and not moving. ¡°Hey! Hey! Why do you smell like the forest?!¡± ¡°Hey -!¡± The next hour is spent like this. The fairies, containing a seemingly inexhaustible contingent of energy, bolt in all directions. Pestering anyone and anything that they can manage to encounter. Apparently, a lot of them aren¡¯t even aware that they can¡¯t talk to objects and they spend a while trying to speak to the rocks on the ground and the wares adorning the stalls, before eventually noticing that only the people ever respond to their questions and nagging. Fresh is particularly happy, in contrast to Jubilee, when a group of the fairies start playing around in the fluff of her robe. By the time the morning sun rises and the festival comes to an end for the day, the fairies still haven¡¯t managed to exhaust themselves, unlike most of the people who now begin to drag their drunken selves and companions back into darkened rooms, so that they can sleep off the liquor. The four of them decide to keep the shop closed for today. There isn¡¯t going to be any foot-traffic after this night, plus all four of them are exhausted too. The fairies seem to spread themselves out around town simply by the nature of their exploration. Soon, there are fairies perched on every other roof and several of them are inside of the tunnels as well, having taken a particular liking to the space. They fly around the groups trying to retreat into their beds, pelting them with giddy questions. Fairies press their faces against darkened windows, staring inside at the inhabitants on the other ends. By the time Fresh gets upstairs, throwing her boots and robe off and falling into bed, she can still hear the tiny voices squeaking in her ears, even if the doors and windows are all tightly shut. Razmatazz "Hey! Listen~!" ?????¡â? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 152: Unusually quiet Fresh lays in bed, her entire body is wrapped up inside of her blue blanket, which she has cocooned herself into. The smell of yellow flowers is still present in the soft fabric. The new mattress is much harder than her old one and it holds her body temperature extremely well, without feeling sticky while doing so. Her head lays pressed beneath her pillow, rather than on top of it. Though she had poked her finger out of the side, lifting a little bit of the pillow up, in order to make a small channel for air. It is much later during the night now, many hours after they had gone to sleep. The room is still dark and she can see Basil and Shamrock out of the tiny hole. Both are still asleep. Basil, the violent sleeper that she is, has kicked her blanket off, apparently. Shamrock lays there, limp as a dead man, as always. There isn¡¯t any particular reason that she has woken up. She just has and in reaction to that, Fresh closes her eyes, opting to fall back to sleep. However, she doesn¡¯t manage to last longer than two seconds before her eyes shoot open again. The girl, as heartbreaking as it feels for her, breaks free from her warm, soft hiding place and gets out of bed. Creeping through the darkness a few steps forward, she picks up Basil¡¯s blanket and shakes it out quietly, before heading over and covering the priestess with it. Though, that is easier said than done as Basil¡¯s hand flies past her face. Once covered however, Basil seems to calm down, at least for now, as the weight of the blanket seems to keep her settled. Looking over further towards the balcony, Fresh stares at Shamrock, seeing that he isn¡¯t covered as well. What¡¯s with everyone? It¡¯s like they want to get eaten by monsters in the dark. Everyone knows that blankets keep you safe from them. Fresh isn¡¯t surprised that Shamrock ignores that sage wisdom, but Basil doing so does surprise her a little bit. It seems like something a priestess should know, simply due to the nature of their work. What were they teaching them, back at the church? Though¡­ she scratches her head. Covering Shamrock seems like an impossible task, not because of his size, but because he¡¯s laying on his blanket. Fresh frowns, looking over her shoulder to Jubilee¡¯s room. She isn¡¯t sure how to picture the scene exactly, given her friend¡¯s vague nature. But she¡¯s going to assume that they have a blanket at least. In order to quiet her mind, Fresh grabs her old blanket from her thin wardrobe and walks over to the man, throwing it over him. Satisfied, she goes back to her bed and crawls inside, pushing down the floating mattress as she tries to achieve that same sensation of comfort and warmth she had felt just a minute ago. But it just doesn¡¯t feel the same now. Despite that, she falls back to sleep. The next day begins, all of them having slept in late. Jubilee put up a sign downstairs, saying they¡¯re closed for the day. All four of them sit at the table, having just had a lazy breakfast just before. Basil yawns, covering her mouth with her hand, a cup of steaming tea set down before herself. Shamrock says nothing, but nods in agreement, as he takes a drink from his third glass of milk. Even Jubilee is at the table, leaned back on their chair with their hands behind their head. ¡°So¡­¡± starts Fresh, looking around at them. ¡°A day off, huh?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Basil, taking a loud sip from her mug. Shamrock just nods again, emptying his glass and setting it back down. Nothing happens. They all just sit there quietly together. But Fresh doesn¡¯t mind. It¡¯s nice too. Smiling, she takes a sip of her coughee and thinks about what to do today. ¡°You guys wanna do anything?¡± she asks. ¡°Nope,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Going outside is a death sentence.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Fairies.¡± ¡°What about them?¡± she asks. ¡°They¡¯re magic,¡± replies Jubilee plainly. Fresh looks at the others who just sit there in quiet contemplation. ¡°So?¡± asks Fresh, scratching her cheek, having not understood. ¡°You saw them last night, right?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°The hyper fucks.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Well, what do you think will happen once they find out that they¡¯re all casters?¡± asks Jubilee, lifting a finger to point it at her. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what¡¯s gonna happen - ¡° They narrow their eyes, as if looking in disgust. ¡°Fuckery.¡± Their finger taps loudly against the table once. ¡°Those little shits are going to be blasting fireballs and lightning in all directions, come the afternoon. I¡¯m not going out there.¡± Basil nods in agreement. ¡°Adolescence can be a dangerous time for everyone involved.¡± ¡°But Jubilee~¡± starts Fresh, taking a sip of her coffee, before continuing. ¡°As the fairy-queen, shouldn¡¯t you be there for them?¡± The priestess next to her starts laughing, but Jubilee seems less amused with her joke. ¡°I could kill you right here, right now and nobody could stop me.¡± ¡°But you won¡¯t!¡± says Fresh, lifting a finger as she gets up and drinks the last of her breakfast. ¡°Because we¡¯re friends!¡± ¡°For now,¡± replies Jubilee, very dryly. ¡°Forever~¡± says Fresh, leaning in towards Jubilee only to meet a small hand that pushes her face back away. ¡°Go be creepy down in the basement, where you belong, goo-brain.¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t think that this is a half-bad idea. This could be her chance to catch up on the mattresses she has never made for the store. Plus she still needs to make the armor pieces and maybe some other stuff. She goes downstairs to do exactly that. Grabbing a sweet-tea from the cold shelf on the way, she then heads down into the basement and sets to work. The mattresses are easy enough to make, if not a little resource intensive. But Jubilee has been buying plenty of stuff. So much so, that they actually needed to raise their savings percentage by a lot, so that they would stay afloat financially. But nobody really seemed to mind too much, apart from a short pained look that came from Basil. After making a stack of them, she dusts her hands off and sets to work, making an assortment of gloves and boots in all different sizes. Later, after finishing those, she finds herself turning around as she looks over at Basil¡¯s construction in quiet pride for a moment. Now, she only has to wait and see what Shamrock can come up with. She hopes that the two of them will enjoy the same feelings that she does, when people buy her items. That¡¯s all she wants for them. Though maybe Basil will share some of her plants with her? When they¡¯re done growing, of course. She hopes so, but she isn¡¯t going to ask. Jubilee had forbidden her from making any items from the old shop, that included the magical-talismans. But that doesn¡¯t mean she can¡¯t use the same ideas in a different way. Iron-bars are a little more expensive up here, since there aren¡¯t any goblins who can sometimes drop them, but being a low-level metal, they¡¯re still cheap enough. Fresh stops at that odd thought. ¡®Low-level metal¡¯. She wonders what high-level material is like? So far, literally everything she has ever touched or made has been low-level, much like all of the people she has interacted with, more or less. Somehow, both high-level resources and persons were scarce everywhere. That¡¯s fine though, she¡¯ll just make the best things that she can out of what she has. What else is there to do? Grabbing the iron-bar, surprised at how light it feels in her arms these days, she slides it across the table towards herself and cuts it into segments that are each about a thumb-tip in width. - And then cuts those in half as well, though this time, through the middle. Twenty-four small iron strips lay before her, clattering down loudly onto the table. Nodding in satisfaction, she sets to work. Grabbing an ingot of crystal-drakonium, she cuts out a tiny sphere of the bouncy material and sets it to the side. Fresh then takes a strip of iron and focuses on the idea in her mind. She¡¯s pleased with this one, she¡¯s sure that people will like it. Plus if it works, they¡¯re ridiculously cheap to manufacture. A small iron ring falls to the table. Grabbing it, she smiles and rubs it against her robe. It is rather plain looking, missing any embellishments or engravings, save for a tiny hole at the top that is empty of stones. But that¡¯s fine, they are for adventurers after all, so they don¡¯t need to be too fancy. Taking the rubbery sphere, she presses it against the small hole at the top. Her hands glow, the magic of the spell dissipating a moment later. It¡¯s an odd thing, simple and plain. Yet there is a deep satisfaction in her when she looks at it, as if a voice in her subconscious were pleased and lets her know it, rising over the sound of trickling water. While wearing + Jump height increased by 20% Quality Effect: Reduces all worn equipment¡¯s weight by 15% Razmatazz This is slowly leading towards disaster, in case you couldn''t tell <3 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 153: Bad It¡¯s just as chaotic outside as Jubilee had said it would be. The festival, still in full swing, seems to have embraced this anarchy rather than being disturbed by it however. The merchants were all apparently prepared for this to happen and had come with an arrangement of protection wards and sigils to stop their tents and stalls from burning down. Though the streets themselves are practically a war-zone, as the fairies, eager and naive as they are, begin to discover their own innate, magical abilities. So much so that the town-guard seems to be out in numbers, to Fresh¡¯s surprise. The robed and hooded figures run around, chasing after particularly troublesome fairies with nets in order to put them in confinement until they settle down. Though, the bigger surprise for her is actually seeing them at all. Somehow the guards in the cities only ever showed up when they were needed. On one hand, this makes sense to her, on the other, she doesn¡¯t really get where they stay all day, when they¡¯re not needed. Another great mystery of life. But none of that is important. What¡¯s important is this. Fresh stands down in the basement, the rings laid out before herself in a small, hand-made jewelry stand that she had crafted. Then, after getting the design down right, she had made a second one and gifted it to Basil for her own personal wardrobe. The priestess, Jubilee and Shamrock now stand down here behind her, waiting for her to show them her latest idea. She had beckoned them all down here to do it. ¡°So?¡± asks Jubilee impatiently, crossing their arms. Fresh looks back at them and holds out a sheep towards them all. ¡°Sheep,¡± she says, explaining the obvious. ¡°Yeah? What about it?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh gestures for them to wait and grabs a ring from the table. ¡°Ring,¡± says Fresh plainly, holding the sheep in one hand and the ring in the other. Basil and Jubilee look at each other and shrug in confusion, though she still has Shamrock¡¯s undivided attention. Fresh slips the ring around one of the sheep¡¯s legs and holds it out towards her friends. She lets go, dropping her hands to the side of her body. But the sheep stays in place, floating in the air where she left it. She gestures towards it. ¡°Magic sheep.¡± ¡°I¡¯d be impressed, if I wasn¡¯t so very disappointed,¡± says Jubilee in an emotionless tone. ¡°That¡¯s really cute!¡± says Basil, smiling. ¡°But what does it do?¡± ¡°It floats,¡± explains Fresh, holding her hands out before herself, to frame the floating sheep that is slowly starting to drift over at a tilted angle. ¡°Yes,¡± nods Basil. ¡°But¡­ why does it float?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Because of the crystal-drakonium and the ring.¡± ¡°No, I mean¡­ for what purpose?¡± explains the priestess. ¡°Why does it float? What does the floating achieve?¡± Fresh stares at her for a moment, then down to the sheep and then back to Basil. ¡°It beats walking?¡± To her surprise, Basil doesn¡¯t laugh at this. But she can hear Jubilee catch their laugh in their throat, shortly before it can leave their mouth. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks, feeling a little disappointed in her friend¡¯s lack of enthusiasm. She thinks it¡¯s super neat. ¡°Maybe we can tie them to strings and people can carry them behind themselves?¡± Jubilee lifts a finger. ¡°But why?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh looks around for an answer, her eyes landing on Shamrock who stands behind the other two. But the best that he can offer is a shrug. Her eyes continue wandering, until they eventually land on the cauldron of rebirth. ¡°Ah!¡± She grabs the sheep, setting it onto the table and then grabs a bottle of moonwater from the side. Popping it open, she pours some over the sheep, soaking some of its body. (Owner) While inside: +1 to ALL resistances Absorbs 1 negative STATUS-EFFECT per day Quality Effect: Prevents bad dreams ¡°Ta-da!¡± she says, lifting the sheep back up. Giving it a small push, she watches as it floats lazily towards Jubilee, spinning as it flies through the air with its wide, goofy smile and button eyes glistening in the light of the fire. It bops against Jubilee¡¯s mask and starts slowly floating back the other way. ¡°Well. Fuck,¡± sighs Jubilee, looking at the item window. ¡°For something you don¡¯t have to carry, these are strong bonuses,¡± mentions Basil, sounding somewhat worried, oddly enough. ¡°What¡¯s with the bad dream thing?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°Dunno. Moonwater stuff.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± mutters Basil, perplexed. ¡°Is it possible to get these bonuses on something less¡­ goofy?¡± she asks, looking at the sheep that hovers past her face, upside down. ¡°Huh?! The sheep is the most important part!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t work if it wasn¡¯t a sheep.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± asks Basil. Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°A lot of the things I make get their magic from my intent for them.¡± She points to the sheep. ¡°I bet if I had made a mush-mush, it wouldn¡¯t have had the bad dream ability.¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t make those anymore,¡± laughs Basil, somewhat nervously. ¡°Wait,¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°So what happens if you put a ring around one of the mattresses?¡± Basil¡¯s, very nervous, laughing stops rather abruptly. ¡°Huh? Jubileee~¡± laughs Fresh. ¡°The rings are too small for that!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°I meant if you made a bigger one, dumb-ass.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh taps her chin. ¡°I guess it would float? The ring bonus seems to be just enough to get them into the air. So if I make a big one, like an iron band, it would¡­ float more? Maybe¡­ hmm¡­¡± ¡°Would it hold a person?¡± asks Jubilee, getting to the point. Basil, already pale, tenses up at this question. ¡°What?¡± ¡°If it floated, would it hold a person up in the air?¡± Fresh thinks for a second, staring up towards the ceiling. ¡°Maybe? I bet I could make it do that!¡± When she looks down, excited about this new possibility, she sees that Jubilee and Basil are exchanging, what she assumes, are nervous looks. Without saying anything, the two of them nod to each other and then look back at her. Whatever exchange they were having, Shamrock seems to have no part in it. ¡°We can sell the sheep. But you listen to me, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°What? Is there something wr-¡± starts Fresh. Jubilee interrupts her. ¡°No, stop. You need to listen to what I¡¯m about to say.¡± ¡°I will,¡± says Fresh, nodding, leaning down to hear what Jubilee has to say, since it¡¯s apparently important. To her surprise, Jubilee grabs the sides of her face. ¡°No. You need to LISTEN,¡± warns Jubilee in a tone that she hasn¡¯t heard from them since their early days together. ¡°Never -¡± Jubilee¡¯s eyes grow a little larger. ¡°NEVER,¡± they say louder and clearer. ¡°- Tell anyone about this. NEVER make anything bigger than a ring for someone¡¯s finger with these properties.¡± ¡°Huh? What¡¯s wrong, Jubilee?¡± ¡°Promise.¡± Fresh, confused, tries to argue. ¡°But -¡± ¡°Promise!¡± repeats Jubilee, stopping her and narrowing their eyes which carry a very serious expression. Fresh purses her lips, her face still being squished together. Her eyes wander up towards Basil who stands there with an equally grim look. Not really understanding what¡¯s going on, she nods to her friends. Did she do something wrong? Were they mad at her? Did she mess up? Maybe the sheep was a bad idea after all? She nods, looking down to the ground. ¡°Okay, I promise¡­¡± Basil sighs in relief. Jubilee lets go of her and she stands back upright, rubbing her arm. ¡°Why? Don¡¯t you guys like the sheep?¡± ¡°The sheep are good,¡± says Shamrock. She looks up at him, seeing that he has caught the sheep out of the air and now holds the fluffy thing in his hands. Basil walks over to her, patting her on her shoulder and then dabbing Fresh¡¯s wet eyes once with a sleeve of her robe. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous,¡± she explains. ¡°Flight magic.¡± ¡°Huh? Why? Because people fall?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°No, dumb-ass. There are only a few classes here that get anything like levitation or flight,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°And they¡¯re all in the center. Fucking fantasy-land over there.¡± They shake their head. ¡°I hate that place.¡± Basil nods. ¡°Scholars and some wind-caster classes can do things like that. But the abilities themselves are old secrets that the powerful families keep under lock and key. By any means necessary.¡± ¡°The nobles, you mean?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Listen. We¡¯ve pissed off a lot of people so far,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Merchants, adventurers, the church,¡± they list. ¡°But all of them are fucking level-one slimes compared to the nobles. If word of anything like this reaches them, we¡¯re fucked.¡± ¡°Are they that bad?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t get it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Those people are demons,¡± they say, swiping a hand through the air. ¡°If one of them even smells a whiff of this fuckery, there won¡¯t be a single head left on a warm body by this time next month, up here on the mountain.¡± ¡°Assuming there¡¯s a mountain left to begin with,¡± agrees Basil with a solemn nod. Fresh¡¯s terrified eyes wander over to Shamrock, who looks back at her worried face. Perhaps seeing that she is having a small crisis, Shamrock lifts the sheep up and holds it out towards her. ¡°Bleh~¡± is all that he says. Razmatazz No fun allowed. Ever. Don''t you dare have fun. I''ll know if you do. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 154: Troublesome Fresh and Basil are still down together in the basement. Jubilee and Shamrock have both gone back upstairs, Shamrock having taken the floating sheep up with him. Fresh looks at the little sprouts popping out of the dirt in one of Basil¡¯s planters. Five of the six of them seem to be growing well. The last one however, doesn¡¯t seem to be showing any signs of progress just yet. ¡°They¡¯re so cute, Basil!¡± says Fresh excitedly, as she lowers her face down to peer at the little sprouts which almost seem to be reaching and stretching themselves outward, as they rise towards the large crystal that is suspended above them. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil. ¡°They¡¯re growing really fast. Actually, this is the second batch.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What do you mean? Aren¡¯t these the first ones?¡± Basil shakes her head, pulling a basket out of the corner that is filled with an assortment of small, plucked herbs. ¡°I think the magic of the crystal makes them grow really fast,¡± explains Basil. ¡°It only took a few nights for the seeds to sprout and turn into juveniles.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ so they weren¡¯t fully grown yet?¡± asks Fresh, taking one of the small, leafy herbs out of the basket. ¡°No, they¡¯re still young. But these plants in particular are best harvested when they are smaller. That¡¯s why I chose them,¡± explains Basil, plucking a leaf from the one in Fresh¡¯s hand. She holds it up to her mouth. ¡°Here, try it.¡± smiles the priestess and Fresh obliges, letting herself be fed. Chewing on the small leaf, she¡¯s surprised at just how fragrant it is. It tastes very strongly like¡­ green. Like forest. Like crisp water with a strong hint of floral grass to it. ¡°They get bitter and less aromatic when they¡¯re older.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh, swallowing the leaf. ¡°It¡¯s really good!¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil, shaking the basket once to mix up the contents. ¡°My plan now is to dry these out by the fire and then grind them into a few different blends and salves.¡± ¡°I¡¯m really glad, Basil!¡± says Fresh giddily, happy to see how excited the priestess¡¯ expression is. ¡°Maybe if you get some wax, you can make some scented candles out of them?¡± Basil thinks for a moment. ¡°That¡¯s a good idea. But I don¡¯t know how to make a candle.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t either, but it can¡¯t be hard,¡± thinks Fresh. ¡°Or maybe a flower garland? We could make a head-piece out of them and enchant it?¡± suggests the girl, tapping her chin. ¡°Uh¡­ maybe just the salves and the tea¡¯s for now,¡± replies Basil, somewhat uneasily. ¡°Huh? Oh,¡± says Fresh, looking at Basil¡¯s expression. She relents. ¡°Sure thing, Basil. Sorry, I wasn¡¯t trying to steal your project.¡± She frowns. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± says Fresh, going back to her table and tinkering awkwardly around with a few crystals and some of the rubbery ingots. Somehow she keeps being troublesome today. Not knowing what else to do, she sets to work, making a batch of the flying sheep. They were also troublesome however. By the time she finishes making the twelfth one, all of the others that she had set on the table have already departed, all of them floating randomly around the basement in all directions. One particularly unlucky specimen even heads straight towards the roaring fireplace and is only caught at the last second by a particularly horrified Fresh. Basil stands up on a small step-ladder that Fresh had quickly made for her. The priestess is busy scooting around the basement, hanging the herbs from her basket up onto the rafters to dry. In an odd flashback that Fresh can¡¯t really explain, she can¡¯t help but think about Donata the alchemist¡¯s basement, as she stares at the dangling herbs for a time that she loses track of. After breaking out of her trance, Fresh grabs her flock of sheep, bundling them all up in her arms and carries them upstairs with her to the storefront. They¡¯re still closed today. Jubilee had said it wasn¡¯t worth opening until the festival was over on the day after tomorrow. Judging by the occasional glances that Fresh had spared out of the window, that seemed to be true. Though she is planning on going to the festival again tonight. It¡¯s worth seeing while it¡¯s still here and in truth, she hopes that her friends will go with her so that they can spend more time together. She had a lot of fun the other night. Fresh sets most of the sheep down onto the counter. She¡¯ll sort them into the shelves later. For now, she takes three and heads upstairs with them. She assumes that Shamrock already has one, so she¡¯ll put one of the others on each of the remaining beds. She doesn¡¯t know if her friends have bad dreams, but there doesn¡¯t seem to be a harm to offering them these. Reaching the top of the stairs, Fresh looks around. Jubilee is sitting at the table, reading a book. Shamrock stands behind them in the kitchen and seems to be making something, which doesn¡¯t quite smell like anything yet. Sparing a quick glance over to his bed, she sees that the sheep that he had taken upstairs isn¡¯t there, however. For a horrified moment, she for some reason thinks that he¡¯s cooking it. But as her gaze shoots past the beds in worry, back towards the giant, she sees the sheep sitting on Basil¡¯s bed, next to the head-rest. Perhaps Shamrock had noticed her flailing as well, though, in truth, it was impossible not to notice. Unable to stop herself from smiling at this kind gesture, she sets one down on his bed as well, walking past Jubilee as she heads into their room. ¡°I¡¯m going into your room, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Sheep,¡± says Fresh, opening the door and throwing the floating creature inside and then closing it again a second later, as Jubilee watches her carefully. ¡°What¡¯re you reading?¡± ¡°Book,¡± says Jubilee plainly, turning back to the book in their hands. Fresh scratches her cheek, shrugging and turning towards Shamrock. ¡°Hey, Shamrock! What¡¯re you making?¡± she asks curiously, leaning past his side as she looks at the mixture inside of the pot. A firm hand presses itself against her stomach and softly pushes her back and away. ¡°Secret,¡± is all that Shamrock says, nodding to her once before returning to his work. Fresh sighs, waving the two of them off as she places a sheep down onto her own bed and heads towards the balcony, where she wouldn¡¯t be in the way or cause trouble. Cautiously sliding the door open, she peeks outside just in time to see the eruption blasting through the air just down the street, as some very energetic spells collide with each other. The explosion shoots out in all directions in an instant. She quickly slides the door back shut, feeling the shockwave press against it from the other side, rattling the building for a second. ¡°How come nobody minds if fairies fly?¡± she asks, looking over towards the other two, continuing their somewhat grim conversation from this morning. Jubilee looks up from their book, staring at her for a moment before looking back down to the page. ¡°Because they can¡¯t leave the mountain alive.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Fairies can¡¯t leave the mountain,¡± repeats Jubilee, flipping a page. ¡°They die if they get too far away from the magic that comes from it.¡± ¡°Oh no!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s really sad¡­¡± ¡°It is what it is. But that¡¯s one of the reasons most of them end up getting pretty surly when they get older,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°If they get older,¡± they add on, correcting themselves. ¡°One of the reasons?¡± Jubilee doesn''t look up at her, but their eyes seem to drift away from the book for a moment. Shamrock looks up from his pot and stares over towards the two of them. He shakes his head, looking at Jubilee who nods in turn. Fresh doesn¡¯t like how many unspoken agreements are being made today. She feels rather left out, honestly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, okay?¡± says Jubilee, focusing back on their book. ¡°Life is hard for everyone.¡± Fresh opts to sigh loudly, so that her protest is audible, but she leaves it at that and the others do the same, apparently not impressed. ¡°Do you guys want to go to the fair tonight?¡± asks Fresh, trying to drum up some excitement. ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee straight away. ¡°I¡¯d rather get some sleep.¡± Shamrock shakes his head too. ¡°No,¡± is all that he says, staring straight ahead of himself, his eyes digging into the wall as if he were reliving a traumatic experience. Fresh frowns. ¡°I wanna do something though.¡± ¡°I¡¯d offer you a book, but I don¡¯t think you could sit through more than two pages,¡± says Jubilee, not looking up. ¡°Go craft something, or go bother Basil.¡± ¡°I already did!¡± argues Fresh, flopping down onto the chair again. ¡°Dungeon?¡± asks Shamrock. ¡°Will you go with me?!¡± asks Fresh excitedly, jumping up from the chair before she can even finish drooping over it. Shamrock looks back down and keeps stirring his pot. ¡°No.¡± Fresh flops back down again and lets her body fall limply onto the table as she lets out a loud, long groan. Today is just one of those days, apparently. Razmatazz Now that the stage has been set, surprisingly important chapters tomorrow and the day after. Don''t worry about it, though Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 155: Singled out Fresh wanders through the fair alone. It is late in the evening, just on the cusp of night. The sun has set, however the moon has yet to make itself clearly visible. Though, this might be due to the looming clouds which obscure the sky. The streets are full of people. The fairies, having calmed down a little, or perhaps having just tired themselves out after roughhousing all day, now no longer cause a ruckus. At least for the time being. The others, Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock, had all decided to stay at home. All of them are either too tired or simply not interested in going to the festival tonight. It is a little disappointing for her, honestly. But she respects her friend¡¯s wishes on the matter, despite feeling a little blue about having to go all on her own. The streets are full and busy, almost as busy as on the first night of the fair. The many stalls, open-faced and lined with goods, are packed with large groups of adventurers and even just every-day-normal people, who peruse the wares and hold excited conversations about the many oddities, curious items and even the other people that are there to be found. Others sit around on tightly packed benches, stuffed into full-bodied groups of revelers who spend the night eating and drinking loudly and forming circles to play rambunctious drinking games. The festival is filled with color and life. There is a palpable aura of the incredible energy from the people that only such a rare celebration can draw out of them. Though, here on the mountain, where there is the somewhat wilder adventurer¡¯s guild, this is perhaps not as surprising as it would have been in the northern city. Still, she¡¯s glad to be here. This city, these people, they all seemed to be very kind and fond of celebrating and they were very honest about that. The people here aren¡¯t so reserved like they were back in the north. They just felt easier to be around, because they were more open with their intentions. They wanted to eat and drink and to use her sheep to trigger highly destructive traps in the dungeon and they have no problem saying any of that. There isn¡¯t a lie being lived here, there isn¡¯t any polite facade being painted over the true expressions on their faces. She appreciates that a lot. Even if she doesn¡¯t appreciate their abuse of her darling sheep or the mean looks she gets once in a while. Though, maybe it¡¯s better that they just look at her meanly right from the start, so that she doesn¡¯t get any wrong ideas about them again, like she had done back in the north. Fresh wanders through the festival by herself, looking for something to do, for something to buy, for something to eat. But somehow, all of these things seem to be¡­ unenticing. The concept of playing a game by herself and having nobody to show her stupid, garbage prize to, the concept of buying some greasy fried goo on a stick and having nobody to laugh with about just how terrible it is, the concept of looking at strange, exotic items and having nobody to chat to about how odd or interesting they are, it all feels¡­ - pointless. Sure, the food would still taste good and sure, the games would probably be fun enough and sure, the items would still be as useful or as valuable as they ought to be, even if she had to do all of those things alone. But somehow, it just doesn¡¯t seem to be worth the effort. What good is an adventure if you have to take it by yourself? Wasn¡¯t the whole point that you¡¯d have others around you? Others to share your experiences and your joys and your sadnesses with? Fresh looks around at the lively world around herself, towards a full table on the side that three, far more than just drunk, old men in robes have climbed onto. They clutch each other¡¯s shoulders, dancing like idiots in their hazy stupor. She notices that she¡¯s kind of jealous of them. But she doesn¡¯t know why. The girl, who stands alone in the middle of the street looks to the right, where two people who she assumes are a couple, console each other as they both vomit into the bushes. It¡¯s disgusting and she feels kind of bad for them, but at the same time, she¡¯s also oddly jealous, if not a little nauseated herself. She sighs, walking down the street as she tries to pinpoint what exactly it is that¡¯s bothering her. As she tries to figure out what exactly is making her feel¡­ gooey. ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± says an excited, squeaky voice from next to her that Fresh recognizes as a fairy. Happy that someone is talking to her, she turns her head to look towards it. But she just sees that it isn¡¯t talking to her at all. The fairy, still excited and energetic, is darting around a caster with a wide brimmed hat, asking if it can sit down on top of it and be carried around the fair on their head. Fresh sighs and keeps on walking, she wishes a fairy would ask her to carry it around the fair. Even on her head. Walking, disassociated with the festival taking place all around her, Fresh keeps going down the road until she eventually reaches the lookout point where they had watched the fairies arrive from. It is mostly empty now, save for one or two groups of people who hang around there, perhaps also having sought an escape from the party. But none of them are alone. Heading to one of the empty spots, Fresh leans her arms against the railing and takes in a deep breath of the cool air of the night that has now arrived. She closes her eyes for a moment, just feeling the damp breeze on her face. She doesn''t really know what she expects to see when she opens them again to look out over the dark forest below the mountain, but when she opens her eyes, she sees¡­ nothing. It¡¯s just a forest that seems to go on forever and ever. There are no lights above her head, nor below it. There are no brilliant features to distinguish either the forest or the sky from the darkness of the night. It¡¯s just all endless black-water all around the mountain, for as far as the eye can see. It is simply emptiness, nothingness, a dark ocean that spans from where she stands towards the horizon and then far beyond that. She stands alone atop a pinprick that sticks out of the void, surrounded by the sounds of happiness and celebration, sounds that she simply isn¡¯t a part of. She simply doesn¡¯t belong to any of it. It¡¯s like standing in a forest by yourself and listening to the joyous birdsong coming from the creatures that are so small and free while you are trapped beneath the oppressive shadows of the forest¡¯s crown. Separating itself from the chaos of the fair is a woman¡¯s voice. ¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that - ?¡± she starts to ask, her words being drowned out as she lowers her tone to one that can¡¯t be overheard. Fresh blinks, looking over her shoulder at the group of casters. She recognizes them from the store, they seem to be there a lot. But they also seem to be part of the group of customers who is only ever drawn there because of Shamrock. Fresh isn¡¯t sure what it is that they¡¯re saying, but she sees one of them point towards her without lifting their hand above their waist and the others start laughing. Only one of them shoots her a glare before they start walking away, heading down into the fair, the others don¡¯t bother looking at her at all, as they continue laughing about something, seemingly at her expense. Though, she isn¡¯t sure what it is that she did. However, she knows this sensation. This sense of being outcast, of being rejected not just by others, but by the world as a whole. Not for lack of trying, she just doesn¡¯t belong. Like an extra piece of a puzzle, she¡¯s unnecessary to the whole that is present here. She can¡¯t remember from where exactly this memory stems, this familiar feeling that is buried somewhere deep, deep inside of her core where it has always been. This set of gnarled roots that twist and wind around her organs, squeezing her insides so much so that it feels like her soul is being flattened by this intangible pressure. It¡¯s¡­ exhausting. Fresh looks back out over the void beyond the mountain, realizing how tired she is all of a sudden. It must be later at night than she thought it was. Covering her mouth, she yawns, feeling the breeze wash through her hair as if it were running water. She should probably get back home and go to bed. Maybe the others were right, maybe the fair is stupid. Maybe she¡¯s stupid for wanting to go and be a part of something she doesn¡¯t belong to. ¡°I know the feeling,¡± says a voice from next to her, the voice of someone who she didn¡¯t hear approach, let alone stop two feet away from her. Fresh flinches with a surprised jolt, stopping herself before she makes more of a fool out of herself, as she looks to her side and stares at the cloaked, hooded man who stares out over the darkness of the world. A single, simple jewel is embedded in the fabric on the front of his hood. ¡°Hey, I know you,¡± says Fresh, looking at him in surprise, at the man with the snake bite on his ankle who she had ¡®met¡¯ during their escape from the north. A moment later however, her expression shifts to one of deep suspicion and she takes another step back as she really realizes who he is. The man doesn¡¯t budge, simply continuing to look wherever it is that he¡¯s looking. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± ¡°Enjoying the fair,¡± replies the man from the thieves¡¯ guild, coyly. His voice is oddly smooth and carries with it something akin to a hiss. ¡°It¡¯s not good to be alone when you¡¯re weak,¡± he states, the stone embedded in the fabric of his hood glimmering, as it catches a faint ray of moonlight that escapes from a heavy cloud. ¡°They say that the devil will only come to tempt you when you¡¯re at your lowest.¡± ¡°What do you want?¡± asks Fresh, ready to turn around and to make a quick exit. Something about the man feels wrong. His face never seems to become entirely visible, no matter how much she stares at it, even if he only has a fabric hood on. His posture never seems to fit right to the images of similar poses that she has in her mind, there is always something off about the way he stands and holds himself. A shoulder too low, an elbow turned the wrong way. No matter what pose the man assumes as he shifts upright, there is something¡­ inhuman, about it. A series of cheers erupts from the fair as a magic show begins, the sky illuminating with fire and lightning, stemming from the drunk crowd who set it alight. ¡°My name is Patala,¡± says the man from the thieves¡¯ guild. ¡°I have come to offer you a temptation.¡± Razmatazz You know that very specific feeling you get when it''s midnight on new-years eve and you have nobody to spend it with (Just like every year before), but then you decide to go outside alone anyways and so you end up walking around by yourself, because you haven''t given up hope for yourself juuust yet and it seems less sad than staying in bed? But then you end up walking around in the dark, stepping through the partying crowds, over vomit and burnt out fireworks, pretending like you''re going somewhere, so that the people having fun around you don''t judge you and realise what a lonely, miserable creature you are and maybe so that you yourself don''t have to look that fact in the face. At least not until you see yourself in the mirror next time. Even though the truth is that you yourself know, deep down, that none of them will judge you to begin with, because none of them care. None of them can even see you. You don''t exist in anyone''s world but your own and even that is a questionable statement. It''s like that feeling. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 156: Seeing red The night-winds blow, the shapeless presence pushing its way down the mountain, creeping and crawling along the rocks as it falls, crashing down into the darkness beneath them all, carrying with it both strands of her hair, as well as the sounds of the voices from all around them. The winds also carry with them the voice of the man, pushing the sound of it into the dark abyss, as if hiding his presence from anyone else, from everyone else, as if to ensure that no ears heard his words save for hers. The festival rages on behind them, growing louder and more energetic by the second. The sounds of celebrating people, of loud cheering, of chaotic spells, of reverent singing, of the clinking of mugs and the spilling of alcohol, of the stumbling and the laughing and the fighting of the festival-goers, all of them seem to become louder and louder rather abruptly. Loud enough to obscure their conversation, loud enough to obscure the trickling of the running river just on the other side of the stalls. As if some spell had come over the entire mountain-town, energizing every last person who is outside in this hour close to midnight, filling them with unnatural fervor. Fresh knows that she shouldn¡¯t talk to the man, despite Jubilee never having explicitly warned her not to, like they had done with Shamrock. It¡¯s more than just some gut-feeling or her intuition, it¡¯s simply a fact of life that her mind holds to be self-evident, much like her need to breathe, her need to blink. Much like that, the man is clearly someone who shouldn¡¯t be spoken to, who shouldn¡¯t be listened to. Fresh turns and she walks away, not saying anything, not engaging with the man from the thieves¡¯ guild. She is sure this would otherwise result in nothing but trouble. She causes enough of that already, without anyone else¡¯s help. ¡°Is it what you expected it to be?¡± asks Patala, as Fresh walks away. ¡°Your new life?¡± She stops, the hairs on her neck standing on end, as the hissing of his words reaches her ears which are filled with the sounds of festivity. Her new life? Does he know about¡­ Fresh blinks, suddenly remembering something that she had forgotten. No, it wasn¡¯t forgotten. It was simply¡­ painted over, covered in a smear of wet, thick, black ink. - Her old life. She had a life before this one. It wasn¡¯t even that long ago. A few months ago at best. Her eyes wander down towards her hands which are at her side, seeing the pale, thin skin become illuminated for a moment by the odd purple light of a haunting spell that explodes high up in the sky, like a firework. She doesn¡¯t turn herself around, but she does look over her shoulder towards the stranger. ¡°Some adventure, right?¡± he asks, almost laughing. ¡°What do you want?¡± asks Fresh, feeling both extremely confused and also highly suspicious. Her mind is racing as she remembers and at the same time, it tries to grasp how he could know her secret. ¡°I want to talk.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk to you, sorry to be rude,¡± replies Fresh, turning her head to keep walking away. It¡¯s time to go home. She wants to take a bath and go to bed. ¡°Who else are you going to talk to then?¡± asks the man coyly. But when she turns around this time, he isn¡¯t there anymore where he was a moment ago. Looking forward towards the side, she sees the man standing there now with his arms crossed, leaned back against the side of a stone wall. She didn¡¯t notice him moving there, let alone so quickly. ¡°My friends,¡± replies Fresh defiantly, feeling strangely annoyed by his presence. No, not annoyed. Offended. Something about him simply being here, about his talking to her, something about it makes her mad and she doesn¡¯t really know why it does. But she feels that her temper is oddly short all of a sudden, despite it never being so. Maybe because it¡¯s late. Maybe because she¡¯s tired. Maybe because she was having a bout of loneliness. Maybe because of the memories returning to her. ¡°Your friends?¡± asks Patala, gesturing around them, but not moving from his spot in the shadows. No light from any spell, any streetlight, or any crystal ever seems to manage to reach him. ¡°I don¡¯t see any friends.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to tell Jubilee if you don¡¯t leave me alone,¡± threatens Fresh. The man laughs and lifts the fingers from one of his still crossed hands, waving to her listlessly. ¡°Well. Okay, then. Good night,¡± says Patala dryly, turning his head to look back out over the look-out. Fresh blinks, surprised that he let it drop so easily. Turning for the third time to go back home, she starts walking towards the festival, half-expecting the man to appear in the next shadow before her. But he never does. He simply stands exactly where she left him, not moving, not looking her way, not saying a word. He¡¯s doing exactly what she told him to do and for some reason, that¡¯s annoying her too. Somehow even more so than if he had kept pursuing the topic. How does he know about her old life? More importantly, how did she forget about her old life? Fresh clenches her fists, hating herself a little more than usual. Knowing that she shouldn¡¯t speak with the, more than shady, character, the girl turns around again. ¡°What do you want?¡± she asks for the second time. But Patala is no longer there. Fresh stares at the darkness for a moment, before walking back alone through the loud fair. By the time she gets home, she is more than exhausted. She is barely able to keep her eyes open as she shuffles quietly past Shamrock¡¯s and Basil¡¯s beds. Throwing off her robe and boots, she flops down onto her soft blanket, her eyes still open for a second as she stares down at the little thing that fell out of her pocket onto the floor. Reaching down from her bed, she grabs the small slip of paper and squints her eyes, trying to read it in the darkness. Ask for a glass of serpent''s blood Drown the fish The slip of paper falls apart a second later, charring into ash, as if she had held it over a fire. Fresh doesn¡¯t sleep well that night, but she sleeps nonetheless. Her mind feels oddly itchy while she sleeps, like regrowing skin covering a small burn wound. When the next morning comes, she doesn¡¯t tell the others about her encounter, though she does consider it. She isn¡¯t sure why she doesn¡¯t exactly. Maybe because she doesn¡¯t want to get yelled at by Jubilee, or maybe because she doesn¡¯t want to get lectured by Basil. Or maybe she just doesn¡¯t want to, because she doesn¡¯t want to. Fresh doesn¡¯t know. Instead, she sits quietly at the table, sipping her coughee while the others scrounge their own breakfast together today. Today is the day that her new mattresses go on sale and despite having been very excited about it, somehow her mood feels very¡­ neutral about everything right now. She just feels very tired and cranky, no matter how long she closes her eyes, no matter how many cups of the coughee she drinks, somehow, she always feels like she could use a long, deep nap in a quiet, dark place. Sparing a moment as they open for the first day since the festival, she watches as the crowds swarm in. Most of them look destroyed in body and soul, their faces and eyes red and tired, yet somehow, they still manage to keep smiles painted on them. A few curious, excited fairies even fly inside along with them. Half of the crowd heads towards the shelves, the red-eyed customers making a beeline for the hot and cold coughee, while the other half heads towards Shamrock. This makes her angry too. A few of them stop to look at the mattresses and they seem really excited about them, despite their proud price of almost six-hundred Obols. But somehow, their excited words don¡¯t reach her. Somehow, the venomous glances of the casters she had seen last night making fun of her, don¡¯t reach her. Feeling oddly tense in spirit today, Fresh heads down to the basement without saying anything to the others, letting them handle it. She wants to make something. To do something. Something to get her mind back into shape. She¡¯s still agitated and a little angry and she still doesn¡¯t know why. Sparing a glance at Basil¡¯s planters, one of which is still not growing, she heads to her table and grabs everything that she can reach, not even sure what it is that she¡¯s making. Though, she¡¯s sure that her friends will yell at her for it. But there is an idea floating around in her mind, a bad idea, the idea that she isn¡¯t sure if it is even hers. It is too strong for her to ignore, since it being present in her head makes her angry. It¡¯s like the mind-numbing roaring of a cascading waterfall. Grabbing the largest crystal that she has, she takes a knife and begins engraving the ghost-warding sigils into it, sparing a glance over towards the fireplace for a moment as something about it bugs her. Something about it is making her angry too. It is making that gnawing voice in the back of her head buzz, like there¡¯s something else that she forgot, something else that she¡¯s missing, despite it being right there, right in front of her face. But she just doesn¡¯t know what it is. Frustrated, Fresh sets the knife to the crystal and begins engraving it. Razmatazz *Opens long-since-empty Chekov''s gun closet* *Places gun inside* *Nods to the closet* *The closet nods back* Don''t worry about it. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 157: Morning recovery Feeling an odd catharsis, Fresh sits outside on the balcony, staring out over the city. It is early in the morning. She didn¡¯t get much sleep again, only a few hours¡¯ worth. But despite that, despite the chill that she feels from inside of her body, caused by the lack of rest, despite the slight burning of her red eyes, despite the shaky tiredness of her frame, she smiles a satisfied smile as she takes a long sip of her hot coughee and stares out over the city. After finishing her odd project last night, in her strange bout of dubious inspiration, Fresh did what any reasonable person would do. She hid it. Though, again, she isn¡¯t really sure why. Well, no, that¡¯s not true. She knows why. But her reasoning to avoid thinking about that is to just come up with other reasons for why she might have hid it. Maybe so she doesn¡¯t get yelled at or scolded. Maybe so that Basil doesn¡¯t get mad at her for using the holy sigils to make something that is so rife with, as Jubilee would call it, ¡®fuckery¡¯. Down in the washroom, there is a loose brick down at the standing area of the washing basin, where the previous owner apparently did some repairs. She removed it and hid the warped-crystal behind there, under the water, for when she needs it. Fresh takes another sip of her coughee as she thinks about that last thought. When she needs it? Why would she ever need it? Why would she ever need to make something like that, let alone use it? It seems pretty grim, even for her. Especially after she used her witch-magic to power it up. The crystals really do seem to be particularly magically powerful. Dangerously so. Horribly so. It¡¯s probably the most dangerous thing that she¡¯s ever made. Maybe that¡¯s why she did it in secret, maybe that¡¯s why she hid it. Because she knows that the others wouldn¡¯t approve. Hell, she is sure that even she herself doesn¡¯t approve. But somehow, now that it is done, she is nonetheless deeply satisfied, rather than aghast. Somehow, the trickling of the river just down the way seems oddly loud and pleasant today, as if the waters were praising her for her hard-work. Like a hand on the top of her head, telling her how proud it is. Though, she isn¡¯t quite sure why she didn¡¯t just hide it in her inventory? Maybe she wants it to be found. Or maybe she¡¯s just scared of her inventory. She isn¡¯t sure. Last night was a weird night for a lot of reasons and Fresh can¡¯t really explain it. She can¡¯t really explain what got a hold of her. Maybe it was the loneliness, maybe it was the revelations of her old memories, maybe it was the man from the thieves¡¯ guild, maybe it was any of a thousand looming things, floating just above her head like disembodied specters. Or maybe it was all of them. ¡°Good morning,¡± says Basil, walking up behind her and rubbing her back. The priestess, with her own mug in hand, stands next to Fresh and stares out over the city. ¡°Did you have fun last night?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Fresh honestly, taking another long sip as she looks down, watching as they dismantle the fairgrounds. ¡°I had a really bad time actually,¡± she says, thinking about the question that the man from the thieves¡¯ guild had asked her, about how her adventure has been so far. ¡°Ah¡­¡± ¡°Is it all like this, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, looking out over the busy street. ¡°Like what?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Terrible,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Are the people all terrible everywhere? Are all of the cities terrible? Are all of the places and the things that are supposed to be fun, terrible?¡± To her surprise, Basil places her hand on top of hers on the railing. ¡°That¡¯s not like you at all. You must have really had a bad night, huh?¡± asks the priestess, letting go and then looking back out over the city together with her. ¡°It is.¡± Fresh blinks, not having expected such a brief and to the point answer from Basil. ¡°Every city is filled with horrible, terrible things,¡± she says. ¡°Every heart is filled with horrible, terrible things,¡± she adds on after that. ¡°That¡¯s why I became a priestess. To push back against that.¡± She takes a sip of her tea and points downward. ¡°Look.¡± Fresh stares down, watching as a group of fairies fly in a circle, having the time of their lives by the sound of it, as they chase after one of her enchanted-sheep which is trying to make a daring escape. ¡°You had a bad night last night, but look at them,¡± smiles Basil back up at her, before turning to watch the playing fairies. ¡°Because of your hard work, they¡¯re having a great time today. The world is a little bit lighter today, because you put in the effort.¡± Fresh stares down at the reflection in her mug. The eyeless thing, which floats in the brackish water, gazes back up towards her just as the priestess finishes her explanation. ¡°That¡¯s all any of us can and should do.¡± Feeling a bit lighter in her shoulders, Fresh lets out an oddly relieved sigh and finishes the rest of her breakfast in one gulp, if only to get rid of the judgmental gaze of her reflection. ¡°Thank you, Basil,¡± beams Fresh. ¡°That makes me feel a lot better!¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Basil to her as they both head back inside. ¡°Get out of the way, meat-head,¡± snaps Jubilee at Shamrock. Both of them are in the kitchen, trying to work around each other. ¡°No,¡± replies Shamrock, stirring a pot, while Jubilee is trying to get to the stove to finish making breakfast. ¡°You better not be eating the products!¡± snaps Jubilee, pointing up at him. Shamrock stops stirring for a moment, looking down at them and then over to the pot. ¡°I am not,¡± he says, his breastplate lurching with a heavy breath. ¡°I am melting them.¡± ¡°That¡¯s even worse!¡± yells Jubilee. Shamrock shrugs indifferently, lifting the pot up and walking past them, over to the table to set it down to cool off. Curious now, Fresh looks over and sees what appears to be a mass of sparkling black-goo. It looks like melted crystal-drakonium. ¡­Melted? Fresh blinks, looking at it. Isn¡¯t this supposed to be heat resistant? If it melts, that¡¯s really bad. ¡°How did you melt this, Shamrock?¡± she asks, becoming worried about the heated cabinet downstairs. ¡°Slime acid,¡± replies the man, coming out of the pantry with a half-sphere bowl. ¡°The fuck did you get slime acid?¡± asks Jubilee suspiciously. ¡°Market,¡± replies Shamrock without much emotion, setting the bowl down next to the pot and gesturing for them to stay back. Fresh imagines that melted crystal-drakonium, especially while boiling hot, would be very bad to get burned by. The man pours the bowl half full, before getting a glass of cold water and diluting the mixture. With what looks like a small twig, he stirs the thing until it starts becoming somewhat thicker again. ¡°What do you think it is?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Some kind of¡­ mixed material?¡± guesses Fresh. ¡°Looks like random bullshit to me,¡± says Jubilee from across the table. Shamrock ignores all of them, continuing his work. Because of the water, the mixture, while still dark colored, becomes translucent and filled with the suspended glitter of the powdered dragon scales. Shamrock goes back to the pantry, all of their eyes now curiously following him. Even Jubilee, who has given up on breakfast for now, watches with intrigue. He returns a second later, his hand full of a small bit of red mushroom-powder that he throws into the mixture and keeps stirring. Soon, the hardening jelly becomes a translucent, shimmering, dark-red color. Grabbing the bowl, he holds it flat against the table and shakes it a little, letting the contents settle. A minute later, it is completely solidified again and hard to the touch. The crystal-drakonium is now a lot softer and extremely jiggly and carries with it an exciting red color that is filled with sparkling dust, which seems to catch every ray of light. Even more so than before. Nodding once to himself, seemingly satisfied as he pokes the mixture, Shamrock grabs the half-sphere bowl and slams it upside down onto the table. The others look at each other in confusion and then back towards it, as he lifts it up. The red, jiggly-wiggly blob slides free from the container as he lifts it upwards. The gooey mass staying down on the table, wobbling from side to side as a solidified, gelatinous whole. ¡°It¡¯s so wobbly¡­¡± says Fresh in delight, lifting a finger to poke it, while leaning over to stare at it. Shamrock stops her, walking away and coming back a second later with two snowman eyes and some ink. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect anything and I¡¯m still disappointed,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s very¡­ bouncy?¡± asks Basil, also still confused. The giant sets the eyes into it, next to each other and then, dipping his finger into the inkwell, draws a large smile beneath them. Nodding again in satisfaction, he gives a thumbs up to Fresh, who now realizes what he has made and is unable to contain her excited squeal as she rushes to poke it and to watch its dumb-smile jiggle around. ¡°Slime,¡± is all that Shamrock says, as the little toy slime wiggles excitedly on the table next to him, its smile only the second brightest in the room. Razmatazz Does anyone have a digital clock, a suitcase and some wires? No reason. Just curious. Trivia - Patala In Hindu mythology ¡®Patala¡¯ is a term that is used as a name for the underworld. Though, it¡¯s a little more complicated than that. Sort of similar to Dante¡¯s inferno, where there are multiple layers of hell, in Hindu mythology, in the Bhagavata Purana, there are multiple layers of existence. Seven, to be exact. Each of these seven layers is called a ¡®Patala¡¯. Each of these layers of the underworld is ruled by either demons or Nagas. (Nagas = Snake people) The following seven layers are all Patalas. (1)Atala (2)Vitala (3)Sutala (4)Talatala (5)Magatala (6)Rasatala (7)Patala ¡û This Patala, the deepest one, is literally called ¡®Patala¡¯ though it sometimes called ¡®Nagaloka¡¯ instead Patala (#7, not the whole group) is run by the Nagas, snake people, who hide their faces with hoods that are adorned with decorative jewels. It is said that the light of of their jewels are the only source of light in their dark realm. Interestingly enough, in Tibetan Buddhism, Patalas also exist, but these are considered underground paradises rather than ¡®the underworld¡¯ as we classically know it. Patala in buddhism is also the source of alchemy and of all magical sciences. Quizzically, for ¡®vidy¨¡dhara¡¯ (Demi-god air spirits who are attendants to the god Shiva) It is said to be a road to have intercourse with female-non-humans. No really. The air-demi-gods go to the underground to - >touch fluffy tail More importantly for us though, since we run a clean show here, is that Patala is considered the source of all flowing waters. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 158: Groceries ¡°It¡¯s so cute!¡± says an excited caster, poking the wiggling slime that is sitting down on the counter again. The group around them all lets out a delighted squeal, as the little slime starts to wobble up and down, its goofy smile and large eyes shaking around. Shamrock lifts a hand, giving them a thumbs-up. Apparently, he has been practicing, as this gesture seems to come to him naturally now. A few of them fall back over-dramatically, having to be caught by their eye-rolling party-members, standing just behind them. Fresh sighs, standing between the empty shelves and restocking the glass-wands. Nobody has ever swooned when she gave them a thumbs up. They had sold quite a few wands already, first thing in the day, so the shelf needs to be refilled already. ¡°He¡¯s so mysterious and strong!¡± says an excited voice from the other aisle. ¡°And he has such a soft side! Look at that little slime he made!¡± ¡°But isn¡¯t he¡­ you know? Look at his armor,¡± says a hushed voice, sounding somewhat worried. ¡°Huuuh?¡± asks the first voice, lowering her tone. ¡°He¡¯s just a little lost!¡± she explains. ¡°He¡¯s probably traumatized by being ordered around by that crone who runs this store. I¡¯d start believing in witches too.¡± Fresh purses her lips, having a feeling that she knows who they¡¯re talking about. ¡°Would you be saying that if he wasn¡¯t giant and as strong as a minotaur?¡± asks her party-member in a skeptical tone. ¡°Huh?! What are you implying, you jerk?!¡± Fresh blinks, looking around, listening to the woman¡¯s detailed explanation of how she is convinced that she could convert Shamrock to a holy life, though her party-member seems highly questioning of both her claims and her motivations. The woman is convinced however, that Shamrock is simply a lost soul in need of guidance and that she is the right one to offer it. Stacking the last wand back in the shelf, Fresh heads back out and away, before they come around the bend and run into her. She walks past the still entirely full sheep-shelf, standing for a second to adjust one of the sheep, patting its head while she turns it an inch to the side, to have a better view of the store from its high perch. At least the sheep is smiling at her. ¡°Hey, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee from behind the counter. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, turning over to face them somewhat listlessly. ¡°Run into town and go buy some stuff if you have nothing better to do, will you?¡± asks Jubilee, sliding a piece of paper across the counter. ¡°Here, I made a list.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, happy about having something else to do, other than to sit in here and listen to herself be insulted, just because people are jealous that she gets to be friends with Shamrock. She grabs the list, looking over the fairly standard collection of items. ¡°Eggs? Fabric?¡± She reads, those are just the first two items. There are a lot of things on the list, but there is nothing here that is important or that they don¡¯t already have a little of at home still. ¡°We have all of this stuff already, Jubilee,¡± remarks Fresh quizzically. ¡°Just go and get it, okay?¡± asks Jubilee, tapping their fingers against the counter. Fresh shrugs and nods. ¡°Okay!¡± she says, heading behind the counter and then upstairs to get her bag and some money. Grabbing a bottle of herbal-tea from the cold shelf on her way out, Fresh steps out of the shop and sighs a long sigh of relief at the very moment that she exits their home. Somehow, there has been a pressure building inside of the store all morning, apparently one that only she feels and by leaving, it all seems to fall off of her shoulders, all at once. Opening her bottle of tea, she takes a long drink out of it, letting out a second relieved breath after. Screwing it tightly back shut, she puts the bottle into her bag and starts walking down the tunnel, out towards the plaza. But suddenly, Fresh stops, spontaneously deciding to take the longer way today, simply for the sake of it. Turning around again, Fresh goes the other way down the tunnel, bending off to the right and stopping outside of the clockwork shop that she had looked at together with Basil that one time. There are a lot of cute things here, all of them powered by the magical-crystals. Wooden toys that march from side to side across the floor of the show-window. Ornate clocks hang on the wall, ticking loudly as their decorative pendulums swing left and right. Fresh can¡¯t help but smile, as she sees a little bird pop out of the top of one, as the new hour strikes. The little chicken pops in and out of the hole and each time it appears, there is a pushing of air through a soft whistle that goes ¡®Ooh Ooooh~¡¯ ¡®Ooh Ooooh~¡¯ ¡°Ooh Ooooh~¡± mutters Fresh to herself, her face pressed against the glass, as she stares at the chicken. Seeing it makes her feel better somehow. ¡°Thanks chicken,¡± she nods to the chicken. The chicken retreats back into its hole and doesn¡¯t return. Her eyes continue wandering, as she stares at everything else inside of the store. She watches as the shopkeeper inside, behind their counter, is busy tinkering with something, while their assistant is running around, corralling a bunch of excited children and fairies who can hardly contain their joy at the many wondrous creations. She¡¯s jealous again. Why can¡¯t their store be like this? Maybe she needs to make nicer things¡­? Yeah, that¡¯s it! She hasn¡¯t been making nice enough things. Wares like these things here. That¡¯s why people are being so rude lately. She isn¡¯t adding any value to their lives. That has to be it. After all, what has she made? Some boots. A mattress. A sheep. Some drinks. Some junk food. It¡¯s no wonder people are mean to her, thinks Fresh. But things like this? Wondrous things? Things that make your eyes sparkle and your heart skip just a single beat? She has made nothing like that. She hasn¡¯t made anything that could offer such strong feelings of joy, has she? Fresh pulls back from the window, nodding to the reflection with clenched, determined fists that she sees looking back her way. Hurrying, she leaves the window and paces down the tunnel, away from the dungeon, determined to find something to light that spark in her eye, determined to find some idea, some material, something that will light the spark in their hearts. So that they¡¯ll like her too. She isn¡¯t going to come back until she does. Even if she has to stay outside all day and all night holding a bunch of eggs and fabric. Hurrying to the plaza outside, Fresh starts working her way through the list and with every stop that she makes, she takes an extra long time to look at every little thing that each vendor has. She doesn¡¯t just look at the fabric that she needs for Jubilee, she looks at every piece of fabric that they have on display. When she gets the eggs, she doesn¡¯t just look at the normal chicken¡¯s eggs, she looks at the eggs from other birds, at the monster eggs. One of the vendors even has an anqa egg, which they claim is ready to hatch any day now, only Fifteen-thousand Obols. Fresh has to try very hard to restrain herself there, walking away from the vendor while carefully setting the small wooden-box of straw-packed chicken eggs into her bag. The next stop on her list. Milk. She stands in front of the vendor, looking around at the many bottles of mostly, but not all, white liquids. Some of them really do have an exotic off-color. Apparently, for particularly brave souls, there is even minotaur¡¯s milk. One-hundred Obols per bottle. Peering around, Fresh looks at the many odd types, before her eyes reach the vendor who is standing there, scribbling onto a piece of paper. ¡°Excuse me,¡± says Fresh. He lifts his head towards her. ¡°Do you have dragon¡¯s milk?¡± she asks curiously. The man stares at her for a moment as if sizing her up. ¡°Ice dragon or mountain dragon?¡± he asks a second later. ¡°It¡¯s real?!¡± shouts Fresh, her hands planting themselves onto the counter as she leans in forward. Yes. Apparently, it is real. The man pulls out a heavy trunk from beneath the counter and lifts up two bottles, standing well back so that nobody could snatch them out his grasp as he, in detail, explains the logistics of how it is extracted and processed, much to Fresh¡¯s delight, as she envisions a man with a straw-hat, sitting with a wooden pail next to a dragon in a hay-covered stall and milking it. In her mind at least, the dragon moos. Which is apparently exactly how it is made, minus the mooing. According to him, there is actually a large farm even further west of the mountain, where an oddball shaman, who became a monster-farmer, does exactly that. ¡°Five-hundred Obols for the small bottle,¡± he finishes. ¡°I¡¯ll take it!¡± says Fresh without hesitation, slapping her coins readily onto the counter. Proudly, she sets the little bottle of ice dragon¡¯s milk into the side pocket of her bag as she walks away, not regretting a single thing about this purchase. (Fresh) bought: [Dragon''s Milk]{Ice}(High) for [{500} Obols] With a crystal clear conscience and heart, Fresh continues on her personal adventure to find out what she could make to win everybody over. To prove to them that she is someone who they could all be friends with. Razmatazz Talk about a long-term plot point Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 159: The new idea Fresh stands outside of the adventurer¡¯s guild and stares up at the building. She¡¯s surprised that she can¡¯t hear the loud voices coming from inside of it from out here. Somehow, the building seems almost airtight, not letting a single squeak or murmur escape out into the world. As if the structure itself were keeping all of their words, all of their secrets, for itself. The door slides open and a small group of people walk out of it, all three of them, clearly drunk, holding on to each other, as they make their way down through the city. Fresh isn¡¯t too sure why she has stopped here. It¡¯s a little out of the way, in all honesty, considering that everything she still needs to buy is to be found on the other side of the city, closer to the store. The water of the river trickles on quietly behind her, the sound not filling her head with any strange ideas or inclinations, rather, it just fills her ears with noise. She turns away, looking away from the structure for a moment as she instead stares down at the reflection in the stream, which shimmers in the light of the early morning sunshine. It looks up at her, looking just as perplexed as she herself does down at it, as if neither of them knew what the other wanted from them. The day is beautiful and surprisingly lively. Yet Fresh, with her old memories, in a sense returned to her, feels¡­ out of place. It isn¡¯t so much that old anxiety or glumness that has caught her today, rather, there is a sensation, a feeling that she can¡¯t quite put her finger on. Something that makes her suspicious, but she doesn¡¯t even know about what. Why did she forget her old life? These past few weeks, she has been running her life as if it were automated. She has been running from point ¡®A¡¯ to point ¡®B¡¯ doing this and that simply for the sake of doing this and that. For progress on the store. For progress in their purses. For progress in their home. For progress in all manner of crafting and skills and level-ups and for progress in the dungeon and for progress in exploring the city and for progress in meeting new people. But progress isn¡¯t what it is that she¡¯s missing. There is something else. There is something wrong. There is something¡­ - Unfulfilled. Fresh turns away from the river, heading into the adventurer¡¯s guild. As soon as she steps into the door, her senses explode, becoming overwhelmed with noise and smells and sights. The party is as wild and chaotic as ever. She jumps back a step, as two casters, locked in a tussle, roll past the door and tear at each other¡¯s hair, as they drunkenly fight over something stupid. Laughing quietly to herself with a nervous smile, she side-steps the anarchy, moving out of the way just in time, as a full mug flies past where she was about to go and slams into the wall by the door. ¡°Settle down!¡± yells a shrill voice, flying past her towards the fight. Fresh, heading towards the room in the back of the upstairs area, spares a second to watch as the young fairy, wearing a waitress¡¯ apron hovers over the two combatants. Her hands glow with a bright magic and then a second later, the two of them are pushed apart, as the wooden boards of the floor come apart and curl themselves upwards, pushing the two of them away from each other¡¯s throats. The rest of a group of fairies, who all apparently work here now, come to help as well. They seem to have integrated pretty fast. Fresh can¡¯t help but scratch her cheek, as she realizes that they found sensible employment much faster than she had. She wasn¡¯t even new-born either when she arrived here. She was just dumb. Fresh looks away from the fight and pulls the iron-key out of her pocket, scooting past the full, bustling tables as she heads into their room inside of the adventurer¡¯s guild, where none of them have stepped foot since their buying the suspiciously cheap and convenient house. The world is suddenly quiet, as she slips through the blue fog. Fresh stands there, alone in the room, her full bag on her back. In truth, she knows she could go to the barkeeper and do what the note from the thieves¡¯ guild had instructed her to do. But that¡¯s not what she came here to do. Though actually, the truth is that she doesn¡¯t even know what it is that she came here to do. Somehow, coming to the empty room, to the quiet room where she was separated from everyone and everything, from her friends, from the party, from the trickling water of the river, felt like the right thing to do. It¡¯s what old Fresh wants her to do. ¡°Just dumb, huh¡­¡± she repeats to herself, dropping her bag and sliding down against the wall, so that she can think in peace for a moment. And as she sits there, the more and more she realizes what she has been doing. In this new life, she has been pushing forward so hard and with such determination that she has forgotten one critical thing. That she is still herself. It doesn¡¯t matter how far she runs, how heavy her bag is, how hard she pushes; if she doesn¡¯t fix the girl in her reflection, her adventure would never begin like she wants it to. The reflection¡­ Fresh narrows her eyes, thinking about reflections, thinking about mirrors, thinking about the person she connects first and foremost with those things, after herself. Jubilee. Her best friend. Fresh knows that she trusts Jubilee more than anyone, she trusts Jubilee with her life. But Jubilee has a secret. Jubilee has many secrets. The mask. The thieves¡¯ guild. The mirror. The old house. The telescope. Their initial obsession with helping her, despite her being a stranger. Plus something else, something she hasn¡¯t quite come to understand yet, something about the new house¡­ She could get answers from the cloaked stranger, from Patala. But then again¡­ is it her business to begin with? No. It isn¡¯t. Jubilee could be a six-headed, fire-breathing werewolf and it would be none of Fresh¡¯s business. They were friends. Mask or no mask, secrets or no secrets. She has betrayed that trust once and she regrets it to this day. She won¡¯t do it again. The same applies to Basil. The same applies to Shamrock. Fresh realizes now what her problem is. She has become too obsessed with progress. She has been working, she hasn¡¯t been having an adventure. The reflection. She hasn¡¯t been paying attention to her reflection. To the girl in the mirror. To the witch in the mirror. To herself. Fresh looks up at the matte windows that show nothing, seeing no reflection, as she realizes what her next idea is. Grabbing her bag, she hoists it up and runs out of the room, runs out of the adventurer¡¯s guild, jumping over the broken floorboards as she hurries back home, not sparing a single glance back towards the barkeeper or the washroom, no matter how loudly the river whispers. ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± says Fresh loudly, jumping behind the counter with unusual energy. ¡°You took your tim- agh!¡± snarls Jubilee, as Fresh grabs their hand and drags them towards the basement. ¡°Let go!¡± ¡°Jubilee~! I need your help!¡± says Fresh down to her friend who glares up at her skeptically, but lets themselves be pulled along. She spares a second to wave to Basil, who is restocking a shelf. Then she hurries past Shamrock, who is talking to one of the casters that she recognizes from that night at the fair. Fresh stops, narrowing her eyes, locking her gaze with the elven woman, who looks over at her scornfully all of a sudden. ¡°Shamrooock~¡± coos Fresh, looking up at the giant from the side. He turns his head and looks down at her, curiously. ¡°Thanks for being my friend, Shamrock!¡± beams Fresh, wrapping her arms around him as best as she can, in a hug. His chest heaves, pushing her head, held sideways again it, back a little, as he lets out an excited breath and a single large hand finds its way awkwardly to her back. ¡°Until the moon falls to the world,¡± he says, unexpectedly poetically. Fresh opens her eyes, shooting a devious, smug glance towards the elf on the other side of the counter. Just to rub it in, she sticks out her tongue once to the side so that only she can see it. She¡¯s a horrible, cruel witch, apparently, so why not try to live up to that at least a little? The elf¡¯s eyes shoot open in a murderous glare. Fresh spares her a final wink and then grabs Jubilee again, tearing them down to the basement. ¡°What¡¯s your problem, goo-brain?¡± asks Jubilee, as they go down the stairs. ¡°You smell like vomit, are you drunk?¡± ¡°I was at the guild. But I don¡¯t drink, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I mean, I¡¯d like to go drinking sometime, but only if you go too,¡± she says. ¡°So I know everything will be okay.¡± ¡°No thanks,¡± replies Jubilee, sounding both flattered and bewildered by her odd behavior. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, having expected as much, but not really being disappointed. She stops. ¡°I need glass, please.¡± ¡°Is that it?¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I thought this was going to be something big,¡± they sa ¡°It is something big!¡± replies Fresh, lifting a finger as she explains. ¡°You¡¯re my best friend, Jubilee! So can you help me, pleeease~ Jubilee stares up at her but then sighs, their boot shifting along the stones a little. ¡°Do you always have to say stuff like that ¡°Mm!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you have any sense of embarrassment?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°No,¡± replies Fresh plainly. ¡°I¡¯m an evil, heartless witch who crawls through the night to eat children. But only if their feet are hanging out of the bed,¡± she explains, not skipping a beat. ¡°Uh¡­ huh¡­¡± replies Jubilee, staring at her somewhat lost and confused. ¡°So, how much glass do you need?¡± they ask, trying to get to the point. ¡°It¡¯s not about how much. It¡¯s about with what,¡± says Fresh. ¡°You need dirt, right?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Fresh grabs a bowl and runs over to the sacks of extra dirt that Basil has in the corner and grabs a large handful, filling it up. Hurrying back to the table, she grabs a bottle of moonwater and soaks the dirt with it, making a thick mud. She holds it out to Jubilee. ¡°Moondirt,¡± she says plainly, offering them the bowl of muddy slop. ¡°You can¡¯t just put moonwater in dirt and then decide that it¡¯s called ¡®moondirt¡¯, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. Fresh blinks, staring at them blankly for a moment. She gives the bowl a light shake, allowing the contents to settle. ¡°Moondirt,¡± says Fresh again, pointing at the window Jubilee sighs. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! [/author] Chapter 160: Radiance Fresh looks over the chunk of glass that Jubilee had made out of the moondirt. It is different from the normal, crystal clear glass that Jubilee¡¯s magic usually makes. Rather, the ''moonglass'' is milky and holds less of a prismatic shine. The light that it catches from around the room seems to lean more towards the cooler tones, rather than the usual brighter pinks and yellows. Jubilee watches her carefully from the side. ¡°So? What kind of fuckery is this going to end up becoming?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not going to be anything like that,¡± says Fresh, flicking the glass once with the tip of her finger. It lets out a sharp, crystal clear ring that resonates around the basement. She stops and thinks for a second. ¡°Well¡­ maybe a little.¡± Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°That¡¯s an odd amount of foresight, coming from you,¡± they state. ¡°Are you getting sick or something? Should I get Basil?¡± Fresh holds her hands above the chunk of glass. A clean slice of the hunk of glass separates itself from the rest. Carefully, she lifts it off and sets it onto the table. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, smiling back at her friend. ¡°Thanks for always worrying about me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m worrying about me,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. She cuts the top half of the removed piece off, creating a straight sheet of glass. ¡°No you¡¯re not, Ju~ bi~ lee~¡± says Fresh in a sing-song tone, looking over her work. ¡°Are you trying to pick a fight, goo-brain? You know that there aren¡¯t any witnesses down here, right?¡± asks Jubilee, sounding somewhat agitated. Fresh closes her eyes, pulling her head back as she purses her lips and carefully blows the glass dust off of the pane of glass before herself. Fresh looks over to Jubilee and shakes her head before turning back to her work. ¡°Exactly. Jubilee?¡± ¡°What?¡± Fresh grabs a bottle of moonwater and a rag, dampening it before slowly starting to wipe the rest of the dust away. ¡°Would you still be my friend if I was an evil witch?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°What? Fuck, why do you always talk like a five year old at the fairgrounds, asking if we can be friends?¡± ¡°¡¯Cause I wanna know,¡± replies Fresh. The rag in her hand squeaks as she polishes the sheet of milky glass. She lifts her head, looking back over towards Jubilee. ¡°You already know, shit-head,¡± replies Jubilee, sounding annoyed, crossing their arms and looking away. Fresh sets the rag down, lifting the sheet of opaque, shiny, polished glass up before herself. She looks into her own reflection. It winks back at her, though that might have just been her winking to herself. The moonglass doesn¡¯t shatter like Jubilee¡¯s glass usually does. ¡°Mm,¡± replies Fresh happily, smiling back at Jubilee¡¯s troubled eyes, which stare towards the sides of the basement, as if they were meticulously examining the wall next to themselves. ¡°Sorry.¡± Setting the mirror glass down to the side, she grabs some iron-bars and sets to work, making an extremely thin, ornate frame. In truth, she does feel a little bad about embarrassing Jubilee like this with her honest words. But she needs to speak them shamelessly. Not only to clear the air with her friend, but also because she needs that warmth in her chest for this crafting process, she needs to access that strong feeling which is nuzzled deep inside of her body, far beneath her breast, there where her heart strikes with strong candor. ¡°You¡¯re also my friend, no matter what, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, rather suddenly. ¡°I¡¯m going to go now,¡± says Jubilee, turning to leave. ¡°Before you make this any more awkward.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to start crying if you leave, before you let me finish,¡± pouts Fresh, puffing out her cheek. ¡°I can live with that,¡± replies Jubilee, very, very dryly. Realizing that she has to get to the point, Fresh sighs and takes a deep breath to steady her shaking legs and her wildly beating heart that is fearful of what is to come. ¡°I think I figured it out, Jubilee. Sorry,¡± she adds on at the end, realizing that this news will likely cause her friend some distress. Jubilee turns back around towards her, not saying anything, but looking her way uncertainly, as if fearful that she means what they think she means. Fresh continues to smile and then shakes her head. ¡°I might be wrong, but I think I get it all now. The mask. The mirror. Your -¡± Fresh corrects herself. ¡°- our old house.¡± Fresh sets the mirror onto the frame, sprinkling some glittering dragon scale dust onto it. It doesn¡¯t do anything, but she likes the way that it sparkles. It¡¯s a finishing touch, a delicate gesture of love for her creation, for the process of the creation itself. ¡°I just want you to know that I don¡¯t care,¡± explains Fresh to her silent, very stiff friend. ¡°You can hide yourself as much as you need to feel comfortable.¡± She lifts the new mirror up, examining it with pride. ¡°You can keep as many secrets as you need to. I have some too,¡± she admits, scratching her cheek, as she turns back to Jubilee. ¡°You can be as mean as you need to be, to keep me and the others away. But if you need a room for yourself, I¡¯ll make one for you. If you need a new mask, I¡¯ll make one for you. If you don¡¯t want to sleep alone at night, I¡¯ll come over -¡° She lifts a finger. ¡°Not-a-creep!¡± Fresh turns her own embarrassed face shamelessly back to the mirror, nodding to it one final time with a particularly determined nod, as she and the girl who she sees in her reflection come to a silent understanding. The reflective, nearly perfect surface of this magical mirror shimmers with a bright intensity, as it catches only the rays of every good thing in the world, showing the viewer only the positive qualities that others see in them and nothing else. Quality Effect: Once a day, allows you to scry on someone in your friends-list The image of her reflection changes drastically as the glow around her hands wears off. Fresh smiles at the wide-eyed child that she sees in the mirror and it smiles back, jumping around in excited, youthful vigor, as warm light grows all around it. She turns the mirror around to Jubilee, letting them see whatever it is that they¡¯re meant to see. ¡°You don¡¯t need to ever take off your mask, until you¡¯re ready, Jubilee,¡± she smiles, holding it out to them as she walks over. ¡°Because I already know what you look like!¡± Fresh feels like she has come to know Jubilee down to the minute details by now. She knows when they get up, what they like to eat, what they like to do. She knows what colors Jubilee tends to like the most and which ones they seem to avoid, even just unconsciously. She knows that Jubilee knows about Shamrock¡¯s sneaking of the candy and she knows that Jubilee had purposefully decided to let him, much like her sneaking out of the house to go to the dungeon back in the northern city. She knows that Jubilee isn¡¯t open about their emotions, at least not verbally. But she knows that Jubilee is just as openly emotional as she is, just in a different way. Jubilee shows their feelings solely by their actions, rather than their words, rather than a mixture of both. By the color of the clothes they wear, by the small gestures of wearing gifted flowers and by the things they show her how to make and by the things that they make for her. By their scolding and hard-worded lectures, meant to keep her in line, to keep her safe. To keep her ready for this world that she clearly wasn¡¯t prepared for from the start. By their initial jealousy about the others being around all day, instead of just the two of them. But Fresh has never seen Jubilee cry before and now, becoming distraught herself at seeing it, she quickly sets the mirror down and runs over to them, apologizing profusely as she falls down and grabs them in a hug that they don¡¯t fight. However, she makes sure not to squeeze too tightly. Jubilee, much like the glass, no matter how hard and dangerous it might appear, is a delicate and fragile creature. The frame of their body and spirit having already long since been shattered, leaving only the jagged edges of a broken thing behind for the next person to find. The two of them stay downstairs for a while and cry together. It¡¯s just what best friends do. Razmatazz ;_; Dear reader, please consider rating this story if you haven''t. Ever since we hit the front page, we lost like half a star in the ratings and I really am going to cry soon lmao Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 161: Inspiration Being an adventurer can be a very anxiety inducing way to live your life. That¡¯s what Fresh has realized. Sure, there is the allure of some great, vibrant destiny that always seems to sit just on the edge of the horizon, there where you can always see it, but you are never quite able to reach it, no matter how long you chase after it. Promises of exotic places and things, promises of rare experiences and lifestyles that could cause your blood to rush so fast that you might never sleep again, in that fervent desire to see more, to do more, to be more. To become stronger, lauded, loved, happy. Those were just the promises that the ever-distant horizon made. But for it to keep them, well, those things come at a cost and they might not be what you expected them to be, should you ever get them. When you arrive, you might be stronger, but have no-one left to protect with your strength. You might be lauded, but can not look at yourself in the mirror, because you only see the failures that you made during the journey. You might be loved, but have nothing but distaste for the world and the people that love you. Happiness is the one thing that seems to remain, but you could have gotten that without the adventure, without the pain. Adventures have to be paid for in either the currencies of blood or of innocence. Nobody has an adventure ¡®for free¡¯. Nobody leaves an adventure unchanged, untainted. Those who come out the other end are awash and soaked through to the bone either way, in the blood of those they had made those strong memories with or in the blood of the thing that had beckoned them to adventure in the first place. Innocence? Childhood naivety? Fresh isn¡¯t sure what exactly that other thing is, that thing that you lose during the journey. That initial drive that causes people to run after the horizon. That includes herself. Is it bad to lose that thing, whatever it is? No, she doesn¡¯t think so. Adventures hurt. But they¡¯re important. Without her adventure, Fresh would have never gotten so far towards becoming the person she wants to be, even if she isn¡¯t even close to being there just yet. But she has friends. She has a home. She has a life that she enjoys waking up to every day and those three things are enough to make her want to keep running towards the distant horizon, even if it will hurt now and then. It is late at night and she lays in her bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes that find no rest. Her mind has been darting left and right ever since her heart to heart with Jubilee. It was a very clarifying, healing moment for the two of them. But it was eye-opening in a way that she hadn¡¯t expected it to be. In a way that troubles her, even at this midnight hour. How much weight has Jubilee been carrying, to break like that at a single sign of true affection? Her head turns over to the side as she looks at the others who are fast asleep. How much is everyone carrying with them? What looming specters do they have in the dark shadows of their minds? Basil jolts in a sudden series of twitches, her arms flailing for a second, but then finding their way to the dream-sheep that Shamrock had placed on her bed. She grabs it, clutching it against herself, as she falls back into silence. Shamrock just lays there, same as always. Fresh sometimes wonders if he¡¯s dead while he¡¯s asleep. She never sees his breastplate moving at night. She sits upright. She realizes that she does a lot too by herself in the store, in the house. She makes just about everything that they sell. She cooks. She cleans. She shops. She carries so much weight herself. But as she sits there upright in her bed, her blue blanket falling down to her bare stomach, she realizes something as she rolls her shoulders, which carry on them light scars from the straps of her overladen bag that had constantly torn into her soft skin over and over. She realizes that she can carry more weight. As she sits there and sees the glint of Shamrock¡¯s armor in the moonlight of the open balcony, as she hears the troubled mumbling of the priestess, Basil, as she remembers the smell of Jubilee from when she pressed her face into their shoulder, Fresh realizes, that she can and wants to carry more weight. They can handle it. She¡¯s sure that they can. But she wants to do it. There is some¡­ matriarchal urge, some nigh-motherly instinct now present in her, as she realizes how vulnerable all of her precious friends are. She¡¯s an adult. She¡¯s a witch. It¡¯s midnight. - It¡¯s time to get to work. Fresh gets up, slipping on her robe. Quietly, she makes her bed so that she can¡¯t fall back into it with a clear conscience. Then, she walks past Basil¡¯s bed, pulling her blanket back over her to cover her and the sheep, which she spares a moment to nod to, thanking it for its hard work. She does the same for Shamrock, covering him with her old blanket that he had wordlessly accepted as a new treasure in his life. Heading down to the basement, Fresh grabs a hot coughee from the shelf and then washes up, before heading to her work-bench. She doesn¡¯t think much about the thing she had hidden in the bath. That was for another day, for another feeling. That was for something that isn¡¯t present in her now. Innocence? No¡­ The word goes through her mind again, as she stands there in the gloomy firelight, down in the dark basement where they had found a body. Her fingers tap the table over and over as she racks her brain for an idea. Not for an idea that the distant trickling of water might give her, no, for an idea that is hers. An idea that she wants to fulfill. Something that could take the edge off of not just her friends, but of every adventurer who had become hard and cold, who had lost that childish innocence along the way to the horizon. Looking up, she sees some of Basil¡¯s dried herbs hanging above herself. They should be about ready to be processed now. Basil had said that she could take some if she needed them. Fresh looks back to the planter-boxes. Five of the six are doing well, but the one still hasn¡¯t grown a single sprout. She hopes Basil can figure out what the problem is, she¡¯d offer to help, but Basil seems to want to do it herself. Fresh continues to look up and as she stares towards the ceiling, seeing the glistening of the dim fire-light above her head, Fresh gets her idea. Running around the basement, she grabs all of the materials that she thinks she needs. Magic crystals. Moonglass. Iron. Jubilee had bought some other metals as well that sit in a box in the corner, Fresh hasn¡¯t really looked at them yet. But now as she inspects them, they seem to look like bronze or tin, if she had to guess? ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, glad nobody else is around right now. Throwing the copper onto the table, she sets to work, deciding to use it. In theory, she could use iron for this too. But iron is heavy and she needs something light. She only needs a little bit. The copper cylinder falls down to the table. She sits it upright and holds her hands out again. The inside of the cylinder vanishes, the material disappearing as the magic eats it away, leaving only a long, hollow, copper pipe that gets thinner near the bottom. The pipe falls into three pieces that she sets to the side for now. Reaching over and grabbing the moonglass, she cuts out a chunk and then refines that down into a small disk. She polishes it. Holding it up to the fire, Fresh looks through it. But realizes that it isn¡¯t what she¡¯s after. The flat disk in her hand doesn¡¯t do what she wanted it to do. It just looks like a small pane of glass. Not something that can magnify, like an eye. ¡®Like an eye¡­¡¯ she repeats the phrase in her mind. Fresh tosses the useless disk down to the side and makes a new one, but this time, she doesn¡¯t cut it flat. Rather, she makes it so that it has a slight curvature, a bulge, like the rounding of an eye. Fresh beams, looking through the new lens and examining the dry herbs above herself. Though she does make the mistake of looking into the fire with it, causing her eye to sting for a moment. Grabbing the widest piece of the copper tube, she sets the lens into the top of it, gluing it into place with some normal glue. Then, she carves a small, upside-down ¡®L¡¯ shaped groove into the bottom of the first two tubes and then slides one over the other turning it to lock it into place. She makes another lens and sets it inside of this segment. Then she attaches the smallest piece to the lowest segment of the cylinder, locking it into place along the ¡®L¡¯ rail. Grabbing the ¡®useless¡¯ piece of glass from before, she cuts it smaller and fits it into the bottom of the tube, simply to seal it. This telescope allows you to clearly see impossibly far distances with incredibly vivid colors. Effect: The holy energy flowing through the glass restores 1 SOUL for every minute spent watching the stars. Weight: 2.15kg Value: ??? Fresh beams, looking at her newest creation. Grabbing it in excitement, she runs upstairs, heading for the balcony so that she can test it out. Razmatazz Man, I was channeling some Respawn-Mc for a hot minute there Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! [/author] Chapter 162: Troubling ¡°WOOOW!¡± yells the overly-excited fairy, one of seven, as it darts around the store in a circle, buzzing around the heads of the many customers who have come today. The other fairies fly after it, trying to catch up, but they aren¡¯t as fast as it is. Today is the day that they put the weight-reducing iron rings on sale, as they are. One of the fairies seems to have somehow slipped its legs inside of one of the larger sized rings and has hoisted it up to its waist, where it now sits, wrapped around its stomach. Somehow, this counts as being equipped and has applied the effect. The fairy, excited, zips around the store like lightning. ¡°I¡¯m so fast!¡± ¡°No using the products before you pay for them!¡± barks Jubilee up at the air, shaking their fist. ¡°Yes, my queen!¡± says the fairy, looking at Jubilee, who Fresh can see reaching for their bag of dirt. She softly grabs their wrist to stop them. The fairy zips towards the counter, trying to land. But it comes in too fast and tumbles, sliding across the wood in a crash. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh leans over, bending down towards it. ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asks, looking at the thing, somewhat worried. ¡°Basil!¡± she calls over to the priestess, who comes and takes a look too, curiously. The other six fairies fly by, but don¡¯t stop, as they head towards the sheep-tower, which they now, all of a sudden, find a lot more interesting. They¡¯re very easily distracted creatures. The crashed fairy sits upright, rubbing its ash-toned, oddly gray hair that sits out in all directions in unnaturally fluffy, large and soft looking spikes which bounce as it moves its head. It looks over itself, rotating its arms and buzzing its wings a few times. ¡°I¡¯m okay!¡± Fresh sighs in relief. Basil pats her on the back and walks off back to her work on the other side of the long counter. ¡°You gotta pay for that, if you want to use it, pipsqueak,¡± says Jubilee from the side. The fairy looks at Jubilee, lost for a second before then shrugging. ¡°I don¡¯t have any money.¡± ¡°I figured,¡± they lift their hand. ¡°There¡¯s the door. Bye. Leave the ring.¡± ¡°How come you guys don¡¯t make fairy-sized things?¡± asks the fairy, ignoring Jubilee¡¯s remark. Fresh gasps at the sudden realization, her eyes going wide. ¡°No!¡± barks Jubilee, quickly pointing at her. ¡°We are not doing ¡®fairy-sized things¡¯.¡± ¡°But Jubilee!¡± shouts Fresh excitedly, clenching her fists. ¡°Think about it! Tiny fairy sweet-teas and little sheep! Little tiny clothes!¡± Fresh gasps again, realizing. ¡°You can even make little itty-bitty tote-bags! Jubileeeee~!¡± ¡°No!¡± repeats Jubilee, louder now. ¡°These runts don¡¯t have any money to begin with, why would we make things for them?¡± ¡°Money is too big for us,¡± explains the fairy, dusting itself off. Fresh realizes that this is probably true, remembering the waitress from the adventurer¡¯s guild. She needed both hands just to carry a few coins. ¡°You should make fairy-sized money.¡± ¡°Not our department. We make things for adventurers,¡± says Jubilee, narrowing their eyes. ¡°Go get a job and do some push-ups, buy a bag. You¡¯ll manage.¡± ¡°Do you have a job?¡± asks the fairy, as it lays itself down forward to start doing push-ups. Fresh admires its motivation and energy, but she isn¡¯t sure if it counts, since it¡¯s still wearing the weight-reducing ring. ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee plainly, pointing down at it. Fresh frowns, thinking if there¡¯s anything that a fairy could do for them. She likes the idea. But¡­ ¡°Do you have a bag?¡± asks the fairy, still doing push-ups. ¡°Not for free and not fairy-sized,¡± sighs Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. Fresh wonders. ¡°Can¡¯t they join a party and go into the dungeon?¡± she asks, scratching her cheek. ¡°That¡¯s a way to get some money?¡± The fairy stops doing push-ups, staying at the high point of one, as it lifts its head up towards her for a moment, before looking back down to the counter and continuing its workout. ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous,¡± it says, continuing with its push-ups. It¡¯s at thirty now, which Fresh finds fairly impressive, even with the magic ring. She can only do three. Four on a really good day. ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out. Every generation before you has too,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind. We¡¯re trying to run a business here,¡± they say, before then waiting a second. ¡°Fifty,¡± counts Jubilee, nodding once respectfully to the fairy, who gets up and dusts itself off again. The fairy does something that Fresh doesn¡¯t expect however. It lifts its head and looks straight into Jubilee¡¯s eyes, not in the least intimidated. ¡°They¡¯re all dead,¡± it says plainly. Fresh blinks. Jubilee flinches together, looking up at Fresh¡¯s confused face, but then apparently realizing that the jig is up, as they then look back down at the fairy with a somewhat agitated glare behind their mask. Jubilee¡¯s posture loosens as they let out a long sigh. ¡°Sure are. Dead as dirt. What¡¯s your point?¡± ¡°Wait, Jubilee?¡± starts Fresh, thinking about the waitress from the guild again. Jubilee lifts a hand, stopping her. ¡°I¡¯m not going out like that, your majesty!¡± yells the fairy, pointing at Jubilee. ¡°Teach me to be strong, like him!¡± says the fairy, pointing over at Shamrock who gives a silent thumbs-up to it, before turning back to the group of squealing casters in front of him, who Fresh has learned to tune out entirely at this point. ¡°Eat a lot and do more push-ups,¡± explains Jubilee, pointing to the door. ¡°But do it outside. Don¡¯t make me throw you out. I will.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have any food,¡± explains the fairy, trying to get the ring off. Jubilee leans in towards it. ¡°Buy some.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have any money,¡± it explains again. ¡°Get a job.¡± ¡°Do you have a job?¡± it asks again. ¡°No! Go ask the adventurer¡¯s guild. They always take a few of you.¡± ¡°But I want to work for you!¡± explains the fairy. ¡°Fuck off, we¡¯re full,¡± barks Jubilee. The fairy jumps up into the air, flying in front of Jubilee¡¯s mask. ¡°How many push-ups should I do?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°How many push-ups will it take for you to give me a job?¡± it asks, with a surprising sudden zeal in its eyes. Fresh looks around at the other fairies that are busy living their most fun, childish lives, much like she herself would do in their situation. But this one seems¡­ intense all of a sudden. The hard look in its eyes reminds her a little of Jubilee¡¯s, actually. It¡¯s like it has seen something bad. Really bad. ¡°More than you can manage to do in your short life,¡± states Jubilee, their leather gloves creaking as they clench their hands in annoyance. ¡°Then give me something else to do!¡± exclaims the fairy, flying closer to them. ¡°I¡¯ll clean! I¡¯ll scrub the chimney! I¡¯ll uh¡­¡± it looks around. ¡°I¡¯ll polish your mask!¡± ¡°You¡¯re not going to quit, are you?¡± asks Jubilee, grabbing their bag of dirt and setting it onto the counter. ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh, but she just receives another hand, holding her back. ¡°No!¡± barks the fairy back at Jubilee, carrying the same tone. ¡°I want to work!¡± it says, with an odd determination that Fresh thinks is impressive, but also a little haunting. It wants it too badly. Desperately. As if it has seen something coming that the others haven¡¯t. As if it has seen a flood approaching and it were the only one scurrying for higher ground with wide, horrified eyes, while the rest continue to stand below in the growing shadow of the wave to come. Jubilee pulls out a tiny few crumbs of dirt from the bag and snaps their fingers, making a tiny shard of glass that they hand to Fresh. ¡°Go to the basement. Make a tiny dagger out of this.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Do it, goo-brain,¡± barks Jubilee, looking oddly angry. ¡°Yes, your majesty!¡± yelps Fresh, quickly scurrying herself to the basement. Just behind the door, she makes the item. It¡¯s an odd feeling. Making something this small, it takes her a moment to find the right amount of energy to put into the spell. But she manages, the tiny piece of glass, the length of her smallest finger, turns into a small glass-dagger. Though, for a fairy, it might as well be a sword. Waiting a minute longer to avoid any suspicion, she then comes back out and gives Jubilee the tiny weapon. They look at it and nod, lifting it up to the fairy on one finger. ¡°So you want a job?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Yes!¡± replies the gray-haired fairy, having broken into a sweat from their workout, apparently truly meaning it, judging by the expression on their face. Jubilee nods, handing them the tiny weapon. ¡°Go into the dungeon. By yourself,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee!¡± shouts Fresh, horrified. But she gets stopped once again. ¡°Bring me a kobold¡¯s eye,¡± says Jubilee, tapping the counter twice. ¡°A fresh one. You have three days. Do that and we¡¯ll find something for you to do here.¡± The fairy¡¯s resolute look softens a little at this proposition. It swings the little sword around a few times. ¡°I¡¯ve never fought before.¡± ¡°Not my problem. You¡¯ll figure it out, if you want it bad enough.¡± ¡°What if I die?¡± ¡°Then you¡¯ll die sooner than everyone else who is also going to die.¡± ¡°I only have six health-points.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get hit.¡± The fairy gulps, looking at the sword in its shaking hands. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Disappointing. I guess you don¡¯t really want it,¡± they say, holding their hand out to take the sword back. ¡°No!¡± The fairy flies back, clutching the little glass sword tightly. ¡°I¡¯ll do it! I accept!¡± ¡°Good. Don¡¯t forget to do those push-ups,¡± says Jubilee, shooing the fairy away. It nods, steeling itself, before it resolutely flies out of the door. Fresh realizes that it still has the ring on. But she decides not to mention it. She has too many other questions on her mind now. ¡°I hate fairies,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Little trouble-makers.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh, finally having her chance now. ¡°That was really mean! What if she¡­ uh¡­ he¡­ uh¡­ what if they die?!¡± ¡°Giving out quests to adventurers is standard practice for stores, goo-brain,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Remember when we got those root-flowers?¡± ¡°Sure, but¡­¡± ¡°Look. I didn¡¯t want to tell you, okay?¡± says Jubilee, looking around the store at the customers who all seem to have diverged to Shamrock and a few to Basil. ¡°A new wave of fairies can only come when the last one fully dies out.¡± ¡°So?¡± Jubilee looks up at her, before looking over to the tower of sheep where there are five fairies playing. ¡°They¡¯re already starting to disappear.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°The fairies.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°What do you mean? Don¡¯t they live for a few years?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If they don¡¯t disappear,¡± they add on dryly. ¡°Why would they¡­?¡± ¡°What do you think?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°They¡¯re small. Weak. Not very useful, economically or physically. They start¡­ disappearing.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t mean that -¡± Jubilee interrupts her again. ¡°What do you think would have happened to you?¡± they ask. ¡°If you were their size. If you were all on your own? The city would have swallowed you whole in a week.¡± Fresh looks out at the five fairies. They seem so innocent and naive, as they play with wide, childish smiles on the fake mountain. They have absolutely no idea. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! [/author] Chapter 163: Slick ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± asks an excited caster, who, given the energy in his voice, Fresh is surprised to see is a small, adolescent elf and not a fairy. The elf stands in front of Shamrock, pointing over to the new sheep, which have started to float off of the shelf by themselves. ¡°What¡¯s with those sheep?!¡± Shamrock turns his head, looking at the sheep that are flying off in all directions, before turning back to the caster. ¡°They float.¡± ¡°Yeah! I saw, it¡¯s really nice! But, why?!¡± asks the excited elf. Shamrock stares at the pointy-eared customer, who is barely half his height blankly for a moment, before turning his head over to look at Fresh for a second and then back down again. He shrugs. ¡°Because they¡¯re light. They float.¡± ¡°Woah¡­¡± says the small elf, his eyes going wider than ever, before he runs off to the sheep-shelf and tries to grab one. But they all fly too high, their big button eyes stare mockingly down at the young elf, who can¡¯t manage to reach any of them. Shamrock watches this for a second, watching him hop from down on the ground, trying his best, but not quite managing. Fresh tilts her head, also watching the scene unfold. She assumes the elf is still a young adolescent, given his very energetic personality. Though, casters all seem to become a little eccentric eventually, as far as she has seen. She wonders if it¡¯s because of the magic? It might be. Maybe fighters and close-combatants are just a little more grounded. It¡¯s hard to ignore blood and screaming when it''s coming from an arm¡¯s length away. Thinking about that, she looks around, suddenly realizing that she hasn¡¯t seen a single orc here in the west yet either. Hmm¡­ Shamrock reaches over, grabbing a sheep out of the air and handing it down to the elf. ¡°Thanks! Huh?¡± He spins the sheep around, looking at it. ¡°What¡¯s with these effects?¡± ¡°It stops bad dreams,¡± explains Shamrock. ¡°Does it work?¡± ¡°Acceptably so.¡± The elf¡¯s eyes light up as they see something else. ¡°Woah! What¡¯s this?!¡± he says, tossing the sheep back up into the air, where it floats back along with the rest of its flock. The elf run over to one of the little slimes that Shamrock had made, sitting on the counter. ¡°Slime.¡± ¡°What does it do?!¡± ¡°It wiggles.¡± ¡°WOW!¡± Fresh hears Jubilee sigh in agitation next to her and she can¡¯t help but laugh quietly herself. The stream of customers has slowed down to a trickle, now that it is somewhat later in the day. In the morning, before they had opened, the others had given her high praise for her telescope, especially Jubilee, which made her happy. Though Jubilee had suggested that they don¡¯t make a lot of them just yet. They said they knew some people who would probably pay a high price for them as specialty wares. Besides that, they had said that it has been several weeks since they moved in and that she needs to get started with her order of weapons for the thieves¡¯ guild which they had promised that Fresh would make. Fresh assumes now is her chance and leaves the store to Jubilee and Shamrock. Basil is already downstairs, harvesting and processing her dried herbs into her first products. By the time she goes downstairs, everything has already been cleared up from the rafters and replaced with a new harvest. There is a strong, floral aroma down in the basement that Fresh finds very calming, if not a little off-putting. Somehow, heading downstairs into the dark room with the smells of fire and herbs makes her think that she is heading into some cave. ¡°Hey, Basil!¡± says Fresh. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Basil looks over from the work-bench. ¡°It¡¯s going good, look!¡± smiles the priestess, sliding a small metal can across the table. Fresh walks over and looks at it. Inside is a blend of ground herbs. Lifting it, she takes a deep smell from it. It smells very softly herbal and gently sweet, like a spring flower coming to the end of its life. The mixture is a dark, woody green, specked with little scraps of yellow and pink petals from various flowers. ¡°It smells great!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°This is a blend I¡¯ve thought up,¡± explains Basil, taking the can and shaking it slightly from side to side. ¡°If you boil it into tea, it¡¯s great for anxiety and stress,¡± she explains. ¡°But more importantly -¡± She grabs a mortar and pestle that is already filled with a sort of yellowish, creamy goo. ¡°Honey, wax and seed oils,¡± explains Basil, seeing Fresh¡¯s confused gaze. She grabs a generous handful of the herb-mixture, tossing it into the mortar and then mixes it all together for a moment. The dried herb slowly comes apart, as it pulverizes and mixes into the thick, gloopy mixture which becomes more and more glossy, the longer it is stirred. After a minute, Basil stops and nods to herself, satisfied. ¡°Here, let me see your hand,¡± says Basil, grabbing Fresh¡¯s hands and holding it. She reaches into the mortar and takes a large glob of the paste, placing it on Fresh¡¯s hand, she rubs it in. Fresh blinks, looking at the window and then at Basil and then down to her hand that Basil is holding with both of hers, rubbing the cream in. ¡°Wow, good job, Basil!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°How did you get the quality up so quickly?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot of free time lately, with the festival,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Plus most of the customers only ever want to talk to Shamrock,¡± she sighs, somewhat begrudgingly. Fresh laughs, sympathizing deeply as she rubs her own hands together, spreading the cream to both of them. Basil slides her hands back, pulling free from the oily mess of their four slipping and sliding palms. The priestess reaches under the workbench and slides out a large wooden box. Fresh looks inside. It¡¯s filled to the brim with small metal cans, labeled as ¡®herbal skin creams.¡¯ Dozens, if not hundreds of them. ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot of time,¡± sighs Basil. Fresh stares at the box, surprised. She had no idea that Basil was so busy. Seeing her surprised expression, Basil smiles. ¡°I can¡¯t let you do all the work.¡± ¡°Where¡¯d you get the cans?¡± ¡°I bought them?¡± ¡°With your own money?¡± asks Fresh, still rubbing her hands. ¡°Baaaasil~! I could have just made you some.¡± Basil shakes her head, grabbing Fresh¡¯s hands again and sliding some more of the cream off, to rub onto her own hands. ¡°I can¡¯t let you do all the work. Besides, what else am I supposed to spend my money on?¡± ¡°Yourself?¡± ¡°Do you?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Spend your money on yourself?¡± Fresh thinks, scratching her cheek. ¡°Sometimes¡­¡± she says, thinking about the dragon¡¯s milk she had bought. She looks down at her hands, feeling them. They feel a lot softer. Fresh hadn¡¯t noticed until now, but now she realizes how hard and calloused her hands had become. She works a lot with wood, a lot with glass and a lot with metal, it¡¯s not too surprising. Especially considering that she never wears gloves, except to do the really gross stuff. ¡°I really like it though, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I think the customers will too! I bet if we put a few cans in front of Shamrock, they¡¯ll buy them all up in a second.¡± Both of them sigh at the same time, but then seeing this, they start laughing. ¡°If we get him to take his helmet off, we can get him to use some,¡± jokes Basil. ¡°It would be great marketing.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to work,¡± laughs Fresh. ¡°Maybe we can just rub it onto his armor?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ maybe Jubilee then?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°We could make a whole beauty day out of it.¡± ¡°That sounds like a dangerous idea,¡± says Fresh, continuing to laugh. ¡°I think they¡¯ll do fine without any marketing, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Good job!¡± Basil nods back to her, smiling. The two of them return to their work, sharing the work-bench. Fresh watches as Basil sets to her tasks, making some scented candles as well out of the wax that she had bought. It¡¯s a little messy, but Basil seems to know a lot about this kind of ¡®household-crafting¡¯, for a lack of a better term. She supposes that they did a lot of this back in the church. In turn, Basil watches her as she makes glass weapon after glass weapon, carefully stacking them onto the shelves. Fresh knows that the thieves¡¯ guild probably won¡¯t ever even use these, same as with their orders of bone-daggers and purification-mixtures back in the north. Their interest isn¡¯t in these low-level products, except for some niche ones like the lanterns. Their interest is in her, herself, and her ability to produce and to be useful. She supposes they always give her such large orders of items in order to give her an incentive to power through her crafting and to become stronger, though she doesn¡¯t know why they would want this of her to begin with. She could find out, of course. The adventurer¡¯s guild is ten minutes away by foot. She could have all the answers that she wants within the hour. But, Fresh, turning her head to look at the busy, humming priestess next to herself, decides that she¡¯d rather stay here. Feeling her gaze, Basil turns and smiles, before turning back to her work, as flush and rosy in the face as ever. Fresh has all the answers that she needs right here already. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 164: Thankful It is the morning of the next day. Fresh, having slept, her mind lost deeply inside of a heavy warmth, opens her eyes. Straight away, she notices something odd. Well, no¡­ more aptly said, she notices a lot of odd things all at once. Pulling her head back, she pulls the blanket out of her own mouth and blows her lips to get the fuzz off of them. Apparently, she had been chewing on it in her sleep. This makes sense to her though as she thinks, with a tired mind, about the dream which was having. She was flying over a lush field of grains, sitting on the back of a giant sheep and the two of them were collecting eggs for breakfast from the surrounding forest. She sighs. She woke up before they got to cook them together. She was looking forward to that. But as she sighs, she notices the second oddity of the morning. There is a smell in the air, that mixes in with the cool, refreshing breeze which streams in through the balcony. Clutching her blanket to her body, she sits upright and looks around, seeing the third odd thing. Everyone is already awake by the looks of it. Usually she is always the first one up and about. But today, it appears that not only have the others managed to get up before her, but they¡¯re also busy at work. There is a scratching sound as someone walks by with a broom from the pantry area. Fresh looks up at Basil who spares her a glance and then quickly looks away, back down to the ground. ¡°Good morning,¡± says Basil, continuing her sweeping with her eyes locked rigidly to the stones. ¡°Good morning, Basil,¡± says Fresh, yawning again before she feels the chill of the mountain air on her skin, where the blanket had fallen free from her grasp. Quietly yelping, she ducks back down under it and slips on her robe beneath the blanket. Privacy is of course an issue of sorts in this living situation. In that sense, Jubilee had the right idea, wanting their own room. Fresh supposes she herself is a little clingy and overprotective, wanting to sleep in the same room as the others all the time. Especially since, in truth, they were likely the ones who would protect her in any really serious situations, rather than the other way around. Fresh makes a mental note that maybe she should buy some pajamas, like the ones that Basil has. She doesn¡¯t want the priestess to think that she¡¯s weird, after all. Getting up out of bed a minute later, Fresh manages to finish stretching, her back not hurting in the least since she got the new mattress, just as the first plate clinks against the table. She blinks, looking at Shamrock, who sets it down and then goes back to the kitchen to grab more. He and Jubilee are cooking together apparently, which Fresh thinks is cute, but also worrisome. ¡°Morning,¡± says Fresh to the two of them, who are already almost finished with their work, before she turns around to make her own bed. ¡°Morning,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Good morning,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Coughee? Tea?¡± he asks and Fresh thinks for a second. ¡°Coughee please,¡± she answers and he nods. As she sets to work, making her bed, she wonders if she shouldn¡¯t think of a better name for the product. Oh well, it¡¯s too late now. She scratches her head, finishing making her bed just as the table is fully set for breakfast. Everyone is in such a good mood today. Not that she minds, but it¡¯s a rare day indeed. She smiles, heading over to the table just as the others all come to sit down too. Today there are pancakes, eggs and the expensive kind of sausages, though she can¡¯t help but see that there is something odd about the pancakes that Jubilee had made. They aren¡¯t round, rather, they¡¯re¡­ blobby, kind of like a fluffy cloud. She has no idea how they managed to make that shape in a round pan. Leaning over curiously to look, just as Basil sets down the silverware for all of them, her eyes widen in shock and she jumps to her feet, pointing at the pancakes with fear in her eyes, as she sees what it is that she is meant to see. ¡°It¡¯s a sheep!¡± she yells, looking at Jubilee, deeply worried. ¡°Bleh~¡± says Shamrock, pouring her coughee into her cup. Basil laughs quietly this time, sipping her tea. Fresh looks at them all, wondering if there isn¡¯t some poison powder in the air that is making them all¡­ - Happy and productive? She narrows her eyes in suspicion, looking back down at the sheep pancakes before herself. Jubilee reaches over and sets down two berries on its face, adorning it with eyes that look back up her way. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, sounding somewhat offended. ¡°I thought you liked sheep.¡± ¡°I do!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°But why is everyone in a good mood today?¡± she asks, sitting back down. ¡°It¡¯s a little scary.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean, goo-brain?¡± asks Jubilee, with a bark to their voice. ¡°Sheesh.¡± They sigh, crossing their arms. Shamrock, standing between the two of them, turns his head to look back and forth at the two of them, as he comes to realize what the problem is. ¡°The harvest moon rises,¡± he says, sliding her three-quarters full cup towards her, having left enough room for milk. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, remembering this term from her grimoire. ¡°The moon?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you know?¡± asks Basil. ¡°It¡¯s almost the end of summer,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°Autumn will be here soon.¡± Shamrock sits down and the three of them start filling their plates. Jubilee has set some aside for themselves, but seems to want to sit at the table with them right now and then just eat alone later. ¡°So?¡± asks Fresh, looking in delight at the sheep pancake before her. ¡°Thanks for cooking!¡± she adds on, looking at the others. ¡°So,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Summer is trash. Autumn is where the real money is.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°You can¡¯t just make it about money,¡± she says, shaking her head. ¡°The end of summer is a very important time of the year to reflect on our harvests,¡± she explains to Fresh with a smile. ¡°But we aren¡¯t farmers, Basil,¡± states Fresh, in the process of drowning her sheep in a mixture of dark, woody syrup and colorful jam. Basil doesn¡¯t reply, the corners of her lips twitching a little, as she opts to take a long drink from her tea, her eyes tightly closed. ¡°The harvest of the soul,¡± says a heavy voice from next to her and Fresh looks at Shamrock, as he folds a pancake into tight roll, squeezing out a lot of the cream and berries he had stuffed inside of it just moments earlier, before lifting it and simply sliding the entire thing into his helmet at once. Fresh can¡¯t help but worry about how sticky the man is going to get. ¡°It was a bountiful year,¡± he says. ¡°You poetic fucks,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Stop talking nonsense for once and just eat, will you?¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t nonsense and you know it,¡± quips Basil. ¡°Otherwise you wouldn¡¯t have made breakfast today,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s good, by the way.¡± ¡°Shut up, you kook,¡± says Jubilee, dryly, pointing at Basil from across the table. Fresh, with great relish, digs into her sheep. Though she is bothered by its berry eyes that stare at her as she tries to start cutting into it. So she eats them first. She thinks she gets it. Plus the harvest moon is pretty important for her witch-crafting. She makes a note to get some ideas ready for the big night. But apparently, it¡¯s also important for everyone else too, as a time of reflection and of thankfulness. She supposes that it¡¯s one of those times of the year that is incredibly lonely, if you are on your own. But in contrast, all the more meaningful if you are surrounded by warmth and by the faces of those you care about. Chewing on the sweet mixture of sheep, syrup and fruit in her mouth, Fresh looks around the table at Jubilee and Basil who are arguing, but not really doing so. It¡¯s just how they talk to each other. She spares a glance at Shamrock, who, like an excited child is hunched over forward, carefully rolling his second pancake together with delicate care like an artistinal craftsman. Fresh realizes something, many somethings. Not the ¡®new¡¯ Fresh, but rather that deeply slumbering part of her own character that has spent so many years floating alone in the cold, deep reaches of the black-water of existence. Every aspect of Fresh realizes these same things all at once, as they look around together. They realize that her table is full of food. That her hands are full with work. That her mind is full with ideas for the future and that her house is full with more than just friends, she is surrounded on all sides by family. All of these things for the first time in any of her lives. Fresh gets yelled at by Jubilee, for crying onto her food. But she can¡¯t help it. It has truly been a bountiful harvest. Razmatazz -) Apart from the odd bad night now and then, things have been really nice lately! -) If you need some letters typed, I''m officially opening writing commissions by the way =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 165: A little slime Fresh is on the floor, crawling on her knees with a damp rag in her hand as she dusts the lowest shelves. Basil is just behind her, dusting and wiping off the middle shelves and Shamrock is in the back, wiping down the highest ones. The three of them are working their way through the aisles of the store, working in tandem like the segments of a snake, as they move along as a whole. There isn¡¯t a whole lot of dust, but there is a lot of dirt and there are tiny bits of stone as well as tiny fragments of glass from wands and bottles that have been dropped. There are some splinters of wood, where the shelves have gotten nicked or damaged. There are some crumbs from the candies that people had eaten in the back corner in secret; Fresh assumes that those hadn¡¯t been paid for. Hardly the work of the thieves¡¯ guild, but more likely some of the children or the fairies they see running around the store now and then. She herself isn¡¯t really bothered by it, simply being as glad as always that someone likes the things that she¡¯s made. But Jubilee is more annoyed about it, coming up after them with a broom as they sweep the floor behind. ¡°Probably those damn fairies,¡± says Jubilee, grabbing a large fragment of the shell of a blue candy that Shamrock finds on top of the heated cabinet. Fresh looks up at it, before staring out of the window for a moment at the still dark tunnel outside. She supposes that it''s a cozy place for a fairy, up there. It¡¯s warm. There¡¯s food and light and sound and a place to hide from any prying eyes. ¡°Where do they usually stay?¡± asks Fresh, scrubbing a particularly hard to get dried spot of coughee out of the floor, just in front of the cold-storage cabinet. ¡°Wherever they can,¡± answers Basil. ¡°Once the fairies are born, it¡¯s a real free for all to find work and a place to sleep.¡± ¡°The little fucks get in anywhere that they can,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The crevices beneath rooftops. Dark corners in houses where nobody can see them.¡± They sigh. ¡°They¡¯re like rats.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± replies Fresh, looking back at the stain that she is scrubbing. It sounds like a hard life. She supposes they have to survive much like she did in her first night here, though she supposes that the dungeon here isn¡¯t ideal to sleep inside of, being this cold. At least this one doesn¡¯t have any vampires that could breach out of it. She does miss Mr. Mushroom a little though. Their friendship was very brief, but in her eyes, deeply fulfilling. ¡°What about food?¡± she asks. ¡°What do they eat?¡± ¡°Whatever they can,¡± answers Basil. ¡°They¡¯re small, so they have to eat a lot more often to keep their energy levels up. Especially given that they¡¯re¡­ uh¡­¡± she thinks for a moment, apparently trying to find the right combination of words. ¡°- They¡¯re hyper fucks,¡± says Jubilee, finishing Basil¡¯s thought for her. ¡°That sounds like a really hard life,¡± says Fresh, moving on to the next spot, thankful that her back hasn¡¯t been hurting anymore lately. ¡°How come there isn¡¯t a place here that just takes care of them? Like a¡­ a fairy house, or something?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee incredulously. ¡°Why the fuck would there be?¡± ¡°Because they have it really hard!¡± replies Fresh, looking up over her shoulder. ¡°It seems really unfair for them to be born and stuck here and have to live like that for their whole lives.¡± ¡°Who gives a fuck? Everyone has it hard,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If you can¡¯t feed yourself, you don¡¯t get to eat. That¡¯s how the world works.¡± ¡°That¡¯s really harsh,¡± mutters Fresh. ¡°The ones that want to survive, will. The ones who don¡¯t have the drive and the head for it, won¡¯t. I don¡¯t know what to tell you,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The big slime eats the little slime.¡± Fresh frowns, looking up at Basil and Shamrock, seeing if there is anything to read from their faces. Shamrock is busy meticulously polishing a glass wand, but Basil spares her a compassionate look. ¡°I sympathize with them too,¡± agrees the priestess. ¡°But the young must first work the fields, before they can be granted a harvest,¡± she says, lifting a finger, as if repeating a quote that she herself had once been told. ¡°Even if they disappear in the fields?¡± asks Fresh, getting right to the point. Basil lowers her hand, looking at her and then back to Jubilee as if searching for an answer. But Jubilee has none to give. Basil looks to the shelf, rubbing a spot with her rag. Though Fresh doesn¡¯t think that there¡¯s anything there to rub away. The priestess sighs. ¡°In the orphanage, we took in about two newcomers every month,¡± she explains, rubbing the rag back and forth until it starts squeaking. ¡°But at the end of the year, by the time winter had ended, we usually had the same number of kids that the last year started with. ¡°You mean¡­?¡± Basil nods, holding out her hand to Shamrock. He gives her the wand that he was polishing and she continues to do it in his place. ¡°Alone, most of the children never made it,¡± she explains. ¡°The ones who weren¡¯t children though, the ones who had to grow up too fast, those are the ones who did.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°The big slime eats the little slime,¡± says the priestess, repeating after Jubilee. Fresh doesn¡¯t like this saying in the least. Shamrock looks at Jubilee and Basil, before grabbing a bottle of fruity sweet-tea from the cold shelf, just as they move their way past it. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t drink the products, shit-head!¡± barks Jubilee at him. Shamrock looks at them and then down at the bottle in his hands. Shrugging indifferently, he twists the cap open and starts drinking it regardless. He downs the entire bottle at once, with Jubilee unable to stop him, finishing with a relieved sigh afterwards. ¡°The big slime eats the little slime,¡± is all that he says, as Jubilee yells at him. Fresh, despite the somber mood, can¡¯t help but laugh as she watches this scene unfold before her. Closing the empty bottle, Shamrock looks down towards her. He nods once to her. ¡°The young must learn to walk on two feet.¡± Fresh purses her lips. ¡°You too, huh?¡± she sighs in some disappointment, having hoped that he would be on her side in the matter. Shamrock shakes his head, handing the empty bottle down to Jubilee who takes it with an ireful glare and immediately throws it against his broad back, covering the floor in shattered glass. Basil starts scolding Jubilee about how mean and irresponsible that was and Jubilee yells back at Basil, telling her some slightly more unsavory things. Fresh does her best to focus on her conversation with Shamrock. ¡°But their feet need not be bare,¡± says the man, turning around to pick up the glass that Jubilee had broken on him. ¡°Nor their stomachs empty,¡± says the knelt down Shamrock, looking over his shoulder back towards her. He nods once. ¡°I will help you make the world lighter.¡± ¡°Shamrock¡­¡± says Fresh. She beams. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Shamrock!¡± she says, feeling a deep relief come over her as she sees that she isn¡¯t entirely alone on this. Shamrock says nothing else, simply quietly picking up the rest of the glass that isn¡¯t his to pick up, while Basil and Jubilee continue their spat. Not because he has to, or because it¡¯s his fault that the glass is there, but because it¡¯s the right thing to do. Because he is there. Because the glass is there. Because he can pick it up. Because it would make things better if he did, even if it isn¡¯t his weight to carry, even if it isn¡¯t his responsibility. Fresh smiles, crawling further forward, as she thinks about how she can help the fairies. Maybe tiny fairy clothes? Most of them only had rags and it would get very cold soon. Or maybe tiny fairy weapons, so that they could defend themselves better? Or maybe she should start smaller, with small portions of food and drinks for them. With tiny beds and tiny blankets to help stave off the cold of the long nights? Despite the grimness of the topic, Fresh finds herself oddly excited at the prospect of essentially making a doll-house for a tiny, living creature. She gasps, coming to her idea. ¡°Magical floating fairy house!¡± she says excitedly, turning around to her friends. ¡°What?¡± asks Basil, turning back to face her, her finger pressed against Jubilee¡¯s forehead. Jubilee¡¯s finger digs into her gut. ¡°Magical floating fairy house!¡± repeats Fresh excitedly, jumping up to her feet. ¡°¡­What?¡± asks Jubilee. Shamrock gets up too. ¡°Magical floating fairy house,¡± is all that he says, as he rises to his feet with a handful of damp glass. Basil and Jubilee exchange a confused glance. The conversation is interrupted by a knock on the window. All four of them look up to stare out through the glass into the dark tunnel on the other side, where the light of the rising morning sun is slowly starting to enter. There, on the other side of the glass, hovers a blood covered, dirty fairy covered in tattered rags, with a broken sword in its good hand. Its other arm appears to be broken too and hangs limply at its side. Its chest heaving, as if it had just finished running for its life as fast as it can. Its foggy, hot breath steaming up the window that separates them, as it lifts its hand, holding onto a single kobold¡¯s eye-ball by the red cord that it had once been attached to a monster with. ¡°Well. Fuck me,¡± says Jubilee breathlessly, looking at the spectacle as they place their hands on their hips. They turn their head around, looking back down at Fresh. ¡°Looks like the little slime ate the big one, this time.¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 166: Grit Jubilee holds out their hand, letting the fairy drop the gruesome trophy down into their open palm. While Jubilee takes a closer look at the eye, making sure that it¡¯s actually fresh and not just store-bought, Basil runs over and heals the fairy. While not a great idea in regards to keeping her priestess class a secret, Fresh asks her to do it nonetheless, whispering into her ear that it isn¡¯t like the fairy knows about such things. The fairy winces as the light of her spell washes over its hovering body. ¡°Thanks!¡± ¡°You can sit down, if you¡¯d like,¡± says Fresh, offering it a spot on the counter. The fairy hovers there in the air, looking at her for a moment, but then shakes its head, as it holds its hurt arm with its good one. ¡°No, I¡¯m fine¡± replies the fairy. Fresh frowns. ¡°Are you alright?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Your health-points are back up, but that arm is going to have to heal on its own,¡± she says. ¡°I can¡¯t do bones.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± says the fairy, nodding to her. ¡°Snack?¡± asks Shamrock, lifting up a candy from the shelf. Jubilee looks up from the eye in their hand, glaring at him, but then lowers their gaze again without saying anything. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± replies the fairy, shaking its head again a second time. ¡°Well, fuck me sideways,¡± says Jubilee, setting the bloody eyeball down onto the counter. Fresh steps a step away from it, making a disgusted face, as she can¡¯t help but feel that it is looking up towards her. ¡°Not bad.¡± ¡°It¡¯s good?!¡± exclaims the fairy, zooming in closer to Jubilee. ¡°So you¡¯ll give me work?!¡± it asks, excitedly, wincing as it moves too fast, the momentum causing its hurt arm to swing out a little. Fresh scratches her cheek. Isn¡¯t she the party-leader? Shouldn¡¯t she be the one that gets asked these kinds of questions? Apparently, Jubilee has the authority here. Not that she minds, that isn¡¯t really a surprise for her. Jubilee has always been the real head of the operation, she¡¯s just fulfilling that role in spirit herself. ¡°What are you going to do with a broken arm?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Actually, how did you even manage to break a bone without losing all of your four health-points?¡± ¡°I have six!¡± protests the fairy. ¡°I got hit once for five against a crystal,¡± it says. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever you need!¡± ¡°That¡¯s so dangerous!¡± says Fresh, horrified, clenching her fists. As she leans forward, looking at it, she sees that there are still tiny slivers of glass stuck in its arm. She looks at Basil and asks her to get a pair of tweezers. The fairy looks at her with oddly suspicious eyes before it shrugs with its one good arm, turning back to Jubilee. ¡°You broke your sword,¡± states Jubilee, pointing at it. ¡°It was made out of glass,¡± argues the fairy, holding the broken sword out into the air. ¡°Fair point,¡± concedes Jubilee, crossing their arms and nodding. ¡°So how was the kill?¡± ¡°The kill?¡± asks the fairy, blinking once. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill it.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°Then how the fuck did you get the eye?¡± The fairy looks around, before turning back to Jubilee. ¡°Uh¡­ I stabbed it out?¡± ¡°While it was still alive?¡± asks Jubilee incredulously. ¡°Yes,¡± replies the fairy, plain as day. ¡°How the fuck?¡± ¡°I did a lot of push-ups,¡± says the fairy, flexing its one good arm, but then wincing in pain. Jubilee, to Fresh¡¯s surprise, lets out a small laugh. ¡°See?¡± asks Jubilee, looking up at Fresh. ¡°I told you it would be fine! You crybaby.¡± Fresh points at the mangled fairy, distraught. ¡°He¡­! Uh¡­¡± she looks down at it. ¡°She almost died!¡± ¡°He,¡± says the fairy, sounding somewhat offended. ¡°He almost died!¡± repeats Fresh, still pointing at him. ¡°But he didn¡¯t, so everything is perfectly fine,¡± says Jubilee, dusting their hands. ¡°No it isn¡¯t!¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee looks at her, then over to the fairy. ¡°You good?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± replies the fairy. ¡°See?¡± ¡°He¡¯s just saying that so you¡¯ll give him a job!¡± protests Fresh. Jubilee looks at the fairy. ¡°Are you just saying that so that I¡¯ll give you a job?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says the fairy, getting to the point. ¡°See?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Everything is fine! That¡¯s what I call work ethic! Maybe you could learn something from him, goo-brain.¡± Fresh isn¡¯t certain, but somehow she feels like she is on the losing side of this conversation. She looks at Shamrock for an answer, but the man says nothing, simply chewing on the piece of candy that he had offered the fairy before. ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± asks the fairy. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know what we¡¯re paying?¡± ¡°Is it money?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Jubilee, lifting an eyebrow by the looks of it. ¡°Good enough for me!¡± Jubilee places their hands back on their hips, leaning in forward towards the fairy and eyeing him carefully up and down. ¡°You know, if you¡¯re desperate, people are going to take advantage of you, right?¡± ¡°Do you want another eye?¡± asks the fairy. ¡°I¡¯ll get you another eye!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Half a year ago, I would have told you to fuck off and get eaten by a hawk. But I guess I¡¯m getting soft in my old age.¡± They look up at Fresh. ¡°Is there any non-basement work that a runt like this can do?¡± ¡°Jubilee¡­¡± says Fresh in surprised delight. Despite all of their harshness, perhaps Jubilee really is growing a soft spot somewhere in their body. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh thinks as Basil comes down the balcony. ¡°We could use him to model new outfits and equipment for the other fairies?¡± ¡°Fairies don¡¯t have money,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re not wasting our time making items for a worthless segment of the market.¡± ¡°Jubileee~! Don¡¯t call them worthless. He can hear you!¡± says Fresh, pointing at the fairy. Apparently, not all of Jubilee has gotten soft. ¡°Besides. How by the time winter ends, there will only be¡­ what¡­ half of them left?¡± They look at the fairy who warily eyes Basil as she approaches with the tweezers. ¡°The ones who want it bad enough.¡± ¡°May I?¡± asks Basil. ¡°No!¡± says the fairy, flying away. ¡°You need to get that glass out or it will get infected!¡± lectures Basil up towards him, as he hovers up near the ceiling. ¡°I¡¯ll do it myself in a minute,¡± snaps the fairy, eyeing Basil suspiciously, holding the broken glass sword a little higher than before. He¡¯s not a fan of tweezers, apparently. Jubilee sighs and looks around the room that they were in the process of cleaning. Their eyes wander up along the shelves, until they fall on Shamrock, who, feeling their gaze, looks back down at Jubilee. Both of their eyes wander down along his body towards the floor, following the trail of crumbs that he has left there on the freshly swept wooden boards. Shamrock, not saying anything, slowly slides his foot forward to obscure the crumbs, as if they never were. ¡°Congratulations,¡± says Jubilee, looking up at the fairy. ¡°You¡¯re hired.¡± ¡°I am?!¡± ¡°Sure are. Your first job is to clean up the storefront. Starting now.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Give him a break, Jubilee? At least let him take care of his arm and sleep and then he can start tomorrow?¡± She looks at her friend. ¡°What¡¯s the rush?¡± Jubilee lifts a hand, shushing her and nodding with their head at the fairy. The fairy, without needing a second explanation, cuts off a part of the rag that its wearing with the broken piece of the sword and then sets the weapon down, before flying to the ground where it starts to pick up the crumbs at Shamrock¡¯s feet. ¡°Sorry,¡± apologizes the giant, scooting his foot back. ¡°You are strictly to stay in this part of the store,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Yes, your majesty!¡± says the fairy, collecting the crumbs into a heap by the door. ¡°Thank you!¡± ¡°Never call me that again,¡± says Jubilee dryly. ¡°If you go upstairs, you¡¯re fired,¡± they expand. ¡°If you go downstairs, you¡¯re fired.¡± Standing by the pile of crumbs, the fairy looks up at Jubilee and nods. It turns to the side, grabbing hold of some of the larger pieces of glass in its arm and pulls them out with a quick yank, wincing, before throwing them onto the pile of dirt. Red trickles out of its shattered, bruised arm. Fresh rubs her arm. The little guy is seriously intense. ¡°If you bleed on the products, you¡¯re fired,¡± adds Jubilee, turning around to go behind the counter. ¡°I understand, your highness!¡± ¡°You better!¡± barks Jubilee in a loud tone, already having a foot on the stairs. ¡°There are a hundred others who want your job. I won¡¯t hesitate to replace you,¡± they say, heading up the stairs before both the work and the discussion, at least in Fresh¡¯s eyes, are done. The fairy zips past her, broken and battered and bloodied and covered in dust and grime. He looks exhausted and exerted and as if he were in deep, strong pain. But he simply grits his teeth and gets to work. Fresh exchanges a confused look with Basil and Shamrock and gestures for them to stay there, while she runs upstairs after Jubilee, who she finds standing on the balcony. ¡°Jubilee? What was that?¡± asks Fresh. She leans down, whispering to her friend, who is looking up at the morning sky. ¡°Isn¡¯t it dangerous? Having a stranger in the store?¡± She looks out to the town, to try and see where Jubilee is looking. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t want to help him, but¡­¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you see it?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°See what?¡± ¡°His face.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Uh¡­ he looked really beat up and¡­ determined?¡± she guesses. ¡°Not just now, I mean yes, also, but I meant during the fair,¡± explains Jubilee, shaking their head. Fresh looks out over the crowd starting to run around the city below them. ¡°He was one of those fucks who circled me.¡± ¡°So?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°He had the same face you had,¡± they explain. ¡°Back when we first met and you asked me where the dungeon was.¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes. ¡°Dumbest question I¡¯ve ever heard, by the way. As if you couldn¡¯t see the giant, glowing¡­¡± they stop themselves and take a deep breath. ¡°Never mind.¡± ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°When he showed up the other day, he had the same face you had, the one you had when we decided to start earning money,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s funny how quick expressions can change.¡± Jubilee looks up at her. ¡°You¡¯ve ruined me, you gangly fuck. I really am getting soft.¡± Fresh tilts her head, looking at her friend, but then she smiles as she realizes that that statement might perhaps be true. Maybe their shared moment together with the enchanted mirror was enough to shatter the first layers of the illusions of Jubilee. ¡°I guess I¡¯m a bad influence,¡± she jokes. ¡°You¡¯re something like that all right.¡± ¡°So¡­?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± says Jubilee, nodding to her. ¡°He wants this job to survive. He won¡¯t risk something so important to snoop around.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says Fresh, sparing a nervous eye to the telescope on the side of the balcony. ¡°That makes sense,¡± she says. But in truth, she knows that it doesn¡¯t. A drive for survival, a drive for thriving and for friendship hadn¡¯t stopped her curiosity back then. In fact, it had only made it worse. She looks out towards the city. ¡°So you don¡¯t like the magical floating fairy houses?¡± asks Fresh, trying to move the conversation forward. ¡°I don¡¯t like the magical floating fairy houses,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°But if you think there¡¯s a way to make money with them, do what you need to do.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Mm,¡± says Jubilee, looking at her face for a moment too long, before turning back to watch the first wave of customers come their way. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 167: Secret hopes ¡°Hey,¡± says Fresh to the fairy, waving him over with a finger as she finishes her project, with Basil looking over her shoulder, to see if she did it right. She¡¯s never made anything like this before, let alone something so small and so delicate. The store is already busy and running. Jubilee and Shamrock take care of it, while the two of them handle this off to the side. The fairy flies over, landing on the counter, a dirty rag in his hand. Fresh leans over to him, sliding the tiny thing towards him with a finger. A small splint, made out of what is essentially toothpicks and string. ¡°We need to take care of your arm.¡± ¡°My arm is fine, thanks,¡± says the fairy, getting ready to fly off and to get back to work. Fresh narrows her eyes and frowns, realizing that this is a ¡®Jubilee moment¡¯. She hates these. ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me again, or you¡¯re fired,¡± threatens Fresh, softly poking a finger into the fairy¡¯s chest. The fairy stiffens up, stumbling back a few steps as its face grows pale. ¡°If your arm doesn¡¯t heal right, you won¡¯t be any good to us in a week,¡± she explains and turns to nod to Basil. ¡°You¡¯re going to let Basil take care of you and then you can work as much as you want,¡± explains Fresh, looking down at the fairy with a stern gaze that she finds very hard to maintain. It isn¡¯t an expression that she has to make a lot. The fairy gulps, looking at the priestess nervously. ¡°What¡¯s your name, little guy?¡± asks Basil, leaning down and holding out her hand openly. ¡°V-veli,¡± stutters the fairy, looking at the two of them as he grabs the tip of Basil¡¯s finger to shake it. Fresh nods to him, her expression turning into a smile. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, Veli. I¡¯m Fresh,¡± she says. ¡°This is Basil, that¡¯s Shamrock and you already know Jubilee.¡± She nods to Basil, who nods back to her, apparently able to handle it from here. ¡°Do your best, Veli, okay?¡± she beams at him, before heading down by herself into the basement. She closes the door tightly behind herself and sighs, standing there for a moment. She wonders if she was just as troublesome for Jubilee, back when they first met? The girl shrugs and heads downstairs, sparing a glance at the washroom as she thinks about the engraved crystal hidden in there. Maybe she¡¯s still just as troublesome? Fresh shakes her head and heads to the table, stopping to look at Basil¡¯s planter. ¡°Ah!¡± She realizes that today is the day that Basil¡¯s creams and teas are going to go on sale. She¡¯s going to miss everyone¡¯s reactions if she stays down here all by herself in the dark basement. She frowns, crossing her arms and staring at the planter. Five of the six are growing again, but the one is still empty, filled with nothing but blank soil. She walks over towards it, bending down to look at it. Barren. She wonders what¡¯s up with it, but decides that it isn¡¯t her business and heads over to her workbench. ¡°Magical~ float-ing~ fairy~ house~!¡± hums Fresh to herself, trying to come up with an idea. The idea in general is to make a sort of doll-house, insulated with crystal-drakonium to keep it warm from the elements and to lift it up off of the ground, to keep the fairies out of harm''s way. Maybe¡­ Her hand taps against the table. She found a way to create a cooling mechanism with the magic-crystals, maybe she can find a way to make them heat up things too? If autumn was really going to be upon them soon, that means that winter isn¡¯t far around the corner. How many of the fairies didn¡¯t have a clue as to what they were running blindly into? How many of them would only realize, far too late, what this world truly has in store for them? By then, it would be too late for them all to sharpen their teeth, to harden their minds, to become hungry and desperate to survive, like Veli. Obviously, in Fresh¡¯s eyes, that isn¡¯t the ideal solution to their problems either, but it is the pragmatic, realistic one. This world is gritty and dark and painful and anyone who is too innocent to see that, isn¡¯t going to make it. She thinks about Veli¡¯s desperation, about his violent initial reaction to Basil coming to him with tweezers and she wonders what exactly it is that he has already seen, that he has experienced in his single week of life to make him ¡®switch faces¡¯, like Jubilee had said. Fresh wonders, as she sets to work, grabbing a heap of materials, what this world would be for her, if she didn¡¯t have her friends. As she sets the pieces of wood together, she thinks that she would despise it with everything that she has in herself. Without the anchoring of the people she cares for, there would be absolutely nothing for her here, as far as she can tell. It would be without meaning, it would be entirely without redemption. Disgusting. Putrid. Hateful. Ugly. Terrible. Cruel. Fresh is sure, that if she didn¡¯t have her friends, that she would think that this world wasn¡¯t worth the daylight that shines down upon it. She is sure that she wouldn¡¯t be down here, thinking of something to make someone else¡¯s life warmer. It¡¯s funny how the kind actions of one person can create another reaction that ripples out into the world to create more kind reactions. But she can¡¯t help but wonder if it is enough? If all of the kindness and warmth that she is trying to build is enough to help even a tiny splash of the ocean of cruel souls here, or if they aren¡¯t all beyond redemption? Fresh has no idea how to make a doll-house, truth be told, so she starts with smaller things. Things that she knows how to make. A tiny bed. A tiny dresser. A tiny wardrobe. All using the same principles as the real ones, just¡­ tiny. The bed is the easiest. She takes a slice of wood, about an inch longer than the length between the bottom of her palm and the tip of her longest finger. She then cuts out several small, square holes, creating a mesh grid in the middle of the board while leaving a rectangular frame. These holes were for air, to stop the bedding from getting funky. While she remembers the concept of a box-spring, in truth, she doesn¡¯t really know how to make one. The wood here all seems to be very brittle and not so flexible and bendy. Maybe if she had a special kind of wood? Or maybe the trees here in the west just aren¡¯t the right kind. But this concept is good enough. Setting the holed frame down, she then takes four of the squares that have fallen out and with some glue, attaches one of them to each corner of the frame as legs. She presses them down, holding them for a minute in place so that the glue can dry, before flipping it over and standing it upright. Fresh scratches her cheek, looking down at it and she smears a little glue onto her own face. ¡°Yup¡­ that¡¯s a bed-frame, all right,¡± mutters Fresh to herself. The horrible, ugly witch of the north, huh? Fresh can¡¯t help but sigh once again. Despite how her friends had explained to her before, that she had an incredibly powerful cosmic gift for crafting dangerous and rare items without limit, she just likes making perfectly normal things. Beds. Boots. Toys. Candy. Drinks. Lanterns. Some weapons and some equipment. Furniture. These kinds of things are all her favorite things to make. Because they don¡¯t just excite people with some incredible power and bedazzling effect, like some ultra rare witch-weapon or magical trinket could. Rather, they keep everyone warm. They keep everyone safe. They keep everyone fed and keep their thirsts quenched and maybe even, on really good days, they would create small smiles on their faces, which in her own deepest hopes, could become infectious to those around them. Fresh leans over, grabbing a knife from against the wall and an ingot of crystal-drakonium, as she sets to work making a tiny mattress. Maybe things like this, maybe small smiles like that, maybe those tiny sparks of warmth and comfort, maybe those were enough to help make the world and all of the souls in it, lighter. Perhaps that is the true deviousness of the horrible, cruel, ugly witch of the north. She walks amongst the people as one of them, hiding in plain sight for all to see, corrupting their cold, hard, ruined personalities with her deadly poisons of love and care, one drop at a time, like toxic sludge dripping into a river. No matter how furious that would make them and no matter how much they hated her for it, she would come for them all eventually. In the darkest hours of midnight, the terrible witch would creep through their houses as they slumbered, and would cover their feet with blankets and fill their pantries with candy. She is truly an unforgivable monster, thinks Fresh, as she sets to work lovingly adorning the fairy-bed with a tiny blanket and pillow. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 168: Home Cooking People hurriedly run inside of the tunnel as the surging rain picks up pace outside, pushing through the underground with a loud, sharp whistle as it rushes along the rock-face. Fresh peers out of the window, watching as people run by, laughing to each other as they shake out their wet clothes. Apparently, a storm has come over the mountain. It is late in the evening. The day had been long, but in Fresh¡¯s eyes, successful. The others had taken care of the store. The new help, Veli, had been flying around all day, keeping the storefront tidy, while people were running in and out of it, tracking mud and crumbs and dropping things now and then. She can¡¯t help but admire his determination, though she does worry a little about it too. His determination is too strong to be healthy, but she supposes that it isn¡¯t her place to question the fairy¡¯s life and his choices. His presence was of course, a great convenience for herself, despite her guilt about it. Because now that the store is closing and she looks around, she sees that there is nothing left to clean. All that needs to be done to prepare the store for tomorrow is to restock the shelves, which will take all of ten minutes, if the four of them do it together. The last customer leaves and Jubilee shuts the door behind them, letting out a long sigh. ¡°Another day checked off of the calendar,¡± they say, dusting their hands and walking back to the counter. Basil and Shamrock both sigh too, both of them leaning over forward and resting their heads on the counter at the same time, sparing an understanding look at each other as they lay there, immobilized. ¡°Good work, everyone!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Let¡¯s finish up and call it a day,¡± she suggests. Lifting her head up, she looks at Veli who is looking around, apparently still looking for more work. His left arm is tied up tightly in the little splint that Basil had helped him with. Fresh imagines that it must have and likely still does hurt a lot, but she hasn¡¯t heard the fairy complain once. ¡°You too, Veli!¡± she says. ¡°Good work today!¡± The fairy, pale in the face, nods to her and flies down to the counter. Fresh scratches her cheek and heads back, grabbing a candy from the shelf. Red seems like a good choice. ¡°Here,¡± says Fresh, setting it down. ¡°You¡¯re probably starving, right?¡± She can hear Jubilee sigh and tap their fingers against the counter, but they don¡¯t say anything. Veli looks up at her and then at the candy that is half the size of his own body. ¡°Thanks,¡± says the fairy. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°Mm! Sorry that it¡¯s just candy and not real food,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Ah!¡± She sees the difficulty he has, trying to break open the perfectly round, hardened shell of the thing. ¡°Here.¡± Pressing down on it with a finger, she cracks it open and lets him get to the doughy insides. ¡°You did alright,¡± says Jubilee, looking at him as he grabs a fistful of the dough with his good arm. Veli bows with his head, his mouth already full of dough. Fresh remembers that she was told that fairies had to eat a lot during the day to keep their energy up, since they are such small creatures. Jubilee pulls open the drawer, sliding a single silver Obol across the counter to him. ¡°Here¡¯s your pay. Take it and get out,¡± says Jubilee, getting straight to the point. Veli swallows, clenching the coin with great difficulty between his one good and one bad arm. ¡°Yes, my queen!¡± he says, pulling it back to the candy and taking another fistful of the dough into his mouth before straining himself to lift the coin into the air with just one arm. ¡°Tomorrow morning, one hour before sunrise,¡± says Jubilee, still pointing at the door. ¡°If you¡¯re late, you¡¯re fired.¡± Basil laughs quietly in the corner, perhaps having an odd sense of nostalgia. Veli nods to them, his mouth still full as Fresh holds the door open and he flies out, zipping down the tunnel. She hopes he does alright in the storm. Actually, she wonders where it is that he and the other fairies are staying? Shrugging, she closes the door again, before the crack of the overly ominous thunder outside can manage to reach her. The other three take over the restocking, while Fresh heads upstairs and prepares dinner. Having someone to clean for them really does save a lot of time at the end of the day. Using all of that energy that she saved, Fresh decides to make a strong, hearty meal today. The terrible weather starting to brew outside offers the perfect contrast for something hot and thick. A stew. Humming to herself, she sets to work cooking and setting the table, so that by the time everyone else comes upstairs, all there is left to do is to sit down. It sounds like it was a very tiring day upstairs today. So Fresh is glad that she got to hide in the basement. Apparently, some customers got in a fight with each other over Shamrock, which only got worse as he then left the back of the counter to try and tear them off of each other''s throats. As for Basil¡¯s creams, they sold a little too well, especially among the particular client¨¨le who seemed hellbent on trying to impress the giant, who just wanted to stand there and poke the little toy slimes. Jubilee meanwhile, had to spend all day chasing fairies and arguing with the tired-man, who had come into the store once again. Fresh listens intently to their stories, as she stirs the pot filled with root-vegetables and tubers and a brown sauce that isn¡¯t quite thick enough for her liking. She ponders for a moment, wondering what to do. Then, she realizes, running into the pantry to get some milk and flour. Though, they seem to be out of milk, having used the last of it for their coughee this morning. Well, except for one particular kind. She stirs the bottle of dragon¡¯s milk in her hands, deciding that it¡¯s probably fine, before she heads back out and takes the cork off of it, sniffing it once to see if it was okay, before pouring some into the stew. Sure, it¡¯s a really expensive thing to put into something like a simple stew, but Fresh thinks that her hard-working friends deserve nothing less. Smiling, she sets the bottle to the side and adds the finishing touches, as she watches it become thicker. A sprinkle of salt is dropped into the pot with a dramatic flick of her wrist. A handful of crushed, dried rose-leaves is allowed to fall from her grasp, after she spins once in a circle where she¡¯s standing. ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± asks Jubilee from the table, looking back over their chair. Fresh blinks, staring at the three faces staring her way, as she leans sideways on one leg, letting the last few peppercorns roll off down her fingers from her upwards facing palm. ¡°Cooking,¡± she says, plain as day. ¡°Uh¡­ huh¡­¡± ¡°Mm!¡± laughs Fresh, tapping the wooden spoon against the pot once before taking it off of the heat. ¡°Huh... well, fuck,¡± says Jubilee, looking at the window. Basil nods, agreeing. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of cold resistance for food.¡± Fresh looks at them and shrugs. That¡¯s probably because of the dragon¡¯s milk, but she doesn¡¯t want to reveal her secret ingredient. She doesn¡¯t want them to feel bad about her having spent so much of her own money on their food. ¡°I think a stew like this has to boil for a really long time, for everything to get really, really soft. But I hope it¡¯s okay for you guys like this,¡± she says, portioning the bowls out. It really does smell great though. ¡°Thank you for the food!¡± says Basil as Fresh sets the bowl down in front of her. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s very good!¡± ¡°Thanks for your hard work!¡± says Fresh. Shamrock nods. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Mm! Thanks for keeping everyone safe!¡± Jubilee leans back, crossing their arms. Fresh narrows her gaze, leaning down forward expectantly and staring at Jubilee from up close with her cheek puffed out. The two of them stare at each other for a moment. Jubilee relents, turning their head away and grumbling. ¡°Thanks¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome!¡± smiles Fresh, setting the bowl down. ¡°Thanks for being nice to a stranger.¡± ¡°I¡¯m always nice to strangers!¡± barks Jubilee, pointing up at her. ¡°I took you in, didn¡¯t I?¡± Fresh thinks, sitting down herself as she scratches her cheek. ¡°I guess that¡¯s true.¡± Without anyone having to say anything else, the three of them start eating. As always, Jubilee doesn¡¯t eat with them, but Fresh appreciates that they¡¯re sitting out here at the table at least. Everyone really likes the stew, especially how rich and thick the sauce is, despite the simple ingredients. When asked what she had put in it to make it taste so good, Fresh simply smiles a devious smile and lifts her finger. ¡°The secret ingredient is looove~!¡± she says, clasping her hands. It''s a lie, but it also isn''t. Jubilee slides their bowl further away from themselves. ¡°Hey!¡± Basil laughs, holding on to Shamrock¡¯s arm as the man seems to continue eating faster than before. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan for tomorrow?¡± ¡°Same plan as every day,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°And then every day after that. Forever. Until we all die.¡± ¡°How exciting,¡± says Basil, sarcastically. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, blowing on the stew on her spoon. ¡°It is!¡± she smiles, before taking another bite. The stew really is very good. Sure, the carrots and the tubers are still a little hard and chewy and sure, so is the meat. A stew like this probably had to cook for several hours to get really, really done. But that¡¯s okay. Because despite that, it¡¯s still hot and it¡¯s seasoned with delicate care and with strong emotions and most importantly, with a pinch of salt. Tomorrow night is the night of the harvest-moon. The day that summer officially comes to an end. Fresh has an entire array of ideas that she wants to make. The items made from the harvest-moon have healing properties of a sort. Combined with the magical-crystals and the crystal-drakonium, she is sure that she can make an entire collection of useful things. And as for that thing in the basement, that thing which she shouldn¡¯t have made on her bad night, the thing that she should honestly keep in her inventory instead of down there in the bath, she has a very special idea for that. An idea that might end up making up for the wrong that she has committed by creating such an object. Fresh smiles as she takes another bite. This world was going to become a warmer and kinder place, as rich and as enjoyable as this stew.is stew. Razmatazz Dun dun... dun? No, the stew isn''t poisoned. Dragon''s milk is fine to eat, if not a bit sus. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 169: The help ¡°Do I really have to do this?¡± asks Veli, looking around nervously. ¡°Do you want to keep your job?¡± asks Jubilee, threatening him once again. Veli gulps and nods quietly. ¡°I thought so.¡± Jubilee lifts their hand, pointing with their thumb to the small ¡®doll-house¡¯ that Fresh had made, which sits on top of the counter. It isn¡¯t very magical yet and it doesn¡¯t float and it¡¯s not even fully furnished, still being very much ¡®in progress¡¯. But the fairy-house isn¡¯t what Jubilee is after. It¡¯s just a convenient place for the fairy to go, so that he doesn¡¯t have to undress in public. This privacy is what Jubilee had described to him as a ¡®decadent luxury¡¯, one that was not afforded to many adventurers. Veli had countered that he wasn¡¯t an adventurer. Jubilee had then countered that that meant he was lower than dirt and that he should shut up and go inside of the doll-house. Their task for the day was to tailor a fairy-sized set of clothes for him. ¡°Not only do you look like shit, but having you flying around all day wearing that makes us look like shit.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, sparing a glance at Jubilee¡¯s glass-shredded heap of fabric, before then turning around to gaze at Shamrock in his giant set of scarred armor, which could use a polishing, honestly. She and Basil at least have on some clean, matching robes. But they aren¡¯t exactly ¡®professional¡¯ attire either. Then again, she doesn¡¯t really want to wear a work uniform. Though it could be cute¡­ Fresh shakes her head. She has her doubts that she could convince Jubilee or Shamrock to wear matching outfits with her. Maybe in some far off dream-scape. She sighs, taking over Jubilee¡¯s work at the counter. A man comes over, setting down a large crystal-drakonium mattress and a bottle of cold coughee. She looks up at him, recognizing him as the tired-man, who often comes to speak to Jubilee for whatever reason. ¡°Hello,¡± says the tired-man. ¡°Hi!¡± says Fresh energetically, doing the math in her head. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Six-hundred and ten,¡± says Jubilee, not looking away from the doll-house, as they stand there with crossed arms, waiting. Fresh nods. ¡°Six-hundred and ten Obols, please,¡± she smiles at the tired-man who nods back, yawning. She¡¯s surprised that he isn¡¯t asking her what something tastes like today. Though she supposes that by now, he has tried his way through everything that they had in store. The man starts sleepily digging through his pockets. ¡°Say, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, why are you always so tired?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Do you have a lot of work?¡± The tired man rubs his eyes with his free hand as his other one rummages through a mess of noisily jangling coins in his pocket. ¡°I try not to sleep too much,¡± he replies, setting down a heap of coins that Fresh starts to count through. (Fresh) sold: [Crystal-Drakonium Mattress](High) [Coughee](High) for [{610} Obols ] ! ¡°Bad dreams?¡± asks Fresh, pointing to the sheep floating by. ¡°We have something for that. You want one?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not free,¡± snaps Jubilee over from the side, leaning back forward to tap against the window of the doll-house. ¡°Hurry up!¡± ¡°I¡¯m almost done!¡± says Veli, his face peeking out of the small window. Fresh notices now for the first time how tall the tired-man actually is, but he¡¯s a real sloucher. Then again, she notices that her own posture is always fairly poor. Especially when compared to Basil, who stands next to her on her other side with an immaculately straight back and neck. Fresh always thinks the priestess looks rather elegant because of that. She shakes her head and finishes counting the coins. ¡°No, good dreams,¡± yawns the tired man. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Do you have anything that stops good dreams?¡± he asks. ¡°Good¡­? Why would you want to stop good dreams?¡± asks Fresh, curiously. ¡°Ghosts,¡± says the tired man, grabbing the bed-roll and his bottle of coughee. ¡°There are too many ghosts in them,¡± he says, rubbing his face on his elbow, before turning to walk away. ¡°Huh?¡± He slouches out towards the door, nodding with a smile to Jubilee who lifts their middle finger his way. ¡°Jubilee~!¡± But the tired man just laughs and walks out of the door. Before he walks out of earshot, Fresh shouts after him that she¡¯ll think of something to help his dreams. Though she doesn¡¯t really get why the man wouldn¡¯t want good dreams or how ghosts factor into any of this. Still, he doesn¡¯t seem so bad. Just a little tired, which makes him a little wobbly in the head, apparently. She pulls open the drawer and sorts the coins inside, realizing with a smile that this was the first of her mattresses that she herself had sold. ¡°Is this okay?¡± asks Veli, stepping out of the door of the small house, holding his good arm out to the side. Fabric droops down from his sleeves and torso. ¡°No, you still look like shit,¡± says Jubilee, poking him once in the gut. Fresh is always surprised how wobbly and fluffy and soft the fairy¡¯s hair is. So much so, that it seems to bounce and bob with every movement of his body. She¡¯s a little jealous actually she realizes, after feeling her own fingers on her hair. ¡°Hold still, let me make some markings,¡± says Jubilee, grabbing a pen to mark where the adjustments should go. ¡°Hey Veli,¡± asks Fresh to the nervous fairy who finds himself in Jubilee¡¯s clutches. ¡°Is the house the right size?¡± she asks. ¡°Huh? Uh,¡± Veli turns his head around. ¡°The ceiling could be a little higher,¡± he says. ¡°Right now, I can feel my hair brush against it.¡± Fresh gasps, her fist striking her open palm. She hadn¡¯t accounted for the fairy¡¯s fluffy hair in her architecture. ¡°But uh¡­¡± Veli stops for a moment, as if considering his words. He looks up at Jubilee before turning back to her. ¡°I don¡¯t think the others will like it, honestly,¡± he says. Fresh stops, already having been on her way to the basement to continue her work. ¡°How come?¡± she asks, somewhat distraught at this news. ¡°It¡¯s very¡­ cagey,¡± explains Veli, as Jubilee tugs on his shirt to get him to take it off. Embarrassed, he runs back inside and throws the shirt out of the door a second later. ¡°It¡¯s a house though?¡± asks Fresh, leaning over forward to look through the door at him. But he is hiding around the corner, out of sight. ¡°We don¡¯t live in houses,¡± explains the fairy. ¡°You don¡¯t have any houses to live in,¡± she counters. Veli doesn¡¯t say anything, peeking around the corner with his head at Jubilee, who wags with a finger, still waiting for the rest of the outfit. Embarrassed, he hides back inside. A moment later, the new pants come flying back out of the door too. ¡°They aren¡¯t safe,¡± explains the fairy. ¡°Safe? Safe from what?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°There¡¯s insulation, so it will keep you warm and dry and the wood is really thick, so it¡¯s very sturdy.¡± ¡°Sturdy enough so that somebody can¡¯t stomp on it, if it''s on the ground?¡± he asks, getting straight to the point. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, staring at the doll-house. ¡°And if it floats, is it safe enough that it won¡¯t burn if some drunk throws a fireball at it?¡± Fresh looks around at the others, who don¡¯t seem to say anything, despite clearly having heard this conversation. Are these really common problems for the fairies here after not even a few weeks? Getting stomped on? Getting blasted out of the sky by the random chaotic spells that always filled the night? Or were the spells perhaps not even random to begin with? Were people really targeting them, just because they were small? Just because nobody would come to defend them or to seek justice for their sufferings? Her fists clench as the thought comes to her again, like the sound of the running water outside of the door. She really does hate this world sometimes. Fresh lets out a long sigh, relaxing her hands as she realizes that she had let her childish naivety get the best of her again with this idea. She was so excited to make something that people would like, that she didn¡¯t even think if it was something that people needed to begin with, let alone if it brought any value to their lives. The houses would just paint even larger targets on the fairy¡¯s backs. She smiles, nodding to the worried, embarrassed face that peeks out of the door. ¡°Thank you for your honesty, Veli. That helps a lot!¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯re really a big help around here!¡± she praises the fairy who quickly hides back behind the door. ¡°Thanks¡­¡± says a timid voice. ¡°Don¡¯t over-inflate his little ego,¡± says Jubilee, noisily snipping the shirt with some scissors. ¡°I¡¯m going down to the basement for the rest of the day,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I need to rework my idea and then get some stuff ready,¡± she explains, looking around. There aren¡¯t many customers here now anyways. ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Jubilee, waving her off. ¡°Basil, I think I¡¯ll need your help later. If you have time, please,¡± says Fresh. Basil nods to her. ¡°Sure thing!¡± Fresh smiles as she heads down to the basement. The harvest-moon will rise tonight. She has to rework her ideas and she has to come up with something new. Though, she already has a few things in mind. She stops on the stairs, looking at the washroom door for a moment, before shaking her head and going to her table. Razmatazz -) The fairy-house idea isn''t dead yet, but there''s still a little spark missing to make it ''right'' =) -) To clarify a question from last chapter, Veli gets a silver Obol a day, which is worth 100 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 170: Compatibility A cold wind blows past her head, billowing the strands of her freshly washed hair out to the sides. As it moves, the cold fingers of the breeze touching her scalp, Fresh realizes how long her hair has grown since the start of her ¡®new life¡¯. All of the long, golden strands are already reaching down past her shoulders at this point. She stands out on the balcony, staring up at the sky, together with Basil. The other two have gone to bed, after helping them carry the harvest-moonwater down to the basement. Shamrock, in order to process his latest trauma of the day, bestowed upon him by some particularly ¡®aggressive¡¯ customers clearly needed the sleep. While Jubilee had simply said that they wanted no part of any ¡®witch-fuckery¡¯ tonight. But that¡¯s fine. Fresh and Basil had made their way up to the balcony again after setting everything up downstairs, not for any particularly productive reasons. They just wanted to look at the high hanging, perfectly round, orange moon together for a while, before they start their work down in the dark basement. The air tonight is filled with a sound that Fresh hadn¡¯t expected up here on the mountain, however. Night-bird song. The orange, rust-tinged world is filled with a heavy whistling and cooing, as flocks of birds, on their way to somewhere warmer from higher up north, stop on the mountain to rest and their many voices now fill the darkness with a somber nocturne. Autumn is upon them now; half a year has already come to pass since her arrival here. Fresh can¡¯t help but feel bewildered at this fact. So much has happened, yet also so little. She doesn¡¯t know how to feel about any of it. But that¡¯s okay, feelings could be saved for tomorrow. Tonight, there¡¯s work to do. Basil has been explaining to her what the harvest-moon meant to everyone, at least in the church, as a symbol of the changing seasons and of everyone¡¯s changing lives. Fresh, in turn, had explained to Basil how it¡¯s relevant to her as a witch, which as always, made Basil a little uncomfortable. But the priestess seems to be doing her best to be understanding. Fresh is surprised how quickly Basil had accepted her true ¡®witchy¡¯ nature. But she thinks that she realizes that the soft-spot that Basil seems to have for her, runs deeper than the beliefs which she was instilled with. Though, those two deep channels of her character likely intersect every so often, causing some internal turmoil in the priestess. ¡°You ready, Basil?¡± smiles Fresh over to her. Basil nods back at her. ¡°I¡¯m ready. Let¡¯s get started.¡± ¡°Bubble bubble!¡± smiles Fresh, turning around to go downstairs. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Oh, uh¡­ it¡¯s a thing you say,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°Before you start doing work like this.¡± ¡°Is it?¡± Fresh thinks for a second, scratching her cheek. Is it? That¡¯s a good question. Deciding that she doesn¡¯t actually know, Fresh does what any reasonable person would do. She nods and says that it is. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil. ¡°Uh, bubble-bubb-IAH!¡± Basil lets out a surprised shout as Fresh grabs her hand and hurries down to the basement. There is a lot of work to do and the night will only stay young for so long, much like them. Downstairs, the basement is alight with many burning candles, with the light of the fireplace, the light of Basil¡¯s lantern which floats at her side, as well as the radiant glow, flowing out of the large crystal that hangs above the planters. There is a second cauldron that she had asked Shamrock to buy, full of harvest-moonwater, together with stacks and stacks of tightly sealed jars. The supply would have to last for a while, as a real harvest-moon only comes twice in the year. Once during the end of summer and once near the end of autumn. While the fake harvest-moonwater, which she had made in the north, offered stamina regenerating properties, the real one offers health healing properties. A rare and powerful material, if water could be considered such a thing. The priestess yawns, though her body seems oddly stiff tonight despite her exhaustion. ¡°So, what would you like my help with?¡± she asks. Fresh explains, lifting a finger. ¡°The harvest-moonwater has great healing properties.¡± Basil nods. ¡°I want to combine that with the moon-glass and some white-magic infused crystals.¡± ¡°To make what?¡± ¡°Ask me when we get that far,¡± smiles Fresh, setting to work. She hands Basil a stack of crystals for the priestess to push her white-magic into, while she herself flips through her damp-grimoire, looking for a page that will spark that light in her heart that she is hoping to find. An idea comes to her quickly, upon seeing the sheet of moon-glass laying before her. But she doesn¡¯t want to make a second mirror like Jubilee¡¯s. That was a special present and in a manner of thinking, making a second one would ¡®devalue¡¯ the gift in her eyes. No, she needed a different idea¡­ ¡°Ah!¡± Knowing what it is that she wants to make first, she sets to work, Basil watching curiously over her shoulder as she takes one of the crystals that Basil had used her healing spell on and carefully hollows it out. As for the secret crystal that is still hidden in the bath, she has an idea for it. But she really doesn¡¯t know if she¡¯ll have the courage to show Basil her secret. After that, she creates a tiny hole on the top of the side of the crystal. Then she creates a tiny hole on the top of the side of the crystal. Carefully, she shakes out the residue from the crystal and then, holding it upside down, Fresh submerges it in the cauldron of orange harvest-moonwater, filling it up like a bottle with the substance. Pulling it back out, she carefully shakes it off, doing her best not to spill any water back out of the small hole. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± asks Basil. ¡°It¡¯s a crystal, filled with moonwater.¡± Basil fidgets with her sleeve. Fresh can¡¯t help but notice that the priestess is oddly twitchy tonight, especially since they¡¯ve gone down to the basement. ¡°Yes, but¡­?¡± ¡°Ask me when we get there,¡± laughs Fresh, who is simply following her intuition, as she does most of the time. Setting the crystal down onto the table, she asks Basil to put on some of the crystal-drakonium gloves and to hold it for her. She doesn¡¯t know if the moonwater is dangerous to touch and she doesn¡¯t want to risk anything happening. The priestess obliges, while Fresh gets a bottle of the heavy-duty glue. Taking a second crystal, she grinds it up into a fine powder on the side. Then, filling the hole in the side of the crystal with glue, she packs as much of the powdered crystal into it as she can make fit, sealing the crystal back shut. After waiting a second, she sands the uneven bump back closed and then decides to do the rest of the crystal as well, turning the naturally asymmetric thing into something akin to a refined stone. Polished. Straight. Fresh scratches her cheek, her other hand on her hip as she looks down at the crystal full of moonwater and then over to Basil, as the two of them share a confused look for a moment. Fresh thinks, wondering what the problem is. She had expected this to be a ¡®completed¡¯ item, but no window pops up. Nothing happens. ¡°It looks very pretty though,¡± comforts Basil, looking at the radiantly glowing moonwater, shining through the prismatic crystal. Fresh¡¯s fist lands in her palm as she realizes. ¡°It needs more juice.¡± Basil stares at her, confused. ¡°Huh? Juice?¡± ¡°Juice,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°It needs more juice, so it knows which way to go.¡± Basil blinks. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re saying.¡± ¡°It needs a little push, to help make up its mind,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°It doesn¡¯t know what it should like.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Can you use more healing magic on it, please?¡± asks Fresh, clasping her two hands by her head with a smile. ¡°Of course,¡± says Basil, looking more confused than Fresh had expected, stepping back and taking off the gloves. She takes a deep breath. White-magic flows out of her hands, enveloping the water-filled, hollowed out crystal. To Fresh¡¯s surprise, the crystal starts to shake, the water inside of it becoming turbulent, almost as if boiling. Confused herself, she holds a hand out over the crystal. It isn¡¯t hot or even warm. ¡°Mm¡­¡± she sighs, somewhat troubled. The night is just starting and already there¡¯s a setback. ¡°It might be an issue of magical balance,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Magical balance,¡± repeats the priestess, pointing at the crystal. ¡°Look. The crystal relies on earth-magic and then you have the moonwater which is¡­ ¡®holy¡¯, Somehow?¡± asks Basil, thinking. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s actually holy-magic, I think witch-magic is dark-magic,¡± she explains. ¡°It just pretends to be holy,¡± she thinks out loud. ¡°The moon is a thing of the night, after all.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek as Basil fidgets with her sleeves. ¡°But then we add in my actual holy-magic and then we might have too much, going in too many directions?¡± The priestess looks back to the table. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s all just too different to work together?¡± suggests Basil, lowering her gaze down to the floor. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just not compatible.¡± ¡°Basil¡­¡± Fresh looks back to the crystal. Her magic isn¡¯t actually holy-magic? Could that be true? Could the ¡®system¡¯ be deceived like that? If this theory of ¡®magical balance¡¯ is real, then maybe there is truth to it? Fresh isn¡¯t sure if she likes that. She isn¡¯t particularly fond of any element, really. Holy. Dark. Fire. Whatever, as long as the items are nice and the effects are helpful to those who need them. However, what she isn¡¯t fond of, was that odd look on Basil¡¯s face as the priestess said those last words. It almost felt like it wasn¡¯t related to this crafting process at all. Perhaps she¡¯s just being paranoid about one of her precious friends, or perhaps there¡¯s just a bit more of a selfish witch in herself than she had thought. But Fresh isn¡¯t going to let this go that easily, on the off-chance that her insecurities are true. Though she doesn¡¯t know why she would even think that Basil would be questioning the validity of their friendship. But she isn¡¯t going to stand for it. Fresh purses her lips and looks back at the stupid, dumb crystal that is ruining her and her friend¡¯s night before it even began. Fresh closes her eyes, thinking of a solution to the problem at hand. The solution comes to her readily, quickly, as she listens to the trickling of the water coming from the running bath on the other side of the room. It sounds almost¡­ mischievous, in a way that is very hard to explain. Like it¡¯s trying to hold in a laugh. It is as if it were watching something hilarious, something that it doesn¡¯t want her to know about, as always, really. But the idea is given to her freely nonetheless, if not the explanation to the joke. Basil looks at her in surprise as Fresh opens her eyes again and takes the priestess¡¯ left hand with her right. It¡¯s oddly sweaty. Maybe because Basil is closer to the fireplace? ¡°Do it again,¡± says Fresh, lifting her own free hand up to the crystal. ¡°I¡¯m going to use my magic at the same time too.¡± ¡°Huh? But that¡¯s -¡± ¡°Don¡¯t give up so easily, Basil!¡± beams Fresh at her. ¡°I don¡¯t care if the pieces of the puzzle fit or not,¡± she explains. ¡°We¡¯re going to hit them hard enough until they fit.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how puzzles work,¡± laughs Basil, but she obliges and lifts her free hand. ¡°This could be dangerous.¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be worth it if it wasn¡¯t,¡± says Fresh. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to, I understand,¡± she explains, squeezing her hand. Basil looks at her again, but then shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯ll try it,¡± she replies. ¡°Mm! Ready¡­?¡± She looks back at the crystal. ¡°Now!¡± The magic from Fresh¡¯s left hand and Basil¡¯s right washes over the crystal that shakes and rattles violently over the table, the water inside bubbling, as the lazy purple fog of her spell and the ethereal, multi-colored glow of the white-magic both wash over it. The energies absorb into the churning water and into the shining crystal¡¯s body. The permeating magic of the minor-curse interweaves with the glistening, spring-tide shine of the true holy magic. Both of those magical essences carry with them strong feelings that the other person wouldn¡¯t likely understand if they could ever get a hold of them. But that doesn¡¯t matter. The energies flow and twist, spiraling around each other like two coiling serpents, wrapping themselves around the shard which now slowly comes to a rest. As the glassy thing falls back down to the table, from the slight hover that it had assumed, it lets out a loud, single, ¡®thud¡¯ that breaks the tense air. Nothing happens. The two of them sigh at the same time, but then, seeing that the other had done the same, they both start laughing. ¡°That was really disappointing,¡± laughs Basil loudly, almost starting to cry. ¡°Mm! It was!¡± laughs Fresh, noticing that they had somehow ended up holding both of each other¡¯s hands after the failure of a project. She¡¯s glad to see that her friend has livened up a little again though. Maybe the priestess just wasn¡¯t very energetic, this late at night. As she laughs though, she notices that something bothers her. But she isn¡¯t sure what it is, exactly. Maybe it¡¯s the loud crackling of the fire, or maybe it¡¯s the bright flames of the many candles, or maybe it¡¯s the light of the crystal which still resonates brightly out in all directions, bathing them both in the shine of their collective efforts? Maybe it¡¯s the odd stiffness present in her friend, despite the laugh on her face? But something, somewhere in the basement is out of place and Fresh just isn¡¯t able to understand what it is. The grip holding her hands is too tight and too nervous, but she doesn¡¯t consciously feel that. The shine in Basil¡¯s rejuvenated eyes is too bright, too warm to just be the normal kind of care held between two very good friends, but she doesn¡¯t attribute it to anything else than the ambient glow being cast all around them, reflecting off of her laughter-tear filled eyes and when Basil finally settles down and looks back at her, the priestess¡¯ face contorts as if she was about to say something very difficult - And then, nothing happens. Basil, apparently does not find the courage to say whatever it is she had wanted to say. Despite all of that, Fresh and Fresh alone, is unable to see any of it and she can¡¯t help but wonder why the water sounds like it¡¯s laughing again. The fountain is such a jerk sometimes. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Basil!¡± says Fresh, squeezing her friend''s hand. ¡°We still have all night to try again!¡± Razmatazz Stop reading between the lines, reader. This was a chapter about friendship. And nothing else. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 171: Two together It is early in the morning, a few hours before daybreak. Fresh and Basil, both tired and a little delirious, are ecstatic about their results and cling to each other in a sweaty hug as they spin around in a circle, in an odd half-dance, half-wild-jubilation, down in the basement. This might perhaps be an unusual thing for the priestess to do, but she has little power to resist the adapting of her tired and already weakened personality to Fresh¡¯s in this exciting moment of triumph. Especially after what had happened before, just after midnight. For all PARTY within 12m - Quality Effect: ¡°We did it, Basil!¡± says Fresh, hugging Basil as they spin another round. ¡°We did!¡± laughs Basil, slowing down, as she is apparently becoming dizzy from all of the spinning. Fresh, seeing her pale face, lets go. ¡°Oh, sorry!¡± She looks down. ¡°Ah¡­ sorry,¡± she says a second time. ¡°I¡¯m all sweaty and gross.¡± Basil shakes her head, wobbling a little on her legs. ¡°That¡¯s okay, I don¡¯t mind. I am too,¡± she laughs, turning back to the menu that had appeared. ¡°Is it a good item?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a really good item,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Really, really good. Any party that has even just one source of holy or dark magic will want one of these.¡± Fresh looks at her, tilting her head. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if we want to make more of them,¡± says Fresh, looking up at the crystal. ¡°It was a looot of work,¡± she sighs. ¡°And I don¡¯t want to keep you up every night.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°You can keep me up every night, as often as you want.¡± The priestess blinks, looking to the side, realizing that that could be interpreted exactly as she had meant it. But as always, Fresh doesn¡¯t pick up on that. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Basil!¡± she smiles. ¡°I guess it should be easy to make more, now that we figured out the trick.¡± The trick was a lot simpler than either of them had assumed. They had spent many hours trying out all sorts of intricate craftsmanship and rune-work patterns and such, in order to get the magical energies to stay put inside of the crystal, holding together with each other. The trick was to just wrap the body of the crystal inside of a flattened piece of crystal-drakonium, which apparently also has magic-insulating properties and then for them to put the crystal between themselves, each of them touching one tip, so that their spells could meet in the middle, with neither escaping out of the body. ¡°Let¡¯s keep this one for ourselves,¡± suggests Basil. ¡°We can just strap it to a bag when we go into the dungeon.¡± ¡°Do you want to go into the dungeon again?¡± asks Fresh, delighted at this prospect. ¡°We can ask the others if we want to take a day off once a week and just do stuff together. Didn¡¯t you want to do that back in the north anyway?¡± ¡°I¡¯d really like that, Basil!¡± beams Fresh, grabbing a surprised Basil in a second, very sweaty, hug. Casting can be a very exhausting process. Apart from the resonant-crystal, they had replanted Basil¡¯s unsuccessful planter, using a little moondirt with the mixture. This moment, having taken place just after midnight, was perhaps more emotional in a sense, than this current moment of their success. Basil had had a confession to make, one that Fresh wasn¡¯t expecting, but also one that she didn¡¯t get angry about. It also explained why nothing was growing in the sixth planter. Because there was never a seed planted inside of it to begin with. ¡°Promise you won¡¯t get mad?¡± asks Basil, her sleeves rolled back as she digs into the dirt of the planter, sparing Fresh a nervous glance. ¡°I promise,¡± says Fresh, scratching her cheek and smearing some dirt on it, not sure why the priestess is so somber. Maybe because they hadn¡¯t had success with the crystal yet? They moved to a different project for now. Basil nods with a sigh and pulls something out of the wet dirt with her gloved hands. ¡°I used some of your cauldron water.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, looking at the thing that Basil pulls out of the dirt. It¡¯s a small, well polished strip of metal. ¡°The cauldron? That¡¯s really dangerous, Basil!¡± warns Fresh, stepping closer and looking at the thing in her hand. Basil carefully wipes the dirt off of it. Seeing her confusion, Basil looks back down to the thing in her hand. ¡°It¡¯s a piece from his armor,¡± she explains. ¡°I kept it, as a token.¡± Her eyes wander down to the dirt. ¡°I was hoping that¡­¡± ¡°Basil¡­¡± says Fresh, realizing what she¡¯s talking about. The orc. Basil¡¯s best friend. She was trying to resurrect him. Fresh wants to get angry, in all honesty, because of how reckless that was. But she realizes that not only is she the last person who is allowed to get angry about something like this, but also, that she had promised not to. Besides, she isn¡¯t sure that she wouldn¡¯t have tried to do the same thing, if something had happened to Jubilee, to Basil, to Shamrock. Fresh rubs her own arm, looking away. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that, Basil. Sorry¡­¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± replies Basil, turning away to look back at the empty planter. ¡°And even if it did, even if he did come back somehow¡­ he wouldn¡¯t be the same.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says Basil a second time, as Fresh stares at her back. ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t go near the cauldron again,¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s really super-dangerous!¡± Basil doesn¡¯t turn around, but her shoulders slump. ¡°I promise,¡± says the priestess, fumbling with the small, metal thing in her hands. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell the others.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t say a word,¡± swears Fresh, walking up to Basil and hugging her from behind, seeing that the priestess isn¡¯t going to turn around anytime soon. ¡°Do you need a minute alone?¡± she asks, feeling Basil¡¯s body shake a little as she tries to hold it in. ¡°I can go upstairs and come back down in a few minutes, if you want.¡± Basil doesn¡¯t say anything, still busy fighting down whatever it is that she has to fight down. But she places her hand on the two arms wrapped around her from behind to keep them there. Fresh smiles, understanding, and the two of them stand there for a while, not saying anything. Only the sounds of a crackling fire and the crying priestess fill the basement. Everyone really has had a lot to process lately, thinks Fresh, as she rubs the side of her face against Basil¡¯s back. Or maybe they¡¯ve just all finally come to a quiet, safe place where processing is an option to begin with, a place of nurturing and safety, a home. Or maybe she¡¯s just a horrible witch who makes all of her friends cry? She hopes that that isn¡¯t the case. After a while, once the moment has ended and Basil has stabilized herself, the two of them get back to work, neither of them saying a word about what had just happened. There¡¯s nothing left to say, everything is already out there in the open. Grabbing some moondirt, they set it into the planter, dotting the regular soil with it, before then planting some seeds which Basil had purchased. They¡¯re various wild-flowers, apparently. Nothing happens right away, despite Fresh having almost expected it too. But Basil says that whatever properties the moondirt could offer, it would take a while until the plants had grown large enough to make them apparent. Flowers like these will usually already become adolescents within a week. After that, they set to work on making some new rings. In order to keep them separated, Fresh suggests that they use copper and ends up making several stoneless rings out of the material. Basil, meanwhile, pushes her healing spell into a small bowl of shattered crystal-fragments, soaking in harvest-moonwater. Once the work is done, Fresh carefully takes them out and fits them one by one into the copper rings. While wearing (on the mountain): While wearing: Quality Effect: ¡°These are good,¡± says Basil, examining the ring in her hands. ¡°They¡¯re very protective, but uh¡­ what¡¯s the water thing about?¡± Fresh raises a finger, explaining. ¡°The biggest thing hurting people in this town isn¡¯t the dungeon, it¡¯s their drinking.¡± ¡°You think?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°It will be great for their bodies to really get washed out a little.¡± ¡°It is an interesting property,¡± concedes Basil. ¡°It¡¯s like a free, unlimited, but very weak health-potion. Actually¡­¡± she blinks, realizing what she just said. ¡°I don¡¯t know if we should sell these?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°Let¡¯s make a few more, but we should ask Jubilee about it in the morning.¡± ¡°You think they¡¯re dangerous?¡± The priestess looks at her and smiles. ¡°You¡¯d be very frightening, if you weren¡¯t you.¡± ¡°Basil?¡± ¡°Military tensions being what they are¡­ it¡¯s like with the lanterns,¡± explains Basil. ¡°An order of a few thousand rings like these could change the entire dynamic of a marching army.¡± ¡°You think?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You need to understand that these small bonuses add up fast and that the people who run the ranks know that,¡± explains Basil. ¡°An infinite source of cheap, disposable weapons. A cheap, weatherproof lantern that never dies. A lightweight, perfect bedroll. A ring that heals the wearer at no cost. Just these few things that you can make, if given to one regiment, could shift the tide of an entire war, just because of how much more efficient they would be.¡± Fresh blinks, looking at the priestess and then down at the ring. ¡°But I just want something to keep everyone safe and healthy.¡± Basil consoles her now, placing a hand on her shoulder. ¡°I know and that¡¯s what makes you endearing.¡± She lifts a finger. ¡°But that naivety is also what makes you dangerous.¡± The priestess looks at her with a stern expression and Fresh can¡¯t help but wonder if she isn¡¯t being lectured like one of the children that Basil used to care for. ¡°Whatever you make, no matter what your intentions are, someone in this world will find a way to use it for ends that you likely won¡¯t agree with. Remember that and always consider it, before you make something new.¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t know what to say, so she simply nods and smiles. ¡°Okay, Basil,¡± she relents. ¡°Do you want to work on the crystal-again?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I think I have an idea!¡± she exclaims. Razmatazz Lots of good bonding being done lately. Everyone is being tied so closely together emotionally. Isn''t it great? =) *Ratchets boxcutter* It''s the best! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 172: Hmm ¡°You can do it!¡± exclaims Fresh. All of the tiredness is washed away from her pale face, as she clenches her fists in excitement. Basil sits behind her, sideways on a chair and is leaned back against the wall. The priestess holds a cold bottle of tea against her damp forehead. She apparently doesn¡¯t share Fresh¡¯s current morning energy at this spectacle. Veli the fairy is on the counter, doing push-ups with one arm, as his other is still in the sling. She isn¡¯t sure how challenging this actually is for him, given his meager body-weight. But to be fair, his muscles are equally as small. The fact that he is almost up to ten is really impressive for her, since she can¡¯t even do a single one-handed push-up. ¡°Nine,¡± counts Jubilee, watching as the fairy, already long since having started shaking, tries to push his way up off of the wood a tenth time. But he seems to be struggling to get the last one in, his body and wings trembling from the strain on his core and single arm. Jubilee crosses their arms, narrowing their eyes. ¡°Do it. Or you¡¯re fired.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to Jubilee, Veli!¡± This threat seems to have been enough for Veli nonetheless, who manages to rise to the top of his tenth one-handed push up. His descent after that is less than graceful however, as he simply flops down onto his front a second later, rolling over onto his good arm. Panting, he lifts his head up sideways to look at Jubilee who lets out a half-disappointed sigh. ¡°Good enough. Next time, I expect you to do the drop right too though.¡± ¡°Y-yes, my queen,¡± pants Veli, already sweaty this early in the day. ¡°I told you to stop calling me that.¡± ¡°Yes, your majesty,¡± says Veli, shakily trying to get back up. Shamrock comes over and sets a cracked open candy down in front of him, already having gotten used to ignoring Jubilee¡¯s death-glares, by the looks of it. ¡°Good job,¡± he nods down to Veli once. ¡°That¡¯s coming out of your pay!¡± barks Jubilee at the giant. Shamrock shrugs indifferently, walking over to Basil. He reaches over the counter and takes her bottle from her hands, opening it for her. ¡°I have everything I want already.¡± Basil smiles a tired smile at him and takes the bottle back. ¡°Thanks,¡± she mutters, taking a long drink before pressing it back against her head. ¡°Your a treasure, Shamrock,¡± she sighs. Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°You good?¡± ¡°I think I¡¯m getting sick,¡± says Basil. ¡°You¡¯re probably just tired, shit-head,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at Fresh. ¡°If she can manage to stay awake with her empty head, so can you.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, looking at Basil. Sure, she¡¯s tired too. But ever since she had gotten her class, the dry, exhausting tiredness of sleeplessness hasn¡¯t seemed to bother her as much as it might once have. ¡°Go to bed, Basil,¡± suggests Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ll cover for you.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°No, I¡¯ll be fine, thank you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what you get for getting roped into one of her ideas,¡± lectures Jubilee. Basil frowns, opening the bottle to take another sip. ¡°I wasn¡¯t ¡®roped in¡¯. We had a very fun and productive night, right?¡± she asks. Fresh nods excitedly, glad that Basil sees it the same way that she does. But, Basil is clearly under the weather and as party-leader, she isn¡¯t able to morally allow her tired and perhaps, even sick, friend to work without rest. But she knows that Basil won¡¯t go unless she asks long enough to start crying. ¡°Shamrooock~?¡± asks Fresh. The man turns to look at her. ¡°Can you bring Basil up to bed, please?¡± she pleads, clasping her hands together. Basil lifts her head, looking at her in confusion. ¡°Huh? No, I¡¯m fine! I just need a minute to warm u -¡± The ground shakes as Shamrock vaults over the counter, his heavy, metal boots smashing down against the floor. Without a word, he reaches down and hoists a frightened Basil off of her chair and up into the air, over his shoulder. Basil hits her fists against his back. ¡°Put me down, Shamrock!¡± ¡°I will,¡± agrees Shamrock, turning around and walking to and up the stairs, indifferent to the squirming captive on his shoulder. ¡°Good night, Basil!¡± calls Fresh up the stairs. A second later there is a soft thudding and a squeak as the man apparently tosses her into her bed, as unceremoniously as if unloading a sack of tubers. He makes his way back down a few seconds later, light one person. Jubilee sighs. ¡°We¡¯re putting everything on sale,¡± they say, getting right to the point. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Everything? Even the rings?¡± ¡°Even the rings,¡± says Jubilee, pushing an open box of the copper rings to the side. ¡°Are you sure?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have said it if I wasn¡¯t, goo-brain,¡± argues Jubilee. ¡°We need the attention.¡± ¡°We do?¡± ¡°Haven¡¯t you been reading the ledgers?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Uh¡­ no? But isn¡¯t the store always full?¡± ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s full of shit-heads who never spend any money.¡± A voice rings out from the side. ¡°I- I have a suggestion,¡± says Veli, timidly raising his hand. There is a smear of dough on his cheek. The three of them look his way. Nobody says anything. ¡°Well?¡± asks Jubilee impatiently. ¡°Ah!¡± Veli jumps upright, straightening his posture. ¡°When I fly above the city, I see a lot of your bags,¡± he says, pointing to the stack of tote-bags on the shelf behind the counter. ¡°So?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I rarely see any on the other plazas though, only on this one and in the entrance area.¡± Jubilee thinks for a while, their hand on the chin of their mask. ¡°Maybe there are people there who don¡¯t know about the store?¡± suggests Veli. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Jubilee thinks out loud. ¡°We¡¯re right on the main path to the dungeon, so anyone who wants to go there stops by us. But¡­¡± Fresh hits her fist into her palm, realizing. ¡°- But anyone who doesn¡¯t want to go to the dungeon never will!¡± Jubilee nods in agreement. ¡°The other plazas have mostly craftsmen and workshops. They don¡¯t come down this way often. But if we could make something that they want, like tools, they¡¯ll go out of their way to get to us.¡± Jubilee nods in approval. ¡°Good idea, pipsqueak. Your employment is safe for another day.¡± ¡°Jubilee! Stop being mean to Veli!¡± scolds Fresh, looking down at him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry Veli, you can work here as long as you need to.¡± Veli looks away, shuffling his feet nervously. ¡°T-thank you.¡± ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake!¡± barks Jubilee at her, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Do you have to spoil another one?!¡± ¡°Huh? Another one?¡± asks Fresh, not sure what Jubilee means. Jubilee lifts their finger, pointing at Shamrock¡¯s helmet, where there are clear crumbs to see sticking onto the outside of the metal slits. Fresh laughs quietly, watching as Jubilee¡¯s arm raises higher, pointing to the ceiling. From up above, she can hear Basil kicking and flopping around in the sleep that she has apparently already fallen into. ¡°Oh¡­¡± ¡°Yeah. Oh,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°Wait, does that include you too, Jubilee?¡± laughs Fresh. ¡°Please, as if I could catch a fucking break around you people,¡± snaps Jubilee, waving her off. ¡°Mm,¡± says Fresh, nodding understandingly. ¡°Anyways, what do you want for dinner tonight?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s do soup, we haven¡¯t had that in a while.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± agrees Fresh, waiting for Jubilee to realize who was going to cook that soup. ¡°Ah. Fuck,¡± sighs Jubilee from the side a second later, apparently having connected the dots. Fresh smiles and asks, as if she didn¡¯t know. ¡°What¡¯s up, Jubilee?¡± Jubilee looks at her and then crosses their arms, looking away. ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± says Fresh, smiling a devious smile that could only belong to a cruel, horrible witch. She makes a mental note to buy a lot of vegetables later today. It would be bad if a flu started spreading around their home. She hopes that Basil is just tired. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± says Jubilee, crossing their arms. ¡°Hmm,¡± says Shamrock, his breastplate heaving as he does the same. Veli looks at the three of them, almost falling a step backwards, as the air from Shamrock¡¯s lungs pushes against him. He is apparently confused as to what exactly is happening here. Shrugging, he crosses his one arm too, mimicking Jubilee as he also lets out a perplexed - ¡°Hmm.¡± Razmatazz Hmm... Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 173: Another day Fresh stands with crossed arms outside of the door, watching as the crates of glass weapons are loaded up onto a cart. She doesn¡¯t see many of them up here on the mountain, carts, let alone any of the anqas who apparently aren¡¯t fond of heights, which she thinks is funny for birds. But then again, they don¡¯t seem like the kinds of birds that can fly. No, rather this is a hand-drawn cart that a couple of men had simply pulled behind themselves. A cloaked man stands next to it, going over a ledger with Jubilee, as they check off everything in the delivery. It wasn¡¯t exactly a lot of work for her, to make this many glass swords and daggers. She had made a few on the side now and then over a few nights and that was good enough. ¡°Very good,¡± says the man from the thieves¡¯ guild, as the last load of weapons are carried out of the store. ¡°This is satisfactory. We¡¯ll be in touch,¡± says the stranger, stowing the ledger away before climbing up onto the cart. ¡°Like hell you will,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at him as the other two men head to the front of the cart. ¡°We¡¯re done. If I see any of you cloaked fucks around here, it¡¯s straight off the side of the mountain with all of you,¡± threatens Jubilee, pointing at him. ¡°Sour as always,¡± says the man, laughing as he nods to the two down before him, who both look as if they¡¯re about to ask why he¡¯s sitting up there, but they both change their minds and start pulling the cart away without saying a word. Jubilee stands there, their hands on their hips as the men from the thieves¡¯ guild vanish down the tunnel. ¡°Is everything okay, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh as Jubilee sighs and turns back around to go back inside. ¡°Everything is fine,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m just glad that¡¯s over with. Good job on the weapons.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Thanks for getting us this opportunity, Jubilee. Even if you don¡¯t like them.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes, walking past her to go back inside. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if she hears right, but on a day that she might have had a clearer mind, she would have thought that Jubilee had said that that¡¯s what friends do. The day is pretty busy. The new copper rings, despite only being out on the shelf for an hour, have attracted a flurry of attention from customers of any class. ¡°Do you think it works if you drink wine?¡± asks an elf. ¡°It says water,¡± replies his party member, a fluffy-robed caster that Fresh recognizes. She points at the window. ¡°¡­Juice?¡± asks the elf, sounding desperate. ¡°It says water,¡± they repeat. The elf sighs. ¡°It will do you some good,¡± explains his friend, poking at his gut, to which he seems to take great offense, judging by the shift in his posture. ¡°Besides, think about it. There¡¯s the river in the dungeon!¡± ¡°So?¡± ¡°So, it means infinite health!¡± says the fluffy-robed caster excitedly. The elf sighs. ¡°Yeah, until my bladder explodes.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine! You can just drink more water to heal that too!¡± He groans, uncertainly. ¡°But for this price?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll make up for it with the money we save on health-potions!¡± she argues and he seems to agree with this. The two of them decide to take one ring and then share it between themselves, which in all honesty, isn¡¯t a terrible idea. But it does hurt their sales a little. Most parties opt to follow this method, as the water-healing effect seems to be far more popular than the status-effect negation. Nobody really seems to care about that one. ¡°Three-hundred-ninety-nine Obols,¡± says Jubilee as another group comes to buy a ring. Fresh walks past Shamrock, listening to the customers ask him about the resonant-crystal. They had agreed not to make a bunch of them and put them on the shelves. Rather, they¡¯re keeping the one behind the counter as a display piece and are offering them as special orders. Jubilee had said that for an item like this, that this was a great strategy. By creating an artificial scarcity, they could drive the price up and make the item seem even more valuable then it was. The fact that Fresh and Basil could probably make a dozen together in a couple of hours was, of course, a closely guarded business secret. ¡°Nine-hundred-ninety-nine,¡± says Shamrock, pointing at the sign. ¡°So a thousand?¡± asks the confused caster talking to him. He shakes his head. ¡°Nine-hundred-ninety-nine.¡± ¡°That¡¯s basically a thousand!¡± Shamrock¡¯s breastplate lurches. ¡°One less.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a whole gold Obol!¡± ¡°Strength comes at a price.¡± ¡°I¡¯m only level five, though.¡± Shamrock turns his head, looking at Fresh before turning back to the customer and shrugging. ¡°How else am I supposed to get strong?¡± Shamrock lifts his hand, pointing across the room. ¡°Dungeon.¡± ¡°Will you take me?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Aww!¡± Someone butts in from the side. ¡°He can¡¯t take you, because he¡¯s going to take me!¡± ¡°No,¡± says Shamrock, his gruff tone never changing. Seeing that he has this under control, Fresh keeps walking. Basil is still fast asleep upstairs, apparently she¡¯s really knocked out from last night. ¡°Veli! Veli!¡± asks an excited voice. ¡°Where¡¯d you get those clothes?!¡± ¡°I work here,¡± says Veli, talking to the group of excited fairies that is circling him. ¡°Get off the sheep!¡± snaps Veli, as one of the fairies rides by on a floating sheep. Fresh laughs, glad that he has his hands full too. She had heard him talking with the other fairies earlier, trying to convince them to get jobs or to find some other way to make money, but none of them seemed interested. Eventually, his desperation seemed to vanish after he realized that none of them would listen and he started focusing solely on his duties as an employee. Fresh makes a mental note to console him later, seeing that he just wants to help the others too. They just aren¡¯t able to see what he sees, to see what she herself has seen. The rest of the morning runs fairly productively. The new rings seem to be attracting a larger customer-base of more extravagant spenders and of course, most of them end up at least buying a few drinks or candies while they¡¯re here too. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if they had any money problems to begin with, in all honesty, but if they did, they seem to be resolved as most customers end up spending several hundred Obols each. Fresh stops, having reached the far wall. Her head looks back at the resonant-crystal behind herself, floating behind Shamrock with a proud price-tag attached to it. She should curse it. ¡°Huh?¡± mutters Fresh to herself, looking around, as she wonders where that sudden idea came from. She hasn¡¯t cursed anything in a while, not since the lantern. But perhaps for good reason. Then again¡­ maybe she¡¯s leaving money on the table? She crosses her arms, thinking. On one hand, cursing the crystal sounds like a horrible idea. Even she knows that. On the other hand, she can modify curses to an extent, so she could make a super-powerful item out of it, in all likelihood. She contemplates asking Jubilee, but then she realizes that she will just get a new bruise for the question, which might not be entirely undeserved. Deciding that she will just end up causing trouble if she stays down here, Fresh decides to go upstairs and to check on Basil. The priestess seems to be fast asleep, her head pressed down against the body of a squished sheep, whose front legs are splaying out forward, as if trying to crawl away. Fresh exchanges a deadly glance with its desperate button eyes. ¡°There¡¯s no escape, Mr. Sheep,¡± she whispers quietly to it, wagging a finger as she heads to the kitchenette. Seeing the sheep, she remembers her promise to the tired-man, to make him something that would stop good dreams. Though she still doesn¡¯t know why he would want such a thing. Taking a minute, she cooks a herbal tea and then sets it down next to Basil¡¯s bed. Deciding that that¡¯s a good project to work on today, to keep her idle hands from causing trouble, Fresh heads past the others and down into the basement. They seem to have it covered, so her absence doesn¡¯t appear to be so desperately missed right now. Heading to her table, she sets to work, making a sheep at first, but then she stops half-way, wondering if this is the right way to go? Making it a sheep would cause it to stop bad dreams, she¡¯s sure of that. Maybe if she painted the kobold-fluff black? There¡¯s certainly some symbolism about black-sheep that she thinks the spell could play off of. But¡­ hmm¡­ She isn¡¯t feeling ¡®it¡¯, whatever it is. Instead she modifies the body, making it thinner and less fluffy. As she works, she notices that she¡¯s sweating a little again. It feels oddly stuffy down here in the basement these days. Fresh spares a glance over her shoulder back towards the little air-shaft in the corner. She hopes there isn¡¯t a body in it too. She shudders, returning to her work and making a mental note to bring some flowers to the man¡¯s grave, when she gets the chance. Lifting up the thin, short-haired sheep, she looks at him, considering what it is that he¡¯s missing to make him look right. ¡°Ah!¡± She sets him down, grabbing a block of wood, which she then first saws in half. This process is a little wasteful, in all honesty. But she¡¯s only going to make the one, so it¡¯s probably fine. She hopes the trees will understand. Setting one of the wooden blocks before herself, she extracts the shape of a tightening spiral. A heap of saw-dust falls to the table, leaving only the odd shape behind. Fresh smiles, picking it up and blowing it off. It¡¯s still a little too heavy and too rough though. To remedy that, she first hollows out the inside as best as she can, to get rid of excess material. Then, she sands the outer layer, leaving a millimeter thin ring, every few inches unsanded, as she worked her way up the spiral. These rings, she leaves there on purpose, so that it has the right texture. Happy with the results, she repeats the process with the second wooden block. Then, using some of the heavy-duty glue and her abilities, she attaches the horns to the toy¡¯s head. Fresh nods in satisfaction, holding the thing up in the air, its body silhouetted by the fire of the hearth. ¡°Bleeeeh~¡± she says to it, beckoning it to life. The ram starts wiggling its legs, as if trying to charge straight at her, but it doesn¡¯t manage to escape her grasp. A toy ram, enchanted with strong magical energies. Due to its stubborn nature, this ram will ward off any dreams, good or bad. While within 8m: Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 174: Plucking It is late at night. Basil is still fast asleep, apparently having fallen into a fever after all, much to Fresh¡¯s worry. Jubilee has gone to bed as well. ¡°Tools¡­¡± mutters Fresh to herself, as she tinkers with some iron-bars upstairs behind the counter. It is past their closing time. Fresh stands there, thinking about what kinds of tools she should make, so that they can attract a less adventurous client¨¨le. Probably just the common things, like back in the north? Hammers, scissors, needles and so on. Looking up to make sure that the shutters are closed, she begins her work. Fresh didn¡¯t really feel like sitting down in the basement. She had spent so much time there already these last few days. She wants to stay above ground, at least for tonight. The door opens from behind her and Shamrock comes upstairs, setting a few assorted materials down onto the counter that she had asked him to get for her as a favor. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock,¡± smiles Fresh at him, blinking as she sees the dusty smudges on his armor. ¡°Ah, stay there,¡± she says. The giant freezes in place, as if controlled and spellbound by some powerful magic. She grabs a cloth from below the counter and walks back to him, starting to rub the basement grime off his chest and shoulders. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever get tired wearing all of that?¡± she asks curiously, narrowing her eyes as she presses the squeaky rag down a little harder to get rid of a stubborn spot. ¡°No,¡± replies Shamrock, looking down towards her. ¡°Huh¡­¡± She frowns, looking at his dirty armor. ¡°What did you do?¡± she asks, looking at the amount of dust that seems to have gathered on him in the short few minutes that he was downstairs. ¡°Went to the basement.¡± ¡°Is it really that dusty down there?¡± she asks, not having noticed that herself. ¡°Yes,¡± is all that he says. Fresh, channeling a little Jubilee, places her hands on her hips and looks up at the man. Though she isn¡¯t really sure what it is that she wants to say. Instead of saying anything, she sighs and stands there for a second. ¡°It¡¯s not my business. But can I ask you why?¡± He looks down at her. ¡°We need to sweep.¡± Fresh laughs, her posture loosening. ¡°No~! I mean why the armor?¡± she says, rubbing the last spot on his left shoulder clean, before throwing the cloth back beneath the counter and turning around to return to her work, wordlessly offering the man an avenue of escape to go upstairs, should he want to. ¡°To kill monsters,¡± he explains, apparently taking his chance and walking behind her to go towards the stairs. ¡°You don¡¯t need to kill monsters anymore,¡± argues Fresh, grabbing a copper-bar. She has decided that she doesn¡¯t want to make tools. She wants to make telescopes. He stops, apparently thinking, as he is quiet for a moment. ¡°I do. The sword.¡± ¡°That only needs to be filled up if you¡¯re carrying it,¡± says Fresh. ¡°The curse can¡¯t steal your breath if you keep it locked away,¡± she explains, knowing that he also knows that. He has barely had his cursed sword in his hands since they¡¯ve arrived. Apart from the times he goes into the dungeon by himself while everyone is asleep. Fresh never sees him do this, but she knows that he does, because there are always little pieces of loot down in her materials pile that weren¡¯t there before. ¡®Tribute,¡¯ as he had called it in the forest. Shamrock doesn¡¯t say anything, perhaps realizing that he is caught in the trap. She smiles, not sure what it is that she¡¯s doing with the materials before her. She¡¯s just kind of pushing them around from side to side in a sort-of ¡®pretend work¡¯ as she talks to him. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me anything, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh, scooting the copper-bar across the table for the fourth time now. ¡°But if you do, don¡¯t lie,¡± she says. ¡°We¡¯re friends,¡± she reminds him. ¡°Until the moon falls to the world and then even after that,¡± she says with no shame. She starts work on the first telescope. Jubilee hadn¡¯t arranged a buyer yet, but they had said they were close to making a deal. She lifts a finger, poking one of the little toy slimes on the counter. It jiggles back and forth, its goofy face wobbling left and right in a playful manner. Despite the almost tense mood, she can¡¯t help but laugh as she watches it move. Fresh hears him exhale loudly behind her and she hears the rustling of his armor as his leg shifts as he begins to at least consider walking away. But he stops and stands there quietly instead, while Fresh tinkers with the telescope. ¡°I am unsightly,¡± is all that Shamrock says, breaking the quiet. She turns her head over her shoulder to look at him for a moment, before turning back to her work. ¡°Back in the north, that one night when I was scared and ran into you by the fountain, you helped me even if you didn¡¯t need to,¡± she says, recalling that moonlit night which had felt so dark for her. ¡°You brought us something super-expensive when it was hot, even if you didn¡¯t need to,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°And when everything went wrong because of me, you showed up and saved me when nobody else would.¡± ¡°I serve.¡± ¡°Not then you didn¡¯t,¡± beams Fresh. ¡°That was before you knew what I was,¡± she says, waving him off as she turns around to look at him. ¡°Jubilee even said a lot of nice things about you back then. That never happens, Shamrock,¡± explains Fresh, lifting a finger. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she exclaims again for emphasis. The man doesn¡¯t say anything else and neither does she, as both of them stand there, doing what it is that they¡¯re doing. Fresh returns to her work and Shamrock quietly stares and watches her do it. Soon enough, she finishes the first telescope of many more to come tonight. Picking it up, she holds it up to her eye and looks through it towards him. To her surprise, Shamrock, the stoic giant does something that she has never seen him do before. He takes a nervous step away. Seeing that she¡¯s troubling him, she immediately lowers the telescope. ¡°Sorry!¡± she apologizes, setting it down onto the counter before walking over to him and simply trying to wrap her arms around him in a hug instead to get her point across. ¡°We all think you¡¯re great, Shamrock,¡± she says. ¡°Not because you¡¯re super strong or because of what you look like,¡± she says, feeling his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, as he doesn¡¯t seem to know what to do with them. ¡°But because of who you are.¡± Shamrock doesn¡¯t say anything as is normal and neither does she, what needed to be said has been said. They just stay like that for a minute. Fresh looks up at him. ¡°I¡¯m not letting go until you hug me back,¡± she threatens. ¡°We¡¯re having a moment.¡± She puffs out her cheeks threateningly in a display of dominance as he stares down towards her. Getting the message, he seems to relent and his arms find their way to her back. In exchange, her cheek, now deflated, plants itself back against his breastplate. The two of them stay like that for a while, listening to the sound of a shared heartbeat which pushes through them both. Much like with Jubilee, the mystery of Shamrock has long since been solved by Fresh, whose subconscious mind had mulled it over now and then, allowing the pieces of the puzzle to all slowly come to fit together. It isn¡¯t that it¡¯s her business or that she was actively conspiring to come to the conclusion that she has arrived at, it¡¯s simply what her mind had done all on its own, while she was working, while she was crafting, while she was shopping and while she was living her quiet, comfortable life together with her cherished friends. She isn¡¯t going to tell Shamrock that she knows the truth about him, about what lies beneath the armor. Because he already knows that she does. She can feel it in the nervous, uncoordinated fingers on her back, the weakness of which she attempts to alleviate by squeezing her arms tighter around him. Fresh realizes that while the things they have gone through together may, in many cases, be considered traumatic-events that needed moments of healing and processing themselves, that her friends have also gone through their own troubles long before they had come together. Most of those scars they all still carry with them, much like she had in her old life. However, she simply won¡¯t stand for it anymore. This new home of theirs, this new life of theirs, up here so high upon the mountain, far, far away from the hauntings of their past, she has decided that there are no ghosts allowed. Not inside of her home. Not inside of herself and most certainly not inside of her friends. Perhaps she¡¯s gotten a little overly maternal lately. Maybe that¡¯s just what her personality is becoming as she develops herself as a person, or maybe it¡¯s an effect of her having true friends for the first time in any of her existences or maybe she¡¯s got some odd case of witch-brain. But she¡¯s going to do everything to keep this life and she won¡¯t let anyone touch it. She won¡¯t let anyone or anything besmirch it. She won¡¯t let anyone take it from her. Fresh feels the metal of his armor press into her skin as she squeezes tighter, to make sure that he can¡¯t get away until the hug is over. But then her nose twitches, bringing on a sneeze, as she breathes in some dust from a spot she had missed before. Razmatazz -) Awww, everyone has had their moment now. Too cute??<3 -) What''s that, dear reader? You want to know what Fresh knows? Don''t worry about it. It''s not important for you to know. You''re always obsessed about finding out the answers to secrets, reader. But have you ever really considered that it doesn''t matter? Let it be a secret. That''s the point. It''s their secret. Shoo-shoo! Get! Go on! Scram! ??*Gets the broom* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 175: Happenstance It is the afternoon of the next day. After she had finished making the telescopes last night, Fresh had made a bunch of simple tools to attract more of the local craftsmen inside. Business is picking up again too, especially with the new rings that are, in her eyes, attracting an insane amount of attention. She supposes that the effect probably is really strong, like Basil had warned her about. But despite all of that, Fresh is outside of the city, walking through the forest. Jubilee and Shamrock are running the store by themselves, together with Veli, who is helping out where he can. But Basil apparently really has become sick with some sort of flu and she¡¯s still laying in bed, rarely shuffling past them like an undead, as she goes to the washroom now and then. In truth, Fresh is needed back at the store, given the busyness of the business along with Basil¡¯s absence. But she¡¯s out here instead, looking for a herb that she saw a depiction of in her grimoire. More aptly said, the damp-grimoire had shown her the smeared ink drawing of the flower, after she accidentally dropped it and the page flew open right to the exact thing she needed. A plant said to help common illnesses, such as a cold. Now, in truth, even Fresh knows that this is too convenient and suspicious to have just been happenstance. But the grimoire has never led her wrong, so she¡¯s willing to trust its judgment. She spends a while, walking through the forest, looking for the plant. Eventually, she breaks through the clearing and finds herself at a familiar place near the edge of the mountain. The grave-site of the man she had buried. Looking down at it, she tilts her head, deciding that she has a minute to spare. Walking over, she bends down and starts collecting and retidying the stones that had been scattered by the elements over the weeks. ¡°I hope you¡¯re doing well,¡± she says to the grave, not sure if the man on the other side can even hear her. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, the grave is back in shape. She notices that the grass and the flowers have regrown all around this area where she had dug up the soil. It¡¯s cool outside, so Fresh clutches herself for a moment, rubbing her arms as she looks away off and over the side of the mountain, towards the distant world that lies beyond. Turning her head from side to side, she tries to orient herself. She thinks that this way is east. So that means that straight in this direction, over the nigh-endless forest, is the noble-city she had heard about and then even further east than that is the eastern-city, far off in the desert. After a few minutes, she says goodbye to the dead man and gets up, telling him to sleep well. She remembers when they first came up the mountain, her friends had mentioned that there were monsters up here, as there are monsters everywhere in the wild. However, the ones here near the city seemed to have been driven away and the forest is filled with little more than birds undergoing their journeys to some place warmer. She supposes that¡¯s normal, outside of a large city like this. All of the monsters likely knew that they would get blasted or zapped by some drunk if they spent too long near the walls. The leaves rustle above her head. Fresh, ready to keep walking, shoots a quick glance, expecting to see another bird. But instead, she sees a tiny head quickly pulling itself back into the foliage. A fairy? ¡°Hello?¡± she asks, but no response comes. Standing there curiously for a moment, she shrugs, adjusting her bag and then walks away, heading back towards the forest. Maybe there are fairies living out here, outside of the city? If what Veli and Jubilee had been implying this entire time was true, then she supposes that it might even be safer for them out here than in the walls of the city, as sad as that is. But the summer is over, the night will get colder and longer day by day. She isn¡¯t sure if they will be alright, living in makeshift nests or hollowed out trees. Fresh, surprised by her own ingenuity, gets a sudden idea. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a silver coin. ¡°Hey,¡± she says, waving it to the branches. ¡°I¡¯m looking for something, can you help me?¡± she asks. Fresh points at the coin with her other hand. ¡°I¡¯ll give you this.¡± No response. Frowning, she turns around and walks away, having no choice but to look on her own. ¡°What do you want?¡± asks a voice from the treetops. Delighted to get a response, she turns around again, not able to see the source of the voice, as they are still hiding out of sight. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a flower. It¡¯s kind of purple and uh, has thin, spiky petals.¡± She circles with her finger through the air. ¡°And the middle is also really spiky. Do you know where anything like that is?¡± No response. She sighs and despite having gotten no answer, she visibly sets the coin down anyways on top of a small rock, before turning to go again. ¡°Follow the cliff to the left,¡± it instructs. ¡°You¡¯ll find one or two after a few minutes.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± She waves up to the trees where the indistinct voice had come from and hurries along through the forest, eager to find something to help her friend. Sure, she could have just gone to an alchemist or a trained herbalist, there are plenty of those in town. But, this feels like something she has to do herself. But maybe that¡¯s just that nurturing pride of hers coming to the surface again. A few minutes later, she finds the flower she is looking for and gently plucks it, apologizing to it and explaining that her friend needs it. Delighted, she quickly heads back through the forest, making a bend around the grave so that she doesn¡¯t disturb the shy fairy a second time. Not much later, she arrives back at the city and then, not much longer after that, she arrives back at the store. Though, she is a bit sweaty, since she walked faster than she had to. When she arrives, it¡¯s chaotic. There are dozens of customers and the shelves are already running low in some areas. ¡°About time, you lazy fuck!¡± barks Jubilee at her as she walks back in the door. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee! I¡¯ll help you in just a second, I promise!¡± she says. Jubilee rolls their eyes, handing someone back their change. ¡°Did you find it?¡± ¡°I did,¡± says Fresh, jogging up the stairs and looking at Basil¡¯s bed first thing as she arrives. ¡°Welcome home,¡± says Basil, surrounded by tissues. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to go out of your way,¡± she says, smiling an exhausted smile. ¡°I did!¡± argues Fresh, walking over and checking her temperature. Though, honestly, she doesn¡¯t actually know how to do that. Basil¡¯s forehead is fairly warm. That¡¯s bad, right? ¡°You¡¯re dying, Basil!¡± ¡°I just have the sniffles,¡± laughs the priestess, before grabbing a tissue and sneezing into it. Fresh narrows her eyes, going to the kitchen and pulling out the flower. Doing as the grimoire instructed, she pulverizes the flower into a coarse ground. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to check temperatures with the bottom of your wrist,¡± instructs Basil. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± nods the priestess, pulling herself back under the blanket. ¡°That part of your body is very sensitive to temperatures,¡± she explains. ¡°That makes sense,¡± laughs Fresh, realizing that she¡¯s been called out. Basil knew that she had no idea what she was doing. She boils a tiny amount of water, only a few sips worth and drops the Echinacea powder into it. It releases a very thick, nutty, almost bitter smell. After a minute, the concoction seems to be brewed through. Fresh uses one of the coughee filters to strain the liquid into a cup. Bringing the cup over to Basil, she sets it down next to her. ¡°Wait until it¡¯s cooled down, okay?¡± says Fresh to the outline under the blanket. Basil has buried herself entirely. ¡°It might taste kind of bad.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± says the blanket-mummy, sounding very appreciative. Fresh bends over, tucking the edges of the blanket in beneath her, before quickly heading downstairs to help run the store. The rest of the day is a chaotic mess. Customers and fairies zip left and right, buying all manner of things today. Apparently, Veli¡¯s idea with the tools was already starting to work though, as among the many brightly clad adventurers, there were also many more common appearing laypeople and crafters who seem to have taken a liking to the tools. But more importantly, to the coughee and the snacks that they now discover for the first time. It¡¯s a busy day, but a fulfilling one. Razmatazz Some cute, but also dark, slice of life today. My favorite??x) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 176: Magical Floating Fairy House Fresh stands behind the counter, next to Jubilee and bags some items up for a customer. ¡°Thank you, have a nice day!¡± she says to the man, who takes his bag and leaves without replying. ¡°You don¡¯t have to say that to every single person, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh stares at her friend for a moment. ¡°But then how will they know that I want them to have a nice day?¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°They don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°I care,¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee just rolls their eyes. Fresh looks over them, towards a pair of adventurers walking inside, their bags on their backs. ¡°Jubilee!¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°We should make bags.¡± ¡°We already have bags, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at the stack of tote-bags. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No, I mean, bag-bags.¡± ¡°You mean rucksacks?¡± ¡°Yeah! We wanted to make them before, remember?¡± she leans down, whispering into Jubilee¡¯s ear. ¡°- In the north.¡± ¡°I mean¡­ I guess, but why? Everyone has a bag already.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll use the crystal-drakonium!¡± exclaims Fresh excitedly. ¡°I bet we can make some really interesting, stretchy, lightweight bags!¡± Jubilee thinks, considering the prospect for a moment. ¡°Excuse me?¡± asks a familiar voice from the side. Fresh and Jubilee both look up at the tired-man who is standing there with what appears to be a cold herbal-tea in his hand. ¡°It tastes like plants,¡± says Jubilee, before he can ask his inevitable question. The tired-man blinks, staring at Jubilee for a second, before turning his attention to the bottle in his hand. ¡°Ah, no,¡± he says. ¡°I wanted to ask if you managed to make that item?¡± Fresh beams with pride as she reaches down below the counter and pulls out the thing she had made for him. ¡°Ta-da! One anti-dream ram!¡± He stares at it, looking confused. ¡°Why is it a ram?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks at the ram in her hands. Why wouldn¡¯t it be a ram? ¡°It¡¯s an anti-dream ram,¡± she explains, pointing at its horns to convey her point. ¡°But -¡± starts the tired-man. ¡°- Don¡¯t go down that road,¡± advises Jubilee, cutting him off. ¡°It¡¯s not going to get you anywhere. Two-hundred Obols,¡± says Jubilee, tapping their finger against the counter. That¡¯s over four times the price that Fresh wanted to charge. ¡°Jubilee¡­¡± whispers Fresh into her friend¡¯s ear, trying to get them to change their mind. But she just once again gets shushed for her efforts. The tired-man sighs, reaching into his pocket. ¡°You¡¯re really mean,¡± he says. He doesn¡¯t sound offended or anything like that. It¡¯s just a statement of fact coming from an exhausted mouth. ¡°You¡¯re just like someone who I used to know.¡± ¡°Did the mattress help you?¡± asks Fresh, looking up at him as she recalls his last purchase. ¡°A little,¡± he says, placing the coins onto the counter. She hands him the ram. He and the button-eyed thing, that he¡¯s now holding, exchange a long look with each other. ¡°Keep it by your bed at night and it should stop you from having any dreams,¡± instructs Fresh. ¡°Even good ones?¡± he asks, making sure that this is what he wanted. Though, perhaps he should have done that before paying. Jubilee doesn¡¯t give refunds. ¡°Even good ones,¡± says Fresh, nodding. The tired man sighs in relief and looks at them. ¡°Thanks, I¡¯ll try it out.¡± Grabbing his bottle, he turns around and leaves without getting his change from Jubilee. Sparing a glance over his shoulder to them, he looks like he wants to ask something. ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee plainly, pointing at him. The tired-man laughs and just walks out of the store, apparently at least, as a satisfied customer. After waving goodbye to him and to her precious ram, Fresh rubs her head, not able to figure the man out. Let alone what his problem is, if he even has one to begin with. He seems nice enough though, just a little sleep deprived. ¡°Jubilee? Why are you always so mean to him?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°He seems nice.¡± ¡°It¡¯s banter, goo-brain,¡± explains Jubilee, pushing the change drawer shut. ¡°¡¯Banter¡¯ seems mean. Besides, you charged way too much.¡± ¡°He has the money.¡± ¡°How do you know?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What if he has a family or obligations that he needs that money for?¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t anymore. Why do you think he wanted something to stop good dreams?¡± asks Jubilee, folding up a few more bags from beneath the counter and stacking them neatly on the pile behind them both. Veli zips by with a cloth in hand, going to polish the sheep¡¯s button eyes. He stops, sparing a second to wipe Shamrock¡¯s helmet off, before flying further. Fresh blinks, staring at Jubilee, clearly confused. Seeing this, Jubilee doesn¡¯t even sigh or shake their head anymore, perhaps having expected their interaction to go this way. ¡°He¡¯s the magistrate of the city,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Huh?!¡± asks Fresh. The tired-man is the guy who runs the city? It¡¯s no wonder that he¡¯s tired. ¡°Wait¡­¡± mutters Fresh, realizing something. ¡°¡®He doesn¡¯t anymore¡¯. What does that mean, Jubilee?¡± Jubilee tosses her a handful of bags to fold. She catches most of them, but a few fall down to the ground at her feet. ¡°His family went to the south,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°He¡¯s probably still dreaming about them and doesn¡¯t want to anymore. Good dreams can be more haunting than bad ones, you know?¡± There it was again, that phrase, that place, ¡®the south¡¯. Fresh looks at the bag in her hands, wanting to ask what it was, what that phrase meant. The south seems like a really bad place. Why would people go there? Didn¡¯t Shamrock say once that the other two witches lived in the south? So it couldn¡¯t be that bad, right? Or is it bad because of them? But¡­ It seems like a weird thing to ask at this point, doesn¡¯t it? It seems like it¡¯s something she should know already. Like Jubilee¡¯s gender. She¡¯s been here too long and talked about it too often. To admit that she doesn¡¯t know what it is now would just be awkward. Is that sensible? No. But it is what it is. She shakes her head, focusing instead on a different idea, as she stacks the tote-bags. ¡°Veli?¡± she calls, beckoning the fairy over. Stepping to the side, to get out of earshot from any customers, she asks him about the forest and if a lot of fairies were staying there. He seems hesitant to answer at first. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t tell anyone,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering if -¡± clasping her hand by her mouth, she leans in and whispers her idea to him. ¡°Do you think it could work?¡± Veli thinks for a moment, considering it. But then he nods. ¡°I can ask.¡± ¡°Thanks, Veli!¡± beams Fresh. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she calls to the side. ¡°I¡¯m going down to the basement!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. Smiling, she heads into the basement and closes the door tightly behind herself, before going to her workbench. ¡°Magical floating fairy house,¡± says Fresh with renewed determination. First things first. She slides the wooden construction, which she had adjusted to Veli¡¯s critiques before, over towards herself. The little ceilings of the doll-house are now higher than they were. Grabbing some thin slices of crystal-drakonium, she sets to work, setting them carefully inside of the little, hollow, wooden walls as insulation. The forest is cold and it will get even colder as autumn progresses. The fairies, not being able to make a fire in these houses, will need all the help that they can get. Her plan is to continue with the fairy houses. Veli¡¯s remarks were all true and on the mark, they would never work inside of the city. There are too many monsters inside of the walls. But outside of it, in the forest, there are no monsters. The fairies are ironicially safer there and a lot of them have already realized that at this point. It¡¯s a simple scheme, really. She¡¯s going to make a few of these cozy, little, furnished houses, outfitting them with crystal-drakonium and iron-weightlessness rings so that they can float, attached to the treetops, where they¡¯ll be hidden from sight and from the elements. Then, the fairies could live in relative comfort. It¡¯s certainly far better than living in a hollowed out tree, as far as she sees it. In return, if her plan works out, she¡¯ll have the fairies gather some resources for her, for a few coins. Herbs and berries mostly, things that are plentiful in the forest. With a bunch of gatherers, she could start making a lot more things like medicine and her snacks and Basil would certainly appreciate the plants for her items as well. It¡¯s a win-win. They get resources to work with. The fairies get homes and employment and most importantly of all, even if the plan doesn¡¯t work out, her conscience will at least be clear, because she at least tried to help them. ¡°Magical~ float-ing~ fairy~ house~!¡± hums Fresh to herself as she works. Razmatazz Mr. Mushroom fan uh... video/meme, by RoyalRoad reader Bash! ??https://youtu.be/WRoAlm6_XyA Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 177: Rude Fresh and Shamrock sit across from each other, each on either side of the table. The two of them stare with narrowed, challenging stares, as their contest continues. Fresh had assumed that she would be a match for the man, given that she always eats a generous amount of snacks during the day. But the discomfort and nausea welling in her stomach is starting to make her realize that she may have been mistaken about that. Still, she holds her gaze steady, not wanting to let him catch on that she¡¯s starting to weaken. It¡¯s important for her as the party-leader to establish a friendly level of dominance, so that they¡¯ll listen to her if there ever comes a time when she needs them to. This of course, in her mind, resulted in an impromptu candy eating challenge against the first person she had seen, Shamrock, who had absolutely no aversion to her request of a duel of fates. ¡°Red,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh feels her shoulders twitch together for a second. This was the eighth time in a row that he had said red. He¡¯s trying to break her spirit and it¡¯s working. She¡¯s really getting sick of the red ones. Reaching down, doing her best not to show weakness, she takes a red candy from the bowl and pops it into her mouth, putting in some effort to make a show out of her eating it as if she were enjoying herself. Swallowing it with a light hit of her fist against her chest, she looks back up at him. ¡°Purple,¡± says Fresh. Shamrock, without a moment¡¯s hesitation, reaches into the bowl and grabs a purple candy and shoves it into his helmet. ¡°Red,¡± he says again. Fresh recoils, perhaps ready to admit defeat after all. ¡°If you keep eating like that, you¡¯re going to cave in the floor,¡± barks Jubilee from the kitchenette. ¡°Jubilee! Don¡¯t be mean to Shamrock!¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°He¡¯s a big guy.¡± ¡°I was talking about you,¡± quips Jubilee, poking into her belly as they walk past the table, shaking their head with a cup of tea in their hand that they¡¯re bringing over to Basil. This is a gesture that Fresh finds oddly endearing, coming from Jubilee. The tea that is, not the poking. ¡°You basically wobble like a slime when you come down the stairs.¡± Fresh can hear Basil quietly suppressing a laugh by covering her face with a pillow. ¡°Hey!¡± snaps Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s so rude!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°I guess that¡¯s what happens when we don¡¯t take you for regular walks in the dungeon.¡± Fresh crosses her arms, turning her head away. ¡°Hmpf!¡± ¡°Red,¡± repeats Shamrock, one of his large, metal-clad fingers tapping against the table. Fresh wearily looks back at the bowl of candy on the table, sitting next to an empty bowl that they had eaten their way through. How many pieces had she had so far? They¡¯re big candies too and the sticky dough¡­ ugh¡­ Fresh gulps, her shaking hand reaching out for another red candy. She has to do this. She has to. Her party is counting on her. Grabbing another red candy, she gulps and then pops it into her mouth. As she bites down, she notices how slow her chewing seems to be. The idea of swallowing this next candy, as the sticky dough starts to undo itself in her mouth, feels like an impossibility. This is it. This is how she is going to die her true, final death. She can feel it. She can feel the call of the void, beckoning her to her eternal slumber. Forgetting all decorum and intent of showing resolve, Fresh noisily swallows the red candy, sure that she is about to throw up and leans back against her chair, flopping over it like a corpse. ¡°G-green¡­¡± she mutters, not even looking, but listening as the next piece of candy immediately leaves the bowl and is devoured in a second flat. ¡°Red.¡± Fresh wants to cry. She has been beaten. Defeated on an honorable field of battle. ¡°I surrender,¡± cries the girl. ¡°You win, Shamroooock~¡± Shamrock doesn¡¯t say anything. Instead, she just hears him scooting the bowl of candy over towards himself as his prize. In all honesty, she should have known better. Basil speaks from over in her bed. ¡°It was a good attempt. But it¡¯s important to know when to quit.¡± Fresh just lets out a long groan that is perhaps intermingled with a bit of crying. The medicine seemed to have helped and Basil is feeling a little better, but she¡¯ll still likely need a couple of days to fully be rid of whatever she had gotten. Fresh, listening to the crunching of the candy being eaten across from herself, is surprised that none of them have gotten sick. Apparently, they all either had fantastic immune systems, or whatever Basil had caught simply wasn¡¯t contagious to begin with. ¡°Anyways, moving on to more important things,¡± says Jubilee, coming back past the table. ¡°The fairy thing could work. But we need to be careful.¡± Shamrock nods in agreement, taking another candy. Jubilee goes on. ¡°The last thing we need are a thousand fairies flying all around the store.¡± Fresh, still flopped back over her chair, rolls her head against the back-rest as if to shake it. ¡°I thought we could arrange something with Veli.¡± ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± asks Basil, before taking a sip of her tea. ¡°Well, they can collect all of the herbs in the forest in one or two baskets wherever they live,¡± explains Fresh, listlessly lifting a finger. ¡°Then a few of them can work together to carry the baskets here to us, we¡¯ll just take them at the counter, give them some money and everyone¡¯s happy!¡± she exclaims, finding the energy to smile, but not to lift her head. ¡°How much do you want to pay them?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh blinks. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°How often ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°What if they bring more herbs than we can use?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t have a response for any of these questions. Instead, she looks over to Basil for guidance. ¡°Basil, when you feel better, can you help me with that stuff, please?¡± Basil nods, before flopping back down onto her bed. Ever since the ¡®ghost incident¡¯, she had started wearing pajamas to bed. Fresh, seeing her in them now, decides that she should probably get some too. What if there was a house-fire and they had to run outside? It would be pretty bad in the current state of her sleep attire. They hadn¡¯t ever figured out what that whole ghost-situation was all about. If the city had reduced the price of the house by so much, then surely they knew about the ghost, which means¡­ Wait¡­ Fresh sits upright. The tired-man. She stares around the room, looking at her friends. That means that the tired-man knew about the ghost, right? That¡¯s why they got the house so cheaply. But¡­ The gears in her head are turning too fast for her to keep up with. This train of thought is going somewhere, but she¡¯s already lost control of it and it¡¯s entirely off-track now. Fresh shakes her head, regretting doing so a second later. There¡¯s some connection of her ideas here, some mental bridge that was just about to be crossed. She sighs, maybe she needs to sleep on it. Though, maybe she could just ask the tired-man directly? Who knows if he would even see her though, if she went to the city-hall, let alone talk to her honestly about whatever chicanery was going on here in the shadows of this city. Rising to her feet, scooting the chair back, Fresh balances herself with her hands on the table. ¡°I¡¯m going to go into the city,¡± she says. ¡°Okay,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Some exercise will do you good.¡± ¡°Rude,¡± sighs Fresh, not having the strength to yell, despite having eaten so much. Though, that is perhaps exactly the reason. ¡°What are you going to do?¡± asks Basil, curiously. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh blinks, looking around the room before focusing back on Basil. ¡°I¡¯m going to buy some pajamas.¡± ¡°About time,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You creep.¡± ¡°I am not a creep!¡± states Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°Would you like me to go with you?¡± asks Basil, sitting upright. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°Stay in bed, Basil. I¡¯m only going to run to the tailor and back.¡± Sparing a glance down at the table, she sees that Shamrock has emptied the second bowl of candy. ¡°Make sure to buy them a size bigger,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°RUDE!¡± snaps Fresh, grabbing her bag and going. Razmatazz Fun fact! There''s a cursed drawing that belongs to chapter 177. But you aren''t going to see it here. Maybe for a dollar on Patreon, you can check it out and be disappointed, because you expected more out of me and also out of yourself. ???? But then, it will be too late. No refunds. *Vanishes into the darkness* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 178: Stargazer It is dark outside as Fresh walks through the city, which is still held alight by the few large, shining crystals that float up over it. Their cumulative shine washes over the city with a calm pastel light that seems more than unusual for this dark hour. Glass jangles in her bag; items that she needs for her scheme to work. Now that summer is coming to an end, night comes faster and faster and the days feel shorter. Not that she ever really notices, since she spends most of her days locking herself up, down in the basement. Fresh follows the river, accompanying the flowing water as it leaves the dungeon-tunnel, both of them heading to places unbeknownst to the other. Making a stop at the tailor¡¯s, Fresh walks in, only noticing after she had already stepped inside, that she didn¡¯t hesitate in the least to do so. She didn¡¯t get sweaty hands outside of the door, she didn¡¯t have a racing heartbeat that began to grow and to thrash like a caged animal, simply at the prospect of having to talk to a stranger. As Fresh stands in the door of the tailor¡¯s shop that is getting ready to close too, she realizes with unusual clarity that she has grown. ¡°Can I help you?¡± asks a shrill voice. ¡°We¡¯re about to close.¡± Fresh looks up, half-expecting to see a strange entity like the man from the northern city¡¯s tailor shop. Instead, she sees a fairy, carrying a sack of needles on its back. ¡°Sorry for coming late,¡± she apologizes to her. ¡°I just need some pajamas to sleep in.¡± ¡°Can it wait until tomorrow?¡± asks the fairy, annoyed. Fresh assumes that it isn¡¯t the owner of the store, rather just an employee. Having come all of this way now though, she wants the pajamas. Not only to wear, but also as an excuse. Digging a silver Obol out of her pocket, she offers it to the fairy. ¡°Here¡¯s a tip for your inconvenience,¡± she smiles. ¡°Please?¡± What good is money if you don¡¯t spend it, right? The fairy quickly changes its tune and takes the coin, setting it up atop a high shelf before helping her find something. A simple, dark-blue, flowing, knee-length night-dress that Fresh thinks is a bit too revealing in some areas. But then again, it¡¯s certainly less revealing than sleeping in just her undergarments. Deciding not to cause the clearly tired fairy any trouble, she takes it with a thanks and heads out further into the city. Effect: +2 LOV Quality Effect: +2 DEX The city hall isn¡¯t too far away, it¡¯s a large building down near the entrance plaza, built in a similar fashion to the adventurer¡¯s guild, with a large, sliding wooden door as the main point of entrance. She has seen it several times before, but never had a reason to go here until now. Straightening her posture and brushing her hair out of her face, she steps inside. ¡°We¡¯re closed,¡± is the first thing she hears from an older woman, sitting behind the counter across from the door. ¡°I¡¯m here to see the magistrate,¡± explains Fresh. The woman raises an eyebrow, tapping on the table. ¡°Closed,¡± she repeats. ¡°The magistrate isn¡¯t seeing anybody. Good night.¡± She points to the door. City employees sure are grouchy folk. Deciding that this is the time, Fresh takes off her bag and pulls out a bottle. ¡°I¡¯m here to deliver an order of coughee that the magistrate placed at our store this morning,¡± she lies, setting a bottle down on the counter for the woman and then showing her the others in the bag. The old woman looks at the bottle and then at her suspiciously. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything about that.¡± ¡°The magistrate must have been too tired to mention it,¡± suggests Fresh. The woman seems to be considering this possibility. ¡°Are you the sheep-people?¡± she asks, raising an eyebrow. Fresh laughs. ¡°Yes, we¡¯re the sheep-people!¡± The old woman sighs, leaning back on her chair. ¡°You know, those things have been clogging up the river. You¡¯re causing me a lot of trouble.¡± ¡°Huh? The river?!¡± asks Fresh, horrified. She had never taught her sheep how to swim. ¡°Dozens of them, just jammed into the grates, sighs the old secretary, shaking her clearly tired head. Fresh nudges the bottle of coughee over with a finger. ¡°Are you trying to bribe me?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says Fresh, plainly. The old woman laughs, taking the bottle. ¡°You¡¯re a charmer. Fine. Take the stairs. Last door on the top hallway. Knock first.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± beams Fresh, following her instructions. ¡°And do something about those sheep!¡± yells the woman after her. ¡°I¡¯ll look into it, I promise!¡± she calls back, heading up the stairs. The further she walks, the noisier she notices that it seems to be becoming. Not with voices or with the sounds of fairies or running water, rather, there is a quiet churning of slowly turning metal that grows louder and louder as she heads to the obvious door at the end of the hallway. It¡¯s ornately decorated, engraved with symbols of several suns and moons, winding around each other in a rising spiral that comes to a convergence at a single, blue gem-stone, embedded into the top of the door. She knocks. ¡°Come in,¡± says a familiar voice. Opening the door, she steps inside and stops. The room isn¡¯t what she expected it to be at all. When she envisioned the magistrate¡¯s office, she pictured a mostly brown and gray room with a desk, maybe a lot of bookshelves, maybe some cabinets filled with stacks and stacks of paper. Instead, she finds herself confronted with something entirely alien to her expectations. The room, overlooking the inner courtyard of the city-hall is¡­ colorful, illuminated by dozens of magic-crystals and lined with glass walls on most sides, apart from this one she has entered from. In the center of the room is a slightly elevated stone platform and atop it, hanging from the ceiling, is a large telescope, aimed towards the heavens. It¡¯s not one of hers. Fresh smiles, seeing a small flock of her sheep fly by, with the anti-dream ram at their lead. She waves to them and they wiggle their legs as they float past her. ¡°Hello,¡± says the tired-man curiously, but not sparing her much mind. In fact, he doesn¡¯t seem like the tired-man that she has come to expect at all. He¡¯s busy running around left and right, taking notes before looking through the telescope and then running across the room to move some pieces of some intricately designed boards around. She has no idea what she¡¯s looking at, all she knows is that the entire room feels¡­ enchanted. ¡°What can I do for you?¡± he asks. Fresh realizes that he hasn¡¯t looked at her once, not having spared a second from his work to even glance her way. If he buzzes around like this all day, it¡¯s no wonder that he¡¯s tired. Is this what a magistrate does? She was expecting more bureaucracy. ¡°I¡¯d like to ask something,¡± says Fresh, jangling her bag. ¡°Huh? Oh,¡± the magistrate finally looks her way, seeing that it¡¯s her. ¡°Hello, I wasn¡¯t expecting to see you here,¡± he says. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting on coming,¡± answers Fresh, lifting a finger. ¡°But I¡¯d like to give you these,¡± she says, setting the rest of the bottles down on the unused desk in the corner. ¡°Are you trying to bribe me?¡± asks the magistrate. ¡°Yes,¡± admits Fresh for the second time, apparently to her success, as the man simply nods and takes a bottle, before returning to his work. It seems that out here in the west, honesty really is the best policy. A magical-crystal, carved into the shape of a star, floats past her face as it slowly drifts to the glass wall across the room. ¡°What can I do for you?¡± asks the tired-magistrate. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asks Fresh, more fascinated by his work than by her own original question. ¡°Running the city,¡± explains the magistrate. ¡°By looking at the stars?¡± asks Fresh. The magistrate opens his bottle. ¡°By looking at the sky.¡± ¡°Huh? What does that have to do with the city?¡± she asks, watching as he glues his eyes back to the telescope. He waves her over. ¡°Take a look. What do you see?¡± he asks. Fresh, curious now, walks over to the telescope and carefully looks into it, doing her best not to touch it, as it looks very, very expensive. Fresh sees a lot. But she isn¡¯t sure what it is that she¡¯s seeing. Clouds. The moon. Distant stars peeking out from behind the occasional puff of vapor. She even thinks that she sees the shadow of some night-bird flying through the air for a brief moment. ¡°Just stuff,¡± she says. ¡°Exactly,¡± says the magistrate, pushing a piece on his game-board over another field. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Being a leader is stressful, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asks. ¡°There¡¯s always more to do to protect the people we care about.¡± He takes a sip from his coughee. ¡°We work in the dark, so they can sleep easy.¡± Fresh raises her hands. ¡°Ah, no, I¡¯m not -¡± ¡°Are you the one who secretly doesn¡¯t sleep at night to keep the others safe and fed?¡± asks the magistrate. ¡°Then you¡¯re the leader.¡± Fresh rubs her arm nervously, appreciating the reassuring words, even if she doesn¡¯t feel like they sit entirely true for her. ¡°What kind of ¡®stuff¡¯ do you see?¡± he asks. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°In the telescope. What kind of stuff?¡± ¡°Uh, clouds and uh, birds and the stars.¡± ¡°Why would you see birds in the telescope?¡± he asks. Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Because they¡¯re flying high?¡± ¡°Why would the birds be flying so high, this late in the day?¡± ¡°Because they¡¯re going places. They¡¯re probably flying somewhere warmer, it¡¯s about that time of the year,¡± she assumes. He nods. ¡°But why are they so high, though?¡± Fresh blinks, thinking for a second. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s too windy for them down below?¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± beam the tired-magistrate as the flock of sheep circle past between them. ¡°The air currents are shifting. The birds are flying higher to avoid them. We¡¯re going to have a heavy storm in the near future.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Being a leader is sometimes about seeing things that the others can¡¯t or simply don¡¯t want to,¡± he explains, returning to his frenzied work. ¡°We have to be the ones to make the first cut, when the others are too timid to draw blood.¡± Fresh likes the way the man talks, but there is too much on her mind to be swayed by this flattering conversation. She clenches her fists, lifting her gaze to him. ¡°I don¡¯t like the way the fairies are treated here. Everyone is terrible to them!¡± she says, pointing at him. ¡°And why was there a ghost in our house?!¡± she asks, getting right to the point. The tired-man looks away from his work for a moment, before returning to his notes. ¡°What do you do, when you love your family, but they¡¯re terrible people?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°What do you do -¡± repeats the magistrate. ¡°- when you love someone, but they¡¯re a terrible person in dire need of redemption?¡± he asks. ¡°Do you give them up?¡± ¡°No,¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I¡¯d do my best for them, so that they can become better.¡± He nods. ¡°Then what would you do if your beloved family has more than ten-thousand people?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°What if you loved ten-thousand people and a quarter of them were terrible? Would you give them up?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯d stay up every night, trying to make something for them, trying to figure out something for them, so that they can become better too.¡± ¡°For every one of them?¡± asks the magistrate. ¡°For every one of them.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± says the tired-man, setting down the empty bottle on the edge of the stone platform as he buzzes around left and right, before sparing another glance into the telescope. ¡°I love the fairies just like I love any of the people here, but I can only save as many as I can manage with my own two hands.¡± Fresh looks up through the glass ceiling, watching as the clouds slowly part and the stars begin to make themselves seen, now that night has fallen. ¡°As for the ghost, you have my apologies. But that was the fault of my more wayward children.¡± Fresh looks around, confused. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I hope my repeated patronage has managed to make a small step towards amends for their acts.¡± Fresh looks at him. ¡°Who? Why?¡± The tired man looks at her, before turning away to stare up at the bright moon that hangs up in the sky above them both, neither of them saying anything for a while as they gaze towards it. ¡°Every family has its secrets,¡± says the tired-man finally, before returning to his work. Razmatazz -) Fun fact, this chapter was written while listening to the Astral Observatory theme from Zelda: Majora''s mask. Good game. -) Tired-man is a cool dude. He''s trying his best, okay? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 179: Breakfast Fresh stands out on the balcony of their home, peering through the small telescope that they have sitting out there, as she looks around towards the night-sky. She had just come back from the city hall half an hour ago. Shamrock and Jubilee had already gone to bed and Basil is downstairs, taking a hot bath to fight off the last of her sickness. It is cool outside and she stares through the lens of the telescope, trying to figure out what it is that she is supposed to be seeing. The tired-man had advised her that it is a leader¡¯s duty to foresee the happenings of the world, in order to take preventive measures to protect their flock, rather than just applying bandages after the damage has been done. So here she is, out on the balcony in the dead of night, trying to see what it is that he sees in the dark. He had explained everything about the birds and the possible coming of a storm to her, but the other things he was looking for in the sky, those are still for her to find and to interpret on her own. The signs that the stars, that the moon, that the clouds all have to offer, those she has to read for herself. She had looked in her damp-grimoire, but it offered little insight into such matters to her surprise. In this late hour, in her tired, buzzing mind, she can¡¯t help but feel like it had knowledge about such topics. It just wasn¡¯t willing to share it with her. Why not? She doesn¡¯t know, but she has the feeling that in this endeavor, she is on her own. Fresh spends another half hour outside, taking notes on random things like the alignment of the stars and any oddly shaped clouds. She doesn¡¯t really know what to do with any of this information just yet, but she hopes that when she has the missing piece of the puzzle, that this will be useful. After that half hour is over, Basil makes her way back upstairs and flops into bed with still damp hair. Taking this chance as well, Fresh buries Shamrock and then the priestess alive in their blankets and then falls into her own bed, wearing her new pajamas. By the time she wakes up in the morning, she notices that there is a static, ambient noise present in the room. A quiet droning. Rain. It isn¡¯t heavy yet. Rather, it¡¯s just a little drizzle. Lifting her sleepy head, she looks out to the balcony door, which is already open again and sees Shamrock standing outside, drinking from a tea bottle and looking out over the city. Rubbing her eyes, she gets up and gets ready for the day. Running downstairs to wash herself, she then starts cooking a light, but warm breakfast. Today feels like a porridge day. Some hot oats with some spice and a few pieces of fruit. Simple, but deeply nourishing for the body, especially since the warmth it provides counteracts the slightly damp chill of the outside autumn air. Basil, who seems to have recovered now from whatever ailed her, is up as well by the time she starts cooking. The priestess helps her, cutting the fruit into small pieces while Fresh stirs the pot of boiling oats, grains and powdered nuts. Shamrock sits at the table, getting scolded by Jubilee because his wet armor is dripping onto the floors. He lifts his hand, flicking a bit of water off of himself onto Jubilee. Fresh and Basil quietly laugh to each other as they listen to the one sided spat happening across the room. Today is a day like any other. Nobody asks any questions about her excursion last night and she doesn¡¯t offer any information. It¡¯s not that she¡¯s ashamed or guilty about it, it¡¯s just a barrel that she doesn¡¯t want to open, thinks Fresh as she stirs her porridge, taking another bite. It¡¯s really good. Setting her spoon down, she grabs her coughee and looks around the table at her friends who have somehow fallen into a conversation about their favorite autumn foods. She would usually be the first to join in on this topic, but now as she eats another spoonful of her porridge, she frowns. Not because it tastes bad or because she isn¡¯t enjoying the company, but rather, Fresh realizes abruptly that she is keeping yet another secret. They were piling on by the day and she somehow keeps digging herself in deeper, but she¡¯s always too embarrassed or afraid of being lectured to tell her friends about any of it. But¡­ Maybe this isn¡¯t a productive way to be? Maybe this is a bad road to go down, not only as the leader of their party, but also as a friend? Friends can keep secrets, but they don¡¯t lie. That¡¯s how she sees it. Though, she knows that she herself isn¡¯t true to her own principles in this regard. ¡°I went to see the magistrate last night,¡± says Fresh, just throwing it into the conversation, clasping her hands around her coughee to brace herself for the impact to come. ¡°Huh? Why the fuck would you do that?¡± asks Jubilee in a curious, but not angry tone. ¡°I wanted to ask about the fairies and the ghost,¡± admits Fresh. The others all look at each other for a moment. ¡°And?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°And?¡± asks Fresh, blinking. This isn¡¯t the reaction she was expecting. Jubilee isn¡¯t lecturing her about being dumb or by taking some huge risk and Basil isn¡¯t doting over her like a scolding teacher. ¡°And what did he say, goo-brain?¡± asks Jubilee, sighing in defeat. Fresh, now entirely lost, goes on to explain her entire night in great detail, from her trip to the tailor¡¯s to when she had gotten back home after returning from the city-hall. ¡°Huh,¡± mutters Jubilee ¡°We used to have a telescope too, back in the north,¡± they say, putting their hands behind their head as they lean back on the chair. ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh, as if she didn¡¯t know. ¡°It was upstairs. I guess that¡¯s what they used it for,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I always wondered.¡± They seem to think for a second, before nodding to her. Basil nods as well, thinking. ¡°Thinking ahead is always a wise thing to do. I¡¯m just surprised that¡­¡± she trails off, deciding not to finish her sentence. ¡°Huh? Surprised that what?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Never mind,¡± laughs Basil, before making a show of it as she returns to eating her breakfast. ¡°Little slimes become big slimes,¡± says Shamrock, looking at her as he sets down his now empty second bowl. ¡°The ghost thing is weird though,¡± says Basil, lowering her bowl. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh in agreement. Shamrock does as well. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Maybe. But it worked out for the best, so who are we to complain? Anyways, what¡¯s with those sheep in the river?¡± ¡°It¡¯s so sad!¡± exclaims Fresh, the distraught coming to the forefront of her mind. ¡°I don¡¯t know why somebody would do that!¡± The four of them go over a few theories as to why this was happening, but none of them are more conclusive than the ones before. Once breakfast ends and everyone has eaten, including Jubilee, who quickly wolfs down their bowl in their room, they all head downstairs to get the store ready for the day and Fresh feels just a tiny bit lighter, as she walks down the steps. Just getting one secret off of her shoulders feels like it made a big difference in her posture and mood. It¡¯s one less thing to be fearfully paranoid about and her friends were all deeply understanding and reasonable about her meeting. Actually, she isn¡¯t even sure why she was paranoid about it to begin with? There was nothing suspicious or dangerous about it. She wonders if she isn¡¯t just still harboring some of that old social paranoia from her old life? It feels like it was years ago. She doesn¡¯t even really remember much of it anymore, even after that night at the fair. But she remembers enough to have something to scare her straight. The memories that remain, the black-water stains on the fabric of her soul are a constant reminder of the darkness which she had fallen into and of the miserable creature that she had become, through apathy, through forgoing of responsibility, through wallowing in the brain-goo instead of fighting to step forward one more step every day. In a sort of morbid moment of clarity, Fresh realizes that she could have been just as happy in her old life as this one, if she had had the spirit to try. To really try with every ounce of her body and soul. But, in her eyes, it¡¯s for the best. Despite everything, she likes it here a lot more nonetheless. Razmatazz -) She''s getting those brain-gains. Can you tell? -) Do you like this story? Or at least find it enjoyable enough to check in on? Yes? Have you rated/reviewed yet? The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us. Which means I can write more for you! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 180: A warm place Fresh comes back from the drink shelf, setting a bottle of hot coughee down next to Veli for him to warm himself up against and to dry off a little, before they open. Basil and Shamrock are standing on the other end of the counter, decorating a slime-toy together with assorted flowers and berries. Jubilee is scribbling something in the ledger. ¡°Careful, it¡¯s super hot,¡± she says to the shivering fairy who, with his good hand, rubs his hair dry with a scrap of fabric thrown at him by Jubilee, who had yelled at him for getting his work clothes wet. The rains have started to come in force. The fairies, given their tiny statures, are more than vulnerable to it. Not just from the impact of the drops as they fall or from the growing winds, but from the lost heat which the dampness steals from their bodies. The small creatures run naturally hot, given the amount of energy they burn every hour and any disturbance to that makes them very vulnerable. This is of course made even worse by the fact that many of them are hungry or simply downright on the brink of starvation. The autumn appears to be heading in a bitter direction, she¡¯s going to have to speed up her plan while there are still any fairies left to save. Fresh had spoken to the magistrate about her idea and he was accepting of it, promising to forbid entrance to the small section of the forest. Now she just needs to get the fairies on board. ¡°Did you manage to do that thing I asked you about, Veli?¡± asks Fresh, her cheek resting on the counter as she lays her head sideways down on it, staring at the fairy who is warming his hands against the bottle. Veli lifts his head, about to answer. ¡°Thing?¡± asks Jubilee, cutting in, suspicious right from the start. ¡°Magical floating fairy house,¡± explains Fresh, not lifting her head. Jubilee replies with a very disinterested - ¡°Oh,¡± and returns to their work in the ledger. Fresh wonders what the others had come up with, during their ¡®business plan¡¯ meeting a few weeks ago. Oh well, one question at a time. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask,¡± starts Jubilee, getting her attention again. ¡°Why the house? Why not just have them dig into the rock of the mountain?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Why hang little houses in the trees, when you could just dig some into the side of the mountain? Where nobody else can go, except the fairies?¡± They rub the mask of their chin, thinking. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be more economical?¡± ¡°Jubilee~¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°Would you rather live in a house or in a rock?¡± Jubilee stares at her quietly, before lifting their arms and gesturing to broadly everything all around them. Fresh blinks, realizing their point. ¡°But how are they going to cut the stone out of the mountain?¡± ¡°Some of the little fucks should have an affinity for stone-magic, it shouldn¡¯t be a problem for them with a little guidance.¡± ¡°Stone-magic?¡± asks Fresh, just to be sure. Jubilee sighs. ¡°It¡¯s magic. For stones. It would do wonders for that rock-filled head of yours.¡± ¡°It¡¯s an off-shoot of earth-magic,¡± says Basil from the side of the room. Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°I saw one at the adventurer¡¯s guild, she could use wood-magic. Do they all have nature-magic like that?¡± asks Fresh, staring down at Veli curiously. She gasps, realizing. ¡°Wait! Jubilee!¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Is glass magic earth-magic too?¡± she asks. ¡°You really are the fairy-queen!¡± says Fresh in a joking tone. Though she hasn¡¯t discarded the possibility entirely yet out of her mind. ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck, goo-brain,¡± sighs Jubilee, looking back to their ledger. ¡°We don¡¯t like the underground,¡± says Veli, finally able to get a word in. ¡°There are critters and bugs and things that want to eat us.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s safer in an attic than in a basement, at least there you can fly away, if something happens.¡± Fresh nods, understanding his point. Also, she¡¯s happy that her idea hasn¡¯t been invalidated. ¡°Some of the others are interested, a lot of them aren¡¯t.¡± ¡°How come?¡± asks Fresh, half-disappointed. Veli shakes his wings out, turning his back to the bottle to warm it. ¡°It¡¯s too good. You¡¯re being too nice. It¡¯s suspicious.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± asks Fresh, her head finally lifting off of the counter. ¡°We don¡¯t trust nice people anymore,¡± explains Veli. ¡°We saw what happened to the others.¡± He rings out the wet cloth, holding it against the exterior of the bottle to warm it up. ¡°I vouched for you, but I was the only one until Tarja got back from work. When she showed her coin to the others after hearing us talk about you, a few more seemed convinced.¡± ¡°Tarja?¡± ¡°She works at the tailor¡¯s,¡± explains Veli. ¡°Oooooh!¡± Fresh realizes that this discussion must have happened in the dead of night, right as she was heading to the magistrate¡¯s office. She supposes that the fairies have a meeting point somewhere. ¡°Stay there!¡± she tells Veli, before quickly running down the stairs to the basement and then back up a minute later with the rebuilt fairy-house in her hands. It¡¯s the same principle as before. A doll-house, essentially. But she¡¯s now treated the wood and then carefully insulated it with crystal-drakonium. A weight-reducing iron-ring sits in the base of the foundation, together with an infused-crystal. In truth, this prototype is perhaps the most expensive item she has made, as it uses just about every idea that she has come up with in the west. The last thing she wants to figure out before considering it ¡®market ready¡¯ is a heating system. ¡°Careful!¡± she says, setting it down on the counter. A second later, it lifts up off of the flat surface, hovering a few inches. ¡°Ta-da! Magical floating fairy house!¡± she beams with pride. Veli gets up, rolling his shoulder with the broken arm as he walks towards it, his wet boots still back by the bottle. ¡°Try it out, please,¡± she asks. Veli nods, flying up to the little door that wasn¡¯t there before and opening it before flying inside. ¡°What do you think?¡± ¡°The door needs to be wider,¡± suggests Veli right away. ¡°It¡¯s like a human door. But we have wings, so it could be too tight in an emergency.¡± She gasps, realizing that this is likely true. She had still designed the house according to a human¡¯s needs and standards. ¡°I like the higher ceiling now though, it feels a lot more comfortable.¡± There is a small knocking. ¡°It¡¯s really quiet in here now too.¡± For the next little while until the store opens, Fresh and Veli go through the last things that she should change about the building, in order to make it more ¡®fairy conform¡¯. She adds these things to her to-do list, together with the heating system. Asking Veli to tell the others that they can start gathering resources tomorrow already, if they need money for food, she grabs the house again and vanishes into the basement, leaving the store to the others today. People¡¯s lives are counting on her, so she has to finish this project now, or at least get the ball rolling. ¡°Magical~ float-ing~ fairy~ house~¡± hums Fresh to herself over and over as she works, making all of the adjustments to the house. Bigger doors. Tiny shutters to block the glass windows to hide their sleeping figures from hungry birds and to let them peep out into the world. A ¡®nest¡¯ room with kobold-fluff carpeting and several tiny ropes that things could be hung from wall to wall, rather than a bed. Beds aren¡¯t great to sleep in with wings, apparently. As for the heating mechanism¡­. Fresh ponders, scratching her cheek. She knows how to make a cooling mechanism, having already done so with the cabinet upstairs. But¡­ she would likely need a fire-monster drop to make anything with heat properties and those are far and few between up here on the mountain. As she wonders curiously about what she should do, her eyes fall onto the fireplace and she listens to its crackling. Her thoughts seem to numb over for a while as she stares into the dancing flames, transfixed, listening to the popping voice of the fire. The idea comes to her as a foreign thing in her mind, but she accepts it nonetheless with a grateful nod to the fire. In return for its advice, she puts the biggest, fattest, heaviest and driest log from the wood-pile into the flames. Fair is fair. Running over, she carefully scoops up some of the still glowing ash with the metal scoop there, meant for cleaning, and carries it back to her table. Grabbing a magic-crystal, she carves out a little marble shape, which she then wraps in a tiny band of crystal-drakonium. After that, she sets the marble down and puts on a pair of crystal-drakonium gloves to protect her hands. In truth, this isn¡¯t a recipe that she is supposed to know. It isn¡¯t one that the fountain has given her, it isn¡¯t one that her damp-grimoire has given her. It is the one that the thing of the exact opposite of her destined nature has given her and while a somewhat unusual method, she trusts the fire¡¯s reassurances that it will work. Now, Fresh knows that it¡¯s odd to get ideas from a fire, let alone to attribute any sort of awareness to it. But, she also knows that the water has done such things for her in the past, so why can¡¯t fire? She shrugs. It makes sense to her. Fresh checks her gloves and then grabs a handful of the ash with the still glowing embers inside of it. She needs this, but she also needs something warm, something ethereally so. Her eyes scan the basement, looking for a source of inspiration, for a familiar feeling to power her spell. Her gaze lands on Basil¡¯s planters, on the sixth one where they had stood before and hugged. She sees the first green sprouts starting to push their way out through the dirt, reaching, striving for life. Smiling, she closes her eyes and unclenches her fist, opening her palm flat as she blows the glowing embers over the small marble. Perhaps the magical scholars and engineers of this world would call all of this humbug and would have laughed her out of any academy or institution of casters. Perhaps any wizard worth their salt would be howling at her odd methodologies. But they all didn¡¯t get it, not in her eyes that have seen another world. Sure, there¡¯s a science to so-called ¡®wet-crafting¡¯. It¡¯s a lot like cooking. But more important than just an exact following of steps in a recipe, is the spark of personal passion. Of love for the process, for the creation, for the receiver thereof. Ash and glowing coals swirl around the small marble on the table, spinning and condensing around it as if bound into a ring by its gravity. She picks it up with both hands, cupping her fingers closed around it, as she holds her face to it and blows, as if nurturing a delicate, tiny ember in her hands, fostering it to grow into a proud flame. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 181: Close It is the next day. Veli doesn¡¯t seem to have any magic yet, at least according to him when Fresh had asked him about his abilities. Much like with humans, some fairies are born with an innate natural talent for spell-casting from the day of their genesis. Others however, are late-bloomers and have to make do in other ways, until they come to grow an understanding of their powers. ¡°Left,¡± says Shamrock, flicking the little toy slime on the table. It wobbles menacingly towards Veli who jumps to the left and swings at it with a little, fairy-sized stick. To say that business is slow today is an understatement. There is no business. Perhaps it¡¯s the rain. Perhaps it¡¯s because it¡¯s shortly before most of the lay-people get their new wages, having already spent most of their old pay. Perhaps it¡¯s just a random coincidence that nobody felt like shopping today. But the end result is the same, the store is more or less empty. Their biggest customers today were the neighbors, who had come by for some hot coughee for their breakfast. With his good arm, Veli stabs the stick into the side of the slime. Shamrock flicks it again and the gelatinous mass wobbles into Veli, throwing him down onto his bottom, the stick staying stuck in the toy slime. ¡°Don¡¯t stab slimes,¡± advises Shamrock, looking down at the fairy, who dusts himself off and gets back up. ¡°They¡¯re stab-proof,¡± he explains, gesturing to the indifferently wobbling slime. The stick flops out of its body, rattling against the ground with a strand of goo still connecting it to the toy. ¡°I¡¯m paying a hundred Obols for this,¡± says Jubilee with an annoyed tone from the side of the room, their head in their hand as they rest on the counter and look at the two of them. Shamrock looks over at them and then back down to Veli. ¡°Employee benefits,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°The employee¡¯s benefits are that they¡¯re employed and that they get paid!¡± barks Jubilee at him, not bothering to lift their head. ¡°Jubilee~¡± says Fresh, grabbing Jubilee from behind and wrapping her arms around their chest. ¡°There¡¯s no work today, let Veli learn some stuff.¡± ¡°You¡¯re touching me again,¡± says Jubilee, their free hand tapping against the counter in annoyance. ¡°Mm,¡± acknowledges Fresh, not letting go despite that. Jubilee sighs and both of them turn back to watch the only thing there is to watch. Veli, not being able to use any magic, has asked Shamrock to teach him how to fight without it. Fresh thinks that this is a horrible idea, since he only has six health-points. But who is she to judge? Shamrock didn¡¯t hesitate for a moment before shoving a tiny stick into the fairy¡¯s hand. She doesn¡¯t even know where he got it from and she can¡¯t help but think that he had one prepared in advance, having seen this sequence of events coming. Fresh doesn¡¯t really get Shamrock sometimes. Given his quietly stoic nature and bouts of occasional silliness, he¡¯s hard to get a real grasp on. But she can¡¯t help but wonder how perceptive he really is. She has the feeling that it¡¯s much more than he lets on. But then again, isn¡¯t he likely the highest leveled out of all of them? That would entail having perhaps the highest intelligence and wisdom stats. Though, stats are apparently gained at a different rate, depending on your class and personal affinities. He had to survive on his own as a declared member of the witch¡¯s sect for years, possibly. That certainly requires a certain amount of zealotry, but also wits and planning. ¡°Right,¡± says Shamrock, flicking the slime again as Veli makes his next attempt, coming from the other side. Fresh lowers herself down, resting her chin on top of Jubilee¡¯s head. The rest of the day goes like this. The only reprieve is when Fresh leaves to go upstairs to cook lunch for everyone and then comes back down half an hour later with plates of pan-toasted sandwiches. She even made a tiny one for Veli and to her delight, she even got the portioning right. Basil¡¯s, she delivers downstairs to the priestess, who is busy working on her plant creams today in the basement. Sparing a moment to chit-chat, she returns upstairs just in time as Veli, the now sweaty fairy, apparently gains his first stat-up for the day. Fresh claps excitedly for him, praising him for his hard work. She realizes as she watches the window of his menu vanish, that she has never seen any of her friends get a stat-up. Then again, it¡¯s not like they ever train. Basil comes through, bringing her already empty plate upstairs. The fairy-house prototype is in her eyes, finished. Veli had talked to the others last night, providing them with a list of herbs and flowers that Basil had made, describing each one and noting what to look out for or if there were any special requirements before harvesting. Fresh hopes that they aren¡¯t out there working today though. Not in the forest in this weather. She scratches her cheek, watching as Veli drops down to start doing one-handed push-ups. Some of the fairies are real go-getters though, apparently having adopted the same attitude as him. Which is a little frightening, as it¡¯s almost self-destructive. A hand grabs her hand, which is by her face, from behind. Fresh turns head around, seeing Basil with a tub of cream. ¡°You¡¯re going to rub your face open if you always scratch your skin like that,¡± scolds the priestess, pressing a dab of cream onto her cheek and rubbing it in. ¡°Ah, sorry,¡± apologizes Fresh, not sure why she¡¯s apologizing. ¡°It¡¯s a habit.¡± ¡°When you think?¡± asks Basil. ¡°It can¡¯t be much of a habit then,¡± quips Jubilee. Fresh squeezes her other arm, which is still around them, tighter, as a sign of protest. Eventually, another customer comes through the door. The tired-man. ¡°Hello!¡± says Fresh, greeting him. ¡°How did you sleep?¡± she asks. ¡°Never enough,¡± yawns the tired-man, lurching through the aisle like a zombie as he heads towards the back shelf. Fresh frowns. ¡°Can you let go of me?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°No,¡± says Fresh, having now trapped both Jubilee and Basil here in a deathly snare, one with each arm. Neither of them seem to be putting up much of a fight though. That¡¯s the good thing about this kind of weather. Cold, rainy days are great hugging weather. ¡°Didn¡¯t the ram help you?¡± she calls out over the shelves. ¡°It did,¡± replies the magistrate a moment later, shuffling around the bend, a few bottles in his hands. ¡°Quiet sleep doesn¡¯t make up for a lack of it,¡± he explains. ¡°Get more sleep then,¡± she says. Jubilee nudges her. ¡°What? It¡¯s true,¡± notes Fresh. ¡°There isn¡¯t much sleep to be had these days,¡± replies the magistrate, placing the bottles onto the counter. He looks at the three of them. ¡°Twenty seven Obols,¡± says Jubilee, reaching for the change drawer to pull it open. Fresh twists to the side after they do so, pulling them a step back. ¡°Hey!¡± snaps Jubilee. Basil, quietly laughing, takes the man¡¯s coins, putting them into the open drawer. Fresh turns the other way, pushing Jubilee a step forward again and Basil back to the side. ¡°You know¡­¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee sighs, grabbing the tired-man¡¯s change and handing it to him, before Fresh pulls them back again and hits the drawer closed with her hip. ¡°Thank you, come again!¡± she smiles at him. He stares at the three of them, perhaps deciding if there was even anything to say about this. But he doesn¡¯t seem to find anything and he takes his coughee and leaves, yawning loudly as he goes. ¡°Can you let me go now?¡± ¡°No.¡± Veli drops to the counter, his shaking body giving out after this latest bout of exercise. ¡°Why don¡¯t you do something productive, like him?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh blinks, looking between the two of them. ¡°I am,¡± she explains, squeezing tighter. Razmatazz Free hugs! *pats side of unmarked, white, box-van* Step right in! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 182: Faith Fresh cups her gloved hands, blowing another tuft of ash forward over the crystal marbles on the table. This doesn¡¯t help the already dusty basement become any less of a nose-itching mess, but it does complete the process of enchanting the marbles. It is late in the morning of the next day. The rains continue and business is just as slow as yesterday, so Fresh has snuck away to do some more crafting downstairs. Shamrock has volunteered to sweep up the basement and he now stands next to her, broom in hand, watching as the cloud of fire-place ash spreads over the table and onto the floor. Feeling his gaze, Fresh blinks and looks over to the man with the broom in his hand. ¡°Ah, sorry!¡± she apologizes. ¡°It¡¯s a messy crafting process,¡± she explains, scratching her cheek again and smearing a streak of ash onto her face. Shamrock looks around the basement. ¡°The air is bad.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, rubbing her forehead on her sleeve and returning to her work. ¡°It¡¯s been like this for a week or two now,¡± she explains. ¡°I figure it¡¯s because we¡¯ve had the fire on since then, for the coughee.¡± She sighs. At least when they had the ghost, it was always nice and cold. Shamrock doesn¡¯t say anything, sweeping the ground at her feet. Fresh stands on one leg and then on the other as he sweeps beneath her, working his way around the basement. By the fireplace, there is even more soot that leads straight to her workbench and Basil¡¯s planters are basically ringed with loose crumbles of dirt as well. Smiling, satisfied, she sets the small palette of heating elements to the side and pulls over her grimoire, once Shamrock is too far away to accidentally read it. Flipping through the damp pages, she looks for a source of inspiration for some new idea. ¡°Hey, Shamrock?¡± she asks, calling across the basement to Shamrock who has worked his way to the back corner by the stairs. ¡°What¡¯s with the other two witches? The ones who live in the south?¡± He stops sweeping, looking over her way. ¡°Are they nice?¡± she asks, glancing over her shoulder. ¡°It is daytime,¡± advises Shamrock, suggesting against this conversation. ¡°We¡¯re in the basement and nobody¡¯s around,¡± she sighs, turning back to her book. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering, am I¡­ you know, witchy? Am I doing what witches do?¡± ¡°You are,¡± says Shamrock, reassuring her. There is a rattling and she turns around, looking as he seems to be jamming the handle of the broom into the air-shaft that is dug into the wall. ¡°Did you ever meet the others?¡± ¡°I have,¡± explains Shamrock. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Are they nice?¡± ¡°They are,¡± he says, pulling the broom back down as some blockage falls down out of the shaft. A clump of straw and feathers and fabric. Fresh narrows her eyes, trying to see what it is from over here. ¡°A nest,¡± explains Shamrock. Immediately, Fresh feels a familiar draft come back over her as the air circulation returns to the basement, now that the vent is unclogged for the first time in weeks. ¡°A nest?¡± asks Fresh, setting down her work to walk over. An air shaft seems like an odd place for birds to be hiding, but then again, she supposes that there are weirder things. But as she looks at the thing, she realizes that this isn¡¯t something that a bird could have made. It¡¯s too tightly packed, too well dressed and there is a little bed, made out of kobold fluff. A fairy had been living here. ¡°Shamrock¡­¡± she says, worried, already realizing the danger that this could imply. If a fairy had been in the air-shaft, does that mean that somebody had overheard her? That somebody had seen her witch-crafting? This is bad. Very bad. Criticality bad. Seeing that she¡¯s tensing up, Shamrock places a hand on her shoulder and points at the bedding in the nest. ¡°It has been forgotten. Look,¡± he explains, pointing at a few bits of cobweb strung between some of the sticks. ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asks. He nods, squeezing her shoulder once before grabbing the nest and setting it to the side. ¡°Why would it be unused?¡± He looks at her, grabbing the broom to continue his work, apparently unfazed by the discovery. Fresh, seeing his calm demeanor, feels her own blood begin to settle again, together with the slowing of her heart. ¡°They didn¡¯t come home,¡± he explains, returning to his sweeping. This answer, despite bringing her a lot of sudden relief, makes her cry as she walks back to her workbench, as she thinks about a fairy taking the time to make a comfortable nest in a warm, dry, safe place, perhaps with a spark of hope for the future in their eyes as they worked, only to then never return to it one day. The freshly blowing breeze that rushes past her, feeding the fire as it rises up the chimney, does little to cool her nerves. ¡°They have given up,¡± explains Shamrock. Fresh sniffles, rubbing her face on her shoulder for the second time now. ¡°Gauden and Spillaholle have seen too much,¡± says Shamrock. He bends down, setting the broom to the side and grabbing the scoop, as he collects the dirt together into it. ¡°They could not keep the faith.¡± Fresh nods, thinking that she understands. If the other witches had had a similar life to hers, then she is accepting if they¡¯ve burnt out from the cruelty of this world and wanted to retreat away from it. ¡°What about the sect?¡± ¡°They serve.¡± ¡°Does that mean that everyone is in the south?¡± ¡°Those who follow the two, yes,¡± he explains, rising to his feet. ¡°What about the rest of you?¡± asks Fresh, she rubs her arm, not really sure what to say. Having a sect of worshipers is certainly an oddity for her. ¡°What¡¯s so special about me? Is it that Perchta thing?¡± she asks. ¡°I still don¡¯t know what that is.¡± Shamrock dips out the dust into a bin down next to the stairs. ¡°Perchta was the witch of the forgotten.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°The outcasts. The misplaced. The wrong.¡± He taps the scoop against the bin, knocking out the rest of the dust. ¡°The monsters.¡± He looks over to her. ¡°She led them all on the first wild hunt.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°A time of change,¡± explains Shamrock. Fresh blinks, not really understanding. But she¡¯s happy that Shamrock has talked to her so much. This might be the most that he¡¯s ever said in the span of five minutes. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock,¡± beams Fresh at him before returning to her work, having received some answers at least. She shakes her head. A nest, huh? Fresh sighs and makes a mental note to ask Veli if he knows anything about this. Razmatazz Don''t you dare make a Witcher comment, reader. The wild-hunt is an ancient mythological idea stemming from the Germanic peoples and I won''t ever forgive them for making it into a ''Witcher thing'' in popular culture Trivia - Perchta and the wild-hunt (1) In order to understand Perchta and to learn about the wild-hunt, you first need to know who Frau Holle is. This is only the short version, but know that there is a whole bundle of knowledge about her that I will be leaving out because this would end up longer than several chapters otherwise. Frau Holle (Frau = German: woman/lady. Holle being her name. Though she is also often called Hulda/Holla/Mother Holle/Mother Frost, among other things) is a white-robed, female goddess of Germanic origin and is often mistakenly said to stem from a brother¡¯s Grimm fairy-tale, written in 1812. However, this is wrong. In reality, her roots go back far, far deeper than that, likely stemming from an old pantheon of proto-Germanic gods who existed even before Odin, Thor, Loki and the likes. Frau Holle is one of those ancient beliefs that we¡¯ve talked about before, the kind that became over-written by the catholic church after their arrival in the Germanic area and now, she exists in a half-state of common folklore and forgotten mythology. Frau Holle is ancient. She goes way, way, way back, likely being one of the oldest proto-Germanic deities that is well known to this day For those of you familiar with Scandinavian folklore, she is assumed to be related to the Hulder. But that isn¡¯t relevant right now. If you are familiar with the american mythology of the ¡®White Lady¡¯, commonly seen in hitch-hiking ghost-stories, the white-robed Frau Holle also likely a strong candidate for the root of this mythos. But that also isn''t relevant. Frau Holle dwells at the bottom of a well, she is the one who is said to have taught the first people to make linen out of flax. More darkly, she is the goddess who dead children''s spirits find their way to, after passing untimely deaths. Frau Holle, because of this dark association, eventually ended up becoming a patron spirit of midwives, but I won''t go too deep into that. But you should know that it''s there. Is it relevant? Maybe. Finally, her magic is based on spinning and weaving specifically and she has an undeniable association with witchcraft in the folklore of German Catholicism. Stemming from her mythology, come the three variations of her character that have spread around several regions of Europe. Spilleholle, Perchta and Gauden But we¡¯ll talk more about them tomorrow! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 183: Terms and conditions ¡°A nest?¡± repeats Veli after being asked by Fresh about the thing in the basement. It is past closing time and the last customers have left. Veli scratches his head, looking around the shop, clearly a little uncomfortable. ¡°Out with it,¡± snaps Jubilee, their fingers tapping against the counter in agitation. They seemed to have taken the news quietly at first, after Fresh had told them about it during the day. But now that everyone is gone, their tenseness seems to rise to the surface. Fresh can tell by how stiff Jubilee¡¯s posture is getting, they always stiffen up when they¡¯re anxious about something. ¡°You have three seconds,¡± they threaten. ¡°Three. Two. O -¡± ¡°Okay!¡± says Veli, rising up into the air. ¡°It was Irina¡¯s nest. She used to live here,¡± explains Veli. ¡°That¡¯s why a lot of the fairies come around here. She said you were nice.¡± Fresh blinks, remembering the half-eaten candy that they had found on top of the heated shelf. ¡°It¡¯s why I asked to work for you. We trusted Irina. She was really smart.¡± ¡°What else did she say?¡± asks Jubilee, reaching down for the bag of dirt on their hip. Fresh quickly walks over, grabbing their hand. ¡°Easy, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh quietly, squeezing Jubilee¡¯s shoulder with another hand. ¡°Everything is fine.¡± ¡°It might not be,¡± hisses Jubilee back to her. Fresh knows what Jubilee means, but she¡¯s choosing to believe in the positive this time. If this fairy, Irina, was in the basement and had seen something she shouldn¡¯t have seen, if she had heard something she shouldn¡¯t have heard, this could be a disaster. If she tells anyone, if she says anything that she shouldn¡¯t say, then they might have to leave the mountain. They would have to go on the run again before word spreads. Tonight. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± explains Veli, shaking his head. ¡°I swear!¡± he exclaims, looking up at Shamrock and Basil who both are standing there in quiet contemplation, also having understood the gravity of the situation. ¡°Please don¡¯t fire me. I really need this job!¡± ¡°You knew somebody was squatting here and you didn¡¯t tell us?¡± asks Jubilee, still tapping against the counter with their free hand. Veli¡¯s desperate expression falls heavily. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it mattered.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t think it mattered?¡± asks Jubilee, repeating his question, as if they didn¡¯t hear it right. ¡°You didn¡¯t think it mattered that someone was secretly inside of our home?¡± ¡°That was before you hired me!¡± ¡°That¡¯s a shitty excuse and I won¡¯t accept it. And why didn¡¯t you mention it after?¡± asks Jubilee, their demeanor having taken a less explosive turn, now that Fresh continues to hold them back. But she can tell Jubilee is still on edge. Fresh isn¡¯t happy about being sure about this thought of hers. Jubilee has reached for the bag of dirt a few times as a joke before. But this time, she is sure that if she hadn¡¯t stopped them, that they¡¯d be looking for a new employee tomorrow. Veli hovers in the air, not saying anything as he looks away. ¡°I thought so,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Disappointing. I guess I was wrong about you.¡± Jubilee looks at the others. ¡°We don¡¯t need somebody here who we can¡¯t trust. All in favor of terminating Veli¡¯s employment?¡± asks Jubilee, raising their hand. Fresh gasps, looking at the others. ¡°Please!¡± begs Veli, clenching his good fist, his other arm still in the sling. Basil slowly raises her hand as well, leaning back with her eyes closed. Shamrock looks at Veli and then at Fresh, slowly shaking his head. He lifts his hand. Veli looks distraught, his wings giving out as he lowers himself back down to the counter. ¡°You can¡¯t throw him out!¡± says Fresh. ¡°He needs the work!¡± ¡°You know we don¡¯t need this kind of trouble,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s three against one.¡± ¡°I¡¯m the party-leader!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°This isn¡¯t about our party, goo-brain!¡± snaps Jubilee up at her. ¡°This is about our home.¡± Fresh stops, looking at Jubilee and then at the others, letting go of Jubilee, who pulls open the change drawer and takes out a silver Obol, sliding it across the counter to Veli. ¡°Veli!¡± cries Fresh, trying to find a way out of this for him, as she sees that he is close to crying, which is frightening for her to see, given how much he had suffered to get the job to begin with without so much as a squeak. ¡°Where¡¯s Irina?¡± ¡°Irina¡¯s dead!¡± states Veli. ¡°That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t think it mattered!¡± he explains. ¡°She never said anything except that she liked it here and that you seemed like nice people!¡± Fresh looks at him and then at the others who haven¡¯t stirred from their spots. ¡°What happened to her, Veli?¡± she asks, knowing full well that he has been trying to avoid explaining it. But she also knows that he needs to, for her plan to work. Veli looks at her and grabs his coin, getting ready to leave. She places a finger on it, stopping him. ¡°What happened to her?¡± Veli stands there, holding onto the coin. ¡°They tore off her wings.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°They tore off her wings and put her in a jar!¡± shouts Veli. ¡°And then?¡± asks Fresh, lifting her finger from the coin, as she sees that she¡¯s opened the door that she needed to open. She hopes Veli can forgive her for this cruel manipulation. But she¡¯s doing it for him. ¡°They threw it¡­¡± says Veli, breaking down. Fresh cups her hand around his back to comfort him as she looks around the room at the others with a quivering lip. Basil stares at her for a moment, trying, but failing to be resolute. The priestess lowers her hand and sighs. ¡°Let¡¯s give him a second chance.¡± Basil nudges Shamrock in his side. He lowers his gaze down to her and the two of them exchange a knowing look with each other. Shamrock lowers his hand as well. ¡°You fucks!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Are you really going to let some sob-story like that win you over?¡± ¡°I am,¡± says Basil, crossing her arms and looking to the ground. ¡°Yes,¡± says Shamrock, nodding once, his chest heaving. ¡°Please, Jubileeeee~?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll take full responsibility if anything happens.¡± ¡°That gives me literally zero comfort!¡± yells Jubilee, placing their hands onto their hips. ¡°But I guess it¡¯s three against one now, so fuck me, right?¡± Fresh shakes her head, blocking sight of Veli with her other hand to give him some privacy as he cries. She realizes that this is probably more difficult for Jubilee than it is for herself or the others. They¡¯re likely being protective of this new life that all they share with each other. The fact that they value it this much means a lot to Fresh, even if the end result is a little cruel in her eyes. Then again, she¡¯s a bit of a softy herself and she knows it. ¡°That¡¯s not how this works, Jubilee. This is about our home. You need to be on-board too,¡± explains Fresh, turning the conversation back around. ¡°It¡¯s all of us or none of us.¡± Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to, we understand,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Right guys?¡± she asks the others who quietly nod. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± mutters Jubilee, shaking their head and not saying anything for a moment. The storm continues on outside, echoing through the tunnel. ¡°Fine. He can stay. BUT -!¡± says Jubilee, gesturing her over. Fresh leans down, leaving her hands on the counter as Jubilee whispers their conditions into her ear. Fresh nods, listening intently. Hearing it, she realizes that this is a sensible idea that she should have done already, honestly. ¡°Tonight?!¡± she asks, surprised at the given time-frame for the second condition. ¡°Tonight,¡± states Jubilee. Fresh sighs. The conditions of the deal are fair, if not lenient. ¡°Deal,¡± she says, nodding to Jubilee. Standing back up, she looks behind her hand. ¡°Are you okay now?¡± she asks. Veli nods, wiping his face on his sleeve, before he looks up at Fresh¡¯s beaming face. Her plan had worked. ¡°Thank you,¡± mutters Veli, looking away. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Go home, Veli. Get some sleep. We¡¯ll see you tomorrow, right guys?¡± she asks. ¡°Yup,¡± grumbles Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Basil, leaning against the wall and Shamrock¡¯s side. Shamrock just exhales loudly, nodding his head once. Without anything else, Veli takes his coin and quickly leaves after Fresh carries him to the door and wishes him a good night. She sighs as it closes. There¡¯s always trouble to be found somewhere. The others head upstairs. Fresh goes to the basement, fulfilling the first part of the deal. She heads to her workbench and makes a thin, mesh grate out of an iron-bar. This grate is then encased in a small, rectangular wooden frame that has the diameter of the air-shaft. Carefully, she slides it up the shaft and nests it in place. Now, nothing can fly into the basement. Though, she has her doubts that anything else will. ¡°Irina, huh?¡± mutters Fresh, looking at the empty nest. She would have liked to meet her. Maybe if the fairy had come down and talked to her in some dark hour of the night, maybe things would have turned out differently. Letting out a long sigh, she dusts her hands off and washes up to get ready for bed. She wonders how the logistics of this are going to work, given the small space? Still, she thinks that it¡¯s cute. Jubilee must have been very troubled by today¡¯s revelations. Thunder crashes outside of the window. Fresh stops as she reaches the top of the stairs. Shamrock and Basil are fast asleep. She remembers that Jubilee was always a little troubled by storms back in the north. She supposes that it¡¯s the same thing here. Or maybe it¡¯s both things? Or maybe it¡¯s just everything? These last few months have certainly been a lot for all of them. Heading across the room, she tucks in Shamrock and Basil and then grabs her blanket, knocking on Jubilee¡¯s door. They open up and Fresh steps inside. Jubilee is wearing their mask, but they''re also wearing something else. If Fresh didn¡¯t know better, she¡¯d say that Jubilee is wearing a night-time version of their obscuring outfit. The bright-green fabric is thinner, cleaner and looks softer. They¡¯re odd pajamas, certainly, but they¡¯re pajamas. She wonders if Jubilee wears this every night, or if they just made them now because she¡¯s sleeping over. They haven¡¯t had a sleep-over in a while, now that she thinks about it. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a little cramped,¡± Fresh explains, looking at her bouncing reflection in the enchanted mirror. She waves to it and it waves back, before she covers it up with the drape hanging there. ¡°If we put the mattress here sideways next to the bed, it should fit between the walls and stay upright,¡± she explains, spreading her blanket out on the floor. ¡°Shut up, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, as a clash of thunder shakes the outside world. They climb onto their bed, laying sideways to face against the wall. Fresh stares at their back for a second and then down at the empty space on the mattress next to them. She smiles, sitting herself down and grabbing the blanket. ¡°Are you scared of storms, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, pulling the blanket up over both of them. Laying down on her side, she lays her left arm over Jubilee, waiting for a reaction to shoo her away. But nothing comes as she traps them in an inescapable grip, feeling the warmth of her body radiate against Jubilee¡¯s back, trapped beneath the blanket that they share. ¡°They give me bad dreams,¡± mumbles Jubilee. ¡°I see,¡± smiles Fresh, yawning loudly into the back of Jubilee¡¯s head as she stares at the anti-dream sheep tucked into the corner of the bed. ¡°Go to sleep, dumb-ass.¡± ¡°Good night, Jubilee.¡± Jubilee mumbles something and Fresh closes her eyes, her right arm under the big pillow, her left arm laid over her friend as she pulls them against herself. It¡¯s warm. There is a knock on the door. Fresh opens her eyes. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I knew this would happen, that¡¯s why I made the pajamas,¡± they explain. ¡°Come in!¡± The door opens. Basil and Shamrock stand there, peeking inside. ¡°What¡¯s up guys?¡± asks Fresh, yawning again. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Basil and Shamrock look at each other. ¡°Can we sleep over too?¡± Fresh blinks, looking around a little confused. She hadn¡¯t expected this. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°Fine, whatever,¡± says Jubilee. Scooting against the wall. Fresh scoots with them, opening up a spot next to her. It¡¯s going to be very tight though. Basil lays down on the edge of the bed, worming her way under the blanket next to Fresh. Fresh doesn¡¯t really know how Shamrock is going to fit here, but the man seems to have just brought his entire mattress along with him and tosses it down next to the bed, closing the door behind himself. The storm rages on outside. Fresh wiggles herself back into position, wrapping her arms back around Jubilee as Basil does the same to her from the other side. It¡¯s very warm. Fresh smiles, this is the best. Razmatazz Hurray, confusing emotions! Trivia - Perchta and the wild-hunt (2) Continuing our trivia from yesterday, there are three common variants of Frau Holle. These are spread across various regions and as such, are adaptations based on her character, but all of them have their own ¡®thing¡¯. Perchta, who Fresh is based off of, is the variant of Frau Holle that finds itself originating from Switzerland, Bavaria and Austria. (See Fresh¡¯s hair-color and complexion). The brother¡¯s Grimm lore, if we can trust it, states that Perchta was a white-robed goddess of alpine paganism who did little sewing herself, but rather oversaw spinning/weaving/tailoring, most often the kind that was undertaken by children (*cough*). Most often this happened around Xmas, but Fresh is busy all year round. The name, Perchta, refers to Berchta (Bertha ¡ú Berchthold) ¡°the bright one¡± and she, as well as the original root Frau Holle, are considered ¡®guardians of beasts¡¯. This offshoot likely originated from a mixture of Alpine and Celtic mythology. Resulting in what we have now. Another possible root of the name is the old-high-German word ¡®pergan ¡® which literally means hidden or obscured. Note that these names are very loose. If you head further east, the myth takes on a different spin again. But we¡¯re focusing on the Germanic area in this story. And now, since we are talking about German fairy-tales here, so you know what¡¯s coming next. When Perchta would enter a home and find that the children weren¡¯t busy with their work, she would slit their stomachs open, remove their entrails and fill their bodies back up with pebbles and straw. But on a happier note, there was/is a literal ¡®Cult of Perchta¡¯ who left food and drink for her regularly, in the hopes that they would be blessed by her. (Leaving cookies out for Santa, anyone? I¡¯d bet my left foot there¡¯s a connection here if you dig down deeper.) But this practice was banned in 1468. I doubt anyone will stop you from doing it now though... Speaking of feet. Perchta is also said to have weird feet. Is that relevant? Probably not, this isn¡¯t that kind of story. You guys don¡¯t pay me enough for that. You could though. You know where my Patreon is. There are even more deviations of her character than that. In much of the old mythology, Perchta is either a kind, beautiful woman or she¡¯s a bit of a grisly thing, having fangs, tusks and horse tails which she uses to drive out demons and ghosts. But this gets confusing, as I said, there are 10000 variations of the myth in every region. Particularly if we start talking about the Perchten, which is the name for her followers (who still exist to this day in the mountain regions of Austria!) who dress up as such on purpose, for their celebrations. She¡¯s a conflicting figure to summarize. In some variations she¡¯s kind and misunderstood, in others she¡¯s cruel and strict and fearsome. But this leads us up to the next interesting part of her mythology, the fact that she is the leader of die Wilde Jagd. The wild-hunt. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 184: The thing that snips Fresh supposes that she has been afraid to use any of her curses for a while now. Not since the north. Maybe because of the mental connection to the somewhat traumatizing events that had taken place there, or maybe because she just doesn¡¯t want to cause any trouble for her friends or to upset this life of theirs any more than she already has? But as she stands there on the balcony, during the early morning, looking through the telescope at the brightening sky spreading out over the world, she considers that maybe it¡¯s time for her to get back to her roots. Again, she doesn¡¯t know how she got this idea. Maybe it¡¯s because she feels like she and her friends are healed in some intangible way, or maybe because she¡¯s bored, or maybe because that cloud right there looks like a crab with a witch¡¯s hat? That might be it. Fresh sighs. She wishes she had a pointy witch¡¯s hat. But maybe it would be too on the nose? Maybe she could get a pet crab instead? Then again, crabs don¡¯t seem like they would like it on the mountain and¡­ Fresh blinks. Wait. Do crabs even exist here in this world? She turns around. ¡°Jubilee~?¡± she asks. Jubilee, sitting at the table, looks up from their book. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Are crabs real?¡± Jubilee stares at her. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Crabs,¡± explains Fresh, lifting her hands and making a pinching motion with the two of them. ¡°Are they real?¡± Jubilee stares at her, before looking over at Basil who also stares, equally confused, over from the kitchenette. ¡°What the fuck kind of question is that? Of course crabs are real, dumb-ass.¡± ¡°Thanks! I wasn¡¯t sure for a second there,¡± laughs Fresh, turning back to the notebook that she has been sketching things down in. Would telling her friends that she¡¯s from another world make things weird? Maybe. Is it worth keeping as a secret? Probably not. But, things are comfortable now, so why rock the boat? If she fell off, the crabs might get her. Fresh looks up at the sun, rising on the edge of the distant horizon. ¡°Can we go to the ocean? I wanna see a crab.¡± Jubilee sighs loudly, lifting their book higher to block their view of her. Basil chimes in from behind. ¡°The ocean is pretty far away. It isn¡¯t that easy to get to from here.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, disappointed. ¡°Where is it?¡± ¡°The nearest one is in the east.¡± ¡°In the desert? That¡¯s super far,¡± groans Fresh. ¡°Isn¡¯t there one around here?¡± Basil shakes her head, knocking the spoon in her hands against the pot. ¡°No, west of here is just more forest for a good two or three months by foot. ¡°The east is about a month away, if you take the road. But that¡¯s kind of a long vacation for us.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve never taken a vacation,¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Because we¡¯re trying to make money, dumb-ass.¡± ¡°For what though?¡± asks Fresh, half-sarcastically. Her inventory is chock full of floating coins. She hasn¡¯t even bothered to look at the ledger in ages. She has more money than she knows what to do with. Though, she has always been a frugal spender. It¡¯s not that she doesn¡¯t buy things that she likes, it¡¯s just that she kind of already has everything. Some hot food, some nice drinks, a roof over their heads and she¡¯s happy. Maybe a bottle of dragon¡¯s milk now and then as a treat. She sets the telescope and her notebook down, deciding that she¡¯s seen enough. Though she isn¡¯t quite sure what it is that she has seen. Fresh runs downstairs. ¡°I¡¯m going to the basement!¡± ¡°Good, stay down there where you belong,¡± calls Jubilee after her. Fresh laughs. Jubilee is just being extra ¡®bitey¡¯ today to make up for the embarrassment of their softness last night, she knows it and Jubilee knows that she knows it. ¡°Crab~ Crab~ Crabbity crab~!¡± buzzes Fresh to herself as she goes downstairs and into the basement. Shamrock is down here as well, making some slimes at the workbench. He turns his head over towards her as she approaches. Fresh lifts her hands into the air, pinching her fingers as she scuttles sideways towards him. ¡°Crab. Crab~¡± she says, explaining the purpose of her actions in so few words. Shamrock seems to simply accept this for what it is and turns his head back to his work without saying anything. ¡°Whatcha doing?¡± ¡°Making slimes,¡± he replies. ¡°Neat!¡± says Fresh, grabbing his arm with her pinched fingers as she looks over at his work. ¡°How do you feel about crabs, Shamrock?¡± ¡°They are acceptable.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± laughs Fresh, having expected this answer. ¡°Let¡¯s look at crabs sometime, Shamrock!¡± she says. ¡°The ocean is far away.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°I knooow~ Basil already told me it¡¯s by the east.¡± Shamrock turns to look at her disappointed face as she turns to gather her tools, so she can start working at the free spot next to him. ¡°Sometimes, the clouds look like crabs,¡± he explains. Fresh gasps, pretending as if she hadn¡¯t seen exactly just this phenomenon herself only a minute ago. As she works, carving a piece of glass into a little glass crab, the two of them spend the morning hours before they open talking about different animals. Though, this is mostly just Fresh talking about different animals while Shamrock occasionally throws in a sentence of acknowledgment now and then. He¡¯s really a great listener. ¡°- I¡¯m not annoying you, am I?¡± she asks, stopping herself after almost a full hour of talking about frogs and lizards. She isn¡¯t sure why she has animals on the brain today, but she blames the crab-cloud. Shamrock shakes his head and Fresh beams, continuing her ramble while she carves the crab into shape. Quality Effect: While within 8m: Reduces all taken PHYSICAL DMG by 1 Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide, seeing that she¡¯s finally leveled up her craftsman sub-class. Immediately, she starts jumping around in excitement before devolving back into the crab shuffle. Shamrock stares at her as she does this and then, apparently being unable to resist the horrible witch of the north, he lifts his hands and starts crab-walking around the basement together with her. ¡°Crab!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°Crab,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Crab!¡± ¡°Crab.¡± ¡°Hey, you shit-heads. We¡¯re about to op -¡± Jubilee stands at the half-way point of the staircase, looking down at them as the two of them scuttle around the basement. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Fresh looks up towards Jubilee from down below. ¡°Crab!¡± she exclaims excitedly, turning her gaze over to Shamrock, who nods back down to her, immediately understanding her plan. The two of them start scuttling towards the bottom of the staircase and up towards Jubilee. ¡°Fuck off!¡± barks Jubilee at them as they work their way up to them, pinching their fingers. ¡°Crab!¡± calls Fresh. ¡°Crab,¡± repeats Shamrock, as they make their approach. Jubilee gets crabbed. ¡°Guys?¡± asks Basil, popping her head around the door to look downstairs. ¡°Veli¡¯s going to be here soon, come on. We need to get the store rea- IAH!¡± Fresh¡¯s hand shoots out of the darkness behind the door where she has been waiting. Basil too, suffers the crabbing. A little while later, all of them emerge from the basement. All of them covered in red-spots and light bruises from pinching each other, except for Shamrock who is immune to such things, which Fresh thinks is a bit unfair. But that¡¯s just how it is. ¡°We¡¯re never going to talk about this again,¡± instructs Jubilee. Basil rubs her sore arm, laughing quietly. Fresh nods, not really understanding, but feeling accepting of the way things have turned out. Today is going to be a good day, she can feel it. She sets the little glass crab down onto the counter. ¡°Crab,¡± she whispers. Razmatazz CRAB BATTLE Trivia - Perchta and the wild-hunt (3) Die wilde Jagd, the wild-hunt is a term commonly used in northern European folklore. A wild-hunt is basically as the name describes, a hunt of the wild things. But rather than being the ones being hunted, they are the hunters. Souls, revenants, spectres and ghosts, werewolves, horses with fiery eyes, undead dogs and fairies, valkyries and elves are often thought to be the common participants of the hunt. In northern Germany, the goal of the hunters is said to be the pursuit and capture of one or more female demons. Though in other versions, there is no prey at all and they simply ride through the night because it¡¯s cool. The leader of the hunt, depending on where you look in the world, can vary. In Scandinavian lore, it¡¯s often Odin. In Germanic lore, it¡¯s Holle/Perchta. In Christian lore, it¡¯s the devil. But in Brittany, it¡¯s oddly enough, king Arthur. Ireland, the Netherlands, Wales, Slovenia, France, no matter where you go, there is a different leader of the hunt. Usually, this is a figure that is already of some cultural/mythological significance to the region. Given the German fairy-tale inspirations for this story, we¡¯re obviously going with the Germanic interpretation of the fable. In alternative German myth, the leader of the hunt is said to be the rider of a white horse. It¡¯s an interesting connection, especially if you are familiar with Revelations. Though this version stems from the German book ¡®The Rider on the White Horse (1888)¡¯ which came far after the birth of the original myth, I myself choose to discard it and count it as ¡®non-canon¡¯. Should you encounter a wild hunt, or more aptly said, should one find you, then the best thing to do is to stay right in the middle of the road and let them ride around you. (Remember our crossroads trivia? Sometimes making no choice is the best choice) Alternatively, if you help the hunt in some way, you will be rewarded with either gold or the leg of a dead animal/person. Note: The leg is literally cursed and impossible to get rid of. The only way to lose it is to ask the leader of the hunt for salt. They won¡¯t have any, so they¡¯ll take their unsalted leg back. That being said, seeing the wild hunt is said to bring great misfortune no matter what. So even if you get away, you might just get Final Destinationed later. If you hinder the hunt, you will be ¡®punished¡¯ but if you think it¡¯s a punishment really is up to you. In short, you might likely be taken to either the fairy-kingdom or the underworld (What happens there is undefined). Though, in some other interpretations, you will be ¡®allowed¡¯ to join the hunt. (Permanently). You get a cool flying horse with burning eyes and you get to ride around in a horde of ghosts and monsters for the rest of forever, so it doesn¡¯t sound too bad in all honesty. I just hope you aren¡¯t afraid of heights. This is likely the best result you can hope for. Interestingly enough, there are multiple documented, written attestation of Christian monks from 1000-1127AD, recorded in the Peterborough Chronicle, which is a ¡®serious¡¯ collection of history from the time, who claim to have seen the wild-hunt with their own eyes. These sightings ran all around northwestern Europe and the south-east of England. The wild-hunt is said to exist for many reasons. The one I find most interesting is the banding together of literal monsters to hunt demons. Apparently there is little friendship to be had there between them. All in all, it¡¯s a huge chaotic mess, but a lot of fun at the same time, provided you get the ¡®good ending¡¯ Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 185: Location Development Fresh darts around behind the counter, running past all of her friends as she works on carving the delivery-chute into the rock surface behind the wall. It¡¯s an odd construction project, but Jubilee is right in their assessment that it will optimize their repair process. Plus, with the new deliveries of herbs coming in today from the first fairies, they needed a way to get the baskets out of the way quickly. The idea is simple enough. A hole will go into the wall behind the counter. On the other side of the wall is the empty head-space above the basement stairs. She¡¯s going to build a small slide out of wood. Together with some small mechanisms to keep things from getting stuck. ¡°Just set it down here,¡± barks Jubilee at the first group of fairies flying in, carrying a tiny basket filled to the brim with assorted flowers and herbs. Their first delivery. ¡°Yes, your majesty,¡± says the lead fairy, as the four of them lower the basket down onto the counter. They all have such bouncy hair. Fresh is really jealous. ¡°Stop calling me that, you little shits,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Sorry, your highness!¡± squeak the fairies, hiding behind the basket in fear. Basil calms them down, telling them not to worry about Jubilee as she rummages through the basket, inspecting their delivery and gauging its value. The list of plants she had made for them offered different prices for varying types of herbs, the rarer and harder to collect, the more the shop would pay for them. It seems like the obvious thing to do, but Fresh can¡¯t help but wonder, as she scratches against the rock to mark it, if other vendors wouldn¡¯t just try to scam them by paying them the same for the rare herbs as for the cheap ones? It¡¯s not like the fairies would know, if nobody told them. ¡°It looks good,¡± says Basil. ¡°A lot of common herbs, but there¡¯s one good flower here.¡± She runs the numbers in her head. ¡°Normally this basket would be worth about twenty-five Obols, but let¡¯s double it up to fifty since it¡¯s their first.¡± ¡°Like hell!¡± snaps Jubilee, glaring at Basil. ¡°Jubileeee~¡± cries Fresh from the side. Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches. But they relent with a sigh, pulling open the drawer and taking out the coins. ¡°Fine. Fifty Obols, but just this once,¡± they say, turning their head away. ¡°Good job.¡± The fairies pop out from behind the basket, looking at each other and then at Jubilee warily. ¡°You want it or not?¡± asks Jubilee, getting annoyed. ¡°Yes!¡± says the green-haired leader, the rest of them follow her and they all collect the coins, putting them back into the now-empty basket. Basil sets the herbs down into a cloth bag for now, setting it to the side. ¡°Thank you!¡± ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± says one of them, pulling on the other¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Let¡¯s buy candy!¡± ¡°Veli! Veli!¡± calls the one who got tugged on, cupping their hands by their mouth to throw their voice. Veli looks over from his work. ¡°Which candy is the best one?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Veli looks around, apparently not having an answer. His gaze falls on Shamrock. ¡°Red,¡± replies Veli. Shamrock gives him a proud thumb¡¯s up. Fresh, however, feels a small bout of nausea rise in her. She still can¡¯t look at the red candies for more than a few seconds. Jubilee takes the money for a piece of candy back out of the basket and the fairies fly off, carrying their basket and pay with them, as they load up a piece of candy as well for all of them to share together. Fresh thinks that they¡¯re adorable. ¡°What¡¯s with this crab?¡± asks a human voice, talking to Shamrock. Fresh tries to blend it out, holding her hands to the wall. She hopes that she doesn¡¯t break their house. Is this wall load-bearing? She stops, blinking for a second. It¡¯ll probably be fine, right? ¡°Shamrock,¡± she calls, turning around. ¡°Can you push this through please?¡± she asks, pointing at the loose stone cube that is still sitting inside of the wall. It¡¯s too heavy for her to budge. ¡°Careful, it¡¯s heavy,¡± she says. Shamrock turns around, places his hand on the cube and pushes it through with relative ease. There is a loud crumbling sound on the other side. Fresh isn¡¯t sure, but she has the feeling that she might have broken the steps down to the basement. ¡°Woops¡­¡± she mutters. ¡°Woops?¡± asks Jubilee suspiciously. ¡°Ah, nothing! Thanks Shamrock!¡± she beams, quickly heading down into the basement and locking the door behind herself. Looking down, she sees that the two steps, that the heavy brick fell down against, are indeed chipped and broken. Jubilee is going to be so mad at her if they see this. Quickly, she sets to work hiding the evidence, sweeping away the broken bits of stone. The cracked stone steps, she does her best to refinish. Using a mixture of rock dust, ash and some plain, old, everyday moonwater-mud, she makes a mortar and redoes the cracked parts of the staircase. The gray goo hardens into place as the magic leaves her hands, leaving an uneven, bumpy surface there. She sands it down smooth. Sighing in relief, she dusts her hands, having successfully hidden her crime. ¡°Psst -!¡± calls out a voice. Fresh jumps, looking around for the source. Her eyes rise up, to the large square hole. Jubilee looks down at her. ¡°I saw that.¡± ¡°AH~!¡± Fresh yelps, scrambling away, running down to her workbench to make a shutter to cover the hole with, so that her future crimes could go undetected. This is simple enough. A piece of wood with a sliding rail and a latch to lock it with. Though, she does take a second to etch some ornate decorations into the wood panel, so that it looks nice at least when it hangs there in the store. She takes her time, engraving dozens of small, flying sheep, who rise up in a spiral with a ram at their lead. There are also one or two crabs among the flock. Satisfied with her work, she heads upstairs and back out of the basement, sheepishly scuttling to the hole in the wall, avoiding Jubilee¡¯s gaze as best as she can by hiding behind Shamrock, as she attaches the panel to the stones with the sliding hinge and with a set of screws that she pushes deep into the rock. Satisfied, she tests it by sliding it back and forth a few times. It¡¯s oddly satisfying to do, actually. The panel always has a little momentum when you tug on it, as the rails are really sleek, so it always slides for a second longer than it feels like it should. She spends a minute standing there, just sliding it back and forth in fascination. ¡°Do you mind?¡± asks Jubilee in a deeply annoyed tone. ¡°Crab!¡± yelps Fresh, quickly scooting back down into the basement to make the ramp. The idea is simple enough. An angled wooden ramp, screwed deeply into the stone wall with some long screws and angled brackets. To allow the items to slide down easier, she simply makes a series of rollers; hollow metal cylinders which she attaches to either side of the frame with nails that poke into the hollow rods, so that they can spin. She remembers this principle from grocery stores in her old life. Fresh stops, looking up as she recalls the idea of a cash-register. Jubilee would really love something like that. But¡­ she honestly doesn¡¯t have the faintest idea where to begin. Oh well, one project at a time. She spins the roller, watching it go. Fascinated by this too, she spins it again, then again, then again. ¡°Hey!¡± barks a voice from above. Jubilee, having opened the shutter, looks down at her again from above. ¡°Get back to work!¡± ¡°Yes, your crabbiness!¡± relents Fresh, going back to her bench to make the rest of the rollers. She needs about a hundred, though maybe less if she makes the single tubes really big instead of a lot of small ones. But maybe small ones would work better? She thinks for a second and then decides to put in the work of making a bunch of small tubes out of their surplus iron. Basil eventually comes downstairs too, carrying loads of herbs. The fairies are apparently hard at work, having already brought a second basket and it all needs to be processed. So she sets to the task and the two of them hustle around each other for a few hours as they both do their work. Business is really picking up again these days. Fresh smiles as she thinks about it, fastening the last screw of the construction. She wipes her sweaty forehead, beaming with pride as she looks at the ramp. From the hole up above the stairs, it runs down past the half-way point landing and then down to the side, where it then ends in a flat table-area. From there, they can sort all of the goods themselves into different categories. She¡¯s already made three sections, marking them on the floor with chalk for now. Repairs. Herb delivery. Miscellaneous. ¡°Ta-da!¡± she says, presenting the finished project to Basil. ¡°It looks really good,¡± says the priestess approvingly. ¡°Does it work?¡± ¡°Does it work?!¡± asks Fresh, laughing as if this was a hilarious question. Though, in truth, she has no idea. Does it work? ¡°Shamrock~!¡± she calls up the stairs. A second later, the shutter opens. His head sticks through the hole and stares down her way. ¡°Crab me, please!¡± Shamrock vanishes. ¡°How does he even know what that means?¡± asks Basil, perplexed. She squeaks as Fresh pinches her again. ¡°Crab!¡± ¡°You¡¯re really energetic today, huh?¡± laughs Basil, rubbing the sore spot on her stomach. Both of them look up as a very loud fuss can suddenly be heard from upstairs. ¡°- OU FUCK!¡± A second later, Jubilee is placed through the slot and slides down the slide, bumping their way down the rollers. Fresh yelps, catching them as they come around the bend. ¡°Are you okay, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, trying her best not to laugh. Though she is a little jealous. She wants to slide too. Jubilee pushes her hand off of themselves, as they grab their bag of dirt and stomp back upstairs. ¡°Get ready to look for a new employee, because we¡¯re about to lose one for good!¡± Laughing, Fresh runs up after Jubilee, doing her best to prevent a murder during work hours. Razmatazz -) Tomorrow - ¡­Nyah? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 186: Shifting tides *NYAAAAH~!* shouts Mr. Mushroom, releasing his sonorous war-cry as he charges into battle. For some reason, he¡¯s wearing a cape. Fresh sits on top of him, holding on to the leather reins as he charges through the dungeon, trampling through hordes of tiny, little wizards, all dressed in red, sending them flying in all directions. The ones that he misses, Fresh gets instead by lightly bonking them on the head with a white wooden-staff, adorned with a childishly crafted golden star, as she rides past them. Every time she taps their heads, the staff releases a shower of sparkles that fly through the air, mesmerizing the further away foes with a hypnotizing magic, so that they aren¡¯t able to join in on the fight, because they are lost in the beauty of the spectacle. It¡¯s the ultimate strategy. *Nyah!* howls Mr. Mushroom as they reach the boss-room of the dungeon. Fresh shares in, howling with him as well. ¡°Nyaaaah~!¡± The ground shakes, the dungeon rattles as a giant mass begins to form and collect in the center of the room. Clothes and fabrics of all colors flow across the stones, crawling like snakes as they meet in the center of the chamber to form a giant entity; a colossus, made out of thousands of strands of fabric, out of hundreds of thousands of strings. Most of them are red. Fresh and Mr. Mushroom ready themselves for the fight, as the fabric comes together into the shape of a giant serpent, a jewel embedded in its forehead. A sharp snapping sound breaks the tension. Everything stops. The snake falls apart. Fresh finds herself lowering down to the ground, as Mr. Mushroom melts into a black puddle, his eyes staring questioningly up her way. *NyAhaHah¡­~* groans Mr. Mushroom as he dies. Fresh falls down into the black-tar that remains of him. A loud yawning can be heard from the side. Distraught, she looks towards it and sees Jubilee standing there, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. Water pours out from their mask, flooding the stone floors of the dungeon, as if they were an endless source of water. ¡°Man, talk about subtext. I can¡¯t tell if these are issues from your old life or your new one. But you have problems, you know?¡± asks Jubilee, staring around the slowly liquefying arena. Fresh blinks as she stares at them, feeling ready to cry. She suddenly realizes that she is dreaming. She rises to her feet, looking at the spirit of the fountain that is masquerading as her cherished friend. ¡°If I have problems, it¡¯s your fault,¡± says Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°Woah, woah,¡± replies the fountain, Jubilee¡¯s body raises its hands. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything. You¡¯re the one being a weirdo,¡± it says, waving her off. The water rises to their knees and the fountain stretches its body out, rising to the tips of its toes. Fresh narrows her eyes. ¡°I appreciate that you gave me this new life.¡± she says. ¡°But you¡¯re making me do bad things and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s okay. I want the world to be a nicer place.¡± The fountain looks at her, taking off the mask. Black-water floods out of the empty space where its face should be and Jubilee¡¯s clothes fall down into a limp, empty heap that floats atop the surface of the water. The spirit of the fountain yawns, the noise echoing all around them. ¡°I¡¯m not making you do anything that you don¡¯t need to do to survive.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± The water rises to her stomach. ¡°Do you like this new life of yours? If not, I can put you back.¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I can put you back. Into your old life. Do you want that?¡± Her eyes shoot open wide, as the water reaches her neck. ¡°No!¡± she pleads, leaning in forward with her fists clenched. ¡°Really? Are you sure? I could set it up so that as soon as you open your eyes, you¡¯ll wake up back in your old bed,¡± it explains. ¡°If you aren¡¯t happy with the way things are here,¡± it suggests. ¡°Our deal was that you get the chance to find happiness and to make some money, it feels like both of those things have held up.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to go back,¡± says Fresh. The water rises to her neck. ¡°Great!¡± says the fountain, ¡°It looks like we¡¯re on the same page then.¡± ¡°What do you want?¡± asks Fresh as her head is submerged beneath the black-water. Yet she has no trouble with the air in her lungs. It¡¯s just a dream, after all. The water rushes around her, spinning her body around and around in a circle. As she looks down, she sees that her previous gestalt, present in the dream before, is now beginning to unravel like so many loose strings coming apart from fraying fabric, as the water carries pieces of her off and away into all directions. ¡°I want you to get ready. We¡¯re doing it quietly and peacefully this time. The gods are getting involved and we need to close things up nice and neat before they ruin everything again,¡± explains the sleepy voice, lulling drolly through the water. ¡°Get ready for what? Do what peacefully?¡± she asks, feeling the current carry the shapeless entity, that she herself now is, away into the darkness. ¡°It¡¯s almost time to leave.¡± ¡°Leave?¡± Fresh thinks for a second, before realizing that the fountain means the west, the mountain. ¡°No! I don¡¯t want to leave! We¡¯re finally starting to feel like we have a home!¡± she protests. ¡°Please!¡± ¡°Having a home wasn¡¯t part of the deal,¡± replies the fountain. Her essence tumbles and twists as the light-less ocean carries her away. ¡°You¡¯ll know when it¡¯s time. Leave then. Or I¡¯ll make you and you won¡¯t like it.¡± Fresh opens her eyes, shooting upright in her bed. Her body is drenched from head to toe. The water stains her bedding and the bright-blue blanket that Jubilee had made for her. It also has the added advantage of concealing the tears streaming down her face. But this does nothing to hide the wailing of her lungs. Basil, already awake, sets down her mug on the table and quickly scoots over to her as she hears her distress, trying to figure out what¡¯s wrong. Fresh hides her wet face in Basil¡¯s robe for a while, doing her best to hide her snot-crying from the world. The priestess is unable to console her, and so, instead, simply holds her head to her chest. Her hand rests atop Fresh¡¯s head, stroking her hair. It takes a while for Fresh to calm down, the dream staying present in her mind together with the instructions and the threats that would befall her in the case of her non-compliance. It takes a while longer for her to reach a state where she is capable of holding a rational discussion and not just short blurts, unsuccessfully trying to describe to her friends what she had seen and what they needed to know. After about fifteen minutes, Fresh changes into dry clothes and she and the others sit around the table, as Fresh explains to them what was told to her by the fountain. Minus the parts about her old life. They all already knew about her patron, in a sense. All of them have already seen her menu and the name of the entity that she serves, having mocked it as sounding like something that is blatantly evil. As these days have come to pass, Fresh hasn¡¯t seldom wondered if they weren¡¯t right about this assumption. Apart from that, all witches have patron spirits to begin with, so they aren¡¯t surprised to hear her explain that she was speaking to hers. She finishes her story, her trembling hands locked down firmly against the table where her eyes rest as well, unable to look at any of them in the face. None of them have said anything yet while she explained, which makes things even worse for her. She wishes that they would at least yell at her or something. ¡°If you guys want to stay here, I understand,¡± says Fresh, clenching her fists. ¡°I¡¯ll just go by myseeelf~¡± she says, starting to cry again at this most terrible prospect. &"% / ($¡ì%) [(Jubilee) hits (Fresh) for {3} PHYSICAL DMG with {Dungeon Snack(Green)}] ¡°Ow!¡± yelps Fresh through her latest tears as the piece of candy donks off of her head and falls to the table, rolling away against the staircase wall. ¡°Fuck off, shit-head!¡± snaps Jubilee at her. ¡°As if!¡± &"% / ($¡ì%) [(Basil) hits (Fresh) for {1} PHYSICAL DMG with {Flick}] Fresh yelps again as Basil¡¯s finger leaves her forehead. ¡°Sorry,¡± apologizes Basil to her. ¡°But Jubilee is right,¡± says the priestess, crossing her arms. ¡°Fuck off.¡± Fresh gasps, having never heard Basil say such a thing to her before. ¡°As if,¡± finishes the priestess, lifting her nose and looking away. Instinctively, Fresh closes her eyes, expecting Shamrock to come at her next. She hopes she doesn¡¯t die. Nothing happens. Carefully, she slowly opens a watering eye to look across the table at the man, who hasn¡¯t risen from the spot. His breastplate heaves, but he doesn¡¯t say anything. He simply looks out through the open balcony door for a moment. ¡°The moon has yet to fall to the world,¡± is all that he says, bringing his part of the conversation to a much kinder close than the other two. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, guys,¡± apologizes Fresh as she cries, realizing that she has such good friends. ¡°What are we going to do?¡± ¡°What we¡¯ve been planning to do,¡± says Basil, looking over at Jubilee. ¡°Is everything okay on that end?¡± Jubilee leans back, their arms crossed. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re good.¡± They sigh as they look around the stone room. ¡°I really liked it here though. Fuck.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Basil, pulling on her own sleeve quietly. ¡°It will be good,¡± says Shamrock. They look over to him. ¡°What comes next, it will be good,¡± he states, picking up the piece of green candy and popping it into his helmet. Fresh blinks, looking around the table, unsure what they¡¯re all talking about. ¡°Guys?¡± ¡°We made a plan, remember?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°You were too busy being a fuck-off to help us with it, so we made it without you.¡± ¡°A plan?¡± asks Fresh, remembering that the three of them had made a business plan. Is that what they¡¯re talking about? ¡°A plan, goo-brain,¡± repeats Jubilee, tapping their finger against the table. ¡°As if we didn¡¯t see this coming. Of course we¡¯d have to leave eventually with you around causing trouble.¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee, confused. ¡°I mean, I figured it would have been because of another massive fuck-up of yours and not this. But whatever, the plan will still work.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been putting our money to the side since we got here,¡± explains Basil. ¡°We figured we¡¯d need it when we have to go to a new city.¡± ¡°Why?¡± asks Fresh, wiping her tears away. Basil smiles at her. ¡°Jubilee told us about that hero-dream you had, back in the north. We figured we¡¯d prepare.¡± ¡°Why?¡± asks Fresh, her eyes wetting again no matter how often she rubs them dry. ¡°Because it¡¯s what friends do,¡± sighs Basil, as if this were the obvious answer. Closing her eyes, she takes a long sip of her now cold tea. ¡°Where are we going to go?¡± asks Fresh, as a ray of the rising morning-sun comes in through the balcony door, washing over them all together at once, as if the sky itself were partaking in their discussion. Fresh looks out through the balcony, staring at the distant sun which rises in the east. What about the fairies? What about all of this work they¡¯ve been putting into their home? What about all of the things she still wants to do and to see here? ¡°How long do we have?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Well. Fuck.¡± They snap their fingers at Shamrock. ¡°You, meat-head. You¡¯re taking the day off to install the - ¡± Jubilee¡¯s eyes twitch. ¡°- Magical floating fairy houses in the forest.¡± Shamrock rises to his feet without a word and heads downstairs. Jubilee points at Basil. ¡°You. Run around town, set up fairy-deliveries to the local alchemists and dye-makers. Offer them money if you have to, to get them to consider it.¡± Basil nods, emptying her mug as she walks downstairs. ¡°You!¡± barks Jubilee, snapping their fingers at Fresh who stares back at them bewildered. ¡°It could be tonight, it could be two weeks from now, it could be in a month,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Go downstairs into the basement. Pack as many resources, materials, bottles, weapons as you can in that fucky magical-storage of yours. We¡¯re going to need them.¡± ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee gets up and gets off of their chair. ¡°We¡¯re doing it right this time. I¡¯ll figure out what to do with Veli.¡± Fresh¡¯s crying breaks through her efforts to conceal it again as she grabs Jubilee in a hug. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Jubileeeee~¡± she howls. ¡°I know!¡± barks Jubilee, trying to push her away. ¡°Fuck off, will you?¡± ¡°Noooo~!¡± Razmatazz Nyah~ Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 187: Packing Fresh runs around the basement, gathering up everything that they could possibly need during their travels and at their new destination, leaving only the necessities of what they might need here for the coming days. She doesn¡¯t know how long it will be, but Jubilee is right. They need to be ready this time. Boxes of magic-crystals, ice-drake scales, snowman eyes, iron-bars, copper-bars, crystal-drakonium, tools, glass weapons. Literally anything that she can get her hands on, that could survive being kept inside of her underwater-inventory, gets thrown into the window. Water splashes out as she hurls the items inside by the fistfuls. She hates this. She wants to stay here. She wants to live in this place, together with her friends, forever. They were all becoming really happy, they were becoming safe, they were becoming nourished. Not nourished in body, though that might be true in her case most of all, but nourished in spirit, as all of them have slowly been satiating the inner hunger that has plagued them for so long as individuals. She wants to help the fairies, she doesn¡¯t want to abandon them here to their fates, with only a few dinky tree-houses to keep them safe. What if they couldn¡¯t find work? What about Veli? Isn¡¯t he going to be heart-broken, after having worked so hard to become a part of their team? It seems unfair to him, most of all, in Fresh¡¯s eyes. But what can she do? Of course, the thought of adopting Veli into their party comes to her. But that can¡¯t work. He can¡¯t leave the mountain and it would be a lot to hoist on him, even if the fairies don¡¯t seem to have any preconceptions about witches, if they even know about them to begin with, that is. She really hates this. But there is little choice for her in the matter. She¡¯s eternally grateful that her friends saw it the way that they did and that they¡¯re such a supportive, tight-knit family. Fresh sighs, wiping her sweaty forehead on her sleeve as she stands back upright and looks around the basement. There¡¯s still the matter of the thing in the water. The crystal that she had made in the midst of her ¡®bad night¡¯. There¡¯s still the matter of the body in the chimney. There¡¯s still the matter of the thieves¡¯ guild and her invitation to it, that she has never accepted. Though, in all honesty, she has little desire to accept it to begin with. Are there answers to be had there? In all likelihood, yes. Maybe even more than she knows. But Fresh doesn¡¯t care about any answers to any questions about her friends and their nature. She knows everything that she needs to know, this morning was proof enough of that. Fresh makes a mental note, on that matter, to pack Jubilee¡¯s mirror into her inventory before they go. She frowns, looking at the construction behind herself, the slide which she had spent a whole day making with intricate care, setting up something to make their future easier. Another waste of time. It was like all of the walls she had fixed in their house in the north. In the end, apart from proving her warm intent, it didn¡¯t really mean anything, practically speaking. Fresh shakes her head, wondering why there¡¯s always trouble wherever she goes. She throws a telescope into her inventory. By the time the store opens an hour later, a good chunk of the basement has vanished into her menu. Fresh stands upstairs behind the counter, playing with a bottle of coughee, sliding it back and forth over and over. The others are all still gone and she¡¯s here alone with Veli. Thankfully, business is slow today, being the day before most common people got their pay. She watches him zip around, working himself to the bone as he, even in the empty store, desperately scrubs and polishes and wipes and cleans every little surface, nook and cranny. His arm is finally starting to get better and, while he isn¡¯t able to fully use it yet, he is able to at least hold things with his fingers again, while he works with his other arm. Jubilee and Basil come back inside. ¡°Hey guys,¡± says Fresh, greeting them. Jubilee nods to her and Basil passes with a quiet smile, rubbing her back as she walks by and heads upstairs. Jubilee snaps their fingers. ¡°Hey!¡± they call out to Veli. ¡°Come here.¡± Instantly, Veli zips across the store, landing on the counter next to Jubilee, who is reaching down under it. Using the back of their hand, they gently push Veli to the side and place the ledger down open where he was standing. ¡°I¡¯m only going to explain this once, so pay attention -¡± starts Jubilee. Fresh stands there, finally opening her coughee. Jubilee explains the basics of book-keeping to Veli, showing them how they write the ledgers and how to document sales and purchases, much to Fresh¡¯s surprise. Seeing that Jubilee has the store covered, Fresh heads upstairs. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, looking back downstairs. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asks the priestess, who is rummaging through her wardrobe. The enchanted-lantern has apparently escaped from the pantry and is flying after her. Though she seems to simply accept its presence now. ¡°Just making some future preparations,¡± replies Fresh¡¯s favorite priestess. ¡°You know what I¡¯m going to miss the most?¡± she asks. ¡°Huh? Uh¡­ the balcony?¡± guesses Fresh. Basil shakes her head. ¡°The balcony is nice. But what I¡¯m going to miss most is the always hot bath.¡± Fresh nods in agreement, such a thing is indeed a luxury beyond compare. In the north, the only real bath was present in the adventurer¡¯s guild and going there always brought its own problems with it. ¡°What¡¯s the east like, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, stroking the lantern. ¡°It¡¯s warm, so we¡¯ll need different clothes for sure. These will be far too hot.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s a desert, right?¡± ¡°Some parts of it. Though the city is in a more lush area. It¡¯s more open.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, scratching her cheek. ¡°Sorry about your planter-boxes, I don¡¯t think we can take them.¡± ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± replies Basil, shaking her head. ¡°The idea is what matters and besides that, in the east they¡¯ll love the skin cream because of how dry the air is. So I¡¯ll seal them with wax and then you can pack them too.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°What about you?¡± asks Basil. ¡°What are you going to miss the most?¡± Fresh looks around the room. The balcony is certainly her favorite feature of the house, next to the bath. But then her eyes fall to the table. ¡°I¡¯m going to miss having breakfast together everyday at the table.¡± ¡°We can still do that somewhere else,¡± laughs Basil. Fresh isn¡¯t sure why she hadn¡¯t realized this obvious fact before, but hearing it brings her a great deal of relief. Maybe their time in this place is coming to an end, but their time with each other isn¡¯t and in the end, that is what she cares about most. Delighted, she runs around, accomplishing the rest of her tasks for the day. After another hour, Shamrock returns, covered in twigs and leaves that jut out of his armor from every gap. ¡°What happened to you?¡± asks Fresh in a worried tone, picking the sticks out of him. Shamrock¡¯s chest heaves as he sighs. ¡°I hid. I was followed.¡± ¡°Did you manage to hang the houses up?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°All of them,¡± nods Shamrock. Fresh sighs in relief, plucking out another bunch of leaves. ¡°Nobody saw, right? They¡¯re still a secret? Did they like them? Did they float right? You attached them to the trees, right?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Up in the branches where they¡¯re hidden, rig-¡° Shamrock stops her, shushing her with a giant metal finger against her mouth. Fresh blinks and then pulls the twig out of his gauntlet. ¡°It is fine.¡± She nods, understanding that he was stopping her from going on another tangent, stopping her from possibly losing herself to her growing panic once again. Jubilee shoos Veli away, sending him back to the shelves as they close the ledger and place it back underneath the counter. ¡°What was that about?¡± asks Fresh quietly. ¡°Business plan,¡± repeats Jubilee, tapping against the side of their head. ¡°You¡¯re on good terms with the magistrate, right? There¡¯s something I need you to go and talk to him about.¡± ¡°But I think he likes you, Jubilee,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Shut up,¡± snaps Jubilee rolling their eyes and placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Listen. We need to get some final stuff stamped off, so this all doesn¡¯t crash and burn. Work with me here, okay?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh blinks, not sure what¡¯s going on. But it¡¯s rare that Jubilee asks for her help directly. It must be really important. She nods, listening to what they have to say. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 188: Cleaning up Fresh and Basil stand there, holding a set of poles that they¡¯ve submerged into the water of the river. Basil had asked if this was really a priority task right now. Her question received no more answer than the, perhaps, most venomous glare from Fresh that the priestess had ever received. Obviously, this is a critical task that needs to be taken care of immediately. It¡¯s already long overdue. Fresh pulls the hooked pole of the water, hoisting another water-logged sheep out of the river. She holds it in front of herself, seeing if it¡¯s okay. The sheep kicks its soggy legs, trying to walk in mid-air. The floating iron-ring that was fastened around its leg is missing, together with the rest of the leg. Frowning, she sets the poor thing down next to all of the others that they had pulled out of the water. There are really a lot of them. All of them are missing legs, eyes, bits of their bodies and bits of fluff. Most of them, far-past waterlogged, are covered in burns and blemishes. One particularly unfortunate specimen has simply been cut in half, right down the middle. Tragically, that one still tries to walk with its two legs. She had to put it at the bottom of the pile, so that she wouldn¡¯t start crying out in public. ¡°I think that¡¯s about all of them,¡± says Basil, pulling her empty hook out of the river. Fresh sighs, scraping one last time around the grate with her hook to be sure, but she thinks Basil is right. ¡°What do you think happened to them?¡± asks Fresh, setting her hook down and bundling the wet sheep up in a fabric bag. ¡°Why would somebody do this to them?¡± she asks, rubbing one¡¯s eyeless head consolingly with her thumb, as she sets it into her bag. Basil thinks for a second. ¡°I don¡¯t think it was anyone in particular, maybe it was just everyone.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Basil points up the river, back towards their home. ¡°They were using them in the dungeon. Maybe when they set off some traps, they got knocked into the dungeon-river and got carried out of the instance-gate?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Does that work like that?¡± Basil crosses her arms, thinking. ¡°It¡¯s my only idea. I doubt there¡¯s a sheep-killer around town,¡± she says. ¡°That would be¡­ odd.¡± Fresh isn¡¯t convinced. Could these just be sheep that were used to trigger traps? Perhaps. Could there be a devious sheep-killer, running amok in the city in the dead of night? In her eyes, this is equally as probable. Basil takes the hooks and Fresh hoists the wet bag, full of sheep over her shoulders and the two of them make their way back, stopping by a baker¡¯s cart to get some fresh, still hot seed-bread and a dark, floral honey for their breakfast. ¡°Do you want me to go with you later?¡± asks Basil. ¡°To the magistrate¡¯s?¡± Fresh considers it for a moment. ¡°I think I can manage, thanks Basil,¡± she declines. ¡°I really need you to help the fairies today. Please~¡± Basil fidgets with her fingers, playing with the rim of her sleeve. ¡°You¡¯re really taking this whole fairy situation seriously, huh?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep at night for the rest of my life if I didn¡¯t,¡± replies Fresh. The two of them get home. There is already a group of fairies floating inside of the storefront. Surprisingly, they are well-behaved. They sit in a large, quiet group all around Jubilee who, to Fresh¡¯s surprise, offers no protest at their presence. Maybe because they¡¯re all sitting quietly and behaving. Or maybe because they have apparently brought Jubilee a flower as tribute and it now sits tucked into the side of their hood. Jubilee is standing there, reading a book and some of the fairies are perched on their shoulder and arm and stare down with them. Fresh thinks this is unusually cute, that they actually went out of their way to do that. She¡¯s a little jealous though. Veli flies over. ¡°I brought everyone, we¡¯re a little early.¡± ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± says Fresh. Veli hasn¡¯t been informed about the situation yet. As far as he knows, he was just running errands and getting an education. ¡°You ready, Basil?¡± Basil nods to her with a smile. The priestess straightens up, lifting her head upright and standing tall. She claps her hands together once. ¡°Okay everyone, follow me please,¡± instructs the priestess. ¡°Veli has told you about our day already, yes?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says the green-haired fairy that Fresh recognizes. She and her group have been diligently bringing them deliveries of herbs. Several more baskets are here already, apparently. The group of fairies all rise up and follow after Basil to the far side of the counter, where Shamrock has prepared everything for the lecture. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Basil to Shamrock, placing a hand on his arm as she scoots past him. ¡°Okay everyone, pay attention. In the next few days, I¡¯m going to show you how to make simple creams, medicines and salves out of the plants that you¡¯ve been gathering.¡± She taps a metal can. ¡°Today, we¡¯ll start with the easiest thing - ¡± Fresh smiles, setting the bag of sheep down. ¡°I¡¯m going to the magistrate¡¯s in a minute, Jubilee,¡± she explains. First, she heads upstairs and cuts the bread, smearing it with a generous amount of honey. Together with some dried fruits and some sweet-tea, she makes a small platter which she then brings downstairs, so that everyone can have some breakfast. She holds it out to Shamrock who takes a piece of the bread. ¡°Thanks,¡± is all that he says, as he slides the food into his helmet. The rest of it, she sets down next to the ¡®class¡¯ of fairies and Basil. ¡°Eat up, guys. You can¡¯t learn on an empty stomach,¡± she smiles. The fairies, previously paying close attention to Basil¡¯s lecture, all jump up to their feet and rush the platter, apparently more than hungry. Fresh apologizes to Basil for the interruption and quickly scoots away. ¡°I left your plate upstairs, Jubilee,¡± she says, sneaking away from the chaos. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off as they stand there, reading their book. Fresh grabs her bag, scooting out from behind the counter. She grabs some coughee as her bribe to get inside of the city-hall and makes her way through town. ¡°We took care of the sheep,¡± says Fresh first thing as she enters the city-hall. The old woman looks up at her from behind the counter. ¡°Good morning, you¡¯re a real darling.¡± Fresh beams at the praise, sliding the woman her coughee. ¡°Is the magistrate here?¡± she asks. The woman takes the bottle. ¡°You know the way. He might be asleep though, so knock first ¡°Okay, thank you!¡± says Fresh, heading up the staircase and towards the familiar door. She knocks on it. No response. Fresh knocks again. Still no response. She looks around the hallway curiously. Shrugging to herself, she slowly opens the door and peeks inside. The room looks far different during the day than it does at night. The prismatic, pastel glow of the many crystals is sparse and hardly visible beneath the radiant, orange glow of the autumn sun which shines down through the glass of the windowed walls and ceiling. ¡°Excuse me?¡± asks Fresh, looking around for the magistrate. She steps inside of the room. ¡°Hello?¡± she asks. Down near the raised telescope platform, she sees a figure, laid out over a crystal-drakonium mattress. The man lays there, asleep in his work-clothes, surrounded by her sheep on all sides. The anti-dream ram stands on top of his chest, looking around from its high perch. Occasionally, it will run down the length of his body, up onto his arched knee or over to his shoulder as it charges towards something that she can¡¯t see, some invisible force that it keeps at bay with its stubborn assaults. She nods to it, feeling like a proud mother as she watches it at work, fulfilling its mission with dignity and purpose. Fresh closes the door behind herself, wondering what she should do? Should she wake him up? The man clearly needed as much sleep as he could get and she doesn¡¯t want to rob him of that, but at the same time, she needs to talk to him. It¡¯s important. Deciding that she has time, she quietly walks past him, heading up to the platform. Fresh wonders if he¡¯d mind if she looks through his telescope, at least until he wakes up? She kind of wants to. For one reason or another, as the tempting idea came to her, she remembers the vision in her mind¡¯s eye of the fairies in their store this morning. All of them were sitting quietly, all of them were behaving themselves, because they were guests. Because they wanted something. They had even brought a gift. Rather spontaneously realizing that she may have learned something today, Fresh quietly sits herself down on a chair near the door, setting the bottle of coughee down to the side. She waits quietly, hoping that this isn¡¯t a creepy thing to do. She¡¯s trying to be better, after all. Razmatazz She''s getting smarter. Are you afraid? You should be Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 189: Vivid light The magistrate looks at Fresh. He¡¯s sitting on the chair across from her in an unusual moment of quiet rest, as he swirls the bottle of coughee around in his hands, considering her request. ¡°It¡¯s unusual,¡± he explains. ¡°I don¡¯t think anything like this has happened before.¡± His eyes wander up towards the ceiling. His haggard, overworked face is covered by several days¡¯ worth of stubble. ¡°Are you sure about leaving? You guys are making a real splash here.¡± Fresh rubs her arm. ¡°We¡¯d really like to stay, your city is very nice. But we have to go,¡± she explains. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do about it.¡± The tired man sighs, taking a sip of the coughee. The sheep that had accompanied him in his bedding are now busy flying around the room again, as the ram leads them around the room, flying through the air. ¡°Where are you heading?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell you,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I see,¡± he says. ¡°And you¡¯re sure you don¡¯t just want to sell the structure back to the city? We can arrange for the money to be ready in a couple of days at the latest,¡± he offers. ¡°All one-hundred and forty thousand. There''s no ghost anymore, after all.¡± Fresh thinks for a minute. Jubilee had already told her that this would be a possibility. All purchases regarding housing in this city have to go through the magistrate first and so, he¡¯s also the first to offer on any emptying buildings. But the choice was left up for her to make. Fresh is sure that Jubilee already knew, though, what she would choose. Her friends had planned for their future without using the large heap of Obols that ¡®they¡¯ had paid for the house. She shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯d really like to follow through with our plan,¡± she explains, scratching her cheek as the magistrate¡¯s gaze lowers back down to her. ¡°If you¡¯d bless it.¡± He sighs, rubbing his tired eyes. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a huge hassle. I¡¯ll have to talk to the council and get them to sign off on it,¡± he explains. ¡°They¡¯re a real bunch of hard-asses, you know?¡± he mutters unenthusiastically. ¡°Bureaucrats.¡± ¡°The fairies will earn their keep,¡± explains Fresh, reciting the arguments that Jubilee had repeated to her three or four times. ¡°We¡¯re teaching them how to make things and how to run a business,¡± she says. ¡°They¡¯ll become productive, tax-paying members of your city and they¡¯ll get out of everyone¡¯s hair. We¡¯re covering all expenses ourselves.¡± ¡°What about the forest and your fairy-houses out there?¡± asks the magistrate. ¡°Not all of them will want to live in the city,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°Or maybe some of them won¡¯t get along with the others. They¡¯ll be able to stay out there instead. Everything is already set up.¡± ¡°When are you leaving?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell you.¡± He frowns, continuing to swirl the bottle in his hands around. It¡¯s quiet for a minute. ¡°I like the idea. You have my blessing,¡± he explains. ¡°Really?!¡± asks Fresh, jumping up halfway out of her chair. ¡°But there are some conditions,¡± states the magistrate. She eyes him, a little warily. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You need to designate a single owner of the structure, who we can contact for any tax issues.¡± ¡°Done.¡± He thinks for a second. ¡°We need a list of the names of everyone who is going to live there.¡± ¡°Done,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°You also need to teach them the recipe for this,¡± he explains, pointing to the bottle in his hands. Fresh nods, laughing. ¡°And leave the temperature cabinets.¡± She nods, also understanding of this, though she¡¯ll have to find a way to let the moonwater in the cooling mechanism recharge without her active help. ¡°And also,¡± finishes the tired-man, looking at her. ¡°City employees get a twenty-five percent discount.¡± Jubilee won¡¯t like that last one. But Fresh nods. ¡°I¡¯ll arrange it.¡± The tired man nods back, satisfied. But then sighs again, not saying anything else. ¡°Hey,¡± asks Fresh, leaning in forward. There¡¯s something that she¡¯s been meaning to ask. Something that she¡¯s come to understand a little better lately. Maybe it¡¯s because of her raising stats, or maybe she¡¯s just growing up a little as a person. ¡°Do you like Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, a little embarrassed, holding her hand to the side of her mouth as if to muffle her words, like a flustered child speaking of scandalous schoolyard rumors. ¡°As you get older,¡± starts the tired man. ¡°You¡¯ll start to realize that you have an affinity for certain patterns, even if they seem bad for you,¡± he explains, finishing his coughee. ¡°Was your wife mean to you too?¡± asks Fresh. Only after she asked her question, does she realize the rudeness of what she had just asked. Especially since she knows that the man¡¯s family is gone. ¡°Ah¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± she mutters, leaning back again and looking away to the ground. ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± says the magistrate. ¡°She was,¡± he laughs. ¡°But you need to understand that sometimes, people are mean because they just don¡¯t know any other way to act.¡± Fresh nods, she has assumed this much about Jubilee already. He gets up. ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re bad people. It just means that they¡¯ve adapted to the place that they developed their personality in,¡± he says, rising to his feet. ¡°We need to give them a new environment to grow in once again.¡± He holds his hand out to her. Fresh gets up, grabbing it. The two of them shake hands. ¡°Let''s do our best to get rid of those bad places,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± nods the magistrate. Happy, but a little worried about this ominous menu-window, Fresh makes her departure. All in all though, it looks like the plan is working. Well, it was Jubilee¡¯s plan, after all. Not hers. Jubilee had told her that her floating fairy-houses were stupid and that they had a better idea. The idea was that they¡¯ll just give Veli ownership of the house when they leave. All of the fairies can stay there together, creating a cooperative business to sustain themselves. They¡¯re going to teach them the fundamentals of it all. Basil is going to show them how to make her herbal items and Fresh is going to show them the fundamentals of crafting. Jubilee is teaching the smarter ones book-keeping and logistics and Shamrock is undertaking a crash-course in fighting and combat for those of them more trimmed to a brash lifestyle. Plus, it¡¯s important for them to know how to protect their new home. By the time Fresh gets back, it looks like the class has broken up for the day. ¡°How was it?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Good,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Everything is set up like you wanted.¡± ¡°Like we wanted,¡± corrects Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°Like we wanted,¡± smiles Fresh, realizing that Jubilee likely doesn¡¯t want the weight of this good deed crushing down on them alone. Seeing that the others are busy with the store, she decides that she has something else to take care of and sneaks past everyone, heading down into the basement. The areas at the bottom of the slide are already full of items that are ready to be sorted. Repairs. Materials and so on. But that can wait. Making sure that the area is clear, she heads to her workbench and opens her inventory. During the ¡®bad night¡¯ as she calls it, during that night of the fair when she was confronted by the man from the thieves¡¯ guild, who she is dutifully ignoring, Patala, during the night she had felt just as bitter and desperately lonely and unwanted and out of place as she always had in her old life, she had come home and made something that she knows that she shouldn¡¯t have made. Maybe it was the whispering influence of the fountain, trying to get her to do something horrible. Maybe it was the crackling of the fire, pushing odd ideas into her mind for the sake of disruption, or maybe and perhaps most truthfully, as Jubilee would say - - She fucked up. It¡¯s an odd thing for Fresh to realize so blatantly, as she reaches into her inventory. But she did something bad, in a sense. Very bad. She¡¯s deeply ashamed of herself for giving into those dark feelings even just once. But she¡¯s growing up now as a person, a party-leader, as an entity who has learned that she gains her joy not from being nurtured and doted on all day, but rather, by doing these things for others. That¡¯s where her happiness lies and she¡¯s ashamed that it took her this long to find out. As she pulls the thing that she had removed from the bath a few days ago, the ghost-warding engraved crystal, powered up with witch-magic, out of her inventory and carefully lays it on the table, she realizes why her friends were always warning her and telling her that people are terrified of witches. Taking a deep breath, she looks at the thing before her, pulsating with a dark, twisting magic. [The Shard of True-Sleep](UNIQUE){CURSE OF THE BAD NIGHT} After death, a soul is usually returned to the [WELL OF SOULS]. After a cool-down period, the entity is able to reincarnate into a new life and to try again with fresh eyes. Engraved with intricate ghost-warding sigil-work, this powerfully resonant crystal holds inside of itself true-darkness, born of a sickly mind lost beneath the crushing weight of the black-water. From so far down below the surface, there is no light left to see. CURSE OF THE BAD NIGHT: When activated by a dark true-wish, during the bleakest night of a lunar-cycle: -) Permanently steals 100% of the [HEALTH-POINTS] and [SOUL-POINTS] of the {USER} touching this crystal -) Permanently removes the {USER} from the [WELL OF SOULS], allowing them to reach a final true-sleep, from which there is no waking Fresh holds her hands up, closing her eyes, knowing that her friends would never forgive her if they found out about her having created such a horrible thing. She has a lot of problems, a lot of issues that she¡¯s been fighting her way through. But so have her friends and now, Fresh feels like she is at a point where she can put her own sufferings behind her. Thinking about the intimate moments she¡¯s had with them all, with Jubilee, with Basil, with Shamrock, she realizes that she has no reason to be that person who she was anymore. It¡¯s time to let go of that distant past and to start swimming up to the surface of the ocean. She doesn¡¯t know if she deserves to be happy, or if anyone even really does. The universe doesn¡¯t work on the basis of what anyone deserves. But, she does know that that won¡¯t matter to her from now on. Because she¡¯s going to take it, happiness. When the universe tries to beat her down, she¡¯s going to grab Jubilee and smother them with unwanted affection, until they get flustered and embarrassed and can¡¯t look her way anymore. Because that makes her happy. Her hands glow. When she¡¯s sad and terrified and scared of the terrible dreams that she has, of the horrible things that she left behind and still has yet to run into. She¡¯s going to grab Basil¡¯s hand, the priestess suffering many of the same ailments as her, and she¡¯s going to run and jump around with her all day, no matter how stupid it looks and how embarrassed she gets. Because that makes her happy. The glow leaves her fingers, illuminating even her closed eyes with the radiance of the bright purple aura. When the nights get long and sad and lonely, she¡¯s going to stand up straight and tall and press forward towards the coming day with resolute conviction, like Shamrock has been showing her. No matter how much it¡¯s going to hurt or no matter what people are going to say about it. She¡¯s going to stand up on both of her feet and take another step forward. Because that makes her happy. The table vibrates. And no matter what happens in the future, no matter how bad things are going to get, no matter how many times they have to leave their cherished homes to fulfill goals of some, likely-terrible, mission, she¡¯s never going to stop. Every time they move, she¡¯s going to put in this effort into their newest home. Every time her friends get sad and frustrated, she¡¯s going to put this effort into them. And most importantly, every time she herself feels such things, she¡¯s going to do the same from now on for herself. Because it doesn¡¯t matter if she deserves to be happy or not. She¡¯s going to make sure that she is. If she has to tear the heavens and the world apart. She¡¯s going to make sure that she and her family are happy, until the day that they die and then even in the days after that, when they might perhaps reunite in another life. But for now, she has to assure that this shared life of theirs will go on for as long as it can. She needs to change directions, because she can tell that this road that they¡¯re on will lead to nowhere but ruin and tragedy. She doesn¡¯t know if there¡¯s a way for her to get out of this, but there is a way for her friends to survive the end of this adventure of theirs, should that day ever come to pass. It will, though. She¡¯s sure of it. All adventures come to an end eventually, right? The person she trusts most in this or any world had told her just as much. The fire crackles loudly next to her, overpowering any sounds of the water that might have once been coming from the bath. She knows that for now, this secret of hers, will stay just that. The fountain will not know of this, as this time, the source of her magic stems from another place. She nods to the fire. It nods back. There is no pact or any such chicanery, rather, it¡¯s just the polite thing to do. [The Shard of the Rising Sun](UNIQUE){CURSE OF THE NEW DAY} Engraved with intricate ghost-warding sigil-work, this powerfully resonant crystal holds inside of itself true love, born of a healed mind wandering towards a dawning morning sun. It pulsates with a bright, prismatic energy which leaks out of the mortal plane, dripping back into the [WELL OF SOULS] with colorful, vibrant light. CURSE OF THE NEW DAY: When activated by a heartfelt true-wish, during a brightest hour of life: -) Acts as a resonant, cosmic beacon. Establishing a link with the [SUMMONED HERO] -) Imprints a smudge of your [SOUL] onto the crystal, allowing the owner to see what you have seen and feel what you felt The fire crackles louder, its radiant, orange hue reflecting off of the sheen, lustrous surface of the crystal, as if it were the glow of a rising sun, coming to break the spell of a long, dark night. Fresh leans down over the crystal, holding it tightly in her hands, as she whispers into it. Razmatazz *Lights cigarette, staring out of gloomy hotel window* This all only ends one way, reader. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 190: A stretch Fresh lets out a pitiful yelp as her lower back painfully pops. Her fingers, touching her toes, twitch for a flash of a second as the jolt shoots through her. She hangs there for a moment, feeling the stretch run up through the back of her legs. She realizes that she can barely touch her own toes. She feels like she should be able to, ideally. Slowly rising back upright, she lifts her hands into the air and rises up onto the tips of her toes, stretching upwards towards the ceiling. ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡± asks Jubilee, who is sitting at the table upstairs, their elbow on the surface and their head resting lazily in their hand. ¡°I¡¯m stretching, Jubilee,¡± explains Fresh, pursing her lips and closing her eyes as she puts some effort into the extension. She lowers herself back down a moment later, holding her right arm out ahead of herself. Locking her left hand under her right bicep, she twists her upper body towards the left, feeling the tension in her back. ¡°Yeah, I see that,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But why?¡± Fresh switches arms, repeating the movement into the other direction. It¡¯s later in the day, just before nightfall. The store has closed. Fresh and Jubilee are upstairs. Basil is down taking a bath and Shamrock has gone into the dungeon to gather some more materials for them to take with them when they leave. ¡°Because I want to be ready,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°For what?¡± ¡°For when we have to go,¡± she says, sadly. ¡°We¡¯re gonna have to walk really, really far, right?¡± ¡°Well, we could try to get an anqa,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°But an anqa and a cart won¡¯t help us much in the forest.¡± ¡°Oh no,¡± says Fresh, realizing. ¡°Do we have to go through there again?¡± ¡°Sure do, if we want to go east.¡± ¡°Why east?¡± asks Fresh, as she places her left foot a step forward and her right one a step back. She holds onto her knee, stretching out her hip one side at a time. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go further west, where that dragon-farm is?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It sounds fun.¡± ¡°Because we¡¯re running out of dungeons and the next closest one is in the east,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Also, I¡¯m not going to become a farmer.¡± ¡°But Jubileeee~¡± protests Fresh jokingly as she switches legs. ¡°I think you¡¯d look cute in a straw-hat and overalls.¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± Fresh laughs. ¡°I¡¯d get some too and we could wear matching clothes!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°We¡¯re not going to do that.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to get hot in the east though?¡± asks Fresh, looking at her friend a bit worried. Jubilee leans back, pulling their head up as they cross their arms and kick their feet up onto the table. ¡°It¡¯s the desert, we¡¯re all going to get hot.¡± Fresh lowers herself down to the ground, lying flat on her stomach. Placing her hands on either side of her chest, she pushes her upper body up while pressing her legs down, feeling a stretch run through the area just below her stomach. ¡°Yeah, but you wear a lot of stuff, Jubilee. I don¡¯t want you to get a heatstroke and die.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, you baby.¡± ¡°You wanna stretch with me?¡± asks Fresh, wiggling her feet as she notices her toes starting to tingle from this position. ¡°Pass.¡± Fresh thinks for a minute as she holds that pose. ¡°Have you been to the east before, Jubilee?¡± ¡°I have.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve sure traveled a lot!¡± states Fresh giddily. ¡°Will you show us some nice places there?¡± she asks. ¡°We never got to do a lot of ¡®outside stuff¡¯ here,¡± she explains, her expression becoming a little somber. She readjusts, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. Fresh places the soles of her bare feet against each other, slowly pressing her knees down to the ground. ¡°I¡¯m an inside-person,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°You sure traveled a lot for an ¡®inside-person¡¯,¡± quips Fresh, wincing as she presses her stretch a little too fast and too deep. ¡°Eventually, you get tired of going outside,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°When you¡¯ve seen enough.¡± Fresh nods, thinking that she knows what Jubilee means. The outside is where adventure is, where treasures such as excitement and wonder can be found. But it¡¯s also where the bad-things are. Those bad-things seem to have a much harder time finding you if you just stay inside and socially cut-off forever. If you keep your feet under the blanket, the demons can¡¯t get them. ¡°You know what I like about the idea of traveling, though, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. She lays down on her back, arching her knees upward. Splaying her arms out to the sides to hold her upper body steady, she lifts her right leg into the air and twists her lower body to the left. ¡°When we go to new places, it lets us be new people. I¡¯m not an outside-person either,¡± says Fresh, holding that position for a moment as her foot reaches the ground. A sharp tug runs up the right side of her back. ¡°But in the east, nobody knows that. So maybe I can pretend to be one and they¡¯ll believe it,¡± says Fresh, pulling back to the middle and then switching over to her other leg and direction. ¡°And then?¡± ¡°And then maybe I¡¯ll believe it too, after a while,¡± says Fresh, wincing as her big toe touches the ground. ¡°And then?¡± asks Basil, coming up the stairs, rubbing her hair dry with a towel. Fresh tilts her head backwards, looking up at the priestess. ¡°And then I¡¯ll convince you guys to try it and we can all live long, happy lives together,¡± says Fresh. Basil thinks for a second, but then nods as she walks over Fresh, heading to the kitchenette. ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t encourage her!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°Otherwise we¡¯re going to end up running some kind of tavern or something annoying like that!¡± Fresh gasps, sitting straight upright. ¡°No!¡± barks Jubilee, pointing at her before she can say anything. ¡°Dungeon. Item. SHOP,¡± says Jubilee, tapping against the table with their finger. ¡°We¡¯re not making a tavern.¡± Fresh sighs, a little disappointed. Basil grabs a bottle of herbal-tea. ¡°We could at least have a little celebration before we leave,¡± she suggests. ¡°Maybe a nice dinner and some drinks, just to say goodbye to our home.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you start too,¡± says Jubilee, leaning back on their chair and looking at Basil. She just shrugs. ¡°It seems appropriate. It¡¯s been a good home for us.¡± She looks around. ¡°When are you going to tell Veli?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get to it,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°But what if we have to leave tonight?¡± asks the priestess. Jubilee doesn¡¯t respond, simply sliding back into their chair and crossing their arms. ¡°You really need to tell him soon.¡± ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll tell him tomorrow.¡± Fresh rubs her arm. ¡°You think he¡¯s going to be sad?¡± Basil shakes her hair out, going through it with her fingers. ¡°The young struggle with abandonment the most. It scars them the deepest.¡± ¡°We¡¯re giving him a whole house, he should shut up and be happy about it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°That didn¡¯t help you, did it?¡± asks Basil, showing surprising bravery as she walks past Jubilee to sit down at the table as well, next to them. Fresh still remembers how terrified Basil was of Jubilee back when they first met. Even if they¡¯re at each other¡¯s throats now and then, she realizes that the two of them are friends with each other, as much as they are with herself. ¡°Look, it¡¯s not like we can ask him to tag along,¡± says Jubilee, apparently letting her remark slide. ¡°Besides, we hardly know him. We can¡¯t take in every sap with a sob story, like we did with you.¡± Basil lifts her nose, taking a measured sip of her tea. ¡°I just think he¡¯s cute, is all. I like his determination. Considering what his queen is like, I think he¡¯s a real charm.¡± ¡°That¡¯s just his survival instinct. Not everyone has one, apparently,¡± replies Jubilee threateningly. ¡°Yes, yes,¡± sighs Basil. Fresh, sitting there cross legged on the floor, can¡¯t help but laugh at the two of them, bickering like a married couple. It¡¯s true that Veli can¡¯t leave the mountain, being bound to it. But even if he could, they needed someone strong-willed to stay here and to run the new ¡®Dungeon Fairy Shop¡¯ as Fresh has nicknamed the project. Someone needs to look after the rest of the fairies. The sound of the door downstairs, together with the heavy steps of metal boots a moment later give credence to Shamrock¡¯s return. The giant makes his way upstairs. ¡°Hi, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh, tilting her head backwards again and looking at the upside down man. He stands there, several boss-cores in his hands. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy! Are you okay? Do you want something to eat?¡± she asks. Shamrock shakes his head, setting the cores down on her lap. ¡°Tribute.¡± ¡°Thanks, Shamrock!¡± beams Fresh, realizing that she¡¯s completely neglected to use boss-cores again. Maybe tomorrow would be a good day for it. ¡°You¡¯re the best!¡± ¡°Do you ever get a little jealous too?¡± asks Basil to Jubilee. ¡°Yeah, nobody ever brings me tribute,¡± notes Jubilee, placing their head back into their hand. ¡°You got a flower just this morning from the fairies,¡± argues Basil. ¡°That doesn¡¯t count,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Where did they even get that idea?¡± Fresh blinks, quickly averting her gaze to the outside of the balcony, as if she had no idea about who could have whispered such an idea to the fairies. Razmatazz These are my favorite kinds of chapters. Just fun SoL, with just a pinch of existential dread Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 191: Ta-day Fresh rolls the boss-core back and forth over her workbench as she thinks, unsure of what to do. More aptly said, it¡¯s not that she doesn¡¯t know what she wants to do, it¡¯s just that she isn¡¯t sure if she should do it. This moment of quiet contemplation on her part, she realizes, would be considered a miracle by Jubilee, who would have no hesitation in telling her exactly that. She sighs. But is it really her choice to make? She can make the item. There¡¯s nothing wrong with that. But it isn¡¯t up to her to decide the direction of someone else¡¯s life. She realizes that too, as she watches her warped reflection pass her by from left to right over and over. It isn¡¯t right. Though... it might end up destroying all of the plans which they had spent the last days meticulously making. Her fingers wrap themselves around the boss-core, bringing it to a stop as she sets to work. It¡¯s going to be a long, sleepless night. But she has to do it now, who knows how long they¡¯ll have left? Maybe they¡¯ll have to leave in two days, maybe in five minutes from now. She¡¯s wasting time. Fresh nods to herself. She¡¯s going to open the door, but she doesn¡¯t get to choose who stays on which side of it. The boss-core shatters into a heap of jagged shards in an instant, as the magical glow vanishes from her fingers. These pieces are going to serve as a strong source of power. Piling them all carefully together, she grabs a magic-crystal and extracts as many tiny spheres from it as she can. Each of them is about the size of a small pellet, hardly a few millimeters in any direction. The crystal falls apart. Tiny, little beads fall down down to the table, bouncing and rolling away in every direction, falling off of the sides. Fresh yelps, trying to catch as many as she can, wrapping her arms around the base of the table. A few clatter down to the floor, but she saves most of them. Sighing in relief, she piles them up. That¡¯s two pieces down. Now she needs¡­ ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks, looking around the basement. Tiny rings? Tiny necklaces? Maybe tiny rings, worn as tiny necklaces? She gasps, that¡¯s it! It was stylish, and more importantly, it would let the fairies choose what they preferred more. Jubilee would call it inefficient craftsmanship, but Fresh doesn¡¯t let that deter her. Sometimes you have to be inefficient to get the results you want. Plus it¡¯s also symbolic, in a way. Cutting tiny strands of crystal-drakonium for necklace straps is easy enough. She does that herself, with her knife. As for the ring, she already has the ring-crafting process nailed down. It¡¯s just a matter of scale now. She thinks she has a good gauge on how big a fairy¡¯s fingers are, but she decides to make a few size variations, just to be sure. Tiny, bare, iron bands. Unadorned with any stones. Quality Effect: Durability is increased by 20% Nodding in satisfaction, she sets the collection of bite-sized iron rings to the side. Grabbing the boss-core fragments, Fresh then scoops them into an empty bowl, together with some dirt and then pours in a generous amount of harvest-moonwater. ¡°Moondirt,¡± mutters Fresh to herself, reminiscing about her conversation with Jubilee. Grabbing a pestle, she begins grinding it all into a very scratchy paste. Moondirt. She laughs quietly to herself at this memory and then throws in the beads into the muck. For anyone else, this crafting process would likely have just resulted in a dangerous, goopy, finger-cutting mess. But Fresh, thankful for the abilities that her new life has granted her, holds her hands over the bowl and focuses on her intent. This rock of the mountain pulsates with large amounts of low-frequency magical energy, sending out streams of it in all directions. Imbued with the spirit of the mountain, this material sustains any life-form bound to it, outside of its reaches. Quality Effect: This material can recharge its energies in the light of the moon. The beads that she had placed into the goop have now changed, the magic-crystals having absorbed the mixture of harvest-moonwater and dirt from the mountain. They¡¯re now less translucent, rather, they look like solid, chalky rocks. Grabbing one, she squeezes it, hoping that it isn¡¯t brittle. It isn¡¯t, the little sphere doesn¡¯t give in the least beneath the pressure of her fingers. It would be bad if a fairy¡¯s charm broke while they were outside. Taking special precautions however, she takes one final step and grabs a pot. Using Shamrock¡¯s technique for melting crystal-drakonium, she then slowly lowers the beads into the melted rubbery material, pulling them out and letting them harden, so that the cores are surrounded by the dampening shell of the crystal-drakonium. This is about all that she can do for them and she hopes it¡¯s enough. It might not be the prettiest thing. But it would work. Fresh sighs, rubbing her tired face on her sleeve. But then she returns to her work right after, embedding the little heartstone-gems into the tiny rings, one by one. Then, finally, she loops the little strings around them, through the bands. It takes her the rest of the night and then another morning hour too, but she finishes the first batch eventually. Exhausted, she rests her head down on her filthy workbench, a bit of goo and some metal-shavings sticking to her cheek, as she stares at her handiwork, the pride of her stay here on the mountain. A lovingly crafted ring, embedded with rare-heartstone that stems from the depths of the mountain. This tiny ring radiates a constant magical warmth to its wearer, passively replenishing burnt life-energies. Allows the wearer to access the magical properties of the mountain, even while away from it. Quality Effect: This material can recharge its energies in the light of the moon ¡°Ta-da~¡± she says quietly to herself, her voice echoing around the basement. She hopes the fairies will like them. Her eyes are very heavy. ¡°Are you down here?¡± asks Basil¡¯s voice from upstairs. ¡°Ta-daaaaa~¡± yawns Fresh, listening to the steps coming down the stairs. ¡°Good morning,¡± says Basil, placing a hand on her shoulder as she peeks over her from behind her. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy.¡± Fresh closes her tired eyes. ¡°Ta-¡° ¡° - Daaaaa~¡± finishes Basil, picking up a tiny ring. ¡°Oh, wow!¡± exclaims the priestess. Fresh smiles, always happy when someone is excited about her work. ¡°These are really something.¡± ¡°Right?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re not going to say that I made some item that people are going to murder for, are you?¡± she asks warily, still not opening her eyes. In an unusual gesture, a hand finds its way to the top of her head. ¡°Well, I was going to say that it took several masterwork jewelers from the church an entire season to make one single charm like this, for that fairy that I told you about. The one from that old hero-party,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡± The fingers rub her head. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°Thanks Basil, you¡¯re the best,¡± yawns Fresh, resting there with her head against the workbench as the priestess pets her head. She¡¯s living the dream. Fresh falls asleep. Razmatazz These are my favorite kinds of chapters. Just fun SoL, with just a pinch of existential dread Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 192: Walk through the city The four of them walk around town together, having decided to take a stroll to really see the sights one last time. Though, the ¡®decision¡¯ wasn¡¯t exactly that for everyone. Fresh had to beg and plead with Jubilee, in order to convince them to go outside with the rest of them. Jubilee had joked that it was embarrassing to be seen out in public with them. Fresh cried. After that, Jubilee had little choice but to give in. They really are getting soft. ¡°Where are we going?¡± they ask. ¡°We¡¯re walking,¡± explains Fresh, looking over at Jubilee. ¡°To where?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°We¡¯re just walking so that we can walk.¡± Basil holds out her arms to Jubilee. ¡°Would you like me to carry you? I¡¯m used to carrying kids.¡± Jubilee glares at her. ¡°Only if you want to leave the mountain with fewer fingers than you arrived with.¡± In truth, Fresh knows that Jubilee is just a little cranky. Veli didn¡¯t take the news well at all. The fairy had assumed straight off of the bat that they were leaving because he hasn¡¯t been working hard enough. Logically, that idea obviously doesn¡¯t make sense. But logic wasn¡¯t at play in that conversation. It broke Fresh¡¯s heart to hear, especially when he promised Jubilee to do better. This hurt her even more, because she knows that he had been trying his best without fail for weeks now, even with his broken arm that was finally starting to heal. Basil had been off-put by it as well and even if the priestess doesn¡¯t say anything, Fresh knows that, as someone who has been abandoned and has abandoned others, the topic sits deeply in her heart as well. Fresh giving him one of the heartstone-rings didn¡¯t help alleviate his grief. Given the way he broke down in the store, they might as well have told him that everything he loves is dead and maybe that¡¯s exactly what they did. She doesn¡¯t know if he has much to do outside of the purpose that he had defined for himself with his work, in all honesty. He took a lot of pride in it. The fact that he would be in charge of the new enterprise, that he would be given legal control of a full-fledged human house didn¡¯t seem to help him either. The house and the business aren¡¯t what he wanted. As the four of them walk quietly down along the river, stopping occasionally to look at the windows of the many stores around themselves, or to buy a drink or a snack at a stall, Fresh can¡¯t help but think that the fairy Veli simply wants the same thing she wanted when she was like him. He¡¯s hungry for community, purpose, a sense of belonging. An empty house and some magical jewelry can¡¯t replace that. But she doesn¡¯t know if they can offer him those things. They don¡¯t all know each other that well. Outside of work, they have no idea about Veli and he has no idea about them. Let alone her class and the secrecy-driven nature of their existence. Having no real, deep context of the morality of this world, he likely wouldn¡¯t be fearful of her if they told him the truth. But who¡¯s to say that that itself wouldn¡¯t cause a problem? What if he, in his fairy excitement, says something he shouldn¡¯t say to the wrong person? What if he does something he shouldn¡¯t do? What if his actions, born of a desperation for belonging, born of a desire to prove his worthiness, causes trouble for her new life? Fresh stops, staring down at the reflection in the water, at the wobbly visage staring back up her way. That last doubt of hers rings around her mind, over and over, filling her with a deep sense of irony and shame. Hadn¡¯t she done all of those things herself? And now here she is, worried that someone else is going to do what she herself has done, because this time, it could inconvenience her. Just like she had inconvenienced Jubilee. But Jubilee had let her do it. She really is very selfish, isn¡¯t she? Looking back up towards her friends who have stopped walking, perhaps wondering why she was just standing there, she realizes that if Jubilee has become too soft from her presence, then maybe she herself was becoming too hard in some senses, too greedy. This new life of hers, she might be clutching it too tightly and if she keeps squeezing, she might end up strangling it instead of simply keeping it held firm. In reality, maybe that hardness is exactly what she needs to have, in order for them to survive and to thrive like she wants them to. But Fresh doesn¡¯t and never has lived based on the foundations of pragmatic reality. Pragmatic reality is what has made the world that they¡¯re in so horrible to begin with. ¡°Fuck off,¡± says Jubilee, perhaps having already seen the lines form beneath the corners of her eyes, as she scrunches her face, about to ask an uncomfortable question. Perhaps they had seen the fidgeting of her arm, rubbing the other in a familiar tick, or perhaps Jubilee simply knows her too well at this point. ¡°We¡¯re not doing it. The last thing I need is another one of you babies to corral.¡± Basil crosses her arms. ¡°It might do you some good to actually do some work though,¡± states the priestess. Shamrock¡¯s hand lowers itself down, blocking Jubilee, who looks like they¡¯re about to push Basil into the river. Both of them look up at Shamrock. The man speaks, throwing in his opinion into the conversation, the topic of which they all know about already without stating it. ¡°He did a lot of push-ups.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with anything?!¡± barks Jubilee. Shamrock shrugs. Basil sighs, not having a clear answer either to the dilemma, apparently. Fresh however, has made up her mind. ¡°Let¡¯s ask Veli to come with us,¡± she says. Basil yelps and Jubilee lets out an annoyed grunt as Shamrock picks both of them up with a hand each and sets them down in front of Fresh, so that they can speak with quieter voices. ¡°If you pick me up again, I¡¯m going to sell your armor to the forge,¡± snaps Jubilee at the man. Basil doesn¡¯t say anything, simply dusting herself off. Fresh assumes she¡¯s gotten used to the hoisting at this point. ¡°Not my helmet,¡± says Shamrock, tapping his head. Jubilee glares up at him. ¡°- Because you can¡¯t rea-¡± *Kaduuung* Jubilee¡¯s boot kicks against his shin, interrupting his sentence. ¡°Come on guys, let¡¯s not fight,¡± laughs Fresh. ¡°We need to talk about this.¡± Jubilee¡¯s glare turns her way again. ¡°It¡¯s a bad idea. Talk over,¡± they say. ¡°What do you guys think?¡± asks Fresh, looking at Basil and Shamrock. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°He did a lot of sit-ups too,¡± explains Shamrock, lifting a finger. Jubilee steps on his foot. ¡°That isn¡¯t relevant!¡± Shamrock looks down at Jubilee. ¡°More sit-ups than you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t do sit-ups!¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. Shamrock does something that Fresh hadn¡¯t expected the man to do. He lowers himself down, placing a single finger against Jubilee¡¯s stomach and poking it ever so slightly. ¡°You should.¡± Basil snorts, covering her mouth very quickly. ¡°If we get rid of you, we might have a slot open after all,¡± states Jubilee in a cold, emotionless voice, leaning in forward against his finger to prove a point. ¡°Hidden beauty must be preserved,¡± says the man, his breastplate heaving. ¡°Even if none can see it. For we know it is there.¡± Jubilee continues to glare at him, but then quietly looks away, crossing their arms. ¡°Shut up.¡± ¡°What a save,¡± laughs Basil. Jubilee grumbles something inaudibly. Fresh blinks, her finger scratching her cheek. She isn¡¯t really sure what just happened, but she thinks it¡¯s cute. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous,¡± explains Basil, seeing that she¡¯s waiting for their conversation to continue. ¡°I know,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°This carries great risk,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, knowing that already too. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Whatever, who even gives a fuck anymore?¡± ¡°You¡¯re the best, Jubilee!¡± beams Fresh, knowing that this is just Jubilee¡¯s way of agreeing to her question. Fresh is delighted. The four of them make their way through town, heading towards the gate to find Veli. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 193: Isolation ¡°What do you mean ¡®he left¡¯?¡± asks Fresh, staring up at the familiar fairy, who looks out of the fairy-house hanging in the branches above the grave that she had dug. The fairy from the tailor¡¯s shop, Tarja, looks down at her from out of a small, open window. ¡°He left,¡± she says again. ¡°Flew right off the mountain.¡± ¡°Oh no¡­¡± says Fresh, looking distraught at her friends. Jubilee stands there with crossed arms, leaned back against a tree and Basil simply looks away. ¡°Is he coming back?¡± Tarja shakes her head. ¡°You tell me!¡± snaps the fairy down at her with surprising sharpness to her voice. Fresh is taken aback by the mixture of her tone and the grim expression on her face. She hasn¡¯t seen any of the fairies ever make a face like that before. ¡°The last time he looked like that was after Irina,¡± explains Tarja, looking out and away over the side of the mountain, her expression calming down as she does so. Fresh rubs her arm, hoping her friends will come up with an answer. But none of them have anything to say. The treetops are lined with fairy-houses, all tethered up high against the inner crowns of the trees, where they are not only hidden, but also out of reach. A few faces watch them warily out of the tiny windows. But only Tarja and the familiar green-haired leader of the one fairy-party are interested in talking to them. ¡°Hey,¡± says the green-haired fairy. ¡°You got any more of those rings?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°We have a whole bunch. Everyone who wants one can come get one tomorrow.¡± Seeing that they¡¯re unwelcome here right now, she turns around and scoots her friends away. ¡°If Veli comes back, please tell him that we want him to come with us.¡± ¡°Then you should have told him that before!¡± shouts Tarja after her as they leave. Fresh frowns, but doesn¡¯t say anything. The four of them walk back through the forest. ¡°Well, we tried,¡± says Jubilee, dusting their hands. Basil looks around. ¡°Do you get the feeling that they were mad at us?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Seems a little ungrateful, considering we were getting yelled at from houses that we donated.¡± ¡°Do you guys think Veli is going to be okay?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°He¡¯s all by himself. What if a hungry bird sees him, or a snake?¡± She rubs her arm again, feeling terrified for his sake. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°He¡¯s probably going to die, if he isn¡¯t dead already.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± shouts Fresh, ready to cry. Jubilee shrugs indifferently, walking on further as Fresh stands there, horrified. ¡°It¡¯s a big world and he¡¯s a little guy. I don¡¯t know what to tell you.¡± Fresh runs after them, looking at Shamrock and at Basil, hoping that their expressions would show that Jubilee was just being mean. But when she sees Shamrock¡¯s gaze locked dead ahead and Basil looking down and away to the side, she knows that they¡¯re thinking the same thing. The priestess turns her face towards her, her hand rubbing Fresh¡¯s back. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be okay,¡± she consoles. But Fresh knows that she doesn¡¯t mean it. The four of them make their way back, by the time they exit the forest, Fresh has finished crying. ¡°Let¡¯s go to bed,¡± suggests Basil, as they step inside of their front door. Jubilee and Shamrock nod in agreement. Fresh shakes her head, waving them off as she heads to the basement. ¡°I want to finish packing some more stuff,¡± she explains, closing the door behind herself as she heads downstairs by herself. The basement has been, despite how they found it, a place of great comfort for her during their stay here. Whenever her body ached, she could go to the warm waters of the bath. Whenever her spirit ached or was overwhelmed with the energetic currents of her life, she could retreat down here to the sanctuary of the underground. She supposes, that in this life, much like her old one, that she is still a reclusive person. There¡¯s nothing wrong with that, of course. But as she heads over to her workbench, she remembers the thoughts that she had had upon arriving in this world. Thoughts of some grand adventure, of becoming some cherished person of value. In a sense, both of those things have come true. In a sense, the fountain had fulfilled its obligations to her. She had made money, she had had chances to be happy and these days, she feels that she is exactly that, more often than not. She rubs her arm once more, looking around the basement. Fresh winces, pulling her hand back from her body. She had rubbed too high. The area on her shoulder is still deeply scarred from her initial struggles in this world. It stings with a sharp tinge as her fingers graze over the area. Her wandering eyes find their way to the stack of Basil¡¯s scar-healing creams, that the priestess had been carefully coating in wax so that the metal tins could be stored in her inventory when they left. As her fingers run over her shoulder again, triggering a new pain, she realizes the obvious. She could use some of the ointment, maybe it will help. She¡¯s sure Basil would be more than happy to let her have a can of it. She winces, feeling the painful bump on her shoulder again as her fingers run over it a third time. She shakes her head. No, she doesn¡¯t want to get rid of the scars. The basement door opens and she listens as a pair of heavy boots come downstairs. ¡°Hi, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh, lowering her hand and looking at the approaching giant. ¡°Hi,¡± is all that he says as he walks up to her and grabs her, hoisting her over his shoulder. Fresh yelps in surprise as she finds herself being carried back to the staircase. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± she asks, worried that something has happened. Are they running away? Did someone come and recognize them who shouldn¡¯t have? Is tonight the night that they had to leave?! ¡°Bed time,¡± he says, his gruff voice breaking the terror forming in her mind. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Bed time,¡± repeats the man. ¡°¡­Huh?¡± He doesn¡¯t repeat himself a third time, bending down to fit through the door with her on his shoulder, before heading upstairs. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock,¡± smiles Basil at him as they walk past. Fresh gasps, her own weapon had been used against her. Shamrock flashes the priestess a thumbs-up before he turns around. Fresh feels Basil unstringing her boots and taking them off. A moment later, Shamrock tosses her down off of his shoulder and onto her bed. ¡°Good night,¡± is all that he says, before walking away to his own bed and simply falling down into it. The frame rattles as he lands. Fresh blinks at the sight, feeling confusion, but also pride in her craftsmanship of his bed. She¡¯s still not sure what just happened though. Fresh looks over at Basil, who sets down her boots and turns down the light of her lantern. ¡°Good night everyone,¡± says Basil, looking around the room. A vague grumbling can be heard from Jubilee¡¯s room as the light goes out. Fresh stares around the darkness, still not sure what had just happened. She had been kidnapped and brought to her bed early in some insidious scheme designed to¡­ - Prevent her from being alone in the basement? She worms her way out of her robe, neglecting her pajamas for the night, crawling instead down under her blanket, burrowing down as deep as she can go to hide herself from the world. Basil had taken off her boots. Was she conspiring with the foot-demons? Fresh thinks this is unlikely. But she can¡¯t help but consider the possibility. Having friends is a really complicated business. ¡°Good night, Basil,¡± she says, digging her way back up and out. ¡°Goodnight, Shamrock.¡± She turns her head to the wall next to her, placing her hand by her mouth to project her voice. ¡°Goodnight, Jubilee.¡± She sighs, getting comfortable as she wishes her final goodnight to the fairy, Veli, who she hopes receives it, wherever he might be. Razmatazz -) You guys don''t know just how close to the razor''s edge we were with the Veli arc in the patreon poll. Things were this close to going full ''bad ending unlocked''. The poll was a tie though. So we get neither the good or the bad ending, rather the very rare ''neutral'' ending. -) Tomorrow... plot? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 194: The south Jubilee draws a line down over the crude map on the table. ¡°We¡¯ll head down this way. We¡¯re gonna have to dip into the south a little,¡± they explain. ¡°But only about a day¡¯s worth of walking, it¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t we just go around the center, to the north?¡± asks Basil, a little worried about this proposition. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°With our luck, some rider will be heading between the north and the center and end up recognizing us,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re better off taking the other way. We¡¯ve done well staying hidden this far, despite how blatantly public we are,¡± they say, glaring at the giant, dark-armoured man for a moment. ¡°No point in ruining that now.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Jubilee taps the map again, making their point clear to the priestess. Fresh chimes in. ¡°Can¡¯t we just go through the central city?¡± Jubilee looks at her. ¡°If by ¡®go through¡¯, you mean ¡®get executed at the front gate and have our bodies thrown out of the back one¡¯, then yes.¡± Fresh frowns, crossing her arms as her eyes drift towards the ceiling. ¡°But weren¡¯t you there before, Jubilee?¡± she asks, remembering Jubilee¡¯s conversation with the man who had needed his rare-wood staff repaired. ¡°Those were different days,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°We should get an anqa and a cart,¡± suggests Basil. ¡°We¡¯d save weeks of travel.¡± ¡°We have the funds, but it¡¯ll cut deep into our savings. Plus I¡¯m still convinced we should stay off the roads as much as possible.¡± Shamrock looks up from the map. ¡°Time is precious.¡± ¡°So is being alive, meat-head,¡± replies Jubilee. Basil, still not convinced, jumps back in. ¡°But the south¡­?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not going to the south, we¡¯re making a slight bend towards it, while we head east,¡± explains a frustrated Jubilee. Fresh blinks, looking around the room. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just go to the south?¡± she asks, bringing the question out of the forefront of her mind. Basil and Jubilee look her way, both with very different expressions. ¡°If that¡¯s where the other witches are, then I¡¯d really like to meet them.¡± ¡°Fuck off, goo-brain!¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Absolutely not!¡± exclaims Basil, staring at her with horrified eyes. Fresh frowns, feeling the harsh, yet worried eyes that have fallen onto her. Feeling a sense of nervousness that she hasn¡¯t felt in a very long time, she notices that her foot has lifted itself up an inch, as if she were about to step back and run away. She lowers it back down. ¡°Inadvisable,¡± says Shamrock, shaking his head. ¡°This side still has much to see.¡± ¡°Huh? This side?¡± asks Fresh, a little surprised by her friends¡¯ direct reactions. ¡°This side,¡± repeats Shamrock, tapping against, not the map, but the table itself. Jubilee scratches a line across the sheet of paper from left to right, a hand¡¯s width below the central city and roughly scribbles out the entire area beneath it. ¡°See this?¡± asks Jubilee, glaring at her as they point at the marked-out area. ¡°This is all ¡®get fucked¡¯ territory,¡± they explain. ¡°If you want to go anywhere near there, my answer to you is going to be ¡®get fucked,¡¯ shit-head!¡± yells Jubilee at her. ¡°The fuck is your problem?¡± Fresh blinks, taken aback by the reaction that seems harsh, even for Jubilee. She did something wrong again, didn¡¯t she? She can feel it. Their reactions aren¡¯t in proportion with the question that she thought she was asking. It¡¯s been a while, but she recalls this feeling of melancholic disappointment inside of herself all too well. Her eyes lower themselves down, unable to meet any of theirs and she finds her hand up on her arm again, fiddling around the area with the painful scars. ¡°Sorry,¡± says Fresh, noticing a tightening in her chest and a damp welling in her eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that there¡¯s something wrong with going there.¡± The others are quiet for a moment. But then, Basil speaks. ¡°Aren¡¯t you from the southern area?¡± ¡°That was a lie,¡± admits Fresh, clearing the air right away. ¡°Oh¡­¡± Fresh looks at Basil. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Basil. I had to come up with something when you asked me back then,¡± she explains. ¡°I was worried you¡¯d find out about my class.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says the priestess, her hand playing with her sleeve. She looks a bit disappointed, which Fresh understands. Friends shouldn¡¯t lie to each other. The priestess sighs. But to Fresh¡¯s surprise, Basil¡¯s shoulders seem to lighten and her posture seems to loosen itself. ¡°So you don¡¯t know what the south is?¡± asks Basil. Fresh shakes her head. The priestess shoots a glare over to Jubilee, whose posture has lost its tension as well. ¡°Honestly! Haven¡¯t you taught her anything?!¡± ¡°Shove it!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m not a mother-goose. I taught her how to stay alive. Everything after that isn¡¯t my problem!¡± ¡°Apparently, you didn''t!¡± snaps Basil back at them. The two of them devolve into a fight. While they sort things out between themselves, Fresh looks around the room. She¡¯s happy that nobody is mad at her anymore, but she still doesn¡¯t understand her friends¡¯ reactions. There is a tearing sound, as Shamrock rips off the entire scribbled-out section of the map. He tears that piece in half as well, before turning to her and drying her damp eyes with the two scraps. ¡°Thanks Shamrock,¡± sniffles Fresh. He nods to her, before then crumpling both of the bits of paper into two balls and throwing them. The first one donks against Basil¡¯s head and the priestess yelps in surprise. Just as Jubilee starts laughing, they too are silenced, as the second ball thuds against their forehead, before bouncing back onto the table. Both Basil and Jubilee stare at Shamrock in deep agitation, having been unceremoniously torn out of their verbal scuffle. ¡°Enough.¡± He taps the table again, its legs wobbling as he applies a significant amount of force with his hand, perhaps being annoyed as well, though at them, rather than at her. The two of them look his way and then at each other. Jubilee and Basil seem to come to a silent understanding, both of them standing next to each other at the table again. ¡°Sorry,¡± says Basil. ¡°Sorry,¡± mutters Jubilee. Fresh blinks, now entirely lost. ¡°Guys¡­?¡± Basil, Jubilee and Shamrock look at each other. Fresh¡¯s eyes wander between them all, seeing that they are once again coming to a silent conclusion of some kind together, without her. Jubilee nods. Basil seems hesitant, but she nods quietly as well. Shamrock gives his blessing to their arrangement as well. ¡°Too heavy,¡± explains the giant man. ¡°The world is sinking.¡± Fresh watches her friends. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Too many heavy souls,¡± he explains. Fresh remembers him speaking about this before, back in the forest on their way here to the west. She had assumed that he was being metaphorical. Basil takes over. ¡°The south has been vanishing, it¡¯s been sinking into -¡± ¡°- It¡¯s fucked!¡± explains Jubilee, cutting Basil off and getting to the point. ¡°If you go to the south, you aren¡¯t coming back. It¡¯s a one way trip.¡± Fresh looks at them. ¡°It¡¯s sinking into the ocean or something?¡± she asks, scratching her cheek. Shamrock exhales, his powerful breath causing the small ball of paper to roll across the table towards Jubilee. ¡°Black-water has taken the surface,¡± explains Shamrock. ¡°Black-water has taken the souls there.¡± ¡°Black-water?¡± asks Fresh, her eyes going wide. Basil sits down, not wanting to stand anymore as they speak about such a thing. ¡°The south is sinking into the spirit world,¡± she explains. ¡°To ¡®go there¡¯ means to die. Forever.¡± ¡°Wait, then the other witches? The sect?¡± asks Fresh, her eyes going wide. ¡°I thought they¡¯re still alive.¡± ¡°They are,¡± explains Shamrock. ¡°But they have given up,¡± he says again, like he had told her down in the basement a few nights ago. He breathes for a moment. ¡°They reside in the south. There is no return.¡± Basil nods. ¡°You can go to the spirit world. But once it has marked your soul, there¡¯s no coming back to this side,¡± she says. ¡°I bet they¡¯re content with the world sinking away, honestly.¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t sink, if it wasn¡¯t heavy,¡± explains Shamrock with unusual verbosity. Basil looks at him, clearly about to object, maybe because of what this statement of his implies. But she stops herself and looks back down to the table, perhaps realizing that he has a point. The souls in this world are too heavy, too cruel and so, the world itself is sinking back down into the realm of the dead, from which it, as well as all life here, had once emerged aeons ago. ¡°So¡­ they¡¯re not dead?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°They might as well be,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Look. The south is fucked, okay? If you want to die, then tell me, so I can slit your throat myself,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± says Fresh, realizing that this is essentially what she had told her friends. Or at least what they had initially understood from her statement. It was no wonder that they were so mad at her. ¡°If you die here,¡± explains Basil. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to return to the well of souls. But¡­¡± she shakes her head. ¡°If you go to the south, that¡¯s it. You¡¯re done.¡± ¡°Done?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Done,¡± nods Basil. ¡°No afterlife. No cosmic bestowance. No reincarnation. You¡¯re done.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know about any of that kooky bullshit,¡± says Jubilee, waving Basil off. ¡°But I do know that if you go there, it¡¯s the end,¡± they say, pushing the map back onto the table and swiping their hand over it, to get the ball of paper off. It flies away, rolling across the floor until it hits the wall. ¡°The end,¡± nods Shamrock in agreement. The four of them quietly stand around the table, looking at the torn map. The frayed, torn off edge on the bottom of the sheet of paper still carries the ink stains from Jubilee¡¯s wild scribbling and as Fresh stares at it, she can¡¯t help but notice that the black ink is still seeping just a little bit further upwards, ever so slowly, bit by bit. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 195: Next of kin ¡°That¡¯s the last of it,¡± says Jubilee, dusting their hands as more water splashes out of Fresh¡¯s open inventory. The four of them stand in the cleared out basement. ¡°With all of these materials and our money, we¡¯ll be up and running in a couple of days, when we get there.¡± ¡°It¡¯s certainly nice to have some advance warning,¡± says Basil, nodding as she looks around the room. ¡°But what are we going to do with the building now?¡± she asks. ¡°With Veli gone, should we just¡­ sell it back to the magistrate?¡± ¡°More money is always good,¡± agrees Jubilee. Fresh shakes her head, closing her window. ¡°But what about the fairies? What about the fairy-item-shop?¡± ¡°It¡¯s all fucked without Veli,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Don¡¯t know what to tell you.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°What if we sign over the house to some other fairy? That one with the green-hair,¡± she suggests. ¡°She seems like she knows what she¡¯s doing.¡± ¡°You want to give our house to a stranger?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh lifts her finger. ¡°I want to donate our house to the needy. Just like before.¡± She leans against the workbench. ¡°Besides, she¡¯s been watching you teach Veli. I think she picked a lot of stuff up.¡± ¡°She didn¡¯t seem too happy to see us before,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°I don¡¯t have any other ideas, guys,¡± relents Fresh. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°It¡¯s not our problem to begin with. We already did a lot for the fairies. We can¡¯t save everybody.¡± ¡°But we haven¡¯t saved anybody, Jubilee,¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Fine. Fuck me. She wanted one of those rings in the morning. We¡¯ll ask her then,¡± concedes Jubilee. ¡°But if she wants a ring, she probably wants to leave the mountain too.¡± They cross their arms. ¡°Hell. They might all want to leave the mountain.¡± Fresh nods, having considered this a possibility as well. The four of them head upstairs. Fresh sleeps unwell that night, dreaming of the fairy Veli, being chased across an endless branch of a tree by a slug that is twice his size. It wants to eat his eyes for some unexplained reason. The morning comes. She is well rested despite that odd dream. Breakfast is warm and delicious and the conversations over the table are surprisingly light and energizing. Her coughee is on the edge of warm, but not hot-hot and the cool morning breeze, wafting in through the window, carries with it many energetic voices from the outside-world. Today is a good day. She can tell, even before it has really begun. An hour passes. They are downstairs, the store has already opened. ¡°You want me to what?¡± asks the green-haired fairy, who they have dragged to the side, to speak with her in private. ¡°We wanted Veli, but you¡¯re the next best option,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re giving you the building and the store, if you want it.¡± ¡°Why?¡± she asks suspiciously, the tiny heart-stone necklace already strapped around her neck. ¡°So that you squeaky fucks have a place to live,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°We like the fairy-houses,¡± says the fairy, her green hair bouncing as she hovers in the air. Fresh stares at it, always jealous of how bouncy fairy-hair is. ¡°Yeah, guess who made those? For free?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°No,¡± says the green-haired fairy, looking over her shoulder at her party. ¡°We¡¯re flying to the north. We want to become adventurers there!¡± she explains. Fresh blinks. ¡°We heard the northern-dungeon is easier,¡± says the fairy excitedly, her eyes shining with an energy that Fresh hasn¡¯t seen since the fairy¡¯s first night of life. ¡°I¡¯m going to become a priestess!¡± Basil looks over from the side. ¡°I don¡¯t know if they take fairies,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°They will!¡± explains the fairy. ¡°I heard that since some super-evil, super-ugly, super-mean witch showed up, they¡¯ve been recruiting everyone they can!¡± She hovers away, heading back to her group. ¡°Bye!¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± calls Jubilee snarkily after them. Fresh sighs. They hadn¡¯t been thanked for the necklaces or for the fairy-houses, let alone for this newest offer of theirs. Obviously, she would have done all of it anyway, but still. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°You can¡¯t even give a fucking house away these days.¡± They look up at her. ¡°There. Can we sell it now?¡± ¡°What about Tarja?¡± asks Fresh, looking around the room for the fairy from the tailor¡¯s shop. ¡°What about me?¡± asks a sharp voice, flying upside in front of her face. The heart-stone necklace hangs upside from her neck. It seems like literally every fairy has come to get one. Are they really all going to leave? Fresh blinks, surprised that she¡¯s here. ¡°You want a house?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Everyone can stay here.¡± ¡°I have a house,¡± says Tarja, shaking her head. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m leaving.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± She nods. ¡°Yeah, me and some of the others are heading to the east. We heard it¡¯s super warm there,¡± explains Tarja. ¡°We¡¯re going to open a tailoring shop and I¡¯ll be able to make a lot of nice clothes for people!¡± she says excitedly. ¡°Ah¡­¡± says Fresh, not sure if this is going to be a problem. Jubilee seems indifferent to the statement though, judging by their body language. So Fresh decides that it isn¡¯t a threat if anyone from the west sees them in the east. She looks down towards Jubilee, who stares back her way, apparently already knowing what her next question is going to be. They shake their head, signaling ¡®no¡¯. The fairies aren¡¯t allowed to travel together with them. ¡°Anyways, I gotta go!¡± says Tarja, seeing that the rest of her group is carrying a bottle of sweet-tea together to the counter. ¡°Bye!¡± ¡°Bye!¡± calls Fresh after her. ¡°Satisfied?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh frowns, lowering her head sideways on top of Jubilee¡¯s. ¡°Nooo~¡± she moans. ¡°They¡¯re all leaving, it¡¯s so dangerous out there, Jubilee.¡± ¡°It¡¯s dangerous everywhere, goo-brain.¡± Shamrock wiggles a toy-slime back and forth. ¡°Let them walk on two feet.¡± ¡°But they can fly, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh, blinking as she stares at the sideways man. He looks at her, his finger stuck in the slime. He doesn''t respond. ¡°Can you let go?¡± asks Jubilee, sounding annoyed. ¡°No,¡± says Fresh, turning her face and planting her nose on top of Jubilee¡¯s head, pressing it into the fabric of their hood, feeling the soft give of a layer of hair beneath it. ¡°Can you just not?¡± Fresh can not ¡®not¡¯. Instead, she stands there, her face buried on top of Jubilee¡¯s head as she thinks, breathing in the air that smells like her friend. It helps her think. Also, Jubilee smells nice. Like summer flowers with a soft hint of soap. She realizes that there is also a familiar smell to them, buried in the fabric. That of Basil¡¯s cream. It makes her smile, knowing that Jubilee is taking care of themself. ¡°You¡¯re being creepy in public,¡± says Jubilee, their arms crossed. ¡°Sorry,¡± apologizes Fresh, but she still stays there, not moving. ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡± ¡°Can you think in a way that doesn¡¯t involve me?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Usually people like you get their ideas by finger-painting or eating glue.¡± ¡°You¡¯re being mean again, Jubilee~.¡± ¡°Sorry. Dumb-ass,¡± sighs Jubilee, standing there much the same. ¡°I guess we¡¯re out of options now,¡± concedes Fresh. Jubilee shakes their head, Fresh feels it moving beneath her face. ¡°In regards to the fairies, yeah. We¡¯re fucked.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°So¡­¡± ¡°So we¡¯re selling it.¡± She frowns, but sees no other way out. Money is always good, but it isn¡¯t what she was hoping for in her heart of hearts. But, if nobody needs the house, then it¡¯s the only sensible thing to do. Basil chimes in. ¡°I have an idea.¡± Fresh lifts her head, looking at the priestess. ¡°There are others,¡± explains Basil. ¡°People who need a home, but can¡¯t afford the adventurer¡¯s guild.¡± Jubilee shifts. ¡°Fuck off.¡± Basil crosses her arms. ¡°How is it any different than the fairies?¡± Jubilee locks their hands to their hips. ¡°Because I have good will towards them. Those fucking orphans can fuck right off and die.¡± ¡°Jubilee~!¡± scolds Fresh. Jubilee grumbles under their breath, but then seems to relent. Leaning over sideways, they look at Shamrock. ¡°Hey, meat-head,¡± Shamrock looks over their way. ¡°Go outside and find that little shit we met when we arrived here.¡± Shamrock nods, setting down his toy slime. ¡°Throw those orphans into the river if you need to humble them,¡± instructs Jubilee, pointing at him. ¡°Please don¡¯t throw the children into the river, Shamrock,¡± asks Basil. Shamrock looks to Fresh for guidance on this newest dilemma. She shakes her head ¡®no¡¯. Flashing her a thumbs-up, Shamrock leaves, heading out on his personal quest. Jubilee lets out a disappointed sigh. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 196: Dress up ¡°What do you think about this one?¡± asks Basil, coming out of the dressing room of the tailor¡¯s shop. Fresh looks up from the shelf that she¡¯s browsing through. ¡°It looks really great, Basil!¡± Basil sighs, but smiles. ¡°You said the same thing about the last three.¡± ¡°They all look great on you!¡± says Fresh, pulling out a dress to look at. By the time she looks back up, Basil has already vanished back into the dressing room. The two of them are out in the city, buying clothes to prepare for the desert. Fresh isn¡¯t too sure what she wants, in all honesty. Maybe she¡¯ll just ask Jubilee to make something for her, that way she¡¯ll like it no matter what it looks like. The rings of the curtain slide along the bar as Basil comes out again. ¡°What about this one?¡± ¡°It looks great!¡± says Fresh, seeing the drab, off-green robe with golden embroidery that the priestess has on. Seeing that this answer wasn¡¯t helping Basil make up her mind, she decides to explain her reasoning. ¡°The muted color really makes your eyes and hair stand out more,¡± she explains. Basil looks down at herself. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± Fresh blinks, staring at Basil for a second. ¡°Stay there!¡± she says, running across the shop to get something she saw before. A wide, flat-brimmed hat. It looks like a typical wizard¡¯s hat, but squished and flatter and it has the same color as the dress. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Basil, watching her vanish into the fabric jungle. A minute later she appears back out on the other side. ¡°How did you get there?¡± asks Basil, confused. ¡°I got lost,¡± admits Fresh, scratching her cheek. Basil does her best not to laugh. Fresh drags her a step away from the closet and presses the hat down onto her head. ¡°A hat?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°I never really wear hats.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Neither do I, but the desert is super hot and sunny,¡± she explains. ¡°So this will stop your skin from getting burnt!¡± ¡°Huh, you might have a point there,¡± admits the priestess, somewhat surprised. Fresh nods with pride, spinning her around and letting her look at herself in the mirror. ¡°What do you think?¡± asks Basil, adjusting the hat as she stares at herself. ¡°It looks great!¡± says Fresh. Basil sighs, but then starts laughing. In truth, Fresh really is sure that it does. But it¡¯s still missing something. The color suits her well and the cut is nice. Plus the hat makes her look very ¡®adventurery¡¯ which Fresh thinks is fantastic. But there¡¯s still something missing to help frame her face a little more. ¡°Do you have eye problems, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, adjusting the fabric on the back of her robe. ¡°Eye problems?¡± The priestess thinks for a moment. ¡°No, I mean, I saw better when I was growing up. But I think that¡¯s just normal stuff. Why?¡± she asks, looking down at the robe. ¡°Don¡¯t you like it?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s great!¡± says Fresh. ¡°I just had an idea, is all. You should get glasses, you¡¯d look super cute!¡± ¡°Glasses?¡± asks Basil, turning her head around to look over her shoulder. Fresh ducks under the wide brim of the hat, spinning her way. She seems intrigued, but uncertain. ¡°Glasses,¡± repeats Fresh, rolling her index fingers and thumbs together into two ¡®O¡¯s and placing them in front of her eyes. Basil stares at her, confused. ¡°Don¡¯t you know what glasses are, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. Basil shakes her head. Fresh gasps. She hadn¡¯t accounted for this. Maybe glasses don¡¯t exist here? She frowns, thinking for a second. It makes sense to her. If telescopes are rare and super-expensive, that means lens-crafting is probably a very specialistic technique. Maybe for normal adventurers, things like glasses just don¡¯t exist. She¡¯d be surprised if the nobles didn¡¯t have them though. She nods, determined now. Dragging Basil to the counter by her hand, they pay for her clothes. They fit off the rack and don¡¯t need any adjusting. ¡°What about you?¡± asks Basil as they leave. ¡°Your robe is going to be way too hot there with all of the fluff.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything that really did it for me,¡± admits Fresh, dragging a confused Basil back home. The shop is closed, they had hung up a sign to tell any customers just as much. Only the fairies are inside, together with Jubilee and Shamrock. They¡¯re undergoing the last of their education, before they all depart from the mountain. Having abandoned the teaching of business techniques, they¡¯re now teaching them about survival out in the wilderness and about what they can expect in the other cities. ¡°Hey guys!¡± says Fresh, scooting past everyone with Basil in tow. Jubilee is busy cursing at some fairy who had asked a question and Shamrock nods to them. Fresh suddenly stops in her tracks, standing behind Shamrock. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± asks Basil, confused at her sudden stopping. Fresh turns to her, opening the shutters for the repair slide. ¡°Meet me down in the basement, Basil!¡± says Fresh to the confused priestess, before pushing herself into the hole in the wall. She had always wanted to do this. Sliding down the rollers with her hands out in front of herself, she rushes down the incline of the slide, the construction rattling noisily as she shoots around the bend, just a little too fast. Fresh yelps, spinning around in an attempt to slow herself down. She reaches the end of the slide, scooting off of the sorting corner and falling bottom-first onto the floor. Fresh rubs her back, scooting away a little and laughing, surprised she didn¡¯t take any damage from that fall. ¡°Ow¡­¡± Her lamentation is interrupted as a moment later, Basil¡¯s voice comes down from the staircase as well, her wordless shout sounding oddly bumpy, as if she were being shaken up and down. Fresh only realizes a second too late, as she sees the priestess coming around the bend, that she too had opted to try out the slide, her wide hat clutched against her body. ¡°Look out!¡± calls Basil, but before she can escape, the priestess flies down and crashes into her. Fresh yelps as Basil flies down against her as she half-manages to catch her, falling onto her back. ¡°Are you okay, Basil?¡± winces Fresh, feeling the return of the painful pulling sensation in her lower spine. ¡°It was faster than I expected it to be,¡± says the voice, stemming out from the face that is pressed down next to her head. One of her legs is still hanging up on the edge of the table. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m fine, are you?¡± asks the priestess, dusting herself off as she pushes herself up. ¡°It seemed like a fun idea,¡± she laughs, placing her hands on the stones above Fresh¡¯s shoulders and pushing herself up and off of her. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, opting not to tell Basil that her back really hurts now. It was a lot of fun, even if it was kind of scary. She¡¯s surprised that Basil wanted to slide too. Fresh can¡¯t help but wonder if she isn¡¯t a bad influence on her friends sometimes. She tilts her head, looking past Basil for a moment, as in a brief instant of terror, she expects Shamrock to come down the slide next. But nobody else ever shows up. She sighs in relief, turning her head back forward and looking back up to Basil, whose face is still there, hovering over hers, her long hair draped down around them as she stares with a look that Fresh can¡¯t make heads or tails of. ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh, blinking. Basil blinks too, jumping up rather quickly a second later. ¡°Sorry!¡± she says, sitting upright and climbing off, helping her get up. ¡°Is your back okay?¡± she asks, seeing Fresh wobble up to her feet. ¡°It¡¯s fiiine~¡± moans Fresh, holding her back with one hand, as she hobbles over to the workbench. ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m sorry! Should I get Shamrock?¡± ¡°No!¡± replies Fresh quickly, not wanting to be shaken out again like last time. It helped, but it really did hurt a lot. She hovers over the workbench and the few materials that still remain. Copper seems like the right material for this. Grabbing a copper-bar, she cuts off four long strips lengthwise from it, as well as one shorter one. All of them are only a few millimetres thick. Taking one of the long ones, she holds it against the side of Basil¡¯s head, figuring out the length that she needs. Once she¡¯s figured it out, she bends both of the two metal ¡®twigs¡¯, down near the end, with just her hands. So that there is a slight downward hook. Then, taking the other two long pieces, she uses her abilities to cut out a tiny channel along the length of both of them. Next, she takes those two strips and bends them into a circle, so that the small channel groove is on the inside of them. She grabs one, holding it up to Basil¡¯s face, against her eye, trying to see if the size is right. It isn¡¯t, so she adjusts it again, bending it on the sides to make it more inwardly squished. As for the lenses, she still has a whole box of various glass lenses for her telescopes, so she slides that over to Basil. A lot of them she had made ¡®wrong¡¯ so they weren¡¯t suited for the purpose of being a telescope lens. But it seemed like a shame to throw them out. ¡°Look through these, tell me which one helps you see the best,¡± she says and Basil, still confused, obliges, picking out two a minute later and handing them to Fresh. She nods, taking them and cutting their edges down so that they fit into the squished circle-frames. She notices that Basil has chosen two lenses that she had made out of moonglass. With a dab of glue, she carefully wedges them into the channels that she had carved and then, presses the circular frame back shut around them, closing it up with her abilities. Fresh beams, they¡¯re starting to take shape. Now she just needs to combine the ¡®wings¡¯ and to make the nose-bridge. The flappy ¡®ear-sticks¡¯ are easy enough. She doesn¡¯t know what they¡¯re supposed to be called. But she knows what she means. She just uses a tiny hinge to attach them, one on each side, to the circular frames. Basil stares curiously over her shoulder meanwhile. Finally, taking the tiny strip of copper that she had cut off before, she cuts that in half again and sands it, leaving only a tiny, smooth wire. With some glue, she glues on two tiny nubs of crystal-drakonium, so that they won¡¯t slide and then she puts it all together. [Moonglasses](Holy){Excellent} A pair of large, round spectacles with low strength lenses. Helps the wearer see marginally better. While equipped: -) Vision: -0.75D -) +1 INT -) +1 WIS Quality Effect: -) Lenses are resistant to bright sun-light -) Lenses are resistant to oil smears -) Lenses are non-reflective Weight: 0.06kg Value: ??? ¡°Ta-da!¡± says Fresh, holding out the glasses to Basil who takes them, looking at them curiously. ¡°What are they?¡± ¡°They¡¯re glasses.¡± ¡°What do they do?¡± ¡°You wear them,¡± explains Fresh, making the gesture around her eyes again with her fingers. Grabbing the glasses, she unfolds them and sets them onto Basil¡¯s face, adjusting them. ¡°Oh, Wow,¡± says Basil in quiet bewilderment as she looks around the basement. ¡°Everything looks so sharp!¡± Fresh gasps, seeing her. She reaches over the table, grabbing Basil¡¯s hat and sets it back on top of her head, adjusting it. She gasps again. Quickly, she runs across the basement, grabbing Basil¡¯s adventuring bag from the corner and slinging it over her shoulders. ¡°Basil!¡± calls Fresh excitedly. ¡°Y¡­yes?¡± asks Basil, blinking a few times as she stares through the glasses at her. Fresh clenches her fists, leaning in towards the nervous priestess. ¡°You look great!¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Basil, grabbing the straps of her bag. ¡°You think?¡± she asks, embarrassed. Razmatazz Don''t say I never do anything for you, reader Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 197: Make it weird ¡°Come on. Chop, chop,¡± barks Jubilee at Shamrock as he passes by and heads out of the front-door with several boxes in his hands. He spares a glance down towards Jubilee, opting not to say anything as he loads the contents into the tiny half-carriage. Dried provisions, materials, blankets, all sorts of those traveling necessitates that they¡¯ll need on the road have already been bought by Jubilee and loaded into the small wagon that they¡¯ve also arranged. Basil is in town, securing an adolescent Anqa. Though Jubilee had insisted that the three of them just take turns pulling the wagon. Everyone declined that offer, opting rather to pitch in a bit of all of their own personal funds to just buy an Anqa and be done with it. Basil, having experience with the creatures, is in charge of that. Shamrock, Fresh and Jubilee are loading up the cart. As for the house, Jubilee begrudgingly agreed to give it to the party of children who had accosted Shamrock on several occasions. They obviously seemed skeptical at first, especially the feisty, black-haired boy, who is apparently the leader of their party. They only ended up believing them after Shamrock confirmed that their offer was real. Fresh isn¡¯t sure why the kids trusted Shamrock blindly, especially after he had rejected them and their invitations so often, but to them, his word was law. Maybe there¡¯s something to be said for the sheer effect that a strong, stoic presence like his has, especially on wayward children. Shamrock is a bit of a silly person, but she can imagine how he would appear as a lawful authority figure to the lost. After all, he had been the same for her. It¡¯s a wild world, apparently. Orphans here don¡¯t even need legal guardians. Things such as the orphanage that Basil used to work at, are a luxury. Most ¡®lost¡¯ children ended up either disappearing or banding together in small packs, much like the fairies. There¡¯s safety in numbers. That¡¯s what the group of kids here had been doing. Apparently, the six of them, classless, have been making ends meet for over a year by just grinding the few levels of the dungeon that they can manage within every reset. Everyone tries so hard to survive in this world and she¡¯s just living a life of love and comfort, realizes Fresh. It makes her feel bad, in a way. Even if she knows that it isn¡¯t something to feel bad about. Fresh makes a note to tighten up the locks on the windows and doors before they leave and to build a few extra beds. Maybe she could make some bunk-beds? That would save space for them. Jubilee is going to take care of the paperwork after this. Speaking of space¡­ ¡°Jubilee?¡± she asks, carrying the soft, sky-blue blanket that Jubilee had made for her, folded up and close to her chest. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, watching as she carefully stows it away, tucking it tenderly into a box. Fresh looks over her shoulder. ¡°When we leave, do you want to sit on my lap?¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°I¡¯m just asking! It¡¯s going to be cramped,¡± she says, patting the small cart. ¡°It¡¯s such a little thing.¡± ¡°It would be less cramped if you had stopped eating all of those candies,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°I haven¡¯t had any candy in weeks!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°Right, Shamrock?¡± Shamrock nods, poking a finger against her stomach. ¡°Like steel,¡± is all that he says, before walking back inside to get another box. Fresh beams, making a show out of flexing her arms. ¡°Anyways,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°The biggest piece of dead-weight here is this guy,¡± they add on, pointing over their shoulder towards Shamrock. ¡°He¡¯ll take up half the cart by himself.¡± Shamrock turns his head around, looking at Jubilee. ¡°My lap is also free.¡± ¡°Fuck off!¡± barks Jubilee. Shamrock shrugs and leaves. ¡°I¡¯m not sitting on anyone¡¯s lap, you degenerates!¡± ¡°But Jubileeee~¡± argues Fresh. ¡°We can make a lap-stack!¡± Jubilee stares at her for a moment. ¡°A what?¡± ¡°A lap-stack,¡± explains Fresh, gesturing with her hands. ¡°We¡¯ll arrange ourselves from biggest to smallest and then we¡¯ll sit on each other¡¯s laps together in one spot.¡± She scratches her cheek, considering the merits of this idea. It would really save a lot of space. Plus she bets it would be fun. ¡°Here¡¯s a better idea; we¡¯ll make a noose and then drag my dead body behind the cart,¡± counters Jubilee. ¡°Because that¡¯s a preferable alternative.¡± Fresh sighs, going to get another box. ¡°So you don¡¯t like the lap-stack idea?¡± ¡°I do not like the lap-stack idea.¡± Fresh tilts her head, moving on to her next question. ¡°Do you want to share a room in our next house, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We can have a sleep-over every night then!¡± ¡°What? So you can crush my bones all night with your weird, grabby, crab-fingers?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°No thanks,¡± they say. ¡°Besides, the others will probably get weird about it.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, confused, looking around at her fingers. They don¡¯t look weird, grabby or crabby to her. ¡°Why would they get weird about it?¡± Jubilee looks at her for a moment, but then just shoos her away, their shoulders drooping. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry your empty, little head about it. Come on. Who knows how much time we have left.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, heading upstairs to pack away Jubilee¡¯s mirror into her inventory. They¡¯ve certainly already prepared a lot more for this move than for their last one, but there are still a few tidbits left to take care of. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, clearly exasperated. Fresh heads to the cold-cabinet, grabbing a handful of the fairy-house heating beads from behind the counter. These are different kinds though. Rather than constructing them with ash from the fire, she had taken a bit of ice from the dungeon. They worked the exact opposite way now, offering a cooling mechanism with which she intends to replace the crystal in the pot of the cooling-cabinet with. ¡°When the fair was going on, a guy called Patala talked to me.¡± Jubilee looks at her, their loosened posture tightening again. They narrow their eyes. ¡°The fair was ages ago,¡± they say, their voice taking a sharper tone. ¡°That conniving fuck¡­¡± they begin to mutter. ¡°Wait. What did he tell you?¡± asks Jubilee quickly. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I told him to leave me alone,¡± she explains. ¡°He was super obviously-evil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°He always wore a hood and I could never see his face and¡­ uh¡­¡± she looks at Jubilee. ¡°But in a different way,¡± she adds on, lifting a finger. ¡°And?¡± asks an increasingly nervous Jubilee. She shrugs, taking the pot out of the cabinet and opening the lid. She smiles down to the magic-crystal, taking it out of the water. ¡°Good job!¡± she whispers to it, before turning to Jubilee. ¡°He gave me some instructions to go to the adventurer¡¯s guild and to order the fish or whatever. I don¡¯t remember,¡± she says. ¡°And?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t go,¡± shrugs Fresh, looking at her friend. ¡°Jubilee, friends can have secrets and it¡¯s not my business what you do,¡± she explains. ¡°But I¡¯d like it if you didn¡¯t talk to clearly-evil people like that.¡± She places the cooling marbles into the pot and closes the lid, setting it back into the top of the cabinet. She doesn¡¯t think that the kids are going to run a store, but they¡¯ll surely appreciate the luxury of such a piece of furniture. ¡°I know the thieves¡¯ guild has been helping us, but I don¡¯t want them to. I don¡¯t trust them,¡± says Fresh, staring at the cool vapor that begins to sink down through the glass door of the cabinet. ¡°But I trust you.¡± Jubilee looks at her for a moment without saying anything. ¡°You being too nice is going to get you killed one day, you know?¡± they ask. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No, because I know you¡¯ll keep me safe,¡± she explains, walking towards Jubilee with open arms. ¡°So that¡¯s why you have to sit on my lap.¡± ¡°Fuck off,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°And this isn¡¯t a hug-moment,¡± they threaten. ¡°It is,¡± says Fresh, approaching, her arms widening. ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± says Jubilee, stepping a step back and away warily. Suddenly, Fresh freezes, stopping in her tracks, her arms held there as she stands completely still, as if frozen in time, not blinking, not breathing. Jubilee stares at her, also standing where they were. ¡°What th- ?¡± ¡°CHICKEN-BUTT!¡± yells Fresh, leaping in towards the confused Jubilee for the kill. Jubilee, quick as ever, ducks back and away from Fresh¡¯s closing arms. She lands on the floor, her grip empty, her narrowing eyes looking up towards her friend. Jubilee stares at her warily from a few steps away. ¡°Jubilee~¡± Jubilee shifts their posture. ¡°What?¡± Fresh points at them. ¡°I¡¯m gonna get you.¡± ¡°Like hell!¡± ¡°BAKAW!¡± yells Fresh, lurching up from all fours as she makes her next run at Jubilee. ¡°FUCK OFF!¡± barks Jubilee, shooting out of her way again before jumping over the counter and making a run up the stairs. Jubilee reaches the top step, falling over forward however in the last second, as something grabs their ankle. ¡°Let go, you gangly fuck!¡± they shout down at her, as they hold on to the edge of the bottom of the stone handrail for dear life. Jubilee looks up towards Shamrock, who is folding blankets. ¡°Shamrock! Do something!¡± Shamrock nods to Jubilee, giving them a thumbs-up. He then continues folding blankets. ¡°You traitorous FU- AHG!¡± Jubilee is dragged down the staircase and suffers their cruel fate. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 198: Squawk Fresh leans her forehead to the side. Shamrock obliges and dabs her sweaty face with the cloth that he¡¯s holding. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh, continuing the last of the work on the bunk-beds. In essence, she just added an iron and wooden frame to the three of their beds and then had Shamrock help her add a second platform on top of each one. She¡¯s busy fastening the last screws now for the ladders, so that the kids can climb up. ¡°You know, we¡¯re already giving them a furnished house,¡± says Jubilee, watching from the table. They¡¯re rubbing the side of their torso. Fresh had squeezed a little too hard before. ¡°There are working people in this city who can¡¯t afford a house,¡± they explain. ¡°You don¡¯t have to literally make them beds too.¡± ¡°But where are they all going to sleep if I don¡¯t?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°In the same beds? On the floor? In the dungeon?¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯ll help them build some character.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± says Fresh, tightening the last screw, before pulling on the ladder to see if it¡¯s stable. It seems to be holding well. The frame holding the construction together doesn¡¯t wobble at all. Nodding to herself, satisfied, she grabs a few crystal-drakonium mattresses and starts getting the bedding ready on the new bunks. ¡°But I don¡¯t want them to sleep on the floor or in the dungeon. It¡¯s cold. What if they get sick?¡± ¡°Not our problem,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s my problem,¡± says Fresh, shaking her head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep at night if I didn¡¯t try my best.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°You¡¯re going to be the death of me one day.¡± The door rattles downstairs. ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± calls Basil. ¡°Uh¡­ I need some help, please! AH! stay! STAY!¡± she calls. Fresh blinks, looking at the others. Jubilee lifts their book up, pretending like they didn¡¯t hear or see anything. ¡°Coming!¡± calls Fresh, grabbing Shamrock¡¯s wrist. The giant allows himself to be pulled along. The two of them make their way down the stairs, listening to the chaos unfolding below. ¡°Are you okay, Ba -¡± Fresh stops on the staircase, halfway down, one foot in the air as she stares out into the storefront and sees the anqa running around between the shelves. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± says Basil, pulling on the reins to try and get it to move back outside. ¡°It¡¯s still young, so it¡¯s very stubborn!¡± she explains, pulling again. ¡°Come on! We¡¯re going outside!¡± She says. The anqa looks at her and then looks away, fully intending to do no such thing. It¡¯s a beautiful bird, still young and only half the size of an adult. Its white and pastel-yellow plumed head only reaches to about Basil¡¯s neck. Fresh gasps. ¡°Basil! It¡¯s so cute!¡± ¡°Get that fucking thing out of the house!¡± yells Jubilee¡¯s voice from upstairs, having heard out the context of this conversation. ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± yells Basil back up. ¡°Shamrock, help me, please!¡± she asks, pulling on the reins to no avail. The anqa is stronger than she is by a good measure. The bird turns its gaze, looking at the man coming down the stairs, but then its eyes move past him and land on Fresh, who is still looking down at it from the staircase. The large, bipedal bird freezes, its muscles stiffening and the feathers on its crown rising up as it lifts them in a threatening display. *KIYAH!* squawks the anqa, spinning around and spreading its wings open wide between the shelves. Basil yelps, jumping to the side as the wing presses her away. ¡°Woah, woah, settle down boy,¡± she tries to console it. ¡°Everything is fine. Easy-¡± Shamrock approaches, his hands held out forward, but the bird doesn¡¯t have eyes for him or Basil. It¡¯s staring at Fresh with a cold, intense glare. It squawks again, releasing a sound that only Fresh can interpret, thanks to her ability to speak with forest creatures. ¡°PERGAN!¡± shouts the anqa in a voice that only Fresh can understand, scratching the floor with its clawed foot, leaving deep scratches in the stone. ¡°PERCHTA!¡± it shrieks. Remembering Basil¡¯s anqa from the north and foreseeing where this is going, Fresh has already begun to take a step back up the staircase. ¡°Look out!¡± shouts Basil. The anqa breaks forward, knocking Basil back against the shelf and rushing towards Shamrock. Fresh yelps, running up the stairs as fast as she can as she watches the creature slip past Shamrock and bound over the counter. She sprints around the corner, running to the rooms in the back. ¡°JUBILEEEEEE~!¡± she bolts past the table. *KIYAAAAH!* screams the anqa, barreling against the wall at the end of the staircase as it is unable to keep its momentum around the tight corner. ¡°WHAT THE FUCK?!¡± ¡°JUBILEEEEE~!¡± shouts Fresh again, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s hand and tearing them off of the chair. She runs into their room, dragging them along and slams the door shut behind them. *KIYAAAH!* screams the giant bird. A second later, there it a loud crashing against the door. ¡°You fucking people!¡± yells Jubilee at her. Fresh keeps her back against the door, crying. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± ¡°Shut up!¡± Fresh closes her eyes, feeling the wood shaking against her back. ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± ¡°WHAT?!¡± snaps Jubilee, their hands on their hips as the door shakes again. The sounds of Shamrock and Basil running up and trying to calm the anqa down can be heard from the other side of the door. ¡°I don¡¯t knooooow~!¡± cries Fresh. There is a loud squawking. It sounds like some kind of scuffle. ¡°Be gentle with him, Shamrock!¡± yells Basil. ¡°He has soft bones!¡± The anqa shrieks. The sound of its sharp voice grows quieter and quieter as it is apparently moved downstairs by the giant, who has managed to get a hold of it. There is a knocking on the door a second later. ¡°You can come out,¡± says Basil. ¡°Everything is fine now!¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee and then carefully opens the door, peeking outside. ¡°Are you alright?¡± asks the priestess, seeing her worried face. Fresh opens the door, looking Basil up and down to see if she¡¯s okay. ¡°I¡¯m okay, what about you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± says Basil. ¡°Sorry, I lost control of him.¡± Jubilee pushes their way past them. ¡°No shit?¡± Fresh steps out of the room. The table is overturned and a leg is broken off, as well as one of the chairs, where it had likely vaulted itself over during its assault. Jubilee¡¯s book seems to have been shredded by a large talon as well. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± sighs Jubilee, picking up the ruined thing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± apologizes Basil. ¡°I don¡¯t know why he did that. He was really well behaved this whole time.¡± ¡°Why the fuck do you think?¡± asks Jubilee, glaring at Fresh. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t think anqas like me. It¡¯s like with the one you had in the north, Basil,¡± she explains. ¡°I think it¡¯s because of my class.¡± ¡°Your class?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Yeah, they don¡¯t seem to like, uh¡­¡± Fresh looks around. ¡°You know.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°This is a problem. We should have talked about this before.¡± Fresh rubs her arm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I thought it would be okay,¡± she explains. ¡°I thought your old anqa didn¡¯t like me because he was from the church.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a bird, goo-brain. How does that make any sense?¡± says Jubilee, throwing their ruined book onto the broken table. It slides right off, falling back down to the floor. They leave it laying there. ¡°What do we do now?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m assuming there are no refunds?¡± asks Jubilee. Basil shakes her head. Jubilee looks around the chaos. ¡°Well¡­ I guess we¡¯ll make a box.¡± ¡°A box?¡± asks Fresh ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll make a box and you¡¯ll just have to stay inside of it till we get to the east.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to be boxed!¡± protests Fresh, puffing out a cheek. Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°Sounds good to me, then you¡¯ll be out of everyone¡¯s hair too.¡± ¡°Jubileee~!¡± Jubilee turns their glare towards Basil. ¡°Why the fuck was it even here? Where are we supposed to keep a fucking anqa?¡± Basil fidgets with her sleeve. ¡°I had to bring him with me. Once I bought him, he wasn¡¯t allowed to stay at the stall anymore.¡± ¡°You shit-head!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°What if we have to stay for another month here?!¡± they ask. ¡°Are we just supposed to keep it in the fucking basement or something?!¡± ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t know what else to do,¡± apologizes Basil. ¡°But we¡¯ll have to figure something out. Come on, let¡¯s find Shamrock,¡± says the priestess. Jubilee sighs and walks after them. ¡°You stay here, goo-brain,¡± they tell Fresh. ¡°Fix this place up.¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± sighs Fresh, rubbing her arm and starting to pick up the debris. Basil and Jubilee head down the stairs. Fresh¡¯s fingers run over the torn cover of Jubilee¡¯s book. She¡¯s not sure how, but she¡¯s going to try to fix this for them too. She flips it over, looking at the familiar cover. Her fingers run over the tattered leather. Somehow, she hadn¡¯t noticed before, but this is a copy of the book that she had found upstairs in the northern house, on the large bench by the window. ¡®Of demons and the night-sky'' Razmatazz *Shrugs* I wouldn''t worry about it. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 199: Tidbits Several days have come to pass, each consecutive one seemingly shorter than the last and the nights feel much the same. Excitedly, the children run around the store every day, much to Jubilee¡¯s annoyance and they constantly line themselves up and ask when the four of them are leaving. Jubilee threatens them to not push their luck, or they¡¯ll cave the stone house in, before they go. This threat usually works to get them to calm down, at least until the next day arrives and they show up again. Fresh often finds herself staring at them, finding that they remind her exactly of the fairies. They¡¯re essentially the same, just bigger. Overly excited, happy, adventurous. But beaten down by the world. She wonders what they have seen to have led them to band together into their group. She wonders how many of them didn¡¯t make it this far? The leader seems to be the rowdy, loud and extroverted boy, who Shamrock had thrown into the river on their first day here. The rest of them all seem more or less retreated into the safety of their numbers, only ever showing an excited face or a laugh when they thought they were alone and unwatched. Fresh realizes how hard being a child in this merciless world must be, let alone being one all by yourself. She¡¯s glad that they had found each other, but she feels a tinge of worry for all of those who find no-one. She recalls Basil¡¯s statement, about the children who already had the luxury of being taken into the orphanage. ¡®Most of them don¡¯t make it through the winter.¡¯ What a horrible world. It¡¯s no wonder that it¡¯s sinking. As for the anqa, Shamrock had indeed foisted it down into the basement, which it didn¡¯t appreciate. But it seems to have calmed down significantly. It makes going to the washroom very difficult though, at least for Fresh. All of the others, it doesn¡¯t mind. Despite that, she does her best to try to get it to like her. Fresh tried talking to it from a distance, but it raged at her again. Then she did some research on anqas, trying to learn what they liked and made some corresponding treats, in the shape of little cookies. But it just destroyed the platter and stomped every single cookie into dust. Shamrock had to drag her away, before her heart-broken crying made the bird even angrier. Having recuperated a day later from that cruel desecration of her soul, she then spent a while trying to figure out why it wouldn¡¯t like her to begin with. Jubilee had said that animals can sense evil. That obviously didn¡¯t make her feel better. But clearly, the anqas as a species have some innate knowledge of her witchiness, or at least some instinct that makes them deeply suspicious, if not aggressive towards it. Basil can¡¯t really explain this. ¡°Anqas are originally from the forests on the eastern border, but¡­¡± the priestess shakes her head, not having any answers. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s some witch-history there?¡± she guesses. ¡°But I don¡¯t know how they would pass this on to each other, especially ones bred in captivity.¡± She looks to the side. ¡°Shamrock?¡± The man shrugs, having no idea either. Fresh frowns. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± ¡°The box idea is still on the table,¡± throws in Jubilee from the side. ¡°No!¡± protests Fresh, not wanting to be boxed. ¡°Only if you sit inside the box with me.¡± ¡°Fat chance,¡± says Jubilee, lifting up the book that Fresh had spent a night lovingly patching back together, as best as she could. The tattered pages, she obviously was unable to fill in, not knowing what the original content was. So she made due by filling the patches in the words with cute notes and terrible drawings of her and everyone else. ¡°Page sixty-three,¡± says Fresh, crossing her arms. Jubilee stares up at her, before flipping through the pages in their book to the stated page. Fresh had drawn a large, detailed depiction of herself, sticking out her tongue on that one. Another day passes and Fresh explains to the blue-haired elf and member of the ¡®orphan-party¡¯, as Jubilee had dubbed them, how to recharge the marbles that keep the cold-cabinet running, which reminds her of something else that is very important. ¡°Do you want to fight in the dungeon?¡± asks Fresh, noticing that the girl has a lot of bruises and cuts on her skinny arms. The elf-child looks at her, shaking her head and holding on to the dinky stick that she uses as a staff. Fresh has noticed that she¡¯s the quiet-one of the group, always teetering on the edge and never saying a single word. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, understanding. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll teach you how to make some cool stuff! You can make money with that,¡± she explains. Maybe the store idea could live on in some form, after all? Why not teach them to use their original survival strategy? The ones who could go into the dungeon could gather resources, the ones who couldn¡¯t could earn their keep by crafting and making useful things. ¡°- and then you just strain it through these, see?¡± says Fresh, finishing showing the small blue-haired elf how to make the coughee. ¡°It¡¯s super hot though, so be careful!¡± she warns. Some of the others are watching from the side, none of them ever let any of the others go anywhere alone. She looks at them, they don¡¯t seem convinced. ¡°Jubilee?¡± calls Fresh to her friend, who has locked themselves in their room. ¡°What do you want?¡± barks their sharp voice from behind the closed door. ¡°How much money do we make with just the coughee every day?¡± ¡°About two-hundred for the dry powder, double that for the ready-made ones,¡± replies Jubilee from behind their door, not missing a beat. The healer of their group chimes up from the side-lines. ¡°A day?!¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°The dungeon is really great, but remember that there are smarter ways to make money,¡± she explains. ¡°You¡¯ll have to organize the first materials, but once you get the ball rolling, you guys can live off of making that alone.¡± ¡°Six-hundred?! We¡¯re gonna be rich!¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, a little taken aback. Is six-hundred Obols a day ¡®rich¡¯? Sure, it¡¯s a lot of money. But maybe she¡¯s lost context since her first hard days in this world. ¡°Jubileeee~?¡± ¡°What is it?¡± asks Jubilee in an annoyed tone, tearing open their door. The blue-haired elf jumps a step to the side, hiding behind Fresh. ¡°Are we rich?¡± ¡°We¡¯re giving away an entire house for free to these runts, so sure, let¡¯s pretend that we are.¡± ¡°Thanks, Jubilee!¡± beams Fresh to her friend who rolls their eyes and shuts their door again. Fresh claps her hands together once. ¡°Okay everyone, pay attention. I¡¯m going to show you one more time how to make it!¡± she says, setting the old pot to the side. Now convinced, the entire group huddles closer around her and watches her every move. ¡°Oh, but if the magistrate comes around, you have to give him a discount. It¡¯s the law,¡± she explains, lifting a finger before setting to work. The next day comes and she tries her luck with the anqa again. Shamrock is out teaching the orphan-party the fundamentals of group combat. Fresh doesn¡¯t really know what that means, but they all seemed super-excited as they ran after him and out of the house. Fresh thought it was really cute. Basil has been downstairs meanwhile, taking care of the anqa and the two of them seem to get along great. Basil has a real affinity for creatures like the large bird, much like with children, they all seem to take a quick liking to her for whatever reasons. Not that Fresh blames them. Basil is the best. But so is Jubilee and so is Shamrock. At least in her eyes. Basil had also taken some time to explain the basics of producing medicine and tending to wounds to the healer-girl of the orphan-party. Though, the young girl doesn¡¯t have a class yet. She¡¯s just doing her best to ¡®heal¡¯, by running around with a bag full of cloth bandages and water and a single can of herbal cream that may or may not be stolen from their shelves. Fresh makes a note to make her some simple tools like tweezers and scissors too tonight. ¡°Can I come down?¡± asks Fresh, peeking warily into the basement. ¡°Sure,¡± replies Basil¡¯s voice. ¡°But don¡¯t take the slide, you¡¯ll spook him.¡± Fresh, a little upset about that, but still understanding makes her way halfway down the staircase, getting ready to run on a moment¡¯s notice. The anqa, laying on its stomach, tenses up as it sees her, its head lifting. ¡°Ah-ah!¡± scolds Basil, wagging a finger. The anqa narrows its eyes, glaring at Fresh, but then it lowers its head back onto the priestess¡¯ lap and Basil lavishes it with praise, stroking its feathers. It doesn¡¯t close its eyes though, always looking up her way. Basil looks up to Fresh. ¡°Maybe don¡¯t get too close though, Thyme needs some time.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh scratches her head. ¡°Time needs some time? What does that mean?¡± ¡°No, Thyme,¡± explains Basil. ¡°That¡¯s his name.¡± ¡°Time is a weird name for a bird, Basil,¡± notes Fresh, perplexed. The priestess laughs. ¡°Nooo! Thyme, like the plant!¡± ¡°Oooh!¡± says Fresh, her fist striking her open palm. ¡°That¡¯s a cute name. It doesn¡¯t sound very birdy though.¡± ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± says Basil. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s tradition to give the adopted names stemming from the natural world,¡± explains Basil, rubbing a spot on the back of the anqa¡¯s head. ¡°The wayward are, in a sense, cast out and they often feel like they don¡¯t belong,¡± she explains, looking back up to Fresh. ¡°By giving them a name from nature, we try to remind them that they¡¯re a part of this world. That¡¯s the idea, at least.¡± Fresh nods, understanding. It¡¯s a nice idea. She stays there for a while, making small-talk with Basil, before heading upstairs to make a few pieces of various useful, simple equipment to leave behind. Razmatazz I showed you my chapters. Please respond. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 200 (!!): Fortunate moon Fresh stands out on the balcony and stares out over the city. It¡¯s time. All four of them know it and so, all four of them stand there in silence, staring out over the world which stretches on before themselves, nigh-boundlessly. The houses which dot the mountain are all open and their doors ajar, the light escaping their windows paints the rock with a yellow-hue. It is as if the entire mountain were glowing with more than just the radiating moonlight that washes over the world, nearly drowning it with its overpowering presence. Many voices ring out over the mountain, many confused cries and calls as people run around in a dazed half-panic. But Fresh and her friends just stand there, looking out at the swarm of worried people running around beneath them. All of them have seen what they have seen and now, every pair of eyes on the mountain stares up to look at the same thing. Every soul, every individual, no matter what their experiences or predilections have led them to be, now gazes up towards the too-bright night-sky, at the looming face that stares down over them all. The witch¡¯s moon has come to shine once again. The clouds in the sky cover the full-moon in such an impossibly unnatural way, giving it the appearance of a crooked, long-nosed face, jutting out of a crescent moon. The only difference is that this time, the moonglow light is soft and yellow, rather than the disgusting, rust-toned orange-red that it was before. ¡°You think we could have gotten something more subtle?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°How about a letter? Or maybe just a vision telling you to go?¡± they state, shaking their head. ¡°Fucking primordial entities, always making such a show of shit.¡± ¡°It¡¯s certainly an unsettling sign. The church will be on high-alert,¡± says Basil. ¡°Fuck em,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I hope every single person there doesn¡¯t sleep for the next week.¡± ¡°They have their faith,¡± says Shamrock, standing behind them. ¡°We have ours.¡± The midnight wind blows over the balcony, through her tousling hair and over her fingers that are clenched onto the railing, as Fresh feels a tinge of sadness come over her. It truly is time to go. This home of theirs, the west, the people here, the fairies, the magistrate, the ice-dungeon, the rowdy adventurer¡¯s guild and all of the questions and hopes and wants she had left for this place are now invalidated and struck through. They simply weren¡¯t meant to be. She takes in a deep breath, letting go of the railing. Everything is prepared. The beds are made and ready, the boy has already been given a key and the papers signed over to his name. They had left food and some materials and Fresh had gone out of her way, together with Basil, to make each of the members of the orphan-party some useful equipment for them to get started with. Plus a tiny food-fund she had given the magistrate, for them to survive the first weeks with. As for the fairies, most of them have already left the mountain or were going to in short order. She turns around, sparing one last glance out over the city that she had come to care for, despite the few sad moments that had happened here. ¡°Let¡¯s go home, guys,¡± she says to her friends, grabbing her bag and heading downstairs, hearing three sets of boots behind her. Her hands run along the railing of the staircase as she heads down it one last time. Shamrock moves past them, further downstairs, getting the anqa together with Basil, as Jubilee and Fresh take a few bottles of coughee with them from the heated cabinet and make their way outside to the cart. Fresh¡¯s hand lets go of the door as she steps out of it for the last time, her physical presence leaving the house. It was a good home for them, she hopes it will be just as kind to those who come after they have left. ¡°You¡¯re taking this surprisingly well,¡± notes Jubilee, unlatching the small covered cart from the post that it was chained to, outside of the door. ¡°I figured you¡¯d start crying or something.¡± Fresh crosses her arms, looking around the tunnel and down at the river that runs outside of the door. ¡°Maybe later,¡± she says. ¡°Can we cry together, Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯m not going to cry about some stupid house,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°I am,¡± says Fresh, rubbing her face before it starts becoming wet. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Sure, whatever. Do what you need to do.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the best, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. Shamrock and Basil return with an annoyed looking anqa. Fresh hides behind the cart, looking at the creature, warily. It shoots her a gaze that is much the same as her own, but then, feeling Basil¡¯s hand stroking its head, it walks towards the front of the cart, as it had been trained to do. ¡°Good boy!¡± praises Basil, securing the bird to the front of the cart. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the cart,¡± says the priestess, climbing up to the small seat at the front of it. Basil is, in all honesty, the only one of them who even knows how to drive a cart or control an anqa, so it¡¯s obvious that she¡¯d be the one to do it. But Fresh is still glad that she said it herself too. Jubilee climbs onto the cart, shuffling past some boxes and letting out an annoyed grunt as Shamrock steps on to, squishing them against the inner wooden lip, behind where Basil is sitting. ¡°Watch out, fat-ass!¡± ¡°No, you,¡± replies Shamrock, sitting down. Jubilee glares at him, shaking their head. There is just enough room for the two of them to sit next to each other. Shamrock does have to hunch over forward and lower his head though, so that he doesn¡¯t rip through the canvas that covers the top of the cart. Fresh closes the door to the house behind them, letting her hand rest on the wood for a while. Everything is in place. She¡¯s done everything that she possibly could have done. The fairies, the kids, the crystal that she has re-hidden beneath the loose brick in the bath. Everything is in place, now she can only hope that somehow, all of these things manage to survive the world long enough to reach their full potential. ¡°Well?¡± asks Jubilee, clapping their hands. ¡°Chop, chop! Time is money, goo-brain.¡± Fresh pulls on the door, jiggling it once to make sure that it¡¯s really shut and she climbs up onto the cart, deciding that maybe now is the time to start crying after all. Thankfully, since she¡¯s sitting across from them, Jubilee isn¡¯t far away and she can lean over forward and hide her face in their chest. There is a loud whipping of leather against leather, as Basil swings the reins against themselves. The cart starts moving, the anqa pulls it at a steady pace, entirely indifferent to any of the weight loaded onto it. They are brutally strong creatures when it comes to pulling things behind themselves, having been bred over generations for specifically this task. Though, there are other kinds too, that Basil had told her about, that the military uses. They had a special breeding bloodline for anqas that were particularly strong as mounts for armored riders. The small cart, just big enough for the four of them to sit together in, squished in with some boxes, rattles on slowly down the mountain path and out of the tunnel, as Basil winds them through the city and along the river. Fresh wants to looks around to spare one last glimpse at all of the things that have become such an intricate part of her daily life, at all of the still-closed vendors and stalls and the ornate gate of the tunnel and the breath-taking view from the side of the mountain, at the people wandering around them, all staring curiously at the moon and making small-talk. But she doesn¡¯t manage to lift her face, not because of Jubilee¡¯s hand which is rubbing the top of her head, but because she¡¯s busy getting it all out now, before it can become a problem later. After a few minutes, they reach the central entrance plaza, passing by the city-hall. She imagines the magistrate is furiously at work, gazing through his telescope. The door to the adventurer¡¯s guild is open and the noises of the party inside can be heard, even out here. Apparently most of them are indifferent to the odd moon and then, not a couple minutes after that, they exit out through the gate and head through the forest. ¡°Say goodbye, everyone,¡± says Basil to them, turning around to look over her shoulder. Shamrock and Jubilee turn their heads to look at the gate as they leave, but neither of them say anything. Fresh just cries louder. Lights dart around them in an excited fashion. The buzzing of wings coming to her ears. ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± calls an excited voice. ¡°Fuck off,¡± says Jubilee to Tarja the fairy. ¡°Where are you going?¡± asks the fairy excitedly, flying into the cart together with a few others. ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± says Jubilee, softly jabbing a finger into her chest. The fairy giggles, apparently not realizing that this was supposed to be an offensive gesture. ¡°We¡¯re sick of the mountain. It sucks here,¡± they lie. ¡°Us too!¡± says Tarja. ¡°The mother¡¯s moon is a sign! We¡¯re heading east, I really want to go somewhere warm!¡± she explains. The fairy lifts her ring-necklace into the air. ¡°Thank you for the necklaces!¡± she says. Fresh opens her eyes, staring at the fairy. This is the first ¡®thank you¡¯ that they¡¯ve gotten for their efforts. ¡°The fucking what?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Where are you going?¡± asks another fairy. Shamrock and Jubilee exchange a look, together with Basil who also spares a glance back at the situation. Fresh doesn¡¯t think that her friends would hurt the fairies, but she also doesn¡¯t like that nervousness in their eyes. That fear. It can lead to irrational, uncharacteristic behavior. ¡°East,¡± says Fresh. Jubilee pinches her. She sits upright, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s pinchy hand and just holding it. ¡°We¡¯re heading east,¡± she repeats, rubbing her eyes dry. ¡°Can we go with you?!¡± asks Tarja, flying not to Fresh or to Basil or to Shamrock, but to Jubilee. She clenches her hands together and the others fly up behind her, doing the same. ¡°Pleeease~?¡± she begs, her eyes wide and her posture mimicking a pose that Fresh realizes is one that she herself has often taken. The fairies are truly cunning, little creatures, they had studied Jubilee and learned their weakness. ¡°We¡¯ll be good!¡± Jubilee sighs, leaning back against the cart and lifting their free hand. ¡°All in favor?¡± Shamrock lifts his hand. Basil, looking at everyone does the same and then Fresh does too. ¡°You can ride,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But you¡¯re responsible for getting your own food. If you fall behind, you get left behind,¡± they explain. ¡°Thank you, your majesty!¡± says Tarja, she turns around, whistling. Another dozen fairies come out of the forest, all of them carrying a connected set of three fairy houses with them, suspended in a self-made net. Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches. ¡°You little shits¡­¡± The fairies unload the three houses, nesting them into the back corner of the cart, before most of them vanish inside of it together. Fresh can¡¯t help but laugh, feeling a little better as she looks at her friends who all stare her way. Perhaps they were assuming that she had something to do with this. ¡°Oh, I almost forgot!¡± says Tarja, flying back to Jubilee with a flower. ¡°Here you are!¡± Jubilee sighs, taking it, before shooing the fairy away. Their eyes glare back up to Fresh. ¡°What did you do, goo-brain?¡± ¡°Nothing!¡± she denies, waving her hands. But she can¡¯t help but smile at this, in her eyes fortunate, turn of events nonetheless. As the cart makes its way out of the forest and over the bridge to head down the mountain-path, she can¡¯t help but notice how light the world seems to feel tonight, even under the light of the odd moon. Razmatazz -) Thank you so much for reading 200 chapters of DIS!?? ;_; -) I do this for free. Do you want to support me in a real, tangible way though? Then please check out my PATREON!??<3 TRIVIA - Departure Departure, the act of leaving a place, is sort of an odd one in terms of mythology. There are certainly dozens and dozens of well known myths about a god/pantheon leaving a place, most often because of their untimely deaths. But there is little mythology about the act of departure itself. Some of the few mythological departures that we know of stem from Anatolia, modern-day Turkey. I am not including the ¡®deaths¡¯ of gods under the category of departure. Though, some common god-death examples could be found in the Titan mythology from the Greeks or in Ragnar?k in Norse mythology. No, we¡¯re just talking about packing your bags and leaving ¡®departure¡¯. There are some other examples of this to be found in Abrahamic mythology, for example in the concept of ¡®ascension¡¯ (Entering Heaven alive) but I¡¯m steering clear of that for today¡¯s lecture. Instead, I want to head towards Anatolia, as we said before. You might remember the region from a previous trivia, Anatolia, which is now modern day Turkey, took on many different characteristics of mythology, laying in a very prominent region of human foot-travel, there are huge swathes of mythology from all around it that have condensed here, making it a prime spot, historically speaking, for ¡®human lore¡¯. In roughly 1700-1800 BC, lived two groups of people known as the Hattians and the Hittites. These two folk shared a common mythology in many ways, one of which is the story of Hannahanna and Telipinu. In Hittite mythology, interestingly enough, the simple vanishing of a god is a common theme. Telipinu was a god of the Hittite-people, he is held to be an agriculture god and son of the solar-goddess Arinniti. Every nine years, come autumn, a festival would be held in which exactly one-thousand sheep were sacrificed. One day, according to the lore, Telipinu simply leaves and to summarize, things go wrong. Quote - Mist seized the windows. Smoke seized the house. On the hearth the logs were stifled. On the altars the gods were stifled. In the fold the sheep were stifled. In the corral the cows were stifled. The sheep refused her lamb. The cow refused her calf. Telipinu went off and took away grain, the fertility of the herds, growth, plenty, and satiety into the wilderness, to the meadow and the moor... Humans and gods perish from hunger. Beckman, Gary. "The Tongue is a Bridge: Communication between Humans and Gods in Hittite Anatolia", in Arch¨ªv Orient¨¢ln¨ª, Vol. 67, 1999. End quote. In order to stop this from continuing, ?anna?anna, the maternal mother-goddess, sends a bee to find him. It does so, but that¡¯s a whole story for another time. Interestingly enough, ?anna?anna herself departs as well in a separate myth with eerily similar consequences, that is until her unrelenting anger is banished to a spooky underworld place that is quite literally called the ¡®Dark Earth¡¯ I wouldn¡¯t worry about it though. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 201: Fireside The wooden boxes in the cart rattle as they move along the road, which they have decided to take after all. Jubilee seemed untrusting of this plan, but the convenience of such easy travel seems to outweigh any potential risks in their mind. Fresh keeps herself busy by playing games with the fairies, most of which end up annoying Jubilee. ¡°I spy with my little eye¡­¡± says Fresh. ¡°- something green.¡± One of the fairies pops up from behind Jubilee¡¯s head. ¡°Is it a tree?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Fresh, shaking her head. Another fairy, sitting on top of Shamrock¡¯s head, takes his turn. ¡°Is it grass?¡± ¡°No,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Is it my robe?¡± asks Basil from the front. Fresh gasps, not sure how she had figured out the great mystery. This goes on for the better part of the day, Jubilee remains surprisingly patient however, as does Shamrock, who is pestered by the fairies as often as he was by the people of the western city. Though, in a less crude manner. The fairies mostly just want to know how he got so big and if his armor isn¡¯t heavy. When the night comes and darkness begins to fall, they park off by the side of the road and make a small camp. Fresh takes the opportunity to mount the fairy-houses inside of the cart, so that the fairies are up a little off of the ground, as they seem to prefer to be. ¡°Okay, you,¡± says Jubilee, pointing to the fairies looking out of the first of three fairy houses. ¡°You¡¯re on first watch together with Shamrock.¡± They point to the next house. ¡°Then you guys and then you guys with you and then me,¡± explains Jubilee, pointing to the third house and then to Basil and themselves. ¡°Every shift is one group of fairies and one of us.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot of people, Jubilee,¡± wonders Fresh, noticing that she has been left out of this calculation once again. ¡°Isn¡¯t one person being awake enough?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Unless you want to get eaten in your sleep by a slime.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want that,¡± mutters Fresh, scratching her cheek. ¡°But I don¡¯t think slimes would want to eat me.¡± ¡°They would,¡± says Shamrock. Basil nods. ¡°Slimes aren¡¯t discriminatory. They¡¯re little gluttons.¡± ¡°What¡¯s a slime?¡± asks Tarja. Jubilee sighs, going into the details of what everyone¡¯s tasks for the night are, taking some time to instruct the fairies on what to look out for out here in the wild. Shamrock then shows them how to make a fire. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just use magic?¡± asks one of the fairies, holding its hands out as he sits there, before a pile of wood. A stream of fire shoots from its fingers, igniting the entire pile of wood in an instant. Shamrock stares at the flames for a moment, pulling back his gauntlets that were still very close. Basil, sitting next to him yelps in surprise as the flames shoot out, flinching back an inch. ¡°Watch what you¡¯re doing!¡± scolds Tarja, flicking the fire-fairy in the head. His hair bounces. He yelps, rubbing the sore spot. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± he apologizes. Fresh laughs, wondering if the fairies really aren¡¯t taking after them a little too closely. ¡°You have magic, right?¡± asks the fairy, rubbing the sore spot on his head. Shamrock stares at them for a moment, the light of the fire reflecting off of his dark-cobalt armor, giving the rough metal an odd hue that Fresh can¡¯t quite describe as she lays across from the fire in her bedroll, trying to sleep. Like sunlight against black fabric, there is a shine atop it, but it does little to alter the dark tone that it washes over. ¡°I do not,¡± answers Shamrock. ¡°Huuh?¡± asks the fairy. ¡°You don¡¯t have any spel- OW!¡± he yelps as Tarja flicks him again. ¡°Stop being rude to our hosts, you dummy!¡± she barks at him, clearly channeling Jubilee¡¯s energy into her character. Fresh supposes that its natural, since she¡¯s the leader of their group, that she spent the most time learning from the perceived leader of theirs. ¡°I do not,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Tarja doesn¡¯t have any yet eithe- OW!¡± ¡°Will you shut up?!¡± snaps Tarja at the fairy, who finally seems to relent. Basil looks at Tarja. ¡°You¡¯ll grow into it.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± she says. ¡°I heard it can take a couple of months for some of us,¡± she nods. ¡°But what about you?¡± asks the fire-fairy, picking up the topic again and quickly flying away before Tarja can get him a third time. He lands on the top of the cart, still rubbing his sore forehead. ¡°I am done growing,¡± replies Shamrock, staring into the fire. The energetic fairy zips past him, flying down from the cart a second after landing, as it is apparently unable to sit still. ¡°Is it because you¡¯re evil?¡± it asks. ¡°You look like you¡¯re evil!¡± ¡°Pentti! Enough!¡± shouts one of the other fairies, flying up with Tarja after the fire-fairy and snatching him out of the air. The three of them tumble downward and land in Shamrock¡¯s cupped hands that quickly find themselves held not far beneath them. ¡°Ow! You¡¯re hurting me!¡± complains Pentti, the fire-fairy. Tarja hisses at him, grabbing the cuff of his collar. ¡°Behave! Or we¡¯re kicking you out and you can travel by yourself!¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t!¡± he gasps. Tarja narrows her eyes. She would and Pentti sees it, lowering his gaze. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± he relents again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± apologizes Tarja to Shamrock and Basil, pushing the fairy¡¯s head down along with hers. ¡°Pentti has had the luxury of living a spoiled life. He hasn¡¯t learned any manners yet,¡± she hisses. Shamrock nods, holding his hands up and the three of them fly away, separating again. ¡°Some grow slow, some grow fast,¡± he says, seemingly understandingly, his breastplate lurching. He lowers his arms again. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you didn¡¯t have any abilities?¡± asks Basil quietly, leaning in from the side. Shamrock shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t need them.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Basil starts, clearly following a train of thought somewhere. But she seems to decide that she doesn¡¯t need to do so and simply waves her hand, dropping the topic by herself. The priestess leans sideways, laying the side of her face against the man¡¯s armor. ¡°If you ever need anything, let me know, okay?¡± she says, yawning and closing her eyes. This yawn infects Fresh, as does the closing of the eyes and she quickly finds herself vanishing into sleep, happy that her friends are friends with each other just as much as they are with her. She does wish they would let her be a part of the night-watch though. The night passes and then the next day comes together with a peacefully rising sun. ¡°We only have three shifts,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re number four, so enjoy it and stop complaining.¡± Fresh crosses her arms, sitting in her seat in the rattling carriage. ¡°You just don¡¯t want me to be a lookout because you think I¡¯ll do something wrong,¡± she suggests, offended. Jubilee lifts a finger, pointing at her. ¡°Yes. That is correct.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± she protests, looking away. ¡°You don¡¯t have to admit it¡­¡± ¡°Friends don¡¯t lie,¡± says Jubilee, but by the time Fresh looks back towards them, surprised at them making such an open statement, their gaze is averted and they look out ahead of the cart. Razmatazz Get ready for 10 exciting chapters of wholesome roadtrip SoL! and nothing else. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 202: On the road ¡°Look, see?¡± asks Basil as she holds out the crushed, wet leaves in her hands. A deeply floral, sharp smell fills the inside of the cart, which is once more parked by the side of the road. It is the morning of the next day and they have stopped for a few minutes, because Basil saw some useful herbs on the side of the road. ¡°You crush them while they¡¯re still wet and all of the oils really start to come out,¡± she explains, setting the damp, ripped up pieces of the flower down onto an unfolded cloth. The fairies fly around her, watching excitedly. ¡°Then what?¡± asks Tarja, sniffing the air. ¡°It smells really nice!¡± Basil nods, grabbing the edges of the cloth and folds it up into a small bundle. ¡°Then we put them inside of some cloth, like this, and hang it up,¡± she explains, rising up and hanging the herb-bundle onto the rafter above their heads. ¡°In about three days, it will stop being bitter and it¡¯ll be dry enough to use.¡± ¡°For what?¡± asks one of the other fairies. ¡°This kind of flower is called ¡®Mentha¡¯,¡± explains Basil, wiping her hands off on her robe. ¡°Once it¡¯s dried, it¡¯s great for teas for when you get sick, stressed or just for a stuffy nose.¡± She taps the fabric. ¡°Plus we can use the oil-soaked fabric as a disinfecting bandage. But it stings a lot,¡± she warns. The fairies nod. Fresh smells the air, noticing that this plant smells exactly like she remembers mint smelling. Checking that everyone is there and accounted for, Basil sits back down onto the carriage seat and gets the cart moving again. The anqa seems to be enjoying itself and its work, though Fresh does often find herself getting a wary eye from time to time from the creature. She does her best to sit still and to not provoke the large bird any. The last thing they needed was for it to go berserk while attached to the cart. These days of traveling, despite her deep melancholy at having to leave the west, are all still very fun for her. She spends a lot of time pestering Jubilee, or sitting across from Shamrock and teaching him how to play ¡®pat-a-cake¡¯. ¡°Ready?¡± she asks. Shamrock nods and holds his hands up with his palms together. Fresh nods back and the two of them start, going over the now, after an hour, well rehearsed ritual. ¡°Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker¡¯s man! Bake me a cake as fast as- you- can~!¡± starts Fresh and the two of them start clapping their hands against each other in rhythm as they go through the verses once more. ¡°I¡¯m going to put myself in an oven if I have to hear that fucking song one more time,¡± snaps Jubilee from the side, glaring at them. The fairies, having been watching as well, seem to have formed small groups and have started playing amongst themselves too. Though they have somehow adapted the game to their larger number, clapping their hands together in a large circle, as they sit on top of one of the crates. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t you like cakes?¡± ¡°I have nothing against cake,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°But you¡¯re driving me crazy with that rhyming.¡± Fresh gasps, realizing. ¡°Jubilee! Do you want to play too?¡± she asks, only now noticing that she hadn¡¯t asked Jubilee to join in. Jubilee sighs and lifts their book back up, pretending they didn¡¯t hear her. Fresh frowns but then finds herself wondering about something new. ¡°Hey, do you think we should open a bakery?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We could make a lot of nice stuff!¡± ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee without any hesitation, not looking away from their book. ¡°What¡¯s a bakery?¡± asks a fairy from the circle. Fresh blinks, not having expected this question. Before she can answer, Tarja seems to take the initiative and starts explaining different kinds of stores and professions to the fairies. A few of them are interested in working together with Tarja in her venture, but after hearing her explanations of the different kinds of businesses that exist, some of them seem to get other ideas, wanting to open just about every kind of venture that they had explained, many of them opting for two or three different things at the same time. ¡°You can only do one thing, dummy!¡± says Tarja to one of the fairies who had just finished listing his great, new dream of being a blacksmithing-baker and carpenter, who also does alchemy on the side. ¡°Huuuh?¡± he asks, disappointed. She shakes her head. ¡°Besides, we¡¯re small. So we need to work a lot harder to make human-sized things.¡± ¡°So we¡¯ll just make fairy-sized things?¡± suggests the fairy. ¡°We¡¯re the only fairies, dumb-dumb,¡± says Tarja, placing her hands on her hips. He thinks for a second. ¡°So will you guys buy my stuff?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll buy your stuff!¡± exclaims his neighbor excitedly and the two of them shake hands. Tarja sighs. ¡°You don¡¯t have any money to buy his stuff with!¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± says the fairy, thinking for a second, before looking at her other neighbor. ¡°Hey, will you buy my stuff, so I can buy his stuff?¡± ¡°Sure thing!¡± ¡°None of you have any money!¡± yells Tarja, grasping her hair in exasperation. Lost at the cluelessness of some of the more naive members of her group, she turns around and looks up towards Jubilee for guidance. Jubilee, having watched this scene unfold, shrugs and continues reading their book, as if they had seen nothing at all. Fresh purses her lips and softly nudges Jubilee with her foot, gently nodding her head sideways to the fairies. Jubilee glares at her, but then they sigh, apparently relenting as they set down their book. ¡°Fine. Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± they mutter, rolling their eyes. ¡°Okay, listen up you little runts,¡± says Jubilee, leaning over the fairies. ¡°We¡¯re having a crash-course in economics.¡± ¡°That sounds super boring,¡± says the red-haired fairy from last night. He receives a flick to the head for his trouble. ¡°Lesson one, don¡¯t hit your employees,¡± explains Jubilee, pointing at Tarja and Fresh nods in approval with her eyes closed and a relieved smile on her face. Jubilee has really come a long way as a person, since they met. ¡°- Unless you¡¯re running a brothel.¡± ¡°JUBILEE!¡± yells Basil, looking over her shoulder, horrified. The fairies blink, looking around at each other. ¡°What¡¯s a brothel?¡± Basil stops the cart and the curriculum is quickly altered. Jubilee isn¡¯t allowed to teach anymore today. Though they aren¡¯t too understanding of that. ¡°Don¡¯t corrupt the innocent!¡± scolds Basil. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee defiantly as Basil¡¯s scornful gaze looks back their way. ¡°She turned out fine too, didn¡¯t she?¡± asks Jubilee, nodding to Fresh. Fresh supposes that¡¯s true. But she isn¡¯t happy that Basil doesn¡¯t immediately agree to Jubilee¡¯s question, instead turning her gaze back forward to the road. Fresh, a bit awkwardly perplexed, stares at Shamrock, who seems just as lost as she is and the two of them both shrug and play another round of pat-a-cake. It¡¯s going to be a long trip. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 203: Basilisk ¡°Hey! Hey! What¡¯s this?¡± asks the fairy from the back of the cart. They had been flying around it the entire time. Fresh turns her head and then yelps, flailing with her hands as she jumps back at the sight of the dead snake. A group of fairies has carried it inside the cart. Jubilee, who has their feet kicked up on a box and their hands behind their head, turns their gaze and lazily points at them with a single hand. ¡°That¡¯s a snake. They eat fairies.¡± ¡°We killed it!¡± says the group of fairies excitedly. ¡°Uh¡­ good job?¡± replies Jubilee. One of the fairies pokes the dead snake. ¡°Was it a monster?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Maybe? It depends who you ask. I¡¯m gonna say no, though. A snake is a snake.¡± ¡°But it eats fairies, you said, so it¡¯s a monster?¡± argues one of the fairies. Basil turns her head around. ¡°Maybe the classification of a ¡®monster¡¯ is different for people and fairies,¡± she suggests. ¡°For us, it¡¯s just a critter. But for a fairy, it might as well be a basilisk.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Tarja, her boot on the dead snake¡¯s head. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a basilisk?¡± she asks the priestess. Basil blinks, trying to understand the question for a moment. ¡°No!¡± she says, turning her gaze back to the road. ¡°I¡¯m Basil.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that just short for Basilisk?¡± Fresh can see Jubilee wanting to laugh, but quickly stopping themselves. Appearances are important after all. She stares at them, unblinking, wanting them to know that she saw. Jubilee¡¯s eyes meet hers and they know that she knows. ¡°It¡¯s not. It¡¯s a very nice herb, actually,¡± explains Basil, a little offended. Fresh wonders out loud. ¡°Did it give you guys experience points?¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± says Tarja. ¡°Not a lot, but some.¡± ¡°Huh, really?¡± asks Jubilee, apparently interested now. ¡°That¡¯s weird. Last time I killed a snake, I didn¡¯t get shit.¡± They think for a moment, staring up to the top of the cart. ¡°Usually animals don¡¯t give experience points.¡± Fresh isn¡¯t sure how she feels about this snake killing. She supposes that it¡¯s one of those moral gray-zones of adventuring. Perhaps it is no worse or no better than killing a slime or a kobold. ¡°Maybe for them, they really are considered monsters for the fairies by uh¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°- the universe.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says Shamrock, nodding his head once. ¡°The scales are weighed differently for all,¡± he says, looking at the little snake. Fresh looks at him. ¡°Really? So it¡¯s like that?¡± ¡°It is.¡± ¡°Huh. Neat!¡± Shamrock exhales. ¡°Neat.¡± ¡°This was my first kill!¡± says Tarja. ¡°Congratulations, you¡¯re officially an adventurer now,¡± yawns Jubilee, folding their hands over their stomach and sliding back a little to get ready to take a nap. ¡°Really?!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee, waving them off. ¡°Don¡¯t sign up for the guild though, unless you want to be in debt. It¡¯s a total scam.¡± Fresh laughs to herself. They ride on like that for a few more hours. Jubilee takes a nap, Basil drives, Fresh and Shamrock both just sit there, neither sure of what to do. They¡¯re both bored of pat-a-cake at this point. She doesn¡¯t think that she¡¯s ever had to sit still for this long and honestly, it¡¯s getting to her a little. Her fingers are constantly tapping against her legs, which are constantly bobbing up and down on her twitching feet. The fairies meanwhile, fly around in a group and murder their way through the forest. Fresh doesn¡¯t like this at all. She¡¯s fine with snakes and big spiders, especially since they were getting real experience points from them. But she cries when they bring in an owl which they had scorched with a fireball. Jubilee had classified this as a ¡®boss-fight¡¯ and sleepily approved of the carnage. ¡°Can we eat it?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°You can,¡± replies Jubilee, before returning to their nap. ¡°Just cook it first.¡± ¡°It already is!¡± Jubilee gives them a listless thumbs-up and goes back to napping without another word. Fresh, meanwhile, hides her face in the back of Basil¡¯s robe and mourns the loss of Mr. Owl. ¡°Bakaaaaaw~¡± ¡°It¡¯s an owl,¡± corrects Basil. ¡°It goes ¡®who~¡± says the priestess, lifting a finger. ¡°Whooooo~¡± howls Fresh, clenching the fabric of her robe tighter. An hour after that, they pass a tavern at the side of the road. But they have no reason or desire to stop. It seems pretty busy and there are a lot of carts and various anqas parked outside. Fresh lowers her head, hiding behind Shamrock, so that the birds don¡¯t see her and chase after them. Then, not long after that, the rain starts. It¡¯s only a little at first, but all of the fairies retreat back inside of their houses. Fresh does a head-count, checking that everyone is there. They are. After an hour, it grows more intense. ¡°Basil? Are we okay?¡± asks Fresh, looking at their anqa, Thyme. It ruffles its feathers, shaking its body out. Basil nods. ¡°They don¡¯t like rain,¡± she explains. ¡°But they secrete oil over their feathers. It makes the water run off.¡± Fresh nods, understanding. ¡°As long as the storm doesn¡¯t get worse, we should be good to go,¡± says the priestess, turning back and smiling. Fresh feels relieved. The storm gets worse. Fresh is no longer relieved. They¡¯re too far away from the tavern to turn back now. Basil has taken the cart off to the side of the road and they find themselves nested in a grove, next to a rocky outcrop that shields them from the howling wind, which had threatened to overturn the cart. ¡°Stay inside everyone,¡± guides Fresh, shushing the last fairy into their house. She¡¯s thankful that they had paid a little more for the waterproof tarp to cover the cart, otherwise they¡¯d all be drenched right now. But that doesn¡¯t mean that it isn¡¯t getting cold. With the strong wind and the pouring rain comes a strong drop in temperature and, even in her ¡®mountain robe¡¯, Fresh notices the chill. She has sat herself in the middle of the cart and dug out her blue-blanket and did her best to wrap it around everyone at once. Basil cooperated, sitting down in the space between the benches with her. Jubilee did not, so she had to break their personal boundaries again and essentially kidnap them. Shamrock was impossible to cover and he also declined needing to be. ¡°That¡¯s what I said!¡± barks Jubilee, trying to get out of the arm that is wrapped tightly around them. Fresh holds them against her body with her left hand. Her right hand is wrapped around Basil, who doesn¡¯t fight and all of them are now beneath the blanket. It¡¯s very warm. ¡°It¡¯s different,¡± says Fresh. Jubilee sighs. ¡°How is it different, goo-brain?¡± ¡°You¡¯re like a fairy, Ju~ bi~ lee~¡± she says in a sing-song tone. They glare at her. ¡°You have three seconds to take that back, before I get violent.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°But Jubileeee~¡± she protests. ¡°You¡¯re small, so you lose body-heat faster. That¡¯s what Basil said!¡± Basil quickly looks away as Jubilee¡¯s icy glare turns to her. The fairies have simply retreated into their houses, closing the doors and windows and gathering together in the ¡®fluff rooms¡¯ that Fresh had made inside of them. She¡¯s very satisfied with herself now, for having gone out of her way to insulate the magical-floating-fairy-houses. ¡°I wish we had a fairy-house too,¡± sighs Fresh, grabbing Jubilee and pulling them tightly back against herself, before they can get away in their latest attempt. ¡°Just bigger, like¡­ us-sized, you know?¡± ¡°You mean¡­ a house?¡± asks Jubilee, apparently stopping their fight now. ¡°We had two of those already.¡± Fresh thinks for a second. In a sense, Jubilee has a point there. But those houses were neither classifiable as ¡®floating¡¯ or as ¡®fairy¡¯ish¡¯. ¡®Magical¡¯ as a description is still plausible though, in some senses. ¡°What kind of house do you guys wanna get when we get there?¡± she asks, staring out the back of the cart at Shamrock, who sits outside in the rain together with the anqa. He didn¡¯t want it to be alone. ¡°We could have got a fucking palace in the east if we just sold the house,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t want a palace, I want a house,¡± argues Fresh. ¡°How am I supposed to find you guys in a palace?¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°Is land cheaper there?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Well yeah,¡± says Jubilee. They shrug and Fresh can feel their shoulders rubbing against herself. ¡°The mountain being, you know, a mountain, space was at a premium. It¡¯s expensive.¡± ¡°And the desert?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a desert. Don¡¯t know what to tell you. Land is cheaper,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s the ocean there, right?¡± asks Fresh, her eyes shining hopefully at this prospect. Jubilee nods. ¡°Yeah, but that land is expensive again.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°I want a house by the ocean! We could go swimming and we could fish and we could sit in the sun together and we could make sandcastles and -¡± this list extends on for a while, ending only after she gets to the topic of crabs. But, both of her friends, having seen this blatant attack coming minutes ago, begin pinching her first, until she surrenders. They stay there the rest of the day. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 204: Make a right The next morning is surprisingly mild-weathered, in comparison with the quickly passed storm of the previous night. Fresh is deeply relieved that those unfortunately-timed, heavy clouds left just as quickly as they had come. Now, the cart is rolling again along the wet road, water and a bit of mud splashing around as they ride over the mixture of dirt, gravel and cobble-work. The sun shines into the cart very brightly from above, its heart-lightening rays breaking in through the sparse clouds and reflecting off of the puddles of water down below them. The air is damp. But thanks to the autumn-chill, mixed in with the bright sun, it is oddly comfortable. Especially compared to the sweltering summer heat that they had marched through the forest in, on their way towards the west. Fresh sighs, leaning back, oddly nostalgic about that memory. Even if it was only a few months old. Life is moving very fast these days. Then again, it has been doing so since she arrived here in this world. Half of a year, give or take, has come to pass and she feels like more has happened in it to and for her than in all of the years of her old life combined. Though, looking back on that oddly foggy memory, she doesn¡¯t really remember how many years those were, at the time of her ¡®passing¡¯. The fairies are flying around after the wagon again. Thankfully, they aren¡¯t on a murder spree today and seem to be content with leaving the creatures of the forest alone for now. Though Basil does have to scold some of them, after they agitate the anqa by buzzing around its head, wanting to look at it from close-up. Tarja, being the leader, is busy today and so the others, uncoordinated, simply live the day. ¡°You need to pinch the edges,¡± explains Jubilee, grabbing the piece of fabric by the ends. ¡°Otherwise your seam is going to sit wrong and it¡¯ll look lumpy.¡± Tarja nods, copying what she sees with the fabric in her hands. It¡¯s the same cut as the material Jubilee is using, but just tiny. Jubilee is showing the classless fairy how to tailor and so the two of them are making something super simple to start with. A thin shawl, to help keep the desert sun and sands away from the face. Fresh thinks this is adorable, in fact, she thinks this is doubly-adorable, because Jubilee didn¡¯t even need to be asked by herself or by Tarja to do so. They had simply waved the fairy out of the air and told her that they were going to practice tailoring now. Shamrock meanwhile instructs Pentii, the mannerless fire-fairy on how to skin and prepare the body of a monster. Though, he¡¯s demonstrating this with the body of the snake from the other day. Fresh does her best not to look. It¡¯s gross. But the fairy, as well as some of the more adventurously-trimmed ones, watch in deep fascination. Some of them didn¡¯t want to be crafters, having been inspired by the story of Veli to become adventurers themselves. She wishes that they had just asked Veli to come with them from the start, or that he had waited a few hours at least, before running off. But she also blames herself for that. Fresh wonders where he is and hopes that he¡¯s okay. None of the fairies seemed to hold a grudge about his leaving because of them, likely because all of them are leaving because of them as well. Even Basil has a couple of fairies sitting on her lap, who she explains herbalism too while they ride along, pointing out various plants and trees on the way as they ride past. Fresh sighs, nobody wants to learn anything from her. Feeling a bit dejected, she leans her head back and closes her eyes, falling into a nap. A while later, she is jostled awake by a hand, reaching back to her shoulder. ¡°Guys,¡± is all that Basil says. A series of excited and awed ¡®wow¡¯s and ¡®ooh¡¯s escape the many fairies. Fresh opens her eyes slowly, yawning and stretching her arms and legs out. Her feet press against Jubilee as she stretches. ¡°Everyone stay in the cart,¡± instructs Jubilee. ¡°What¡¯s that?!¡± asks Tarja. Fresh blinks, rubbing her eyes and turning her head to look forward, past Basil at the oddly green cloud in the distance. She blinks. Green? Fresh leans over, putting her head next to the priestess as she stares at the thing coming up in the distance, its massive, spireing body breaking the horizon. A tree. A giant tree, as big as the mountain that they had left, if not even bigger, rises up like a leviathan from the depths and scrapes up into the sky. Its many boughed branches bend out in all directions and are covered in a swarm of green leaves. ¡°That¡¯s the central city,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°They don¡¯t like strangers,¡± they add on. ¡°Can we go there?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°Only if you want to die,¡± warns Jubilee. ¡°They don¡¯t know yet that you guys can leave the mountain and when they find out, there¡¯s going to be trouble.¡± ¡°Huh? Don¡¯t they like fairies?¡± asks Pentii. ¡°Something like that,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°None of us are welcome there. We¡¯re going around it,¡± the say, looking at Basil. ¡°And fast.¡± Basil nods, whipping the reins once. The anqa picks up its pace. ¡°Keep going straight, there¡¯s going to be a bend around to the right in a few minutes.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± says Basil. ¡°Jubilee!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°There¡¯s a giant tree!¡± she says, pointing at the thing. ¡°Sure is,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s a dungeon in the roots of it, but that¡¯s none of our business.¡± ¡°Is it a good dungeon?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s the best dungeon,¡± says Jubilee, pushing her feet away with their legs. ¡°But it¡¯s for nobles only.¡± ¡°That¡¯s so unfair!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°If the dungeons have always been here, then why do they get to keep that one for themselves?¡± ¡°Because, dumb-ass, they built a wall around it and peed on it. That makes it theirs.¡± ¡°Eww, did they really?¡± asks Fresh, shaking out her hands. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°It¡¯s just an expression, goo-brain. Might makes right. They say it''s their dungeon and they¡¯ll kill you if you have a problem with it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Way I see it, that means they have a point. That¡¯s how ownership works.¡± ¡°But who made them the owner? It¡¯s part of the world!¡± argues Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°Take it up with them,¡± shrugs Jubilee. ¡°But you won¡¯t like the results of that conversation.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t they like you guys either?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°They don¡¯t like anyone, period,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh stares out ahead of the cart, sparing a glance at Basil¡¯s tense form as they ride on ahead. The road ahead of them diverges into three paths. One goes left around the city, one goes straight towards it and one goes right around it. Basil tugs on the reins and the cart turns to the right, branching down the road as they make a bend towards the south. ¡°Wait.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Are they going to get mad that the fairies can leave the mountain?¡± she asks, leaning in to whisper into Jubilee¡¯s ear. ¡°Remember what we talked about in the basement?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Oh no¡­¡± Fresh leans back, not having thought about this possibility at all when she had made the rings. She just wanted to do something nice. ¡°Okay, so. You take the corners, like this -¡± starts Jubilee, returning to their lesson like nothing ever happened. Perhaps to ease the clearly fearful minds of the fairies. Basil and Shamrock both do the same. Fresh, meanwhile, sits there and contemplates the consequences of what she has done. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 205: Just a moment A heavy wind pushes through the open cart, the breeze following the flow of the open road as it surges along the way, like water through a channeling basin. Fresh feels her hair blowing to the side, as the calming breeze moves over her face, heading down the road that they themselves had come along. Not sure what it is that she is looking at, she turns her face to look in that direction. Now that the storm has passed, the weather has turned deeply mild and comfortable. The sun is out, but hiding lazily behind the many thick, autumn clouds which dampen its shine. A warm wind heats the world instead, drying out the many damp crevices and holes in the dirt, as it passes over them. ¡°Hey,¡± says Jubilee, getting her attention. Fresh blinks, looking back towards her friend who is sitting there with crossed arms, looking out in the other direction, past Basil, towards the road still ahead of them. She tilts her head, waiting for them to say something now that they have her attention. ¡°What¡¯s up, Jubilee?¡± she asks. Jubilee shifts in their seat, fidgeting in a manner that Fresh finds unusual for them. ¡°Sorry that I made you kill that goblin,¡± they say. ¡°That was fucked.¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Goblin?¡± she asks, thinking back, lowering her gaze. She remembers now. During one of their initial outings in the northern dungeon together, back when the two of them had just first met, Jubilee had made her kill a tortured and mutilated goblin with her own two hands. She still remembers how badly she had cried then and how scared she was of the cruel and horrible Jubilee in that moment. It was really bad. ¡°Oh,¡± she replies, rubbing her arm. In truth, since then, she has killed a lot of goblins. She has killed mush-mushes, kobolds, monsters of all breeds and pedigrees and if the rumors were true, apparently even a real person. Though, that last one wasn¡¯t on purpose. Does that make her feel better? No. Not about that. But many of those things had died far worse deaths than that first goblin. If anything, the thing that scares her the most these days isn¡¯t the fact that she had driven a piece of jagged glass into the creature¡¯s heart several times, in order to silence its wretched screams, it¡¯s the fact that her cherished friend could have done something so horrible to a living creature, even if it was a monster. She knows that Jubilee has a past and perhaps maybe even more issues than she herself has. Having been a product of this horrible world, Jubilee became the only person that they could have ever become, given the circumstances of their environment and prior life. They, like so many other people here, had a heavy soul simply because there was nothing else that it could have ever become in the path that they had been given. Would she let that excuse work for herself? No. She¡¯s willing to accept that her circumstances and choices are purely results of her own personal decisions. But for her friends, Fresh is willing to look the other way and to accept that their environment made them what they are, for better or for worse. Isn¡¯t that what the magistrate had told her to do, as the leader of their group? ¡°It¡¯s okay, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, holding her arms out in a beckoning gesture. ¡°I understand why you did it,¡± she consoles. ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee, seeing that she wants to hug. Fresh narrows her eyes, waving her fingers inwardly. ¡°I¡¯ll forgive you, but only if you give me a hug.¡± ¡°Pass.¡± ¡°Jubileee~!¡± complains Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re trying to have a moment!¡± ¡°Moment¡¯s over. I¡¯m taking a nap,¡± replies Jubilee, kicking their feet up and leaning back, their arms folded over their chest. ¡°What¡¯s a goblin?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°It¡¯s a little monster,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°They¡¯re like kobolds,¡± she says. ¡°But less fluffy.¡± ¡°Oooh,¡± exclaims Tarja, flying over to Basil to sit on top of her hat and pester her for a while. Though, Basil seems very calm and at peace with the swarm of fairies that spends a lot of time flying around her or sitting on her wide-brimmed hat. She seems to have adopted a sort of maternal role in the eyes of the fairies. Fresh is, of course, a little bit jealous. She wishes the fairies would swarm around her and pester her with questions and attention. She sighs. Oh well, at least she has Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock. That¡¯s pretty good too. Deciding that she wants to pay attention to her friends as well, she moves Jubilee¡¯s legs back down from the box and sits down in the freed up space, down on the ground between the benches, resting her head on Jubilee¡¯s lap. Stretching out her leg she touches Shamrock with it and lifts her arm up, stretching it out to touch Basil. ¡°You¡¯re doing the touching thing again,¡± says Jubilee, annoyed. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to spend time with you guys,¡± she says. Jubilee sighs. ¡°We¡¯re literally stuck in a cart together, like we have been for days now. Is that not enough for you?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Fresh, closing her eyes and deciding that she¡¯s going to sit like that for a while. ¡°Why are you so clingy? It¡¯s a little gross,¡± says Jubilee. In truth, Fresh wants to say that she¡¯s clingy because she knows that this is all going to be over one day, for better or for worse, so she wants to absorb everything from the moment now. The soft sensation of the squeaking priestess who she¡¯s squeezing with her hand, the smell of the fabric of the complaining Jubilee, whose lap she rests her head on, the cool, heavy coarseness of Shamrock¡¯s armor as she rubs her leg against it. But they don¡¯t need to know that. ¡°I just like you guys a lot,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Ugh,¡± groans Jubilee in disgust, but she knows that they don¡¯t mean it because of the gloved hand that finds its way to the top of her head. ¡°Ugh,¡± agrees Basil, jokingly. She can tell that it¡¯s a joke because of the way the priestess pushes her body into her hand, allowing her to pinch her in the side more. ¡°Ugh,¡± is all that Shamrock says, never able to resist joining in on the fun. But she knows that he doesn¡¯t mean it either, because his heavily armored leg moves an inch closer towards her. Living in a cart isn¡¯t so bad either, thinks Fresh. Maybe if they ever run out of dungeons, they can convert the cart into a traveling store and become road-side traveling merchants. That could be a lot of fun too. But sourcing materials could be a problem eventually. Plus, she¡¯s gotten spoiled by the luxuries of a warm bath and a hot breakfast every day. Fresh yawns, taking the initiative to bite down lightly on Jubilee¡¯s leg, just for the sake of doing so, before turning her head back sideways and taking a nap as well. The droning sound of the constantly rolling wheels of the cart, spinning over the mixture of gravel and loose sediment, overpowers her fading senses, sounding oddly familiar to the trickling of flowing water. ¡°Hey,¡± says a familiar, tired voice as Fresh finds herself once again in the black-ocean, having fallen asleep. ¡°Ah, please don¡¯t soak my clothes! The fairies will get suspicious,¡± says Fresh first thing, realizing that she is in a ¡®fountain-dream¡¯ right now. She must have fallen asleep right then and there. The fountain yawns and her body spins around a few times, as if it were either looking her over or simply bored and spinning her around like an unimaginative child would with a doll. ¡°I could just get rid of them,¡± suggests the fountain. ¡°Then it won¡¯t be a problem.¡± ¡°No! Please leave them alone!¡± pleads Fresh. ¡°You know that they¡¯re going to attract a lot of bad attention, right?¡± asks the fountain. The water surges all around them. ¡°Then again, we might be far past that point already. Things are happening.¡± ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± asks Fresh, feeling her hair billowing around her head. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry about it. We¡¯re still ahead of the game, but the others are starting to throw their balls too.¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± ¡°It means that our headstart-period is over,¡± exclaims the fountain. ¡°That fuck from your world, who they¡¯re going to crown as the hero, just got smushed by a truck. He¡¯s going to be reborn any day now.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± The water rushes around her, pushing her away. ¡°Just as soon as they finish indoctrinating him,¡± explains the fountain. ¡°What do we do?¡± asks Fresh, fearful for this new life of hers in a variety of different ways. ¡°What do I do?¡± she asks. ¡°They want a fight, we¡¯ll give them a fight,¡± says the fountain. ¡°The hero is going to be expecting a witch,¡± it explains. Fresh feels herself being carried off into the distance by the current. ¡°We¡¯re going to give them a witch. Keep your eyes closed.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Keep your eyes closed,¡± instructs the fountain again. Fresh yelps as she returns to wakefulness, water splashes down her body as something loudly shatters above her head. She keeps her eyes closed. ¡°FUCK!¡± curses Jubilee. ¡°PENTII!¡± yells Tarja, furious. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± says Pentti, the fairy. Fresh waits a second and then slowly opens her eyes, looking up in confusion at the broken water-bottle in Jubilee¡¯s hands, which had shattered above her head. The glass looks as if a spell had cut through it. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean too! I just kind of¡­ did it. I don¡¯t know what happened!¡± There is a small cracking sound. Fresh recognizes the noise as that of someone being smacked over the head for having done something dumb. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry!¡± says Tarja, dragging the fairy over by his ear. ¡°Fuck,¡± swears Jubilee. ¡°Don¡¯t move, goo-brain,¡± they instruct, starting to pick out shattered glass from her wet hair. Fresh sighs, staring back at the long stretch of road that they¡¯re leaving behind. It looks like the moment really is over. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 206: High stress It is late at night, shortly before midnight. ¡°I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO INTO THE FOREST!¡± shouts Jubilee as the cart thunders down the road. Fresh flinches, covering her head instinctively with one hand, even though she isn¡¯t the one being yelled at. Her other hand holds on to the cart as they ride down the way at full speed. There is a crack of leather and the anqa sprints faster. ¡°TARJA!¡± yells Jubilee. Tarja nods at the unspoken command and hits Pentti over the head again. ¡°Stop hitting me!¡± yells Pentti, his eyes growing wet as he rubs the fresh bump. ¡°STOP TRYING TO GET US KILLED!¡± shouts Tarja at him, lifting her hand again. Her arm is stopped by a giant finger, lightly holding itself in the way. ¡°A leader inspires belief,¡± says Shamrock, shaking his head. ¡°Not fear.¡± ¡°You dumb fuck!¡± barks Jubilee at either the fairy or at Shamrock, Fresh can¡¯t tell, their voice rattling as the cart goes over some bumps in the terrain. ¡°We should throw you out right here and let them eat you!¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t!¡± gasps Pentti. Jubilee glares at him. ¡°Jubilee!¡± yells Fresh, offering her free hand for the red-haired fairy to land on so that he can have some refuge from the others. ¡°Stop being mean to Pentti!¡± she says, pulling her open hand and him back towards herself. The red-haired fairy hides behind her cupped fingers, clearly close to crying now. ¡°I¡¯m sure he didn¡¯t mean to do it. Right, Pentti?¡± she asks, looking down at the fairy in her palm, who quietly nods back in return. If anything, Fresh has sympathy for the little creature. Sure, he¡¯s a trouble-maker, but it isn¡¯t entirely his fault. The campfire that he had exploded in Basil and Shamrock¡¯s faces the other night, he simply hadn¡¯t known any better, being essentially still as wide-eyed and naive as she was when she arrived in this world. The water-bottle that broke over her own head this past afternoon was the fountain¡¯s doing, in order to disguise the wetness of her clothes. Though she has no idea how it had controlled him. This newest mistake¡­ well¡­ who knows, but she isn¡¯t mad at him. Everyone is okay - Fresh looks back out behind the cart, staring at the stampede of hauntingly glowing, yellow eyes running after them in the darkness, keeping pace with the cart even at this speed. Wolves. - so far. ¡°You liar! Of course you meant to do it!¡± argues Tarja, placing her hands on her hips. Fresh notices that she¡¯s taking after Jubilee just a little too well. ¡°I¡¯m not a liar!¡± argues Pentti. ¡°Oh!¡± replies Tarja, rolling her eyes. ¡°So I guess you just burnt those sleeping puppies alive by mistake? Dumb-ass!¡± Fresh gasps, looking back at the pack of wolves chasing after them with a clean-burning fury in their eyes. It¡¯s no wonder that they¡¯re out for blood, if he killed some of their young. Wolves in her old life already carried an aura of mysticism around them, what does that mean about the creatures here then? If these are actual semi-intelligent monsters and not just wild animals? This isn¡¯t a topic that was just going to be dropped by them, The wolves aren¡¯t just going to get bored of chasing after the cart. A howl fills the air, followed by a dozen others and then a dozen more, proving just that very thought. The wolves, being forest-monsters, allows their cry to be understood by Fresh. ¡®Small-red. North-east. Road. Kinslayer.¡¯ ¡°How is it different from a snake or an owl?¡± asks Pentti, defensively. ¡°It¡¯s different because you were told to stay in the cart!¡± yells Tarja. ¡°Did you really, Pentti?¡± asks Fresh, having a moral dilemma about this. Ignoring his clear endangerment of them all by him forgoing Jubilee¡¯s warnings, the topic of baby-monsters had never crossed her mind before. Let alone the morality of killing them. The fact that this happened through a slow death of burning with magical-fire only causes the conflicted twisting in her gut to intensify. ¡°Guys!¡± yells Basil from up ahead. ¡°Maybe focus on the problem at hand?!¡± she shouts over her shoulder. The light of the dangling lantern, hanging out ahead of her and the anqa, barely illuminates the distance of a few meters. If there¡¯s a single branch or an obstacle anywhere on the road, they¡¯d crash before they can even see it at this speed. Jubilee snaps their fingers. ¡°Fucking wolves. Alright, you dainty fucks! Everyone of you with magic, get out here!¡± they order. Several of the fairies look out of the windows of their houses. ¡°Who has any long range spells?¡± A few of the fairies raise their hands. Jubilee points down to the back of the cart. ¡°Get down here and earn your keep!¡± ¡°Jubilee? Should I?¡± asks Fresh. Her witch-magic could be devastating against the pack of wolves. One or two spells should send them into disarray. But it would be unavoidable for the fairies to see her use it. They might not have a fear of witches, but they could end up saying too much once they part ways. ¡°No. Fuck off!¡± barks Jubilee at her, apparently very on edge right now. ¡°Shamrock!¡± Jubilee points at Fresh. ¡°Break her arms if she tries anything fucky!¡± He doesn¡¯t reply, turning his head, looking back at the blackened silhouettes chasing after them. Jubilee pushes past him, standing at the back of the cart with the few fairies capable of casting. Without saying anything else, they grab a fistful of dirt and snap their fingers, throwing a cloud of particulate out behind the cart. Fresh doesn¡¯t see the glass anymore, they¡¯re moving too fast. All she sees is a vague glimmer, illuminated by a moonlight glow, as the glass spires take shape in the road behind them. From the five fairies, capable of ranged combat magic, come five separate glows. For just the briefest second, the night erupts with a bright, blinding flash as two arcs of lightning, a single fireball, a crystalline shard of ice and what looks like a spire of condensed air, pressed together into a spinning needlepoint, all fly out of the back of the cart at once. The world behind them explodes into a spectacle of shimmering light. Yelping, howling voices fill the night. Several different combat menus appear for the two separate fairy parties, encompassing their long-distance fighters. But, the result is about what even Fresh had expected. The fairies, despite their impressive magical foundations, are still all young and low-leveled and Jubilee only has so much dirt in their bag. For them to use any of the forest-ground as glass, they¡¯d need to touch it. The wolves don¡¯t seem to be hindered by this preemptive strike at all. In fact, they seem to be running faster than before now, as if their growing fury were only pushing their adrenaline further towards the edge, intensifying the hunger in their eyes. Fresh clenches her fists, knowing that she has to do something. Shamrock looks at her and shakes his head. She puffs out her cheek in protest. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Shamrock!¡± she pleads. ¡°No,¡± he says again. ¡°Fuck off!¡± yells Jubilee at the darkness, throwing out another spire of glass and then another and then one last one, before just throwing their empty bag at the night as well. The wolves do not ¡®fuck off¡¯. ¡°Hold on!¡± shouts Basil from ahead as the cart takes a slight curve in the road. Fresh yelps, seeing Jubilee lose their balance. Shamrock reaches out, grabbing them and pulling them back inside. The fairies all yelp in surprise, all of them managing to brace themselves down at the rim of the cart. For a horrified second, Fresh was sure they were all going to fly off into the night. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake! WATCH WHERE YOU¡¯RE GOING!¡± yells Jubilee back to the front of the cart at Basil. ¡°FUCK YOU! I SAID HOLD ON!¡± yells Basil back at Jubilee, who is seemingly as surprised by this as Fresh is, as they don¡¯t manage to say anything. ¡°HOLD ON!¡± repeats the priestess. The cart takes another turn, leaning dangerously far towards the side. Shamrock pulls Jubilee in, holding them against himself. ¡°Let go of me!¡± they bark. Shamrock waits until the cart has steadied itself again and then lifts their protesting, swearing form up, setting them down onto a surprised Fresh¡¯s lap. ¡°Fine,¡± is all that he says. ¡°Hi, Jubilee!¡± smiles Fresh. ¡°Shut up!¡± snaps Jubilee, trying to get away, but Fresh locks her arms around them. Just in case, so they can¡¯t fall again. Certainly not for any other reason. ¡°Let go of me!¡± ¡°No,¡± says Fresh. ¡°What are we going to do, Jubilee?!¡± she asks. ¡°We can¡¯t run for the whole night!¡± ¡°We could throw them Pentti?¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°Maybe they¡¯ll be fine with that.¡± ¡°JUBILEE!¡± snaps Fresh, making clear that that isn¡¯t an option. ¡°You baby! What¡¯s one tiny fairy-sacrifice for the greater good?¡± Fresh lifts her head indignantly. ¡°If you want to throw Pentti off, you¡¯ll have to throw me too!¡± ¡°Tempting,¡± says Jubilee, making a show of it, as if they were actually thinking about it. ¡°Jubileee~!¡± shouts Fresh, glaring coldly at her friend. ¡°FINE!¡± relents Jubilee. ¡°I have an idea,¡± they say, wiggling free from her. ¡°Shamrock, grab my legs. I¡¯ll just make some glass out of the road. Hold the fucking cart steady!¡± they instruct Basil. ¡°SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!¡± yells Basil at Jubilee, Fresh lays a consoling hand on the priestess¡¯ shoulder. She seems really stressed right now. Jubilee rolls their eyes, Shamrock grabs their legs. ¡°Get out of the way, pips -¡± ¡°Let go of me!¡± shouts Pentti, some of the other fairies are wrestling with him. ¡°HEY!¡± barks Jubilee at the group of fairy-casters. ¡°CUT THE SHIT!¡± Pentti struggles, trying to get away. ¡°LET GO-IAA-!¡± ¡°PENTII!¡± shouts Fresh, jumping up from her seat, reaching out towards the back. Spit flies out of her mouth as Shamrock¡¯s arm quickly collides into her gut, knocking her back down to the spot between the benches and as she falls, she sees the fairy Pentti vanish into the darkness. A barrage of spells readied in tiny hands flies out and pierces through his wings as he plummets. The night erupts into light one more time and as the cart rolls away into the night and Fresh shakily manages to rise to her feet, she sees no more eyes behind them. The only thing that comes after that is a howl. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 207: The bad-thing The cart, entirely quiet and void of any voices, rolls to a stop a while later, their tempo having slowed now after they lost the wolves. Basil looks back at everyone and then jumps off, going to the panting anqa to lavish it with praise for its hard work and to check on its condition. Fresh gets up to climb off as well, rubbing her burning eyes. ¡°Sorry,¡± says Shamrock, letting her pass. She nods to him, even if her body hurts a lot where he had arm-barred her, she knows that he only did it to stop her from falling off. She slides down off of the back of the cart and takes a step to the side, wandering towards the edge of the forest. She expects someone to tell her not to wander off too far, it might still be dangerous. But nobody says anything. Heading past the first big tree, she places her back against it and slides downward until she sits, her knees arched upward and in against her chest. Fresh isn¡¯t really sure what it is that she¡¯s doing. Just sitting here, she supposes. She isn¡¯t really sure why. She just wanted to get away for a while. The cart was starting to feel really cramped. Jubilee was right, the lap-stack idea was a bad one. Sometimes a little space is a good thing. Fresh leans her head back against the trunk and stares upwards. She can¡¯t see the sky here, because of the thick canopy hanging above her. So she just stares at that instead. It isn¡¯t really about seeing something, she¡¯s just trying to not see anything, so the light-less tree-crown is as good a thing as any to look at. Once again, the bad-thing has found her. The bad-thing that creeps through the entire world, like a serpent, always on the prowl, always on the hunt to bite and inject everyone with its venom. Every time she tries to build something happy, the bad-thing comes. Every time she tries to build something nice, the bad-thing comes. Every time she tries to show everyone how good things could really be, if they all just started paddling in the other direction, fighting against the current of the world, the bad-thing comes and sinks its teeth into them. She doesn¡¯t know what it is, exactly, this bad-thing. The force that seems to propel this world further and further towards the black-water, the thing that makes every single soul in this domain heavier on a day-by-day basis. But she knows that it is here. It¡¯s not following her, as if intent on making her life and the lives of those around her miserable, no, the bad-thing isn¡¯t bound to a location. It¡¯s everywhere. Everywhere all at once. In every house, in every cart, in every bed, in every boot, in every face and eye and expression and moment of intimacy and safety and trust and companionship, the bad-thing lays in wait, waiting only for the clock to strike the right second, so that its attack will be deadly and precise. So that it can befoul everything warm and whole. Is it evil? A tangible, physical aspect of literal evil that has overtaken the world? Or is it just that everyone¡¯s survival instincts have gone haywire and now the cycle is intensifying in a self-feeding loop, as things continue to get worse? Is the bad-thing even here, or is she just making it up in her dazed mind? Maybe it¡¯s just everyone. Maybe everyone is the bad-thing, including herself. Maybe there isn¡¯t some force to blame the heaviness of the world on. Maybe the world is just bad, because they¡¯re all just bad. Maybe that¡¯s all there is. ¡°You good?¡± asks Jubilee¡¯s voice from the other side of the tree. ¡°Mm,¡± replies Fresh, hoping that they don¡¯t walk around it right now. It isn¡¯t a confirmation of either ¡®yes¡¯ or ¡®no¡¯, it¡¯s just a noise indicating her presence. Jubilee doesn¡¯t walk around towards her. She hears the crunch of them sitting down on the foliage on their side of the tree. It¡¯s oddly nostalgic for her, this separation. She appreciates that Jubilee knows not to cross over to her side of the world right now. Jubilee is crass, but there is still a sensitive part of them that knows how to weigh people¡¯s feelings. Neither of them say anything for a while, both of them just sitting there on their respective sides of the tree. ¡°I was just fucking around,¡± they say. ¡°You know I wouldn¡¯t have actually done it, right?¡± asks Jubilee, sounding worried. ¡°Mm,¡± replies Fresh, this time as an affirmative. She knows that Jubilee wouldn¡¯t have actually thrown Pentti off of the cart. That was just their initial ¡®bargaining chip¡¯ to allow them to open the door to their real strategy, without fear of later social consequences. Even in a high-stress situation like that one, Jubilee can¡¯t help but still consider what people think about them, as they always have, hence the mask. Jubilee probably cares what people think about them themselves more than anyone else in their group. It¡¯s not because of vanity, it¡¯s more an avoidance of creating a perceived weakness that could be exploited later. This is the venom that the bad-thing had tainted her friend with. But that venom had seeped out of them and given the fairies the idea, or at least encouraged it. Can she legitimately be mad at Jubilee for that? She doesn¡¯t know. Is she mad anyways, despite the questionable legitimacy of such a feeling? She doesn¡¯t know. ¡°It wasn¡¯t always like this, you know?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Mm?¡± asks Fresh, wondering what ¡®it¡¯ Jubilee is referring to. ¡°The world,¡± explains her friend, catching on to her question instinctively. ¡°It used to be really nice, not even that long ago,¡± they say, sounding almost nostalgic. ¡°Sure, some things were fucked in this way or that way, but -¡± There is a brief silence. ¡°- not like they are now,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Now, everyone is fucky, no matter where you go.¡± ¡°Mm?¡± asks Fresh in a higher tone, lifting her head. ¡°No matter where you go,¡± repeats Jubilee, hearing the question out of her mumble. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere left that isn¡¯t¡­ like this. Not the north, not the west, not the east, not the south, not the center.¡± Fresh lowers her head again, she had expected as much. Her theory is true, the bad-thing has crept into every corner of existence. ¡°I wish you could have seen it. You would have fit right in.¡± ¡°Did you?¡± asks Fresh, breaking her self-inflicted vow of mumbling. Jubilee is quiet for a while. ¡°I fit in better now,¡± they say. That answer makes her sad, not because she thinks it¡¯s true. But because she realizes that Jubilee thinks that¡¯s true and perhaps this latest catastrophe is simply a reinforcement of that belief. It seems like it¡¯s about that time, when Jubilee is going to make their escape, before she can force them into a ¡®moment¡¯. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯ll get back to the cart and let you do your thing, okay?¡± they say, just as she had predicted. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± says Fresh, looking into the dark-forest ahead of herself, where she can hear something creeping and crawling its way towards her. The bad-thing. ¡°Can you stay here for a while?¡± she asks, sliding her right arm back behind the side of the tree. ¡°Please?¡± Jubilee makes an audible show of sighing. ¡°Sure,¡± they reply, apparently willing to forgo their escape. She hears them sit back down. This was the same thing as before. There is something that Jubilee wants, but they can¡¯t always just come out and say it. Even if they know that Fresh would never laugh at them or tell the others, the venom of the bad-thing, of the thing from the black-water, runs deep in the hearts of those it has reached. There is a second sound of something hitting the foliage. A small piece of leather. A glove. Fresh feels a warm hand grip hers. She doesn¡¯t look around the tree to get a glimpse at it, she doesn¡¯t take this opportunity to forcefully unravel a little bit more of the mystery of Jubilee. Because that is what the bad-thing would want her to do. Instead, she sits there, squeezing her fingers and rubbing her thumb over her friend¡¯s hand. ¡°This is the first time I¡¯ve touched your skin, Jubilee!¡± she says, leaning her head back against the tree again. ¡°It¡¯s so soft!¡± she beams in a half-truth, as her thumb runs over the many, many scars that cover the exterior of the hand. Jubilee has been using Basil¡¯s cream, she can feel it. Fresh blinks, looking up at the forest for a second, in a moment of spontaneous realization, as a dozen things click into place all at once inside of her head. Basil had made the anti-scarring cream on purpose. It wasn¡¯t a convenient accident. It wasn¡¯t for her lightly rubbed shoulders. It was an unspoken, unrequited gesture of friendship between the two of them, Basil and Jubilee, passed off as mercantilism. ¡°Shut up, goo-brain,¡± sighs Jubilee and she feels their fingers moving over hers. Razmatazz x.x Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 208: Journey It is the morning of the next day. The cart continues rolling eastward, now at a slow and steady pace. The fun, jovial nature that the trip has had up until now is gone. Rather, everyone seems to sit in awkward silence in their usual spots. Fresh, not wanting to be in the back, had asked Basil if it was okay for her to sit next to her today. The anqa, Thyme, seemed unfond of this prospect, but after some convincing by the priestess and a few extra portions of food, it seemed to be willing to let the subject drop. Though it does shoot an occasional cold glance back towards Fresh. The odd, bipedal birds really don¡¯t like witches. The fairies seem to have split themselves up into three groups. Those who think that sacrificing Pentti was the right move in order to save them all and those who disagree, the third group are those who have no opinion either way or are simply unwilling to share it if they do have one. Apparently, while Fresh and Jubilee were out in the forest, there was a violent, heated argument between the two more passionate camps, causing Basil and Shamrock to have to intervene before they blasted themselves and the cart apart with magic. Now, the occupants of the three fairy-houses have reshuffled themselves. One house, containing the long-distance-combat fairies who had done the deed and some others too, they stand with the bad-thing, in Fresh¡¯s eyes. One side is against it and the third house simply sits full of those few who didn¡¯t want to take a side at all. Just like that, with a single act during a single night, dozens of long-standing friendships have been broken. They don¡¯t seem particularly energetic either, having ceased their flying around the cart and their exploration of the world. Mostly, they just sit inside of their houses or on some ledge, shooting dirty looks at each other from time to time. Fresh sighs. Basil sighs as well, catching on. The rest of the day is like this and then the night is equally as silent. The next day, they continue riding east, encountering some wild slimes on the way that try to ambush them on the road. They are quickly dealt with by Jubilee with particularly precise and quick brutality, the cart never even having to stop on the way. They don¡¯t bother looting the slimes. Nobody wants to stop the cart. Fresh sits next to Shamrock today, leaning herself against his shoulder and napping for most of the day. The night falls and then comes the next day after that. The forest is slowly growing sparser. The thick, lush tree-line that had surrounded them on all sides is now thinning out with every passing hour that they ride and as they proceed further and further out of the shelter of the forest, the wind seems to be growing stronger and stronger, now that there is nothing left to restrain its passing. Today, Fresh sits by Jubilee, having squeezed herself into the tiny space between them and the rim of the cart. Honestly, there isn¡¯t enough room for the three of them to sit next to each other and so the two of them are squished side by side, neither of them able to move one of their arms. Jubilee protests, but makes a point out of not getting up to sit somewhere else and also of certainly not sitting on her lap as she suggests. So instead, the two of them sit there, squished next to each other all day in a spot that is far too small, while the bench across from them is completely free. The remark about her needing a bath is almost enough to make her leave. But it doesn¡¯t quite manage. Honestly, all of them need a bath. It¡¯s been a long trip. The night falls and the next day comes. The forest stops, giving way to what appears to be an endless, rolling, somewhat hilly grassland. But unlike in the west, before the mountain, the grass here isn¡¯t lush and long and green. Rather, it¡¯s shorter, thinner and less flush with dewy wetness. Tall yellow stalks sit in between it all. Fresh recognizes it as wild-wheat. She grabs some for them to chew on, should they ever find a farmer¡¯s hat and some overalls, maybe they can do the whole ¡®farmer thing¡¯ after all. Jubilee grabs the pieces of wheat, throwing them out of the cart. ¡°No,¡± they say without emotion in their voice. Fresh cries, reaching after them as they fall to the road behind them. The next day comes. The grasslands are now entirely wheat. There is nothing but wheat. It doesn¡¯t matter if she looks left, right, straight or back, all there is to see is a sea of waist-high, golden-yellow wheat, basking in the autumn sunlight. Jubilee can¡¯t stop her from taking a bunch of it this time, there is simply too much and so she sits there now, across from Jubilee with her boots off and her legs kicked up, Basil¡¯s hat on her head and a stalk of wheat pressed out of her mouth, as she holds a lookout for varmints. Though, she doesn¡¯t actually know what a varmint is. But she¡¯s confident that she¡¯ll know one when she sees it. The next day comes. They find a pond. It looks to be free of any kind of monsters. It¡¯s just a little body of water, standing in the middle of the wheat. They park the cart beside it as a wall and take turns washing themselves. Basil suggests they splits themselves into two groups. One with the guys and the other with the girls, to take two turns swimming and washing. Jubilee tells the priestess to drown herself and that everyone gets five minutes by themselves, before they¡¯ll keep on moving. This latter suggestion ends up being what happens, minus the drowning. ¡°We¡¯ll go swimming lots together at the ocean, Basil,¡± promises Fresh. This seems to cheer Basil up. ¡°Do you even know how to swim?¡± asks Jubilee skeptically, listening to Shamrock splash around in the water. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a second. She certainly knew how to swim in her old life, so she assumes that she can still do it in this one. That makes sense, right? Yeah, yeah she thinks so. ¡°Yes! I uh¡­ I think.¡± ¡°You¡­ think?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I think,¡± confirms Fresh, scratching her cheek. The giant man walks around to the cart, water still leaking out of his armor that is sloshing full of it. ¡°You aren¡¯t getting in the cart like that!¡± barks Jubilee at him. Shamrock shrugs, standing there, while water leaks out of every crack and gap in his armor. ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± asks Tarja, flying over to him. ¡°How come you never take off your armor?¡± ¡°It keeps me safe,¡± he replies. ¡°From what?¡± asks Tarja, looking around. ¡°Monsters.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± replies Tarja. Jubilee sighs from the side. ¡°Just drop it. You won¡¯t get him out of there.¡± Shamrock lifts his thumb over his shoulder, nodding to Jubilee. ¡°Your turn.¡± ¡°Pass,¡± replies Jubilee, waving him off. ¡°Jubilee! You can¡¯t pass!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Pass,¡± repeats Jubilee, shrugging. Fresh frowns, looking around. ¡°Please?¡± ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± they say, shaking their head. Fresh realizes what the problem is. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t let anyone look,¡± she says, lifting her pinky-finger. ¡°The fuck is that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s my finger,¡± says Fresh, looking down at her hand. ¡°Yeah, no shit, what are you doing?¡± Fresh blinks, staring at her extended finger and poking it under Jubilee¡¯s gloved hand, wrapping it around their pinky-finger. ¡°It¡¯s a pinky-promise!¡± ¡°There are moments when I strongly question why I¡¯m alive,¡± says Jubilee, very dryly. ¡°This is one of them.¡± ¡°So you¡¯ll get in the water?¡± asks Fresh, lifting their locked fingers up. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll beat up anyone who tries to look,¡± she swears, rolling her shoulders. She figures Jubilee will respond better to promised violence than to begging. Jubilee stares at her for a moment, pulling their hand free and getting up without saying anything else. Fresh, fortunately, does not have to hit anyone. She isn¡¯t sure if she would have it in her. What if Basil tried to peek? Or Shamrock? After a couple of hours, after everyone has washed up and they all had lunch, they keep on going for the rest of the day. The next day comes. The wheat is broken by renewed forests. Though, these are just small clumps of trees, dotting the landscape here and there. They¡¯re not really worth being called forests, being simply patches of a few hundred trees. This is apparently where the anqas are from natively, but there aren¡¯t many if any wild ones left. At least around here by the main road. Another day passes, just like this one. Then another day. Then a third. Occasionally they¡¯ll pass some travelers or another cart, but all of them head the other way. The wheat eventually stops, returning to grasslands that then also stop, giving way to a hard, somewhat rocky and crumbly terrain. The clumps of forest also begin to wane, becoming rarer and rarer until eventually, there¡¯s not a single tree left in sight anywhere. By the time the next day comes, the road is surrounded on both sides by sand and Fresh leans back, fanning herself with one of the paper-fans she made just now, following her original design from the north, with some of the stuff from their boxes here. She isn¡¯t sure how, but the further east they go, the warmer it is getting. Day by day, hour by hour, the longer they travel, the more the autumn chill leaves the air and is replaced instead by a hot dryness. They have arrived in the desert. Razmatazz Fun fact, the patreon has over 100 members now! As thanks, I''ve raised the DIS chapter stockpile to 15 chapters! Wink wink, nudge nudge Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 209: Slog The desert is hot. Fresh lays there, splayed out over the bench of the cart and several boxes, her right leg is kicked up one way and her arms dangle the other, swaying limply as the cart rolls on down the road, as if she were already dead. She has given up fanning herself with the paper-fan that she had made only the day before. It¡¯s too hot. Using the fan just somehow made her even warmer. One of the fairies has access to water magic and another one can use ice-magic, but the two of them are at odds with each other over the Pentti-incident and refuse to cooperate, even if they could combine their spells to offer a pleasant cooling effect. The same goes for the wind-fairy, who had been a part of the execution. ¡°Told you it was hot,¡± says Jubilee, staring at her almost upside down head that hangs off the side of a crate. ¡°You¡¯re gonna break your back if you keep lying like that.¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s already broken,¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°Jubileee~ I¡¯m meeelting~¡± ¡°Should I help?¡± asks Shamrock. Fresh yelps, sitting straight back upright in an instant as if this were some deadly threat. She doesn¡¯t want to be shaken out again. That hurt a lot. ¡°No, thank you!¡± she beams, doing her best to sit upright and straight. But she doesn¡¯t manage, her body sagging and drooping again, as if she really was a melting slime, sliding down the bench. ¡°It¡¯s so hooot~¡± ¡°It¡¯s a desert. Don¡¯t know what to tell you,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you guys warm?¡± she asks, looking at the others. Shamrock is sitting perfectly still, his armor not moving an inch, as if it were simply sitting there as an entirely empty shell. But otherwise, he shows no signs of discomfort. Jubilee is leaning to the side, unsuccessfully trying to push her sweaty face off of their leg without actually touching her, saying that she¡¯s gross. Fresh protests this insinuation by rubbing her sweaty face all over her friend. ¡°You¡¯re gross now too, so you have to let me stay here.¡± ¡°Fuck off!¡± As for Basil, the priestess almost seems to be enjoying the weather, having rolled her sleeves and the bottom of her robe up to get some sun on her arms and legs. ¡°Would you like to sit up front?¡± she asks. ¡°The wind is a little stronger here,¡± explains the priestess. Fresh, pretty sure that she has transformed into a slime, given how damp and saggy she feels right now, gloops her way over to the front and reaches up behind the bench, pulling herself upwards behind Basil. Channeling the same energy of such a creature, Fresh tilts her head sideways and bites Basil on the right side of her stomach. Basil yelps with an odd, surprised noise. The day goes on like this, with Fresh processing her suffering by dragging herself towards everyone, trying to find some way to interact with them. This usually involves annoying them in some manner, there just isn¡¯t much else that she can think of to do. Unfortunately for her, the others seem to only put up with this for so long. Shamrock eventually lifts a hand, blocking her from approaching, simply holding her at bay. Jubilee flicks her forehead any time she comes close and Basil distracts herself from the road for a moment, taking the opportunity to bite her back. Fresh yelps, retreating back into her corner, having been beaten on a field of honorable battle and rubs the spots on both her forehead and on the side of her already bruised stomach. ¡°You gonna settle down now?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I wiiill~,¡± relents Fresh, drooping back down over the boxes. She simply opts to let herself melt again, signaling her defeat with a long sigh as her body falls slack. She turns her head, looking out of the back of the cart. They really are in a desert. As far as her eyes can see, all she sees is sand. Sand and sand and more sand and there to the left, there¡¯s some sand and look over there, out there on the right - ! More sand. It¡¯s just all sand everywhere, even the road seems to be half-buried under sand and she has no idea how it manages to stay entirely free from it, rather than being buried under the fine, dusty grains. ¡°How long until we¡¯re there?¡± she asks. Jubilee looks around. ¡°If nothing happens, tonight.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What could happen?¡± Jubilee shrugs, leaning back. ¡°We could crash into a cactus and die.¡± ¡°Is that likely?¡± ¡°With some cactuses more than others,¡± says Jubilee, looking her way. ¡°Cactus monsters,¡± they explain, seeing her confusion. ¡°Oh!¡± says Fresh. She hadn¡¯t even considered what kind of monsters would be out in the wild-desert. ¡°What other kinds of monsters are there?¡± ¡°Out here? Outside of the dungeon? Uh¡­¡± Jubilee looks around. ¡°Bunch of weird shit. Life in the desert makes monsters get strange.¡± ¡°Strange?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Sure. Cactus-things, dire-vultures, giant lizards.¡± Fresh gasps. Basil chimes in from the front. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that the ocean has a lot of monsters too,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Serpents, giant crabs, supposedly goblins too. But they don¡¯t really exist anymore near the city.¡± ¡°Giant crabs?!¡± asks Fresh excitedly. ¡°Don¡¯t you start,¡± threatens Jubilee. Fresh relents, not starting. Now is not the time for more crabbing. But still, she wants to see a giant-crab. Really, really badly. ¡°There are two biomes,¡± explains Shamrock. ¡°- many types of monsters.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Jubilee. ¡°Water by the ocean, obviously. The desert types are more earth-based with a bit of lightning here and there.¡± ¡°Are there fairies?¡± asks a fairy, popping its head out of a window, having been listening. ¡°We¡¯re the only fairies, dumb-dumb!¡± shouts Tarja from out of the window of the neutral house. ¡°We¡¯re mountain-fairies!¡± argues the yellow-haired fairy. ¡°Maybe there are desert-fairies!¡± ¡°There are no desert-fairies,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯ll have to make some of those yourselves.¡± ¡°How do we do that?¡± Jubilee stares at the fairy for a second. ¡°Actually, now that I think about it, I don¡¯t think you can,¡± mutters Jubilee, clearly lost in some train of thought as they rub the chin of their mask. ¡°Or¡­ actually¡­ hmm¡­¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± calls Basil sharply back in a stern voice, glaring at them. ¡°Oh, please!¡± says Jubilee, crossing their arms and looking at Basil. ¡°As if they aren¡¯t going to find out one day anyways.¡± ¡°Find out what?¡± asks the fairy. ¡°Hey, look!¡± calls Basil abruptly, turning her face back ahead of the cart. ¡°A cactus!¡± Fresh blinks. Getting up and looking out of the front of the cart. Yup. That¡¯s a cactus. Neat. It¡¯s not a cactus-monster. It¡¯s just a cactus. Cool. Though, she isn¡¯t sure why Basil wanted to point this out. The cart rolls on through the desert for a while. The wind is only mild, but the sun shines with a glaring intensity. Fresh is really glad that they splurged on the tarp for the cart. The rest of the day is just them rolling on ahead in silence. The sun shines, the cart rolls, everyone is quiet. That¡¯s it. Until eventually evening comes around and Fresh assumes that they are getting close to the city. Jubilee gets everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°Listen up,¡± they say to all of the tiny faces staring out of the windows of the fairy houses. ¡°People here aren¡¯t used to seeing fairies. They might ask a lot of questions or get weird,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Some of you are still stupid-fucks,¡± they say. ¡°Jubilee!¡± snaps Fresh this time. Jubilee points at Tarja and three other fairies. ¡°Those of you who have managed to actually develop a brain are in charge of your groups. If anyone dies, it¡¯s your fault and I don¡¯t want to hear about it,¡± they say. ¡°People aren¡¯t nicer here than they were on the mountain. They¡¯ll chew you up and spit you out at the first sign of weakness.¡± ¡°Can we stay with you?¡± asks a fairy from the side, raising his hand. ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee very clearly, pointing at him. ¡°Please?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Pleeease?¡± ¡°No!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°You need to figure your lives out yourselves.¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers. ¡°Tarja.¡± Tarja nods, stepping up to take over with the other three ¡®leader¡¯ fairies. They go into their plan. Each of them wants to open an enterprise of some kind. Tarja wants to run a tailoring business. The ice-fairy wants to become a healer and open a clinic. One of the others wants to make candy and food to open a sweets and coughee specialized bakery, Fresh likes that idea the most. The last one wants to become a dungeon-delving adventurer. These four seem to be the most advanced and mentally competent of their peers and have already begun ¡®Jubileeing¡¯ their groups, whipping them into shape. The many fairies divide themselves amongst the leader, who they each find themselves the most willing to follow. Though one or two also still split off, deciding to make their own way by themselves. In truth, Fresh is scared for them all. Despite Jubilee stepping on her bare foot as she says it, she tells them that in the case of an emergency, they¡¯ll always be willing to help them out. An hour later, the sun begins to vanish over the sandy dunes on the horizon behind them, painting it all over with a warm red tone. Basil calls from ahead. ¡°We¡¯re here!¡± Fresh leans over forward, looking out past the side of the priestess, resisting the urge to bite her again, as she stares out at the city ahead of them. The desert might be arid and dry, but here where people have built their tall, two to three story houses in the rocky shoreline, the ground is surprisingly flush with patches of bright grass. Palm fronds jut out from between the many sand-stone, lime, clay and rock structures, painting the city with a welcoming green-hue, as if they had arrived at the only oasis in the entire desert. Behind it all, even from here, Fresh can see the crashing shoreline of the ocean and she smells the smell of sea-salt. Razmatazz -) You only get one warning. The east and beyond are going to step into some serious and dark topics that we haven''t found our way to before -) I got my 1 year achievment on RoyalRoad today! So... happy anniversary, I guess???=) -) If you''ve seen the ''Item Shop'' ad on RoyalRoad, it isn''t my ad or my story. No comment lol. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 210: Shanty Fresh stares out of the cart in wide-eyed bewilderment, as the desert wind, carrying a circulating heat, pushes against her face as they ride into the city. The wide open road quickly tightens up, as they enter through and past a giant gate, adorned with two westward facing statues on the outside of it. Both of the giant depictions of some people of note, long since left in the past, wear what look to be light cloth and leather raiments and carry elegant weapons to match. The gate, as always, is unguarded, except by these two behemoths. Warm lights shine out of the many open windows and soothing smells of cooking dinner and fragrant teas fill the air. People walk around in all directions, even in this later hour of the day, all of them are wearing loose, billowing clothes with only ever a few small strips of metal or leather at best to offer protection. Fresh hardly sees anyone wearing any full metal armor and she¡¯s sure that she understands why. She shivers, the warm air dropping very quickly in temperature, now that the sun has vanished. The wind itself, carrying the last of the residual heat from the sun-baked sands is the last sign of the desert heat to be felt, at least until sunrise, come tomorrow morning. ¡°It¡¯s so pretty!¡± says Fresh, staring out past Basil. Jubilee taps the priestess, pointing towards a large, three-story building at the end of the street. ¡°That¡¯s the adventurer¡¯s guild. We¡¯re stopping there.¡± Fresh checks her pocket, double-checking that she still has the big iron-key. She does. ¡°It certainly has a charm to it,¡± says Basil, looking around at the many small alleys that the cart could never hope to fit through. Tightly packed houses line the entire area, pressed snugly together, despite there being ample space in the desert. In-between many of them are small ponds, wells and fountains, constantly babbling with a never-ending trickle. The off-white, sand-tinged stone of the buildings takes on a shimmering, yellow hue, as the reflections of the houses¡¯ lights bounce off of the water and then back towards them. They all seem to shimmer in a way that makes Fresh marvel, as they ride past the glowing spectacle. A bell rings through the air. Fresh tenses up, looking around in a slight panic. ¡°It¡¯s just the harbor, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, seeing her surprised face. ¡°It¡¯s the only port of call worth mentioning,¡± they explain. ¡°It¡¯s a good town to do business in. Lots of exotic goods, lots of sailors and foreigners who need them.¡± Fresh blinks, she had never considered this, but¡­ there are other places? Places for the ships to go to? This makes sense, she supposes, it¡¯s a whole world, after all. But¡­ she had just never really thought about it. For a brief, tiny instant, she considers asking her friends if they want to become pirates. But that seems silly, so she doesn¡¯t. The cart rolls to a stop as they reach the guild, the massive structure hidden behind a bridge and an oasis of palm fronds. ¡°Come on, we¡¯re going inside,¡± says Jubilee to Fresh, nudging Basil in the side. ¡°Pull the cart around to the right,¡± they explain. ¡°There¡¯s a stall there. We¡¯ll take care of the inside-stuff.¡± Basil nods. ¡°Be careful,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s the city, what¡¯s there to be careful of?¡± asks Fresh. Basil shrugs. ¡°It just felt like the right thing to say,¡± smiles the priestess as Fresh and Jubilee get off. The anqa shoots her a dirty look and she retreats back a few steps. Basil whips the reins together and the cart rolls off and away around the building. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I kept my fluffy robe on,¡± says Fresh, rubbing her arms. ¡°It¡¯s cold here, Jubilee!¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Well yeah, it¡¯s a desert.¡± ¡°I thought you said it would be hot here?¡± ¡°It is. During the day. It¡¯s night now,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh frowns. ¡°Should we buy a ship and become pirates?¡± she asks, not being able to resist after all. Jubilee stops. ¡°Can you not say that in public? Do you want us to get hanged or something?¡± Jubilee stares at her, their hand stuck on the door-handle. ¡°You know? I¡¯ll be glad once I finally have a wall between me and you people again,¡± they sigh, opening the large, ornate door of the guild. It appears to be made out of a very dark-colored, close to blackened wood that Fresh can¡¯t identify. There don¡¯t seem to be any trees of a similar color around here. Maybe it¡¯s just been painted? Yeah, that makes sense. ¡°Sorry,¡± mutters Fresh. Apparently pirates aren¡¯t popular in this world. It makes sense too though, she supposes. Basil has warned her several times that military tensions are already high these days. So some third-party getting in the way and making life unnecessarily difficult for the economy would likely be dealt with swiftly and quickly. This last thought, she realizes, also applies to herself, in a sense. Jubilee takes a deep breath, readying themselves and then the two of them enter into the guild. Fresh stays quiet, opting to just walk behind Jubilee and let them do the talking, before she does something dumb. As the two of them step inside, Fresh isn¡¯t sure what it is that she had expected this time. The northern guild was quiet and somber. The western guild was a wild, boisterous party and here? The eastern adventurer¡¯s guild? A man¡¯s voice booms around her ears, Fresh immediately flinches as they step inside of the guild, stopping herself just before she grabs Jubilee in surprise. The smell of sweet liquor and of damp wood fills the salty air. This guild too, is filled with song, but in a different way than in the first guild. ¡°THE NORTH-WIND BLOWS UNTO THE SHORES~¡± booms the singular, very deep voice of a clearly drunk seaman in an upwards tone, who is standing atop the bar at the end of the room. A crowd is around him, encompassed by equally dressed sailors. Fresh looks around the bar, it¡¯s entirely full. Some people are adventurers, as expected, but a large swath of the makeup of the room are sailors, judging by their matching, fabric uniforms. Boots stamp down from dozens of feet at once, shaking the entire floor of the room as nearly everyone joins in on the shanty. ¡°Fucking sailors,¡± mutters Jubilee quietly, dragging her to the bar. The entire room joins in, their sea-salt scored, drunken voices mixing together to bring the tone of their voices back down. ¡°Of a place, we''ll leave to find once more~¡± They walk to the side of the bar, Fresh waves over to the barkeeper, hidden behind the reveling man who stands atop it, spilling his drink everywhere as he sings. ¡°Excuse me,¡± she calls. ¡°We¡¯d like to check in,¡± says Fresh, showing her key to the figure who she can¡¯t make out. The figure, polishing a glass, sets it down carefully onto a shelf behind themselves and walks over. ¡°We have a cart outside too.¡± Fresh freezes, her hand clutching Jubilee¡¯s in sudden terror as the elven woman walks around the bar and faces their way. Her dusty, blonde hair is tucked back behind her ears, leaving only a few dangling bangs hovering down before her burn-scarred face. The barkeeper from the north. The three of them stand there, frozen, looking at each other as the shanty continues to ring on around them. Fresh doesn¡¯t know what to do, she feels her heart thrashing in her chest, sweat pearling on her skin. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Jubilee¡¯s hand reaching instinctively for their belt. But their satchel of dirt is gone, they had thrown it at the wolves back then. What is she doing here? The barkeeper looks around the room, averting her gaze for a moment, before turning back to them. ¡°The room is through the door to the right. I¡¯ll lock up your cart in a few minutes. I¡¯ll meet you outside,¡± says the elf, walking away to fill up some empty glasses. Jubilee squeezes her hand and drags her back outside, very quickly. Razmatazz -) Welp, that lasted long. -) Guess what? DIS chapters 1-110 have been edited, proofread and the tables have been unshittified. You can now buy DIS ''Book 1'' on Amazon for your amazon kindle (Paperback ''soon''). The story is still free to read here, no worries. So you might be wondering... Razzmatazz, why? For what purpose? BECAUSE GIVE ME YOUR MONEY. That''s why. (No Kindle Unlimited, because I don''t want to go amazon exclusive) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 211: Afraid together They run out into the carriage-house, which is full of empty carts and carriages. Thankfully, the other anqas here seem to be asleep in their pens and aren¡¯t looking at Fresh. ¡°Get back on the cart!¡± barks Jubilee at Basil, who is already untying Thyme from his reins. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. Now!¡± they say, looking around. ¡°Where is everyone?¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asks Basil. ¡°The fairies left,¡± she explains. Fresh blinks, looking around. ¡°Huh? Just like that?¡± she asks sadly. ¡°They didn¡¯t even say goodbye¡­¡± she says, rubbing her arm, a little sad. ¡°Fuck em! We¡¯re leaving, come on! Chop-chop!¡± snaps Jubilee, clapping their hands together. ¡°Someone recognized us,¡± they explain, seeing the priestess¡¯ confusion. ¡°From the north. Let¡¯s go!¡± Jubilee runs around to the side of the cart, removing the roll-stops from beneath the wheels. Basil¡¯s face grows pale and she immediately starts hooking the annoyed and curious anqa back up to the cart. Shamrock shifts, sitting upright, his hand grabbing the large sword down at his feet as he eyes the entrances to the stall. ¡°Where are we gonna go?!¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Somewhere else!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°Get on!¡± They snap their fingers and Fresh listens without arguing, climbing back onto the cart in a hurry. Of course, she had always known that there would be a danger of something like this happening. The world is a small place and they aren¡¯t exactly subtle. She or Basil might be able to blend into a crowd with some effort. But Jubilee and Shamrock are conspicuous, to say the least and neither of them really ever make an effort to alter their appearances. That being said, it¡¯s not like their enterprise is exactly subtle in and of itself, given the many oddities that they craft and their repetitive choice of location and brand-name. But where is there left to go? Maybe they¡¯re going to have to become traveling merchants after all? Maybe sea-faring merchants? But is there even a dungeon anywhere out on or over the ocean? And who would even buy the things that they¡¯d sell from the¡­ She blinks. - Dungeon Item Ship? Fresh shakes her head, no, that¡¯s a silly idea. Better put it into the category of bad-plans, together with the pirate-thing. Well. It was a nice city to have stopped off at, she¡¯s glad she was able to see it once in her life. Maybe in her next one, she¡¯ll get to stay longer? She blinks. That phrase goes through her head again. ¡®Her next life¡¯. Fresh looks around the cart at Shamrock, at Basil, at Jubilee. Reincarnation exists in this world, at least according to Basil. Jubilee might not believe it, but Basil certainly does and Shamrock seems to do so as well. She supposes that she herself has a strong tendency towards the belief too, given her direct experience with the matter. But that itself is the root of her question, the one that has found its way to the forefront of her mind in the odd, frantic moment as she watches her friends run around. Does her soul even belong in this world? If she dies-dies, is she¡­ ¡®compatible¡¯ with the reincarnation system here? Or will she simply go back to wherever she was meant to go, after eventually dying in her old world? Or will neither of those things happen? It¡¯s a sad thought, not because she¡¯s afraid of the afterlife or anything like that, at least not yet. But rather, because one way or the other, one day she isn¡¯t going to see her friends anymore and they¡¯re the only reason she has grown to like this world to begin with. What good would reincarnating in this world be for her, if they aren¡¯t all together? She really is clingy, realizes Fresh, staring vacantly at the empty seat across from herself. ¡°Let¡¯s move!¡± says Jubilee, climbing onto the cart after Basil, hitting her lightly on the back once as a signal. ¡°Wait!¡± calls out a voice from the side just as the anqa starts to turn. The barkeeper is standing by the open, giant door of the carriage house. ¡°Don¡¯t go!¡± says the elf, standing in the way, by the entrance, lifting her hands and waving them both. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, Basil whips the reins, the cart lurches forward. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna say anything!¡± exclaims the elf, still standing right in the middle of the only way out and the anqa is heading right for her, picking up speed very quickly. ¡°Please!¡± ¡°Basil!¡± yells Fresh, grabbing the priestess¡¯ arm, foreseeing how horribly this is going to end in only a single instant more. ¡°Stop!¡± she protests, not sure that Basil has any intention of stopping, even if not doing so means trampling and running the woman over. There is a crack of leather. The anqa slows down, the cart rolls to a stop. ¡°What the fuck are you doing?!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°GO!¡± Basil doesn¡¯t say anything. Fresh blinks, grabbing her shoulder. Basil doesn¡¯t really respond in any way, she¡¯s just kind of staring at the back of the anqa. ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh, rubbing the wet-spot beneath the priestess¡¯ eye that she sees forming. Basil blinks, looking around, a little confused, judging by her expression. ¡°Are you okay?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± says Basil, blinking a few more times, as if she had something in her eye. Squishing them closed a few times like someone who was just waking up first thing in the morning and trying to clear their blurry vision. Fresh looks down at her own finger, seeing the single, black smear on the tip of it. She looks back up towards Basil¡¯s face. There¡¯s nothing there anymore. Basil turns her head around to Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m stopping.¡± ¡°The hell?! SHAMROCK!¡± barks Jubilee. Shamrock nods, grabbing his sword and getting up. ¡°STOP!¡± yells Fresh at him. She is sure that the giant man had no intention of really hurting the elf, at the most ¡®moving¡¯ her out of the way. But she¡¯s not going to let him. Shamrock freezes, caught between the smart choice to keep them safe and her pleading command. He¡¯s going to take the smart choice in a moment, as her survival is his primary goal. But she just needs a moment for them all to stop and to breathe. ¡°You fucks!¡± barks Jubilee, getting up themselves. Fresh lunges, grabbing them in an open tackle and holding them as tight as she can, pinning both of them down onto the floor of the cart. ¡°Let me go! You idiot!¡± snaps her friend. As for Jubilee, Fresh is more than certain that they have every intention of killing the elf, if that¡¯s what it¡¯s going to take. But she¡¯s not going to let them. The bad-part is, she realizes as she holds her violently threatening and squirming friend, who has elbowed her more than once now, costing her several health-points, is that she isn¡¯t even doing it for the barkeeper. She just doesn¡¯t want Jubilee to get any spiritually-heavier than they already are. She really is selfish, notices Fresh as Jubilee elbows her again, very painfully, in the same spot that she is still bruised from Shamrock¡¯s arm-bar. ¡°I promise!¡± repeats the barkeeper, standing there with her hands up. ¡°I won¡¯t say anything. Please!¡± she pleads, her voice cracking in a way that is unusual for Fresh to hear. She has only ever heard the barkeeper speaking once or twice, when she visited their shop or that one time by the fountain, when she had warned Fresh about the danger they were getting into. But one thing that the barkeeper always had was a strong, collected, calm, professional voice, suited to her trade. ¡°I need your help.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Please.¡± Jubilee shows no signs of relenting, sparing only a single glance up towards her health-points. One more intentional hit from them like that and she¡¯s probably going to die. ¡°You¡¯re so selfish,¡± hisses Jubilee at her in a voice she hasn¡¯t heard them use before either. ¡°Sorry,¡± apologizes Fresh quietly. She knows that Jubilee has the same exact fear that she has, just with different motivations. The fear of losing each other. Fresh is, however, concerned about the act of spiritually losing one another, while Jubilee is concerned with the physical. ¡°Please?¡± Jubilee looks up towards Shamrock, waiting to see what his move is going to be, as the only ¡®free¡¯ person left. Shamrock hops off of the cart. ¡°Shamrock!¡± calls Fresh after him. She lets go of Jubilee, scrambling up. ¡°Wait- I swear I won¡¯t- IAH!¡± ¡°SHAMROCK!¡± cries Fresh, looking up and out of the cart. ¡°DON¡¯T HURT HER!¡± she calls in distress. Fresh yelps and jumps back in surprise a second later, landing back on top of a complaining Jubilee, as a scarred face suddenly appears before her. The barkeeper is being held aloft by a large, metal hand gripping the back of her, surprisingly sturdy, vest. ¡°What do you want?¡± asks Basil cautiously. Fresh gets up, apologizing to a groaning Jubilee who makes a remark about her having secretly eaten some candies during the journey. This may perhaps be true, but Fresh chooses to think that it isn¡¯t relevant to the topic at hand, so she lets it slide. At least she and Jubilee have matching bruises now. The barkeeper clasps her hands together, lowering her head and closing her eyes fearfully. ¡°Please! Witch of the north, I¡¯ll do anything. Help me,¡± she asks, with a clear fear to her voice that wasn¡¯t present when she was about to be run over. Fresh blinks, looking at the elf¡¯s shaking hands, made up out of ten very pale, scarred fingers, having lost their color from being squeezed so tightly together. The woman is terrified beyond belief of¡­ her? She always forgets, spending so much time with her friends, how the people of this world really see her. ¡°I- I need a remedy,¡± asks the barkeeper, tears running out of her tightly clenched eyes. ¡°Nobody else can help me.¡± Fresh stares at the woman. She thinks she knows what the problem is. Though, she personally doesn¡¯t think that the scars really deter the barkeeper¡¯s appeal in any way. But, it is a cruel world after all, people are mean here. Fresh nods, understanding. ¡°Your scars?¡± she asks the barkeeper from the northern adventurer¡¯s guild, who apparently now works here, in the east. The elf shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m barren,¡± she explains. ¡°Please, help me,¡± she begs. "Nobody else can do anything. I''ve been everywhere!" Fresh blinks, somewhat taken aback. Not sure what to do or how to process this, she looks to her friends for guidance. But they seem to have none to offer themselves, staring just as blankly as she likely is. Razmatazz -) Happy-go-lucky fun friendship adventure-time with Razzmatzazz!??=) -) I think it''s time we had the talk, reader. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 212: No such thing as ‘free’ This is a subject matter that Fresh not only wasn¡¯t expecting in the least, but also has literally zero experience with. So, taken aback by the barkeeper¡¯s direct request for her help with such a thing, she simply doesn¡¯t really know what to say, in all honesty and just kind of stares at her in awkward silence, occasionally looking around at her friends. Basil seems to catch herself first. ¡°Set her down, Shamrock,¡± asks the priestess and Shamrock obliges. Rather than standing, the barkeeper simply falls to her knees and continues to sit there with her hands clenched as tightly together as her teeth and eyes. She¡¯s beyond terrified. Fresh doesn¡¯t think that the woman is knelt down as a gesture of respect. Her legs simply gave out beneath her. Even from up here, she can see the sweat pearling on the unscarred parts of her skin that it can still form on. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be afraid,¡± says Fresh, realizing that saying this isn¡¯t going to help. As far as the barkeeper, a normal person of this world, is concerned, she herself may as well be the devil in human form. Basil turns around, looking towards Jubilee who seems to be thinking as well. Jubilee nods to Basil, Basil nods back. The two of them have come up with some unspoken scheme, which Fresh doesn¡¯t like in the least, given the serious context of this conversation. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything,¡± begs the barkeeper. ¡°Do you want my soul? It¡¯s yours! Please!¡± ¡°Uh¡­ no, listen -¡± starts Fresh, wanting to get off the cart to console the barkeeper who she, at least in the back of her own mind, still considers as a kind acquaintance who went out of her way to warn them once before. As far as Fresh feels, she still owes her something anyway. But this is clearly out of her league. Jubilee stops her, holding her back with a free hand. ¡°We¡¯ll see what we can do,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But we¡¯ll need something in exchange,¡± they explain, pointing at her. ¡°And no, we don¡¯t want your soul.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± hisses Fresh, pulling her friend back and away. ¡°That¡¯s too much! We can¡¯t ask her for anything!¡± she whispers, feeling somewhat aghast at her friend. ¡°It¡¯s wrong!¡± Jubilee leans in towards her. ¡°Look. I¡¯m sorry, but we don¡¯t have time for your moral bullshit!¡± they hiss back, whispering into her ear. ¡°This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, we¡¯re not wasting it!¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s not a waste!¡± hisses Fresh. ¡°Basil?!¡± she asks quietly, looking over to the priestess who is listening in as well. She sits there, fidgeting with her sleeve. Basil looks away, having nothing to add to the debate this time. But Fresh knows that she and Jubilee are on the same page here, seeing this as some golden opportunity. When did her friends become so heavy? Fresh narrows her eyes, holding Jubilee back as she leans out of the cart. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can help you,¡± she admits. ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh. If anyone knows about the restoration of bodily damage here, it¡¯s Basil. She shakes her head quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± admits the priestess. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of some druids near the southern-border, who have expertise in the matter, but -¡± ¡°I¡¯ve asked them,¡± says the barkeeper, interrupting Basil. ¡°I¡¯ve been to every city I can go into and to every village. I¡¯ve asked everyone,¡± she says, still holding her head down against her clenched fists. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re the only person left. There¡¯s nothing that anyone else can do. Please, I¡¯ll give you anything!¡± ¡°Do you know how it happened?¡± asks Basil. ¡°You can get up, it¡¯s okay,¡± says the priestess, apparently feeling bad now too. But the barkeeper doesn¡¯t budge. Basil looks back towards Jubilee, nodding once towards Fresh. ¡°Do you want to take her inside?¡± ¡°Yeah, come on goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, grabbing her wrist. ¡°Let¡¯s let the adults talk.¡± Fresh indignantly pulls her hand free from Jubilee, jumping off of the cart and going to the barkeeper, who flinches together with the sound of every step coming towards her. The anqa, Thyme starts to get rowdy as she approaches. Basil jumps off and steps in between them, calming it back down. ¡°Sorry about my friends, they¡¯re nice people, really,¡± says Fresh, glaring back up at everyone. ¡°But they can also be real JERKS sometimes,¡± she notes, making a point out of it as she looks particularly long at Basil and Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can help you,¡± says Fresh again, bending down and grabbing the icy cold bundle of fingers of the barkeeper. ¡°But I¡¯M,¡± she says the word extra loud for emphasis. ¡°- going to listen.¡± First grabbing her grimoire, she helps the elf get up and the two of them move to the side of the room, sitting by some crates in the back, while Basil and Shamrock bring the cart back around again, consoling a very confused and annoyed anqa. Fresh allows Jubilee to accompany her, but warns them wordlessly with the coldest glare that she has ever had to make, that they better not say a single word. And so, they spend the first hour of their arrival in this new city like that, painting the freshly growing memory of what is supposed to be a new start to their lives, with the truly horrible story that the barkeeper has to tell. Fresh doesn¡¯t say anything, just listening to the further reaffirmation that she receives. It proves to her once more that this world, in and of itself, is tainted in some way. Deep down at its very core, something has long since been broken and apparently, the same can be said of the people. The barkeeper tells the story of when she was living in a small village, a long time ago, out in the giant forest. She and her friends had unwittingly wandered too far towards the central-city while collecting herbs and hunting. The perimeter-guards there had found them. Her friends were tortured and executed and she, after her body was beaten and used, was ruined inside and out by hot-metal before being let go as a warning to any others to stay out of the vicinity of the central-city. Fresh sits there, staring at the ground as she listens and while the elf tells her story, she remembers the word Jubilee had used to describe the people who lived in that place, when she made the flying sheep, she remembers the emphasis they had placed on that singular description of them and the clean-burning venom in their voice. ¡®Demons¡¯. Now, many, many years later, the elf only has one real dream in life, the one thing she can¡¯t have. After the barkeeper tells her story, Fresh feels obligated to tell her theirs, at least the filtered version. Jubilee, perhaps still heeding her unspoken warning, says nothing and doesn¡¯t interrupt her, as she explains how they moved away from the north and then how they are now moving here. But that¡¯s about it, the information regarding her patron or any of the real details, she leaves out. She¡¯s just trying to have the elf realize that she isn¡¯t some evil creature that one needs to undergo a soul-selling pact with. But she also tells her that this is beyond her scope, while she flutters through her grimoire. She notices as she flips every damp page, how heavy they all seem to feel. Wasn¡¯t the world just a lot lighter only a week and a half ago, when they left the mountain? She rubs the back of her head, not finding anything. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll look,¡± says Fresh, finally closing her grimoire. ¡°But¡­¡± she shakes her head. ¡°I really don¡¯t know if there¡¯s anything I can do,¡± she says, averting her eyes. The barkeeper nods, also staring down at the stones below them for a while. ¡°If you need anything. A connection. Money. My blood. You can have it!¡± promises the barkeeper. ¡°You¡¯re moving? I can help with a structure!¡± Fresh grabs her scarred hands, shaking her head ¡®no¡¯ and standing up. ¡°I really promise that I¡¯ll look. For fr -¡± Her grimoire falls down from her lap as she rises upwards, the wet spine slapping against the stones. The book opens up and as both covers strike down against the ground. Fresh sees the black splashes fly out of the pages, some of them dribbling against the off-white cuff of her fluffy robe. She leans down, picking up the grimoire and looks at the open page. Fresh hates what she sees there; a spell. A ritual. She hates that the fountain is giving her this now. This wasn¡¯t there in the grimoire before, when she looked just a second ago, she¡¯s sure of it. She had gone through every single page. It just appeared there literally right now. Freshly written, the ink is still dripping wet. That means the fountain has decided for her. Fresh¡¯s eyes read over the spell and it makes her deeply unhappy to see, in a way. Because it means that the fountain had a solution the entire time. But it simply didn¡¯t care in the least. Only now, after the barkeeper has made a tangible offer of exchange, that it apparently considers useful in some way, is it willing to let her see this. Fresh sighs, closing the grimoire and nodding once. She knows what she has to say and she knows that if she doesn''t, that the fountain is going to make her say it anyways. ¡°I might have an idea, actually. But can we get a room and settle in first, please?¡± she asks, smearing wet ink on her face as she rubs her eyes, which feel deeply tired all of a sudden. The barkeeper nods, getting up right away. Razmatazz Here''s a cute Fresh to lighten the mood. She''s excited about you rating this story! You wouldn''t let her down, would you? WOULD YOU?! Thank you kindly for reading! - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 213: Feud Fresh falls down onto the single bed inside of their room in the eastern adventurer¡¯s guild, landing on the pillow face-first. The bed sits tucked into the back-right wall, like the one in their original room in the northern guild. She has arrived here first and by right of conquest, the bed is hers. Not that she even wants it, one of the others can have it to sleep in. But she just wants to lay here for a second. She still has her boots on, but they¡¯re dangling off the foot of the bed. It¡¯s okay though, foot-demons don¡¯t come out until you try to sleep. Fresh takes in a deep breath, breathing in the air of the pillow. Then, a moment later, she opens her eyes and stares deeply into the fabric as an important question comes to her. Where did the bed come from? Who made it? Who tucked in the sheets? How does this work? Isn¡¯t the cut-off space theirs alone? So how did it get here? These are all very important questions, she has never really figured out how the ¡®portal¡¯ magic of the cut-off spaces like the dungeon or these rooms works. In theory, it could be a great thing to look into. This kind of magic has potentially boundless applications. But that¡¯s all theory and maybes. Right now, Fresh just wants to lay here and pretend to be dead for a while. Someone sits down next to her, leaning backwards and resting the back of their head on her lower back. Jubilee. ¡°Should we talk about what just happened?¡± asks Basil, dragging in a large bag across the floor. Fresh can hear the material rubbing against the matte stones. ¡°Nah,¡± says Jubilee right away. Fresh mumbles her negative-response into the pillow in a wordless jumble of noises. ¡°Tomorrow,¡± says Shamrock and everyone seems to be willing to accept this, as nothing else comes in return from anyone. Fresh takes in another deep breath, breathing into her stomach, pressing it out. She feels Jubilee¡¯s head rise up together with her body. A loud clanking of metal is audible next to them as Shamrock sits down next to the bed, leaning against it from the open side. A moment later, the fabric of the mattress squishes together as Basil wedges herself between Fresh and the wall. Here they are. The east. Great. They all sit and lay there for a while, nobody says anything, really. Fresh exhales, returning the pillow-air back into the pillow where it belongs. ¡°We don¡¯t hurt people,¡± she says, breaking the silence. ¡°Never outside of self-defense. She wasn¡¯t going to do anything and you were going to hurt her,¡± says Fresh, keeping her face down in the pillow. ¡°We don¡¯t hurt people,¡± repeats Fresh, not wanting to look at the others right now. Apparently, they¡¯re talking about this now after all. ¡°Listen,¡± says Jubilee, not even taking a sharp tone. They¡¯re just talking calmly and slowly. ¡°If she wasn¡¯t really looking for our help, we could have all just died in that carriage house,¡± they explain, not lifting their head from the small of her back. ¡°What if she was just buying time for the guards to show up? Or for the people inside of the guild to gather up? We would have had a real issue.¡± Fresh can feel the soft vibration of Basil¡¯s wordless agreement. ¡°I know you want to assume the best intentions for everyone, but¡­ that¡¯s not what we do. That¡¯s not a safe way to keep what¡¯s yours.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°Maybe life''s like that, because that¡¯s what everyone keeps thinking? Instead of just trying to be nice?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± says Basil, taking her turn to sigh now. ¡°But this is how the world is right now. Even if it is terrible.¡± ¡°And trying to take advantage of the situation?¡± asks Fresh coldly. ¡°Of someone asking for help? Is that what the world is right now too?¡± ¡°It is,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I will literally kill and gut every beggar and orphan in this city if I have to,¡± they say, turning their head towards Basil. ¡°No offense.¡± Fresh, having expected as much ¡®on the nose honesty¡¯ from Jubilee, is surprised as she feels Basil shaking her head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t phrase it like that, but¡­¡± ¡°Basil¡­¡± says Fresh, turning her head to the side. She had held the priestess for a kind, loving saint up until today. But that image is shattered now, in a sense. She is sure that if the fountain hadn¡¯t stopped the priestess from driving the cart away, she would have run the barkeeper over. In a sense, she¡¯s the most let down by her. Basil stares at her for a while and then averts her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re really selfish sometimes, you know?¡± asks Basil. ¡°It¡¯s really mean.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said!¡± throws in Jubilee from the side. ¡°I just don¡¯t want you guys to become heavy,¡± says Fresh, returning to the sanctuary of the pillow. ¡°You can¡¯t undo something like that.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± says Basil. Fresh feels a hand laying on top of her head. ¡°I know you¡¯re upset about what we did and I understand,¡± she consoles. ¡°Back in the church, I would have felt the exact same way you do. But you need to understand something else too -¡± She doesn¡¯t rub her head or hair or anything, Basil just kind of has her hand there. Fresh feels the pillow move as the priestess lifts the side of it up, separating their faces. ¡°I¡¯ve never had a family before now,¡± says Basil and there is an awkward quiet in the room. Fresh stares into the fabric, not having expected one of her friends to say something this shameless and blatant. ¡°And I¡¯m not going to risk losing it, or let it undergo hardship. Even if that means becoming heavier.¡± It¡¯s not that she herself feels any different, as she has often considered them all much the same, but none of them have ever said it until now. ¡°Ah, fuck me,¡± groans Jubilee. ¡°Gross. Did you really just have to go there?¡± ¡°I did,¡± says Basil. ¡°We¡¯re having a moment.¡± ¡°I hate you people and your fucking ¡®moments¡¯!¡± exclaims Jubilee. ¡°Can¡¯t we just go drinking and stab some monsters? Fuck¡¯s sake.¡± ¡°Yes, yes,¡± says Basil. ¡°If you want, we can sleep next to each other tonight?¡± she asks Jubilee. Jubilee rolls their head, which is still on Fresh¡¯s back, left and right in a ¡®no¡¯. ¡°I¡¯m good, thanks. I don¡¯t want to be kicked all night.¡± Basil shrugs with her one free shoulder. ¡°Your loss. Shamrock?¡± ¡°Acceptable.¡± ¡°Great,¡± groans Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s going to sound like a forge in here.¡± Basil sits halfway upright. ¡°Just say it already and stop making jokes to get away,¡± says the priestess. Fresh feels Jubilee lifting their head back, likely to glare at Basil. ¡°We all know it.¡± Jubilee takes in a deep breath, Fresh recognizes the sound as Jubilee calming themselves. ¡°Same,¡± they say in a relenting tone. ¡°Same what?¡± asks Basil, smugly. ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck,¡± hisses Jubilee. ¡°Same what?¡± asks the priestess again, leaning over Fresh¡¯s back, calling Jubilee¡¯s bluff. ¡°FUCK!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re worse than she is. Fine! I feel the same way. Fucking hell, are you happy now?!¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Basil, who lays back down in the tiny groove of free-space between Fresh and the wall. ¡°Shamrock?¡± There is a clanking of metal as the man turns. ¡°I serve.¡± ¡°Shamrock -¡± starts Basil, taking on a stern, deeper tone of a lecturer, about to scold a child who has done wrong. ¡°Same,¡± says the man very quickly, looking back away. ¡°Thank you,¡± beams Basil. Jubilee grumbles. ¡°Why does he get to just say that?!¡± ¡°Because he doesn¡¯t need to grow as much emotionally as you do.¡± ¡°Who died and made you my fucking mom?!¡± Basil clears her throat, choosing to ignore Jubilee¡¯s latest question. Fresh meanwhile, has just been staring into the pillow this entire time, not sure what to make of the situation. Her friends have never been¡­ honest about their feelings before? At least not in a public setting around each other and especially not to this degree. It has always been just herself and them in secret one on ones. In a way, it¡¯s really relieving for her to hear them say it here too. The proof weighs stronger in public. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if we hurt your feelings by being cruel,¡± says Basil to Fresh who still hasn¡¯t gotten involved in this talk. ¡°We honestly were. But we were doing it to protect and help the people we love.¡± ¡°FUCK!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m out.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not ¡®out¡¯,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯m out- F- let me go!¡± they snap as a hand grabs theirs. Fresh¡¯s. She lays there, face-down, her left hand holding Jubilee, so that they can¡¯t escape their horrible fate. Another hand lays itself on top of the bundle. Basil¡¯s. ¡°That¡¯s why we think you¡¯re the one who is being selfish,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°Because you want to save and help everyone all the time, even if it means putting our shared life as a family into clear risk.¡± Fresh lifts her head. ¡°If I have to choose between the world becoming heavier and saving us, then I choose us,¡± says Basil. ¡°And it feels like you wouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°What she said,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh turns her head, looking towards Shamrock. ¡°No matter which road we take, I serve,¡± he explains, nodding to her affirmingly. ¡°I prefer this one though,¡± notes Shamrock, however, placing his hand into the group. Fresh is a little overwhelmed with this barrage of emotionality. Usually she is the one who is dishing out, but now that something is finally coming back her way, she doesn¡¯t really know how to make heads or tails of it. She knows that in a way, she is indeed being selfish with only ever wanting her own desires and intents for the world to be the ones that are fulfilled. But is that really selfish? To not want her friends to do something horrible? What if that horrible thing is what saves their lives? She doesn¡¯t know. But she realizes now that her friends are having a personal crisis because of her desire for them to be spiritually saved, because it has put their own desires for their physical family to be safe at risk. Would she kill someone? To keep Jubilee safe? Basil? Shamrock? Would she do anything, to keep them well and provided for? Yes. Yes, she would. Fresh doesn¡¯t even have a doubt about it, now that she thinks about it in a direct context. So how can she get mad at her friends for doing the same exact thing for her and each other? They have different gray-zones of morality though, clearly and there are other things left to be mad about. But she¡¯s too tired and too overwhelmed for now to continue. No family is perfect. They all just need a little more work and maybe a night to sleep on it. Razmatazz There. Now we had the talk that I was talking about a few chapters ago. Huh? ...What? Wait. What did you think we were going to talk about, reader? Of course it was going to be about friendship!??>:( Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 214: Take it easty The four of them, after unloading the rest of the cart and storing the boxes inside of their room, had then washed up and essentially all fell asleep into a newly formed heap on the single bed. Any serious talks that were left to be had were postponed for another time, as this talk had already been exhausting enough in a really hard to explain way. There¡¯s something about opening up in a true manner, when one hasn¡¯t done so in a long time or even ever, that makes it a very tiring thing to do. Perhaps it¡¯s just the overwhelming sense of catharsis that comes with saying what needs to be said, but by the time everyone returns back to the room, clean and ready to sleep, nobody has any desire to say anything else. When the next day comes, everyone seems to realize how sore they are from the trip on the cart, now that they¡¯ve finally come to a real stop and had some real rest. Basil groans, holding her lower back as she hobbles around the room. ¡°This must be how you feel all the time,¡± she says, turning her head towards Fresh, who is standing by the closed, opaque windows with that exact same crooked pose as her. Jubilee sits with their hands behind their head on top of a pile of crates. ¡°You people have been sitting for the last two weeks, how bad can it be?¡± Basil scowls. ¡°Sitting on a hard, bumpy cart, listening to your nagging for two weeks was worse than walking through the forest the first time,¡± she replies. Jubilee makes a show out of rolling their eyes. Fresh smiles as she watches them. It seems that everything is back to normal again. ¡°So what¡¯s our plan?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Our plan is to look around the city first. Get our heads around the lay of the land,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°We need to gather information, find out what people here need and what they currently sell.¡± ¡°And the barkeeper?¡± asks Basil. The room is quiet for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to her.¡± Jubilee nods their head to Fresh. ¡°You look into your weird contract fuckery. We need this to be airtight.¡± Fresh nods, not wanting to get into a conversation about it. It¡¯s not like she has a choice, the fountain will just make her if she doesn¡¯t. Jubilee nods back. ¡°We need to check out the dungeon and get some materials to get the crafting process started. Same rules as before,¡± they explain. ¡°We can¡¯t make any conspicuous wares. Nothing people will connect to our old lives.¡± ¡°About that,¡± says Basil. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you and Shamrock¡­ you know, be less conspicuous?¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you shut up and get back to work?¡± snaps Jubilee, kicking their feet up. Basil glares at them from across the room. Basil protests. ¡°And what about the fairies? There¡¯s next to no way to unconnect them from us.¡± ¡°We¡¯re just traveling merchants they hitched a ride with, from the west,¡± shrugs Jubilee. ¡°Please, you know better. It¡¯s a good story, but they aren¡¯t going to stick with it. One of them will slip,¡± says Basil. ¡°Many are still young,¡± throws in Shamrock from the side. ¡°They are reckless.¡± Jubilee stares up towards the ceiling. ¡°As long as nobody connects us to the north, we¡¯re fine. The west is still a safe zone for us. For now.¡± ¡°For now,¡± sighs Basil. After they have finished unpacking what they need to unpack, creating a small wall of crates as well, the four of them head out into the guild. It¡¯s quiet this early in the morning, apparently most of the sailors only ever come here at night and most of the adventurers are busy earning their keep in the dungeon. They order breakfast, taking it back to their room and eating by the crate-wall, so that Jubilee has some privacy. Food here in the east seems to be a bit different than the hearty, heavy meals of the west. There is a lot of fish and sea-food. But Fresh opted for a platter of stiff cracker-breads with a tan-colored paste made out of spices and some kind of mashed up beans. After breakfast, the four of them head out into the city. Fresh considers wearing her ¡®first¡¯ dress, which she still has crumpled together in her bag. But she isn¡¯t sure if she¡¯s brave enough for it anymore, so she¡¯s just going to wear her black-dress for now. It isn¡¯t ideal for the climate, obviously. But at least it¡¯s not as bad as the fluffy robe. ¡°You two check out near the ocean,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at Fresh and Shamrock. ¡°Scope out the dungeon. Get a feel for the locals and any items you think you can process. You,¡± they point at Basil. ¡°You¡¯re with me, we¡¯re going to talk to some people.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Basil. ¡°I want to see the ocean too,¡± she says. Fresh leans in, whispering angrily. ¡°No thieves¡¯ guild stuff, Jubilee!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Have a little faith, will you, goo-brain?¡± they say, shaking their head. ¡°I used to know some merchants here. I want to get a feel of how things are these days around the area.¡± They look around. ¡°The east has always been pretty fuckery-free. But times are changing fast.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°They sure are¡­¡± She nods. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t go into the ocean without you.¡± ¡°Fuck off,¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°Nobody is going into the ocean until we¡¯ve finished our work. We¡¯re trying to run an enterprise here,¡± they say, snapping their fingers twice. ¡°We¡¯ll meet up at the guild later. Don¡¯t do anything dumb,¡± warns Jubilee, pointing at her specifically. ¡°We won¡¯t!¡± promises Fresh. Jubilee stares at her skeptically, opting to look towards Shamrock instead. He gives them a thumbs-up. Somehow, Jubilee seems more trusting of that and nods. The four of them then split up into their groups. Fresh and Shamrock make their way through the city. Everything seems to catch Fresh¡¯s eyes, no matter which street they take towards the ocean. There are dozens of stalls and vendors and large, glass-front windows. All of them are full of all manner of foods, equipment, curios and trinkets, materials and literally everything else that the heart could desire. They end up picking a somewhat shadier street by mistake and for some reason, one window there has a few people standing in it, posing while wearing what Fresh would call swimwear, but Shamrock simply drags her back the other way again and they return to the main road. As they walk and marvel at the many interesting things there are to see, Fresh realizes that there is going to be a lot of competition in this place. Being a harbor city, trade and mercantilism are in their prime here and business is booming no matter which way she looks. No stall is empty of customers, no storefront-window unlooked into, no street vendor without a line that bends around the tropical, evergreen palms and ivy that run around the corners. People here have money and more than anything, they¡¯re willing to spend it. The other thing that she notices are the dirty looks that they get now and then. It almost reminds her of when she arrived in the north and got so many looks, but she attributes that to her old dress being a little more ¡®free natured¡¯. The expressions now however are different from back then. ¡°They are wary,¡± says Shamrock, seeing her look around. ¡°Of what?¡± asks Fresh, looking down at herself. Maybe she has a really embarrassing spot on this old dress that she had forgotten about and people think she¡¯s a creep? ¡°Of me,¡± explains the large man. Fresh blinks, looking up at him as she realizes. She had entirely forgotten, since people in the west were so excited and kind about Shamrock¡¯s presence, that in the rest of the world, members of the witch¡¯s sect aren¡¯t looked kindly on at all. She frowns. ¡°I know you¡¯re gonna say no,¡± says Fresh. ¡°But do you want us to get you some armor that isn¡¯t so¡­ you know?¡± Shamrock shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯ll even make you some myself, if you want,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°We can make it together, it could be a whole project for us two!¡± she says excitedly, clenching her fists. Shamrock shakes his head. Fresh had expected as much though. She never assumed he would say yes to either offer. She just wanted to make them though. ¡°I just don¡¯t want you to be in danger, Shamrock,¡± she says. ¡°I am already in danger¡± replies Shamrock. ¡°Because I choose to be.¡± Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°But if someone comes after us, everyone is going to look at you right away.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± is all that Shamrock says, lifting a finger and pressing it softly against her forehead. Fresh blinks. ¡°They will,¡± he explains, lowering his hand and walking onward. Despite the sincerity of his intent, Fresh is still unhappy about it. She wants to be the one who protects her friends, not the other way around. But she¡¯s probably just being selfish again. The two of them make their way through the city and end up at a three-tiered series of flat plateaus, each with a row of houses. Several staircases lead down the three-tiers towards the ocean below. There, out by the water, Fresh sees it, half-submerged, crooked, with a boardwalk heading towards it. A large, almost sunken gate with a blue-glow inside of it. The eastern dungeon. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 215: Sea-breeze Fresh stands there, holding her hair out of her eyes as she stares out over the ocean. The sea-winds pressing against her face throw her long, sun-bleached golden strands around behind herself. Ships move across the horizon. Large, wooden vessels with giant sheeted-sails. She and Shamrock are standing on the lowest raised tier of houses above the beach. A single staircase separates them from the shore, but Fresh resists. She had promised Basil that she would wait. Still, her fingers are tapping against the railing as she looks out over it. She really wants to go down to the ocean. Something squeaks and screams off to the side. Fresh pulls together a little, having been lost in a daze caused by the mesmerizing crashing of the waves onto the shore before them. Looking around, she leans forward over the white-wooden railing and looks down the length of the beach. A group of adventurers are fighting what looks like¡­ A giant crab? She gasps. Well, ¡®giant¡¯. It¡¯s certainly giant for crab-standards, but not as giant as she would have envisioned a giant crab to be. It reaches up to about the height of a human¡¯s knee and it is currently involved in a fight with a group of people, who appear to be very new adventurers. Following her gaze, Shamrock points out the other crabs. Wild monsters, all of them. But monsters this close to the city? She¡¯s never seen that before. If you went down the staircase, you could accidentally step on one if it was down in the sand. ¡°A beginner zone,¡± explains Shamrock, nodding his head towards the adventurers who defeat the giant crab in a semi-honorable battle. The crab falls back, dying a fairly theatrical death, before dissolving, leaving beach-sand and a heap of some unidentifiable crab-loot behind. A moment later, a few meters down the beach, a new crab appears. It simply seems to be pushed up and out of the sand, as if by some unseen hand below the world. ¡°Wow!¡± says Fresh, waving to the newly spawned world-crab. It does not wave back, finding itself in a fight for its life only seconds after being born as the grinding party descends upon it. ¡°So new adventurers can just kill crabs until they¡¯re strong enough to go into the dungeon?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± nods Shamrock. ¡°That¡¯s so cool!¡± exclaims Fresh ¡°How come the other cities didn¡¯t have these?¡± ¡°They did,¡± says Shamrock, turning to keep walking along the lowest tier of houses and shops. ¡°Once. Now only crabs remain.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh runs after him. ¡°I had a really hard time, you know? A wild, easy monster spawning area would have been great!¡± says Fresh, tapping her finger against her chin as she walks next to Shamrock. Now that the sun is coming out, she¡¯s starting to notice how hot it¡¯s getting, very, very rapidly. She¡¯s already starting to get strong sweat-stains on her black-dress and she has to be careful not to get too close to Shamrock. His armor radiates heat out from itself. ¡°It would have made being poor really easy to get out of!¡± she says. ¡°With a little work and some elbow grease¡­¡± ¡°That is why,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh stares at him for a moment, before returning her eyes to the road. She sighs, of course. At this point, remembering the cut-throatedness of the powers that be in the north, she doesn¡¯t even need further explanation. Something like a rapid, low-level monster spawner on the outskirts of the city would be destroyed by any one of dozens of parties. She assumes, given the northern monster-types, that the beginner spawning ground there was a mush-mush spawner. Any low-level adventurer, all by themselves, could grind their way up to a reasonable level just off of mush-mushes alone, all without ever finding a party, paying dues, buying heaps of equipment, potions and goods, or needing expensive shelter. She wouldn¡¯t even be surprised if the adventurer¡¯s guild themselves found a way to destroy the monster spawners, or at least deactivate them. People need a long time to level up in the dungeon, given that it only resets every two weeks. That means they need shelter and provisions and the guild just so happens to offer them¡­ Add in the merchant¡¯s guild who will see a boost in sales and are then able to keep the more limited supply of mushroom-caps under control and it all adds up. Nobody wants to help any low-level adventurers become stronger or better, everyone just wants to make some money and one of the best ways to do that is to control the market. ¡°So why is this one still around?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The crabs fought well,¡± says Shamrock. The two of them pass a cart that is laden full with tropical fruits and a man makes a show out of cutting them with an odd cleaver. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, not sure if that was a joke or a serious statement. She looks back out over the railing, seeing a familiar flash of light. ¡°Look!¡± she exclaims, tugging on Shamrock¡¯s arm and then quickly wincing and shaking out her close to burnt fingers. The group of combat fairies are out on the beach, fighting a very confused crab with their magic, who is entirely unable to do anything about it. A group of excited onlookers run after them from a distance. Fresh smiles happily, seeing them working hard already. But then her smile grows flat as she realizes that the group of fairies is one person short. She rubs her arm, thinking of Pentii. He would have really liked it here, she¡¯s sure. For the rest of the day, the two of them explore the area. The desert city is apparently inside of a large, round cove and the houses run all along the shoreline on the three tiered platforms, until flattening off on the highest one. Near the ocean, the houses are far more colorful, much to Fresh¡¯s delight, as the owners have taken the initiative of painting them in all manners of bright reds and yellows and blues. They get a lot of dirty looks, but nobody goes out of their way to confront them because of Shamrock. The dungeon is a mixed dungeon. It apparently used to actually be a desert dungeon, a long, long time ago. But eventually, the ocean overtook it and began flooding it. Apparently, the dungeon has adapted inside and become a mixture of sorts now, with large desert segments as well as ocean segments that require a lot of swimming. Fresh thinks this is unusually fascinating, how something like the dungeon can change its insides depending on what comes into it from the outside. She wonders if the cut-off spaces in the adventurer¡¯s guild could work like this too? Maybe that¡¯s where the beds come from? Maybe they just¡­ pushed thousands of beds into the gate and now everyone has one? She has no idea, but it¡¯s fun to think about. ¡°Shamrock,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Remind me later please, I want to figure out how dungeon-magic works, or at least cut-off-space-magic.¡± She stops, wondering if that isn¡¯t the same thing. Shamrock nods. Fresh sees dozens of houses that she would think would make a fantastic store and all of them have terrific views of the ocean. But none of them have a ¡®for sale¡¯ sign on them. Ideally, of course, they need one close to the dungeon-gate. But those look like premium real-estate, oddly enough and a bit out of their budget. Maybe the eastern dungeon doesn¡¯t get many dungeon-breaks either? It really does seem to be a ¡®north¡¯ problem. Hours later, they get back to the adventurer¡¯s guild and Fresh has picked up a giant, mixed bag of some kind of gummy fruit-snacks on the way. (Fresh) bought: [Jelly candy grab-bag]{Large}(Normal) for [{20} Obols] ! Jubilee looks up at her, leaning back against the wall as they enter. ¡°Candy, again?¡± they ask. Fresh stares at them, continuing her chewing. She tilts the bag forward, offering them some. Jubilee rolls their eyes. Basil doesn¡¯t reach in from the side either, she is sitting down against the wall with her hands clenched together. Shamrock at least takes some, once again. He seems to like the green ones the most too. ¡°There are some green ones here, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, pointing them out. ¡°How was it?¡± asks Jubilee, lifting a hand and changing the topic. ¡°Uh, they¡¯re a little sour and I think they taste like apple,¡± says Fresh. Jubilee stands there, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. Their fingers tap impatiently against their elbow. Basil chimes in from the side. ¡°I think Jubilee meant your trip through the city,¡± she explains. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to dignify it with an explanation,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Oh!¡± says Fresh. ¡°We saw crabs! And a lot of houses and the dungeon! It¡¯s a really pretty city, guys!¡± Fresh tugs on her dress. ¡°But it¡¯s super hot,¡± she adds on, her head drooping as she pulls the wet fabric from her skin. It¡¯s soaked through with sweat. ¡°Sorry, I think I¡¯m all sweaty and gross now.¡± ¡°You sure are,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh eats a green candy in protest. A pair of metal boots walk past her. ¡°The merchants?¡± asks Shamrock, reading the room better than she is. ¡°Dead,¡± replies Jubilee straight away, shaking their head. Fresh stops chewing, quickly handing Shamrock the bag of candy. She holds her arms out for a hug, as she is certain that this is what Jubilee needs now as the very first thing. Jubilee lifts a finger, staying leaned against the wall. ¡°No,¡± they say, very dryly. ¡°You look like you fell into a fountain. It¡¯s disgusting.¡± Fresh blinks, looking down at her almost dripping robe. She frowns. ¡°Aren¡¯t you sad, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°About your friends?¡± Jubilee looks around the room, staring at the three of them. ¡°Yes. Yes I am. Every day a little more.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± says Fresh, catching the quip right away this time. She grabs Jubilee, rubbing her sweaty face against the side of their hood as punishment. Jubilee sighs in annoyance, but doesn¡¯t put up much of a fight. This is how Fresh knows that they¡¯re bothered about this far more than they¡¯re letting on. When in good mental health, Jubilee would never just let her get away with something like this without so much as a mean remark. Fresh looks around the room, wondering what this weird air in here is. It¡¯s certainly not coming from her. Her eyes land on Basil, who is still sitting there down against the wall. She looks back at Jubilee and then lets go. ¡°Guys?¡± ¡°They were murdered,¡± says Basil. ¡°Recently.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± Fresh moves over to the priestess, taking a minute to offer her a sweat-hug as well. ¡°Like¡­ last week or something?¡± ¡°About ten minutes before we got there,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh looks back at Jubilee and then down at Basil¡¯s shaking hands. ¡°It was bad,¡± says Basil. Fresh grabs her hands, feeling how surprisingly cold they feel. ¡°Really bad,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. Razmatazz Hey, remember that whole murderer arc from the north? You haven''t been worrying about it, have you...???=) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 216: Getting a feel After that, the four of them decide to take the rest of the day slow and to stay inside of the guild, only leaving once to get dinner, before retreating back inside of their room together. Jubilee tells everyone to straighten up and be watchful, but Fresh doesn¡¯t need to be told that. Even she recognizes the seriousness of the situation right away. Jubilee is a well-traveled person with many contacts in seemingly every single city they go to, so it isn¡¯t a surprise that they knew people here as well. But the murder of the two merchants, who were purveyors of really only the most common and boring wares imaginable, shortly after their arrival here in this city is too well timed to be anything but someone trying to make a move against them. But who? Why? The thieves¡¯ guild? Just to make their lives harder? What could be the point? Fresh doesn¡¯t know. It¡¯s not like they knew anything special, right? They were just normal merchants. She sighs, picking at the piece of bread on her plate that she is forcing herself to eat, if only to set a good example for Basil who is having a harder time swallowing the topic and her food. That night ends up being another ¡®sleepover¡¯ night, with all four of them cramming themselves into the corner of the room again. The next day comes. Jubilee tells them that they aren¡¯t splitting up anymore until they feel out the situation more, everyone agrees. ¡°So how do you feel about crab-items?¡± asks Jubilee, as they walk through the city later that day, on their way to the dungeon. ¡°Crab-items?¡± asks Fresh, pondering the idea. ¡°Crab-bits are cheap as shit in this town, given the endless supply of em. Anything you can do with that?¡± Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t want to make crab-items. The poor crabs¡­¡± she says. Jubilee stares at her. ¡°Really? Crab-equipment is where you draw the line?¡± they ask. ¡°Not pulling goblin-teeth or skinning kobolds, but crabs?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°I like crabs, Jubilee.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Fine. Whatever. We should check out the dungeon anyways,¡± they suggest. ¡°We can see what kind of bullshit we can¡¯t find there for you to make more trinkets and evil knick-knacks out of.¡± ¡°My knick-knacks aren¡¯t evil!¡± argues Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°Besides, crab-armor is a dumb idea.¡± Jubilee stops in their tracks, staring at her. ¡°Are you fucking with me right now?¡± they ask, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°After all of the fuckery you¡¯ve been up to¡­¡± Jubilee stops themselves, shaking their head. ¡°You know what? No, I don¡¯t give a shit. Fine, don¡¯t make any crab-equipment.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, looking around. Basil and Shamrock are walking behind them, but aren¡¯t really participating in this half-joking conversation. Basil has been on edge ever since last night, being sensitive to the topic. Plus, Fresh isn¡¯t sure what it is that the two of them saw, but it must have been really bad if it even shook Jubilee. Basil is likely still processing. Shamrock is simply on the lookout. Despite that, on their way through the city, Fresh still makes them stop as they pass by many interesting store-front windows. One of them, near the water, is a monster-trader. Several large eggs and other various, unidentifiable fleshy blobs, sit on display together with drawings of monsters next to them. Fresh gasps, seeing the wide variety of monsters that she could buy. Dozens of creatures, including giant serpents, anqas, monstrous spiders and to her great confusion, mush-mushes. ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°How do mush-mushes make eggs?¡± Jubilee looks at her and then at the other two and then just keeps walking without replying. Fresh puffs out her cheek, staring back at the window longingly. Apparently, you really can buy everything in a harbor-city. But what would she even do with a monster? It seems like a lot of work and she¡¯d have to feed it and take care of it and, quite frankly, she already has enough responsibilities with keeping her friends fed and doted-on and taken care of. ¡°Psst,¡± whispers a strange voice from an alley to her side. Fresh turns her head, looking at the scraggly man standing there. He opens the side of his coat. ¡°Hey girlie, Wanna buy a slime?¡± asks the shady man, gesturing to the wobbling fluids contained inside of the bottles that he has strapped to the inside of his coat. ¡°Hominid-slimes are twenty-percent off today!¡± Fresh blinks, considering the offer for a moment, if only to free those poor slimes. ¡°Fuck off!¡± barks Jubilee at him, grabbing her hand and pulling her away and back into the rest of the group. There are many special things about the eastern city, mostly brought on by the incredibly diverse selection of exotic wares here. It doesn¡¯t matter which street they go down, everywhere that they go, she sees at least one thing that she doesn¡¯t recognize, be it a fruit, some equipment or even just the clothes that some of the people here are wearing. Fresh points at a store that specializes in what Jubilee would describe as ¡®woo-woo fuckery¡¯. Crystals, herbs, incense, scriptures and wands and all manner of things of that nature. ¡°I need some stuff here for the¡­ uh¡­¡± Fresh looks around. ¡°- the thing,¡± she explains, ducking into the store, while the others wait outside. She speaks to the somewhat oddly dressed, older woman, who looks exactly like the kind of person who would run this kind of store, asking her if she has the things that she needs. The first one is easy enough and there is ample of it in stock, as it is commonly used in potion brewing for defensive potions. The second ingredient, however¡­ ¡°Medea¡¯s mallow?¡± asks the store-owner. ¡°That¡¯s a hard one,¡± thinks the woman, looking around the store. ¡°Would you like a crystal instead? Fresh from the western-mountain!¡± Fresh does her best not to make a face at this statement. ¡°No, thank you, I really need the mallow.¡± Seeing that she isn¡¯t going to buy something else, the woman bends down below the counter and grabs a catalog, flapping through it. ¡°Well¡­ The last order of mallow we got was¡­ uh¡­ let¡¯s see here -¡± She flips through the pages. ¡°About ten years ago. Boy,¡± she whistles and lifts her eyes. ¡°That was back just about when the hero-party was around and doing their thing.¡± The shopkeeper sighs and shakes her head. ¡°Better days.¡± ¡°Can you order more?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ll pay!¡± ¡°The problem is that it only grows in the south,¡± says the store-owner. ¡°There¡¯s still some left in the safe-area, but I¡¯ll have to send my boy and his anqa down there to fetch some.¡± She pulls out a sheet, listing up a few items. ¡°You¡¯ll have to cover traveling expenses, hourly rate, hazard pay, provisions for him and the anqa as well as a fee for the plant itself, of course,¡± she says, writing down a whole slew of numbers. ¡°For ten-thousand, we¡¯ll have it within two weeks.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Okay. Thank you,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll bring the money by tomorrow,¡± she promises. Only after she exits the door does she realize how this sum of money didn¡¯t even make her blink. It¡¯s exactly the same amount that had made her heart fall into despair back when she had indebted herself to the adventurer¡¯s guild. After that is taken care of, the four of them head down the long staircase towards the beach, passing through the three tiers of houses. They step foot onto the sand together, but nobody seems to be in the mood to play around. Fresh, understanding the serious looks in their eyes, does her best to straighten herself upright as well, as all four of them head into the eastern-dungeon together. Razmatazz -) We got some plot-relevent lore in this chapter, I wonder if you''ll make the connection. Well. Maybe it will be clearer later on. Don''t worry about it. =) -) Tomorrow, dungeon arc! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 217: Dungeon East Peaceful. If there is only a single word that Fresh could use to describe the inside of the eastern dungeon, then it would be ¡®peaceful¡¯. The four of them stand there on the other side of the blue-fog of the dungeon-gate, staring out over the wide open expanse before themselves. It looks nothing like any of the other dungeons, the floors of which were contained in cavernous spaces and holes. This¡­ this is like being outside in the desert. A soft wind blows over them all, carrying with it the smell of the ocean and a soft whistling that sounds like the playing of a flute, somewhere off far, far in the distance. It feels like they shouldn¡¯t be able to hear the sound to begin with, but somehow, it still reaches their ears, as if the sea-breeze were somehow bringing the wordless melody towards them. There isn¡¯t a sun to be seen, but it is bright and warm nonetheless. There isn¡¯t a sky to be seen, rather, the area above their heads is just sort of¡­ blue. It¡¯s like the sky, but it looks fake, synthetic. Like some great cosmic-painter had simply recreated a depiction of the sky, having been unable to bring the real thing down into here. ¡°Wow¡­¡± says Fresh, looking around the area. The others seem to share her sense of awe and simply look out over the desert too. There, far in the distance, a large wall of red-fog pulsates out of a second dungeon-gate that sits across the desert. The way to the next floor. ¡°It¡¯s different,¡± says Jubilee, looking around the area and taking a step forward onto the soft sand. ¡°It used to look different. The hell?¡± ¡°Can dungeons change?¡± asks Basil, walking after them. ¡°When were you here before?¡± Jubilee looks at Basil, shrugging. ¡°Apparent- fucking- ly,¡± they say, gesturing out at the vast expanse. ¡°This used to be a big rocky field full of bullshity rock-monsters and cacti.¡± They sigh, marching over the desert. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake. Even the dungeons are getting worse.¡± Something bubbles in the wet sand to their right as they walk alongside the ocean. ¡°Crab,¡± says Jubilee in a bored voice, not stopping as they walk to the next gate. A large crab, like the ones outside, pops out of the sand just in time to get whacked on the head by Shamrock. There is a loud cracking and it dissolves instantly, leaving a large pincer behind. ¡°Take the claws, they¡¯re good eating,¡± says Jubilee. Shamrock nods, bending down and picking up the piece of the crab. Something shoots out of the sand next to him, a large pincer snapping around his wrist and clamping down. ¡°Shamrock!¡± calls out Fresh in worry. Shamrock turns her way, shrugging and holding his arm up in the air. A second giant crab hangs from his wrist, dangling freely off of the ground. She sighs in relief, seeing that he¡¯s okay. ¡°That¡¯s some strong armor,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯ve heard they can usually cut through weak metal.¡± She looks around. ¡°Should I do it?¡± asks Basil, gesturing to the crab. Fresh shakes her head, grabbing her knife from her bag. ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± she says, steeling herself. She doesn¡¯t want to hurt the monster-crab. But, she wants to let her friends know that she¡¯s willing to get her hands dirty for them too. The crab is too busy snapping unsuccessfully at Shamrock with its free claw to notice her approaching. ¡°Hold still, Shamrock,¡± she instructs, lifting the dagger up. Fresh closes her eyes for a moment, bracing herself. She hopes that the crab understands. [Giant Crab Claw](Normal) A large, orange claw that once belonged to a giant enemy crab. It is filled with delicious, juicy meat. After that second crab is killed, the red-fog in the distance dissipates and the four of them head towards it and then through it, ending up at the start of a space that looks exactly like the one they had just come from. Floor two of the eastern-dungeon is more crabs. Four this time. Shamrock and Fresh handle them together, while Basil keeps a close eye on them from the side. Floor three is eight crabs. Jubilee kills them all with a single attack. ¡°Time is money,¡± they say, looking back at their expressions. The four of them look in through the next gate, down to floor four. This floor looks a little different and large palm trees dot the shoreline, giving way to a half-jungle area. ¡°Let me guess, more crabs?¡± asks Basil. But as they walk around the room, no crabs appear as they make their way across the room, walking through the light tropical foliage. ¡°I guess not,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m sure this used to be some kind of¡­ uh¡­ lizard floor? I remember big lizards.¡± A loud striking of a metal gong breaks the silence. Fresh jumps back in surprise, watching as the coconut, shattered in half on Shamrock¡¯s head, falls down into two pieces down at his feet. ¡°Are you alright, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh, rushing over. The man sighs, lifting his gaze up to the tree he is standing below. ¡°OOH!¡± A large, apish creature sits high up in the fronds, beating its chest with its two large hands for a moment. It grabs another coconut, Fresh yelps, running to the side just in time as it smashes down where she was standing a second ago. ¡°OO -¡± The dire-ape is silenced immediately as a spike of glass shoots through its open mouth, piercing up through its skull from below. ¡°Ew! Jubilee!¡± says Fresh, shaking her hands and doing an oddly disgusted dance. The dead monkey flops down from the tree. ¡°What?! How is the monkey different from the crabs?!¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Just because you¡¯re twins, doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not going to kill it,¡± they quip, clearly feeling a little snarky today. Fresh gasps. ¡°Rude!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes, waving her off. ¡°Cut the left paw off. They¡¯re used for magical-crafting. Good money if I remember right¡­ The fur sells well too. Shamrock.¡± Jubilee looks around the trees. ¡°Now where are those other m- ah!¡± A very nervous monkey looks out from over a large frond, a few trees away. ¡°¡­Ooh?¡± ¡®asks¡¯ the monkey. ¡°Ooh,¡± says Jubilee, snapping their fingers. Cutting the paws off is far more gruesome work than Fresh has gotten accustomed too. She does her best not to look as well, as Shamrock begins skinning the monkeys, after she finishes. [Monkey''s paw](Normal) A large, bloody, severed paw that once belonged to a dire-ape. It now belongs to you. The tips of the fingers radiate a subtle magical energy. ¡°Oh, I almost forgot,¡± says Jubilee, looking at Basil. They lift a finger, pointing at the coconuts up above them. ¡°Those are worth three Obols each.¡± Basil blinks. ¡°So?¡± ¡°So,¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Get your pale, fat-ass up that tree and start collecting them.¡± ¡°You¡¯re being very rude today,¡± says Basil, crossing her arms. ¡°Just knock them down with your magic.¡± ¡°I¡¯m using my magic to kill everything,¡± argues Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re not doing shit.¡± There is a loud cracking to the side, the three of them watch as the tree that Shamrock is standing next to shakes, his bloody fist having struck against it once. The coconuts fall down to the soft ground below. He quietly stares at the two of them, before just walking towards the next gate. Fresh sighs, realizing that her friends are still clearly on edge, even inside of here. She grabs her bag, opening it up and starts tossing everything inside herself. [Coconut](Normal) The coconut is highly dense in calories and rich in minerals. Covered in a hard, hairy shell, the contents inside are very sweet and refreshing. The coconut is not actually a nut, but rather a coco-fruit of the family of coco-palms. Seeing her working, Basil and Jubilee lay today¡¯s differences aside and begin helping her load everything into the bag. Razmatazz Boss ''fight'' tomorrow. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 218: Ooh ¡°You IDIOT!¡± yells Jubilee up at her. Fresh is only barely able to hear Jubilee¡¯s voice, which is being overpowered by the growl of the giant-ape sub-boss that they had found on floor ten. More aptly said, it had found her. ¡°I told you to stay back!¡± they shout, their tone clearly one of vexation. Fresh¡¯s hair moves from side to side as the wind, caused by her sudden upward movement through the air, pushes past her face. Jubilee looks so small from up here, then again, so do the others. She lifts her hand, waving to her friends. ¡°Sorry!¡± she calls down, trying to grip herself free from the clutches of the giant hand that is holding her aloft. She places her hands down on the top of the massive index-finger, which is the size of her entire body, and tries to push herself up and out of its gentle grip. But she finds little success. ¡°I¡¯m okay!¡± Turning her head back around, she looks at the giant, sub-boss ape-thing that is holding her with one hand, beating its chest with the other. They had entered floor eight of the eastern-dungeon and Jubilee had warned them that this would be a sub-boss floor. The eastern-dungeon does them every eight floors, apparently. Anyways, she was told to stay back and to let the three of them handle it and Fresh did exactly that, listening very intently to her friend¡¯s warnings. She was determined to not mess it up this time, like she did their first boss fight together, back in the northern-dungeon. Well, one thing led to another, as they tend to do. She saw some very shiny sea-shells that she wanted to give to her friends, to help them feel better. In her pursuit of what apparently were tiny, rare-spawn crab-creatures, she got swiped off of the beach by a giant hand that had shot out from the jungle, just on the edge of the ¡®room¡¯. Now here she is, hanging up in the air like some kind of prize being dangled above her party. The sub-boss didn¡¯t seem to want to hurt her, it just kind of¡­ wanted to take her as a hostage. Maybe this is some kind of boss-mechanic? She supposes that if this is the case, then this is the best scenario. Better her than one of her friends, right? She wouldn¡¯t be missed in a fight, like one of them would. Fresh sighs, crossing her arms and looking up at the giant ape. ¡°Hey, Mr. Monkey? Can you put me down, please?¡± she asks. Mr. Monkey does not respond, opting instead to continue snarling at her friends. Fresh tilts her head. Apparently her ability to talk to forest-monsters doesn¡¯t carry over to ¡®tropical forest monsters¡¯ and what are they, if not just monsters from particularly wet forests? Oh well, what does she know? She looks back down. It¡¯s a good thing she isn¡¯t afraid of heights. Hmm¡­ well, maybe she can at least curse the thing, to make the fight easier? Fresh lifts a finger, touching the tip of it against the rough skin of the sub-boss. She stops¡­ Then again, the fight doesn¡¯t seem to have been ¡®triggered¡¯ yet. Sure, she¡¯s been foisted away. But so far, that¡¯s all that¡¯s happened. Her friends are down there talking amongst themselves and she¡¯s up here, just hanging around. It might be best to wait, so that she doesn¡¯t start the fight. Fresh looks out towards the shoreline, trying to see if she can see those shiny crabs from here. She hopes that they didn¡¯t get away. Their shells were really pretty. Her eyes wander back down as she sees a blur of motion. She blinks, leaning over the finger to look down at the beach. Basil and Shamrock are leaving. ¡°Hey!¡± yells Fresh, but she doesn¡¯t think her voice reaches them anymore, now that she¡¯s been lifted higher up. They¡¯re leaving? Surely the loving Basil and the loyal Shamrock would never just¡­ abandon her, right? Distraught, she looks and watches as the two of them walk back out through the gate to the last floor, clearly and undeniably leaving. ¡°Guys!¡± shouts Fresh, looking around in confusion. Nothing comes in response, except the frantic beating of her own heart and a welling of wet in her eyes. This is happening because she¡¯s a bad friend, right? She should have seen this coming, they all have become such good friends with each other and she was always just being a clingy, grabby burden. Of course they¡¯d leave her behind. What do they need her for? She¡¯s just making their lives difficult. This situation right now is the perfect example. Fresh cries, looking around for Jubilee, but she can¡¯t see them either. Now she howls, lost to her always overflowing emotions. Something large and heavy presses itself down against her head and she looks at the giant sub-boss. ¡°Ooh,¡± says the sub-boss, its voice booming around the floor, as the bottom of its free, massive index-finger rubs the top of her head, like she were some kind of doll being gently played with. Annoyed, she lifts her arms and tries to push the finger away. But it¡¯s far too heavy and strong for her to move even an inch. Maybe if she¡¯s lucky, it¡¯s just going to crush her to death now and she can respawn somewhere and run after her friends to apologize and to promise to be less of a pain in the future. An hour passes. Fresh has run out of tears at this point and simply sits there, her front half flopped over the top of the large hand holding her in the same exact spot in the air as before. ¡°Ooh,¡± she says in defeat, her spirit having been broken by the incredible solitude that she finds herself wallowing in. The dead look in her eyes reflects her incredible misery. ¡°Ooh,¡± says the giant-ape, sounding overjoyed. It beats its chest with its free hand. Another hour passes. Fresh has decided to make the best of this new life of hers. She may have ruined her second chance at being alive, just like her first one, but maybe this third one¡­ maybe this third chance at a new life is going to be the one? She sniffles, rubbing her red eyes on her shoulder as she sits there on the now open giant-palm, still in the air, running her hands through the tufts of fur on the giant sub-boss''s shoulder to groom it. It¡¯s not like there¡¯s anything else to do. Another hour passes. Fresh has become like the sub-boss, she has learned from its ways, learned from its mannerisms, she is now like the ape and the ape is now like her. ¡°Ooh!¡± says Fresh, her mouth still full of coconut, beating against her chest with her free hands before then pointing at a spot in the sand on the beach below. ¡°OOH!¡± replies Mr. Monkey, following her instructions. He runs a massive finger through the sand, drawing the next line in the sand-portrait. Fresh smiles, seeing the beautiful picture that Mr. Monkey is drawing of herself and him, standing together on a sunny beach. Both of them are smiling. The sand turns red. Fresh blinks. The finger falls down from his drawing hand, landing on top of the portrait. ¡°MR. MONKEY!¡± yells Fresh as the creature starts to howl in pain, pulling back its hand from the oddly shimmering beach. It rises up, screaming, but despite its pain, it¡¯s always careful with the hand she is in. Fresh looks back down, seeing the glimmers of a thousand crystals catching her eyes. Glass. The entire beach, all at once, has been transformed into one giant, jagged pane of glass that is already moving their way. There isn¡¯t time for a combat-menu to appear. There isn¡¯t time for Fresh to warn Mr. Monkey, there isn¡¯t even time for her to swallow the last of the coconut before the world below them explodes. The entire beach seems to move, as if the crashing waves had found a way to rise up the shore and then further still. But it isn¡¯t water, in an instant, like a guillotine falling down to its apex, a massive sheet of glass which seems to span across the entire floor, for the entire length of the beach, shoots through the room in the blink of an eye. Fresh only feels a slight lurch. Her head turns around and she sees the red glass behind them, reaching all the way across the jungle where it starts to shatter and splinter into jagged crystals. The top half of Mr. Monkey begins to slide forward, down the upwards-angled pane of glass, while his bottom half slides the other way. ¡°OOOH!¡± yells Fresh, crying anew now as she reaches for his giant, worried eyes. Her hands, stretching out for him, are suddenly yanked to the side along with the rest of her body as something grabs her. Fresh yells, flying through the air. Shamrock, sitting on their anqa, Thyme, who has navigated its way up the sheet of glass, hoists her off of the hand and the three of them make their way down, the anqa squawking in protest at the things being asked of it, Fresh is screaming, reaching back for Mr. Monkey, whose shadow begins to fall their way. A massive bubble, made up out of shimmering, radiant white-magic, appears all around them, just in time as something massive, dead and bloody falls down on top of it. Razmatazz -) *N64 donkey-kong rap intensifies* -) If you''ve read Respawn, these are the same kind of dire-ape that were present there. Useless, but fun fact Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 219: On the way home It took a while for Fresh to stop crying. At first she had to stop crying because her friends hadn¡¯t abandoned her after all, which she realizes now should have been obvious. But at that moment, it seemed like a very real possibility to her. After she manages that, she then has to stop crying as she processes the death of Mr. Monkey. ¡°Will you settle down?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We were gone for like¡­ forty-five minutes,¡± they say, rubbing the forehead of their mask. Fresh rubs her eyes dry on her shoulder. Was it really that long? It had felt like the better part of a day for her. Apparently, after she got snatched by the boss, the others had devised a plan. Basil and Shamrock went to get their anqa, to have a way to safely retrieve her from all the way up there. While they were out there, Basil had spent a considerable amount of money on a scroll that would allow her to learn a new priestess ability a little earlier than usual. Meanwhile, Jubilee had gone out of the boss¡¯ field of view, in order to prepare their spell without triggering the fight. She turns around, staring at the giant wall of glass that spans the entire floor of the dungeon. By all accounts, it should have crashed in on itself a long time ago, just from its own unbalanced weight. But the magical-glass seems to have its own unusual properties at play. She always knew that Jubilee was strong, but this is on a whole other level. ¡°Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, looking out over the floor that is covered in the shadow of the glass tidal-wave. ¡°You¡¯re really, really strong.¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± sighs Jubilee, picking up a rock from the ground and handing it to Shamrock who is petting the anqa, which likely has a very sore back. It isn¡¯t the kind that had been bred for having a rider, let alone one as big and as heavy as Shamrock. Thankfully, it isn¡¯t shy of a fight, at least. He takes the rock, nodding. Apparently tired, Jubilee sits down rather ungracefully, landing on the sandy beach beneath themselves. They look up towards Basil, who is staring their way with an almost wary expression before simply shaking their head ¡®no¡¯. Basil waits for a second, apparently thinking, but then nods in return in the affirmative. Fresh sighs, they¡¯re doing the thing again. The thing where they come to an unspoken understanding that they don¡¯t want her to be a part of, for whatever reason. Holding out his other arm, Shamrock softly pushes the others back a step and then hurls the rock across the room at the glass. It cracks on the edge where the rock strikes. Then, the crack runs along the side and through the body of the structure. A second later, it all collapses. The air is filled with nothing but glass. It almost looks like it''s raining as hundreds of thousands of glass splinters fall down towards the ground all at once in a cascade that rains down to the ground in the distance. It¡¯s beautiful, really, thinks Fresh, staring at the very odd sight. It¡¯s almost like the downpour of a heavy thunderstorm, but the only sound in the air is that of a crystal tinkling. She hopes that anything left standing down beneath that has its eyes closed. The four of them stand there, at a safe distance, and watch until the last of the glass hits the ground. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get out of here,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m starvi- Will you fuck off?!¡± they ask, turning around, somewhat lethargically. Fresh is knelt down behind them, picking bits of jungle out of Jubilee¡¯s hood. ¡°Ooh!¡± protests Fresh, flicking off a small bramble. Grabbing their boss-cores, the four of them decide to call it a day and to head back ¡®home¡¯. Fresh pets Mr. Monkey¡¯s arm one last time before she goes and she wishes him a good night. Using a spell this large must have really drained Jubilee, as they seem to stumble most of the way out of the dungeon, until Fresh eventually asks Shamrock to carry them. Jubilee doesn¡¯t have much time to threaten violence before they fall asleep right then and there. Quality Effect: The core is 15% larger Apparently, for people who use soul-points to cast, running low on them is a very exhausting, if not even dangerous, predicament. Generally, soul-points are restored by eating well and resting or through very expensive potions which can restore it directly, much like her own potions that she had made, back in the north. What this means is that if a caster runs out of soul-points in a fight, they might essentially collapse then and there in the middle of a battle. When they head back, Fresh abruptly stops in front of a store front window. She isn¡¯t sure why. She didn¡¯t choose to stop. She wants to go home too. Something made her. Her head turns to look into the glass and before she knows what she¡¯s doing, she steps inside of the store and places a few coins onto the counter. ¡°One broom, please,¡± says Fresh, pointing to the broom in the window. The shop-keeper, a little puzzled, shrugs and takes her money, handing her a broom from the shelf. Her body moves itself back out of the store, she only manages to turn her head at the last second. ¡°Thank you, bye!¡± (Fresh) bought: [Straw-Broom](High) for [{32} Obols] ! Quality Effect: Bristles fray 25% slower Weight: 0.5 kg Value: 32 Obols Basil and Shamrock stare at her questioningly. The anqa, Thyme, just glares coldly as always. Fresh blinks, looking down at the thing in her hands. ¡°Uh¡­ I really wanted a broom,¡± she explains. ¡°You know, to clean our room with?¡± she says, coming up with the first excuse she can think of. The two of them look at each other and shrug. ¡°Sure,¡± says Basil. ¡°But come on, we really should get home. It¡¯s not safe out here,¡± she explains. Fresh nods, apologizing. The four of them head home and she stares at the broom in her hand, not sure why she needs it. Her hands shoot out as they pass a stall and she slaps a few coins onto the counter, taking a large roll of dark-fabric all in one motion without ever stopping, not even turning back for her change. Apparently, the fountain wants this too. (Fresh) bought: [Roll of Fabric]{Dark}(Normal) for [{19} Obols] ! Weight: 1.2 kg Value: 19 Obols ¡°Are you okay?¡± asks Basil. ¡°That monkey thing must have really worried you, huh?¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± apologizes Fresh again. ¡°I think I need to sleep too. I feel a little¡­ funny.¡± She does her best to keep walking, only staring down at the road before herself, so that the fountain can¡¯t see anything else through her eyes that it wants. She carries the broom and fabric tucked into the bag. ¡°Let¡¯s go to bed early today g- One apple, please!¡± she says, inadvertently putting far too much money on the counter of a fruit-cart next to her that she didn¡¯t even see. She takes a large, particularly shiny, red apple without thinking and again, not waiting for her change as she didn¡¯t stop for even a single step. (Fresh) bought: [Apple]{Large}(High) for [{9} Obols] ! Weight: 0.2 kg Value: 9 Obols ¡°Can you please try to be serious?¡± asks Basil quietly in a very tense voice. ¡°This isn¡¯t funny,¡± she whispers into her ear. ¡°We¡¯re very vulnerable right now.¡± She grabs Fresh¡¯s wrist very forcefully and drags her away like a scolding mother would a misbehaving child. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Basil!¡± says Fresh. She knows that the fountain is controlling her body and making her do things. Just like she has seen it do to her friends before. But¡­ she can¡¯t tell them that. If she tells them that the fountain can control her movements, then the inevitable question will come if it can do so for theirs, which of course, it can. They¡¯ll hate her for getting them involved in something like this. They¡¯ll never forgive her, she¡¯s sure of it. She¡¯ll just have to ¡®take the hit¡¯ as it were and hope that the fountain doesn¡¯t make her do anything else that will make them mad at her right now. Thankfully, it doesn¡¯t and the four of them get back home. Shamrock throws Jubilee down onto the bed as gracelessly as he had done to her so often, Jubilee doesn¡¯t seem to notice though, they¡¯re entirely out of it. Basil sets her bag down, adjusting her hat. ¡°I¡¯ll go and get us some dinner,¡± she says. ¡°You guys stay here.¡± She looks at Fresh. ¡°And don¡¯t go anywhere!¡± she warns, in an unusually sharp tone. Fresh quietly nods, heading over to the bed to lay Jubilee down properly, so that they won¡¯t get a stiff neck while sleeping. As she looks back around, she sees that Basil has gone outside and Shamrock, rather than coming over too, stands by the door. She can¡¯t help but feel like he¡¯s there to keep her from leaving. A little bit later, Basil comes back, carrying a large platter. The three of them have an awkwardly silent dinner. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 220: Makes the dream work Jubilee sleeps for the rest of that night and the better part of the next morning. Fresh does her best to be quiet and to not cause any trouble for the others, so she sits in the corner, reading Jubilee¡¯s book. She had seen bits of it while mending it back together, but she never really bothered to read it. She had been too preoccupied then by fixing it and by making lots of drawings for Jubilee to look at. They aren¡¯t good drawings, since she isn¡¯t much of an artist to begin with. She had done all of them by hand and not with any spells of any kind. But she tried her best. Each of them is a depiction of her or one of the others or all of them together. Sometimes in a ¡®comic¡¯ format with little panels and speech-bubbles, depicting scenarios that have happened already or ones that she foresees happening in the future. Like this one here, on page thirty-seven, in a small comic showing Jubilee approaching her and giving her a hug of their own free accord. Fresh clenches her free hand. One day. She¡¯s sure of it. Fresh shakes her head, trying to focus on the book itself. Basil and Shamrock are out in the city together, ¡®taking care of things,¡¯ whatever that means. She offered to stay here and wait for Jubilee to wake up, knowing that if she didn¡¯t offer herself, that they would insist on it. Basil is still a bit mad at her for yesterday. Fresh supposes that it¡¯s coming from that same place as the priestess¡¯ confession the other day. Even if those simple actions weren¡¯t her own choices, for Basil, it looked like she was jeopardizing them all again to fulfill some silly whims. Is it fair? No. It¡¯s not. But she¡¯s too afraid to tell them the truth, so she¡¯d rather take this route instead. ¡°Demons, much like ghosts, are born after the death of a particularly emotional spirit,¡± mutters Fresh under her breath, reading the line in the book, next to a drawing of all four of them holding hands, with a big heart drawn around them all. Fresh flips the page. The rest is illegible, having been destroyed. She skips ahead to the next chapter. ¡®- Humans, elves of all varieties, dwarves and even off-hominids such as goblins or kobolds have all been proven capable of attaining ¡®Inferni invectus¡¯, the arrival in the demonic-state. A particularly interesting case during the S.E. proved that the transformation is even possible to be forced on animals as well. This was done by conducting the in chapter-six explained methodologies on a particularly unlucky chicken. Twenty-seven non-participants died thereafter, after the animal-participant escaped on an unfortunate rampage. This event resulted in the official closure of the S.E. by the central-authority, who had deemed the work ¡®unsightly¡¯. High-sanguimancer Shahnameh has since been missing and is assumed to have taken on a life as a shamed recluse.¡¯ Fresh tilts her head, skipping back to chapter six. She reads a few lines and then very quickly closes the book again, feeling a sharp turning in her gut as the ¡®methodologies¡¯ of this process are explained. It¡¯s not her call to make, but she really wishes that her friend wouldn¡¯t obsessively read things like this. It¡¯s no wonder that Jubilee is always on edge and afraid of storms if they spend their free time delving into this kind of stuff. Well. It looks like reading is out of the question for now. She could read her own book, but somehow, she feels that the damp-grimoire will be just as grim and depressing to breeze through. Fresh sighs. Shaking her head, she sets the book down in the dark corner, where it belongs, and gets up, wiping her hands on her robe as if they were dirty. Walking across the room, she sits down on the side of the bed, laying her head on Jubilee¡¯s chest and her arm over them. She isn¡¯t going to cause any trouble today. She¡¯s just going to sit quietly and behave. So, a late-morning nap seems just like what¡¯s in order. Though, she isn¡¯t sure if she¡¯s going to dream anything good honestly, with these fresh pictures in her head. This thought is quickly dismissed however, as she feels a gloved hand on top of her head. ¡°Creep,¡± mutters Jubilee tiredly. ¡°Yeah,¡± admits Fresh, closing her eyes again and burrowing the side of her face into a more comfortable position, smelling the fabric of Jubilee¡¯s clothes. Being a creep isn¡¯t so bad, really. She sleeps better than expected, napping until the others return. By then, Jubilee is back on their feet as well, their soul-points apparently having recovered to a good level. ¡°We found out a few things,¡± says Basil. ¡°There¡¯s trouble in the north,¡± she explains, clearly uneased about something. ¡°The north has always been fucked,¡± says Jubilee, staring her up and down. ¡°I wonder why?¡± they ask, almost sarcastically. ¡°Please,¡± says Basil. ¡°Everything, everywhere is -¡± she lifts her fingers to make air-quotes. ¡°¡¯Fucked¡¯.¡± Fresh frowns. She¡¯s only ever heard Basil swear once before and that was a really bad situation. Either the priestess is taking very strongly after Jubilee all of a sudden, or this is a really bad situation too. ¡°You¡¯re really starting to grow on me, you know?¡± says Jubilee, nodding in approval at Basil. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± ¡°Mobilization,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Wait,¡± Jubilee stops. ¡°What the fuck?¡± They look around the room. ¡°Are they on a witch-hunt? Shit!¡± they say. ¡°We need to pack up and get the fuck out of here, today,¡± they say, already starting to size up the work ahead of them. Basil lifts a hand, stopping them. ¡°We¡¯re not the big issue. Apparently everyone thinks the witch of the north and her coven went to the south to ¡®hide with the rest of them,¡¯ explains Basil. ¡°Wait, really?¡± Jubilee thinks for a second. ¡°Fuck, that¡¯s pretty good for us, actually.¡± They nod, looking back up towards Basil. ¡°I¡¯m liking what I¡¯m hearing. So what¡¯s the problem?¡± ¡°The problem is that we¡¯re at war,¡± says the priestess, getting right to the point. ¡°The cardinal has called a crusade. Followers are gathering by the thousands these last few weeks in the north, undergoing rushed training at the cathedral.¡± ¡°We¡¯re fucking WHAT?!¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Wait¡­ SHIT!¡± they exclaim, realizing something very suddenly. Basil nods. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡± Fresh looks around the room, confused. ¡°Guys?¡± Nobody says anything for a while. Jubilee, standing there with crossed arms, eventually looks up her way. ¡°We might be fucked.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re apparently in a holy-war,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s only one place left that the church would consider ¡®unholy¡¯ enough to wage a war on in these times,¡± they say. ¡°And guess what the only way to get there is?¡± ¡°The south?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Guess again and I didn¡¯t ask where they¡¯re going, I asked how they¡¯re going to get there.¡± Fresh stare for a moment, realizing. If it isn¡¯t the south, then it has to be somewhere else. Somewhere far away. ¡°They¡¯re going to get there by boat?¡± ¡°They¡¯re going to get there by fucking boat!¡± exclaims Jubilee. ¡°Come this time in a month, we¡¯re gonna have thousands of banner-waving zealots running through this town on their way to find the next ship they can hop onto.¡± ¡°What do we do?¡± asks Fresh, knowing that leaving isn¡¯t an option. The fountain will never let them leave the city, not until they¡¯ve fulfilled their ¡®purpose¡¯ here. Whatever that might be. ¡°Leaving would be more suspicious than staying, in this case,¡± says Basil. ¡°Agreed,¡± affirms Shamrock, nodding once. Jubilee nods. ¡°We¡¯re sticking to the plan then. Heads low, hands full. We got ourselves a structure to procure.¡± They look to Fresh. ¡°How much longer do you need for your fucky ritual?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We need that favor now. An adventurer¡¯s guild barkeeper has strong connections.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be at least two weeks until the herb that I ordered arrives.¡± ¡°Fuck. Okay,¡± says Jubilee. They point at Basil. ¡°You, you¡¯re with me. We¡¯re going to talk to the barkeeper and then check on some other things I need to look at.¡± They point at Shamrock. ¡°Go back to the dungeon. We need loot, equipment, materials, fucking coconuts, I don¡¯t care.¡± Shamrock nods. Jubilee¡¯s finger lands on her. ¡°Get crafting. We need to speed this up. We have to be established by the time the soldiers get here.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Huh? Why?¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°Because, goo-brain, they¡¯re going to be flooding this place with money in a month¡¯s time,¡± says Jubilee, hitting their open palm with a fist as they speak each word to emphasize. ¡°And. We. Want. It.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that dangerous, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The best place for us to hide is in plain sight. In a couple of months, those kooks will all be dying overseas on some godless battlefield and we can figure something else out then.¡± They snap their fingers. ¡°Let¡¯s move, people. Time is money.¡± Fresh nods, holding her hand into the circle. The others stare at her. ¡°What are you doing now?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh looks around at the others. ¡°I¡¯m doing the hand-thing,¡± she explains. ¡°The what?¡± asks Basil. ¡°The hand-thing, look!¡± She grabs Jubilee¡¯s hand and holds it up against her own, then she takes Basil¡¯s and Shamrock¡¯s and does the same. ¡°See? Now we have to say something really motivating to build our team-spirit!¡± ¡°I wish I was still asleep,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Go team!¡± exclaims Fresh, lifting their hands a bit. Shamrock says nothing. ¡°Go team!¡± exclaims Fresh, lifting their hands a bit again. ¡°I hope everything is going to be okay,¡± says Basil quietly in a worried voice. ¡°GO TEAM!¡± Razmatazz -) Go team!??*-* -) Grimdark tag added to the story. No reason. Don''t worry about it. -) Debating removing the mystery genre and replacing it with either drama or tragedy. Opinions? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 221: Shiny things Fresh fiddles around with the pile of materials laying before herself, sparing a glance at the broom and fabric in the back corner of the room. The apple, for some reason, she had thrown into her inventory window. She supposes that it wouldn¡¯t be wise to eat it anymore. A shame, it was a really nice apple. ¡°Items. Items,¡± she mutters to herself, rolling around the few bits and bobs. Her eyes wander between the many things. They need something simple that could be quickly produced en masse, but also offers strong, easily accessible benefits. Something like the potions from the north, or the coughee and snacks from the west. Bread and butter. But what could be interesting in a town like this, one that is already full of exotic goods from all corners of the world? The vaguely indistinct sunlight, shining in through the opaque windows of their room in the guild, strikes against some matte glass-beads. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh claps her hands together, getting her idea. Grabbing a ball of some thick, black cord, she begins pulling some of it free and starts braiding it. She doesn¡¯t actually remember having ever learned how to braid, but here she is, braiding. It¡¯s funny how classes work here in this world. She decides to do it by hand, if only to keep herself busy for a while. A few minutes later however, she¡¯s already finished. It¡¯s a small thing, a black, braided cord, only a finger and a half in length, give or take. Setting that to the side, she grabs a still damp iron-bar from the floor. For this she¡¯ll have to use a crafting recipe though. Being prepared this time, she sets the ingot into an empty, large bowl that her breakfast bread had come in. Iron-bars sure are light these days, she remembers how she used to have to struggle to even just nudge one. ¡°Strong,¡± mutters Fresh under her breath, closing her eyes and holding her hands over the iron-bar. The glow dissipates a moment later as a nigh-hundred small, little things fall down into the bowl and rattle around inside of it. Opening her eyes, she looks at the small clasps, nodding in satisfaction. Now she just needs some glue to stick the clasps to the thin bits of the cord-bracelet. This is easy enough and she does this by hand as well. Bead slots Fresh nods. Step one is complete. She looks at it. Yup. It¡¯s a bracelet all right. Nothing really fancy about it. It¡¯s well made, but it doesn¡¯t really do much, except look fashionably trendy. She thinks so at least. Now for the interesting part. Fresh grabs a bottle of harvest-moonwater from her inventory, popping it open and shaking off her wet arm. Grabbing the glass beads from the heap on the floor and now¡­ Hmm¡­ no. No, it isn¡¯t right yet. Fresh looks around, trying to figure out what the problem is now. ¡°Ah!¡± she realizes, writing a note to her friends that she¡¯s running into town. Everyone else is out there now too, doing their ¡®chores¡¯. Grabbing her bag and some money, she leaves and goes out into the city. Half an hour later, she comes back into their room. Her note is exactly where she left it. It looks like the others are still gone. Taking it down, she sits back down on the floor and takes the many bottles of newly bought dye out of her bag, together with the stack of bowls she had bought. Nodding to herself, she portions the beads out into all of the bowls and then fills them with fabric-dye. Now, obviously, this would never be a feasible way to color glass. But that¡¯s what magic is for, right? The dye dries up in the bowls laid out before herself, leaving only several stacks of differently colored beads. Then she grabs her harvest-moonwater anew from her inventory and pours a large sip into each bowl of beads. The bowls glow with a strong, purple aura which then dissipates a moment later, fading away like a cloud of mushroom-spores. Beaming with pride, she picks up a bead from the red bowl. ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± she says, relieved. Sifting through the bowls, she grabs a mixture of different beads. Each color represents a different attribute. The idea is simple, adventurers could buy a bracelet and then buy their own custom set of magic-beads. This would allow them to mix and match to their hearts'' desires. Plus it would allow a lot of future innovation. For now, the beads just raise stats, but what if she makes some charms? Little metal hearts and stars and things like that? She¡¯s sure the magical properties could be very eye-catching. Fresh finishes sliding the four beads onto the ¡®prototype bracelet¡¯. One red, one green, one purple and one blue. In theory, she could also do four reds or two greens and two reds. But she wanted a more diverse mix for this test item. Bead slots She holds it up into the air. Project-bracelet is a success! Her friends are going to love these. She can¡¯t wait until they get back home! Fresh sits there, holding the thing up in the air above her head quietly for a while. Her smile vanishes. She lowers her arms. No¡­ It¡¯s a good item. These will make them a lot of money, especially with the combined sales of the many different components. But this isn¡¯t scratching that itch that she has in her brain. This isn¡¯t what she wants to make. This is useful, pragmatic. But it won¡¯t make people smile like she wants them to. She sighs, feeling a sudden melancholy, born of disappointment, come over herself. Fresh looks around the room, wondering what it is that¡¯s bothering her. In the north, she had made the potions that people had gone wild for, given their desperate need. In the west, she made nice colorful and tasty drinks and snacks that people on the cold, gray mountain had a strong desire for. Both of those things made her happy to be selling. What do those two things have in common? What is the connection there? What is it that triggered her happiness with those particular ideas? Basil comes in through the door, sighing as soon as she enters inside the somewhat cooler room. Even from here, Fresh can see that her face is dripping with sweat. ¡°Hey, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Hey,¡± says Basil, dragging herself inside. ¡°It¡¯s really brutal out there during the afternoon.¡± The priestess sighs, dropping her big hat to the floor and shuffling inside. ¡°I really wish we had some cold tea right about now,¡± she says. ¡°Do you think you can make one of those cold-cabinets again?¡± she asks. ¡°And maybe put a bed inside of it?¡± she jokes. Apparently, the brutally hot desert-sun has tempered her worried mood. Fresh gasps, jumping to her feet. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Basil!¡± she exclaims, grabbing her bag and running past the confused priestess. She stops and ¡®steals¡¯ her hat. ¡°I¡¯m borrowing this, be right back!¡± calls Fresh. ¡°Huh? What?¡± Basil stares after her as she runs out of the door. Twenty minutes later, equally drenched with sweat, Fresh runs back inside of their room in the guild. ¡°Welcome back.¡± Basil is sitting on the floor, playing with the bracelet. ¡°These are really great!¡± says the priestess. ¡°What happens if you make something like¡­¡± she thinks for a moment. ¡°- a charm instead of beads? Like a small, metal chicken or a mush-mush?¡± Fresh feels her heart flutter. She¡¯s never felt so understood as she does right now, in this very second. Setting Basil¡¯s doubly-sweaty hat down, she pulls her bag off of her shoulder and sets it down. The sound of clinking glass rings out. ¡°It would be really great!¡± explains Fresh, already expecting as much. She opens her menu, getting all of the things she needs to make a new cooling-cabinet, a stronger one. ¡°What did you get?¡± asks Basil, leaning over to look inside of the bag. ¡°Milk!¡± says Fresh, pulling a bunch of junk out of her inventory. ¡°Milk?¡± asks Basil, curiously. ¡°I don¡¯t know if milk is great to drink here in such a hot place, it¡¯s so thick and sticky.¡± Fresh nods, understanding the sentiment. Clean water or, at the most, some kind of light tea really is the best in this kind of environment. ¡°We¡¯re not going to drink it, Basil,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re going to eat it! Ice-cream!¡± ¡°Ice¡­ cream?¡± asks Basil, not understanding. ¡°ICE-CREAM!¡± exclaims Fresh and she gets to work. The thing that all of the other items had in common, the ones that really made her happy to make, was that they were consumed by people. The potions, the drinks, the snacks. Feeding people, stemming their hunger, quenching their thirst makes her happy in a way that she has never realized until just now. Razmatazz Yo dawg, I heard you liked tables. So I put tables in your tables. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 222: Ice-cream ¡°You realize that we¡¯re going to have to move this fucking thing, right?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°When we get a house.¡± Fresh shakes her head, fumbling around with the pot full of cooling-beads. ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± she says. ¡°We can either just leave this one here or I can just make a second one.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know we could afford to live in such decadence,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. Fresh blinks, looking at them for a moment, a little puzzled. ¡°Aren¡¯t you the money-person though, Jubilee?¡± Jubilee stares at her, sighing before just waving her off and walking away. ¡°I think that was a sarcastic question,¡± notes Basil, standing next to her. ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, realizing. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay, Jubilee!¡± she calls after her friend who has nowhere to escape to in the large, open room, except for behind the stack of wooden crates. ¡°Sometimes I wonder about that,¡± says their voice from behind the boxes. Fresh shrugs, returning her focus to the cold-cabinet that she¡¯s making. She doesn¡¯t have any real glass to make a see-through window with, but that¡¯s fine. This is just their private one anyways, so it can have a solid door made out of wood and a crystal-drakonium inner-lining. Setting the pot inside of the top-rack, she then sets in some trays full of water for ice-cubes and closes the door to let the cooling mechanism start doing its thing, to bring the temperature inside of the cabinet down. ¡°So¡­ now what?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Now¡¯s the fun part!¡± explains Fresh. She grabs a large, cylindrical glass bowl that she made with some of Jubilee¡¯s glass. Out of crystal-drakonium, she had made a big, rubbery-grippy lid that sits tightly on top of it. Next to it all, sits an even larger, hollow cylinder, this one is made entirely out of crystal-drakonium. ¡°Shamrock!¡± calls Fresh over to the man. ¡°I¡¯ll need your help in a second, please!¡± she says. Shamrock, having returned from the dungeon with a heap of loot that she still needs to dig through, gets up and walks over to her. ¡°So, what¡¯s ice-cream?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Uh, well.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ cream, you know? But cold? And it gets really thick and smooshy.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Basil crosses her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± says the priestess. ¡°Jubilee?¡± ¡°It sounds like shit,¡± barks a voice from behind the crates. ¡°Non-believers!¡± yells Fresh out loud, turning her head back to the task at hand. She can¡¯t be mad at her friends for this. It¡¯s not their fault that they¡¯re ice-cream heretics, they simply don¡¯t know any better. ¡°Just watch,¡± she says, grabbing the bottles of high-fat milk. ¡°First, we pour in some milk,¡± she explains, emptying the two bottles out into the big glass-cylinder. ¡°Then, we need some heavy cream!¡± she says, leaning in towards Basil. ¡°That¡¯s where all the flavor is!¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Basil is still unconvinced. Fresh looks back, pouring in the small bottle of cream as well. ¡°You¡¯re very excited about this,¡± she laughs. ¡°Now we need some sugar, but¡­ all I found is some honey.¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will be fine, though!¡± She says, grabbing the jar of their breakfast honey and pouring in a few, very generous, globs. ¡°For flavoring, we could just leave it plain, the honey should do a lot. But let¡¯s add a little bit of this sweet-bean,¡± she says, pulling out a single, long, black bean that she had bought. ¡°You¡¯re really prepared for this, huh?¡± asks Basil, standing there with crossed arms and watching as Fresh cuts the sweet-bean open with her knife, scraping out the insides into the container. ¡°Mm!¡± nods fresh, tapping the knife against the edge of the container. She thinks for a second. ¡°I think that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± asks Basil, looking at the oddly colored, gloopy mixture, filled with floating bits and pieces of everything. ¡°That¡¯s it for the ingredients,¡± says Fresh and sets the lid onto the container. ¡°Shamrock, can you put this glass container inside of that sleeve there, please?¡± she asks, pointing at the crystal-drakonium cylinder. Shamrock nods and does as asked. The milk-cylinder fits inside of the sleeve with a good amount of space still free to the sides, as it is a slight bit smaller than the larger rubbery sleeve. ¡°Great! Now¡­ uh¡­¡± Fresh looks around. ¡°I need some ice,¡± she says, staring at the cooling-cabinet that likely still needs a few minutes. She taps her foot, waiting. Shamrock sets the whole thing into the cabinet for now, so that the milk doesn¡¯t spoil. Half an hour later, they take it back out. Fresh grabs the trays of freshly-frozen ice-cubes and empties them out into the empty sides of the sleeve, so that they surround the glass container on all sides. Then she sets the crystal-drakonium lid on top of the rubbery cylinder, sealing it. ¡°There!¡± she says. ¡°Sorry Shamrock, I need your help again,¡± she says, laughing meekly. ¡°Just take this and shake it please! For five minutes, I guess?¡± ponders Fresh, thinking out loud. Shamrock nods, grabbing the container. He starts shaking it. Basil and Fresh clean up the rest of the stuff meanwhile and while they do, Fresh wonders where she learned to make this? She doesn¡¯t think that she¡¯s ever actually made ice-cream before in any of her lives. It must just be one of those things that she knows how to do because the fountain wants her to know how to do it. Oh well, there are worse things than ice-cream at least, right? So much for the whole ¡®horrible witch of the north¡¯ thing. Well, unless she gives everyone in this world cavities. That would be pretty evil of her, actually. She doesn¡¯t think she¡¯d go that far, but maybe some brain-freeze would help set a few people straight. Is that a bad thought? Nah, it¡¯s probably fine. Basil shakes her, waking her from her daydream and Fresh jumps up, surprised, running across the room to get a bowl and a spoon. ¡°Okay Shamrock, that¡¯s enough,¡± she says. ¡°Thanks!¡± Shamrock nods, setting the container down onto the ground. Excited, Fresh runs over to it, popping off the lid. Basil looks over her shoulder. Giddily, Fresh pulls off the second lid of the inner-container and stares at the bounty inside. All of the contents have come together and solidified nicely into a thick, rich cream. ¡°I SCREAM FOR ICE-CREAM!¡± exclaims Fresh excitedly, stabbing the spoon into the off-white, honey-tanned mixture. She lifts it to her mouth. A second later, the spoon falls out of her hand, into the bucket, and she falls back, clutching her face, crying. ¡°Are you okay?!¡± asks Basil. ¡°It¡¯s so good¡­¡± sniffles Fresh. There isn¡¯t a lot of sugar in this world. Sure, there are confections and sweets made out of jams and fruits and things of that nature. But being a luxury item, there just isn¡¯t a lot of that kind of stuff going around in their ¡®segment of the population¡¯. Eating a real sweet like this is a treat on another level. Basil sighs, closing her eyes. ¡°Please don¡¯t scare me like t-¡± Basil makes a surprised, oddly throaty noise as Fresh, having quickly jumped back up to her feet shoves the anew fully-laden spoon into her mouth, her face hovering close to hers expectantly. Basil¡¯s eyes open wide as Fresh pulls the spoon back out. ¡°It¡¯s good¡­¡± says Basil, looking down at the cylinder in surprise. ¡°Really good,¡± she says, surprised. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she calls over the crates. ¡°Fuck off!¡± calls Jubilee from the other side of the boxes. ¡°Are you reading your creepy book again, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, loading up the spoon for Shamrock to try. She stares towards the crates, lifting the spoon to his helmet. It donks against the metal. ¡°Ah¡­¡± Jubilee doesn¡¯t bother responding. Shamrock takes the spoon from her, turning it sideways to sticking through the gap, leaving a smear of ice-cream on the side of one of the struts. Fresh frowns, grabbing a cloth. ¡°You¡¯re such a messy eater, Shamrock,¡± she says, wiping the spot off. Shamrock does something unusual for him. He shudders, his entire suit of armor rattling all at once. ¡°Careful, it¡¯s cold!¡± she laughs. ¡°Good,¡± says Shamrock, staring down at the tub of ice-cream. ¡°¡­It¡¯s very good.¡± Two down. Fresh beams. ¡°Jubilee~¡± she calls out, loading up another scoop. ¡°Pleeease~?¡± she asks, knowing that she doesn¡¯t have to explain what she¡¯s asking. She hands the spoon around the wall of crates. ¡°Will you people leave me alone for five minutes, if I try your stupid, gloopy, bird-shit concoction?¡± asks Jubilee¡¯s annoyed voice. Fresh realizes that living in a shared space like this must be exhausting for a super-introvert like Jubilee, who just wants their quiet. She hopes that they can get a house soon, so that her friend can have some time to recover from all of this forced socializing. Then again, she is the one forcing them to socialize¡­ Maybe she is evil? ¡°I pinky-promise I¡¯ll leave you alone all day, Jubilee,¡± swears Fresh, lifting her small finger in the hand holding the spoon around the corner. ¡°If you want.¡± Jubilee sighs and she feels a slight movement against the spoon. Waiting a second, she pulls it back, happy to see that it¡¯s empty. ¡°Well?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee is quiet for a moment. ¡°¡­yeah, not bad,¡± says a reluctant voice from the other side of the boxes. Fresh beams, knowing that this must have been very hard for Jubilee to say. ¡°If we make some small packages, we can sell this stuff ready-made,¡± says Jubilee, already getting into the business-sense of it all. ¡°We could diversify the flavors. Maybe make one batch for each kind of fruit?¡± they suggest. ¡°Fuck. Good job,¡± they praise. ¡°Let¡¯s not worry about that right now,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Do you guys want to eat some together?¡± she asks, looking back at Basil and Shamrock who cautiously stare back her way. Basil already has a spoon in her mouth and Shamrock¡¯s is loaded full. ¡°Hey!¡± yells Fresh, running over to save the ice-cream from her guilty friends, who she has apparently managed to convert after all. After that and a harsh lesson on sharing, the four of them sit around the pile of crates, passing the bucket of ice-cream around in a circle, until they¡¯ve eaten their way to the bottom. Razmatazz Wanna play a fun game? Just repeat after me!??*-* "There is no black-water in the ice-cream!" "There is NO black-water in the ice-cream!" "THERE IS NO BLACK-WATER IN THE ICE-CREAM!" "T?????????????????H??????????E????????????????R?????????????????????E??????? ??????????????I???????????????????????S???????????? ??????????????????????????N??????????O????? ??????B?????????????????????????L??????????????????A?????????????C????????????????????????K??????-??????????????W???????????????????????A??????????T?????????????????E??????????????????????????R????????????????????? ???????????I??????????????????N??????????????????? ???????????????????T?????????????????????????????H??????????E??????????????? ????????I??????????????????????C????????????????????E???????????????-??????????C?????????????R???????????????????E??????A??????????????????M?????????????????????????????!?????????????????" ???? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 223: Close quarters It¡¯s been a week since then. Life in the desert isn¡¯t so bad really, once you get used to it. Fresh stands out on the terrace of a small teahouse and bakery that Basil had invited them all to and stares out over the endless expanse that they had left behind themselves on the way here. In a way, staring out over the desert is a lot like staring out over the ocean. The shifting sand, moving in the strongly gusting wind, is in many ways a lot like the crashing waves of the sea. Dunes rise and fall, coming and going. Though perhaps not at the same tempo as the water, only ever changing over the course of days. Still, in her mind at least, the principle is the same. Jubilee and Shamrock had both declined, the former saying that ¡®there isn¡¯t time for them all to have a play-date tea-party like a bunch of five year olds.¡¯ Shamrock simply said that he wanted to kill monsters. Certainly, both of them have a point in that they don¡¯t have a lot of luxury-time right now. But maybe a little relaxation will help their work more than grinding through and risking burning out. ¡°Are you ready to go back?¡± asks Basil, standing next to her and finishing the last of her tea. Fresh nods. ¡°Thanks, Basil,¡± says Fresh, setting her empty cup down. ¡°This was nice.¡± The two of them head back to their room that is slowly starting to become more and more grisly day by day. ¡°Do something about these fucking monkey-paws!¡± barks Jubilee, gesturing at the cooling-cabinet that is entirely full of crab-claws, severed monkey-paws and coconuts. ¡°I¡¯m getting sick of those fucking things falling out every time I want to get some water.¡± It was a little grim at first, but she finds that she¡¯s gotten used to the sight very quickly. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to make with them, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°What am I supposed to make with monkey-paws and crab-snippies?¡± she asks, making a pinching motion with her hands. Jubilee sighs, crossing their arms. ¡°You¡¯re the witch, think of something, will you?¡± they ask. ¡°Ooh¡­¡± relents Fresh sadly, softly beating her chest before picking up a paw from the fridge. Actually, now that she¡¯s holding one, she realizes that this is pretty grim after all. The poor monkeys. She wishes the dungeon had come up with some other kind of monster. She quickly sets the paw back inside, opting to take a crab-claws instead. This somehow doesn¡¯t make her feel better. Those poor crabs¡­ She sighs. Her friends are counting on her, so it¡¯s time to do some grim work, if she likes it or not. Fresh spends the day cracking the claws open, separating the meat and the shell. The meat she puts into cold storage. Food is always good to have around. As for the defleshed shells, she isn¡¯t really sure yet, honestly. Fresh sits there, snapping a large, processed claw open and closed for a while as she tries to think of an idea. ¡°Will you stop that damned clacking?!¡± barks Jubilee from across the room. ¡°You sure do complain a lot,¡± says Basil from the other corner. ¡°I have a lot to complain about,¡± sighs Jubilee. Fresh clacks the claw closed one more time. Or is it a pincer? She blinks. What¡¯s the difference? She has no idea. Her eyes wander down to the snippy-thing in her hand. Well, the menu says it¡¯s a ¡®claw¡¯ so that¡¯s probably right¡­ right? She shrugs. It really doesn¡¯t matter. Though, the cramped space is even getting to Basil too, apparently. Everyone is getting a little crabby. Fresh starts laughing at the joke that she had told herself in her own mind, receiving some annoyed looks for her trouble. But in all seriousness. After weeks of being heaped on top of each other in the cart and then in the shared bed here, everyone needs a few meters for themselves now. That¡¯s why Jubilee has the ¡®box corner¡¯, Basil has the front-right, across from the door, and Fresh, having the luxury of luxuries, has the ¡®bed corner¡¯, which she doesn¡¯t really use. Shamrock just kind of doesn¡¯t care and sleeps wherever he happens to drag his mattress to that day. Fresh had unrolled some of her crystal-drakonium mattresses for the others too. Crab¡­ weapons? No, she¡¯s already rejected that idea. Crab¡­ armor? Eh¡­ maybe. Fresh ponders, scratching her cheek. Crab¡­ crabs? Her eyes go wide. She could grind up the crab shells into a fine powder and mix it with some resin to make tiny crabs that are made out of crabs! No¡­ no¡­ that¡¯s too dark. She shakes her head, trying to come up with a better idea. She spends the rest of the day on that project. The next day comes. Fresh is walking on the beach, together with the others. They aren¡¯t hunting crabs though, this area is already very densely populated with adventurers. All around them, spells are flying and people are running this way and that, carrying all manner of swords and other more exotic weapons. Crabs die left and right. It¡¯s a slaughter. But more crabs just appear in the sand a few meters away, their constant respawning perpetuating the cycle of carnage. ¡°It¡¯s a really lively area,¡± says Fresh, looking around at the starter-zone. Low-level groups of all kinds are running around, slaughtering crabs left and right. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard that the forest outside of the north used to be like this too,¡± says Basil. ¡°Just with mush-mushes. Also around the dungeon-gate there.¡± Fresh nods, she had assumed as much. She would have loved to see that. ¡°So what are we doing out here, guys?¡± ¡°Observing the target market,¡± says Jubilee, leaning back against the stone wall of a house down on the lowest tier, next to a staircase, its door opening right to the soft sands. Fresh imagines it must be a nightmare to sweep. ¡°Oh,¡± she says, having expected something more dramatic. The three of them stand there for a while, just watching the adventurers run along the beach in all directions. It¡¯s an absolute frenzy. But the exercise does prove useful. She sees a lot of things. For example, after about an hour or two of crab-hunting, most groups go back up the staircase again, to take a break for some fresh water and to get out of the sun for a while. Cold drinks could do well here. Plus maybe some kind of shady area to get out of the sunlight, but closer to the beach? Like a beach-caf¨¦ of sorts? Others instead take the bolder way and dive into the ocean to cool off. Swim-wear seems to already exist here, though the material is less than ideal, being what looks like some kind of dense linen? She isn¡¯t sure. But maybe some kind of crystal-drakonium blend could work as a great swim-wear fabric? Some of the adventurers also have absolutely no problems fighting the crabs inside of their bathing suits. Enchanted-battle-bathing suits? Fresh nods. It¡¯s a good idea. ¡°Ow. Ow. Ow,¡± says an elfish-girl, walking with her arms outspread away from the beach. She¡¯s as red as Jubilee¡¯s clothes. The orc behind her slaps her on the back and she lets out a pained scream as he leaves a pale, white imprint on her sun-burn. Sun-screen! Fresh nods. ¡°This was a really great idea, Jubilee! I got a lot of new ideas!¡± she says, looking out at the dungeon across from them. Her eyes wander over the back of the orc from a second ago, seeing a large, intricate, tribal tattoo of¡­ a chicken? She blinks. Leaning over, she whispers to Jubilee, not sure if this is a rude thing to be asking. But now she really has to finally find out. ¡°Jubilee? How come orcs like chickens so much?¡± she asks quietly. Jubilee looks at her, leaning to the side to look past her at Basil. ¡°She¡¯s asking the chicken-question,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°This is your territory.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± says Fresh, looking over her shoulder, feeling only a little betrayed. Basil seems indifferent. ¡°Well, you see,¡± starts the priestess. ¡°The very first hero was an orc,¡± she explains. ¡°- and a chicken-farmer.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh. Basil nods. ¡°This was hundreds of years ago, mind you,¡± she says. ¡°But since then, their culture has adopted the chicken as a symbol of good power, stemming from humble beginnings.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh. That makes sense. ¡°It¡¯s kind of like how we humans attribute the symbol of the sun to the hero. It¡¯s the same thing, just¡­ with a chicken.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Basil, turning her head to look at Jubilee. ¡°Can we get to it? I¡¯m getting red.¡± ¡°Some sunlight will do you some good,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Says you!¡± argues Basil, crossing her arms. ¡°Says me,¡± says the fully obscured Jubilee, turning around. Fresh looks at them. ¡°What are we doing, guys?¡± she asks curiously. ¡°House-hunting,¡± says Jubilee, pushing open the unlocked door of the sky-blue house. Fresh stares down at the entry-way. There is sand everywhere. She knew it. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 224: House hunting ¡°Were we really standing outside of this house for hours, just to watch people?¡± asks Basil, annoyed. ¡°I thought we were waiting on someone to bring the key or something,¡± says the priestess, stepping into the large, front area. Immediately on the right-hand side when entering is a wall. The whole left space is a large, open space however. ¡°Like I said, we were observing our customer-base,¡± says Jubilee, inspecting a window-sill. The large downstairs room has one large window that looks straight out towards the beach and a second, tiny one in the corner, down by the foot of the staircase outside, heading up to a higher tier in the city. ¡°It was really good for product-development, Basil!¡± says Fresh, looking around the house. Sand is everywhere in this downstairs room. But it has potential. She lifts her fingers, framing the space. They could do a long ¡®L¡¯ shaped counter here on the left and she could open up the windows. They could offer their wares through them, like a beach kiosk. Drinks, snacks, equipment. All such things, ready to go without anyone ever having to leave the beach or step inside. ¡°Can we afford this place?¡± she asks. ¡°It¡¯s right on the water.¡± Fresh looks around nervously. ¡°It isn¡¯t haunted, is it?¡± ¡°Not yet it isn¡¯t,¡± says Jubilee, walking to the end of the front-door-wall and looking around the corner. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. We¡¯re cov- What the fuck?¡± ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the small room behind it. This seems to be it. ¡°Only two rooms?¡± she asks. ¡°It¡¯s a little cramped, but we could make it work.¡± Jubilee nudges her with their elbow, pointing up towards the ceiling where there is a square hole carved into it. If there was once a staircase here of some kind, it¡¯s gone now, for whatever reason. She racks her brain. ¡°Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Can you give us a boost, please?¡± she asks. Before she can finish the sentence, Shamrock is already lifting her up towards the hole. Fresh grabs the stone ledge, clambering up to the second floor. A second later, Jubilee and then Basil are foisted up after her. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh looks down at the giant, not having any idea how to get him up here. The three of them combined couldn¡¯t lift him and even if they could, she isn¡¯t sure he would fit through the hole in his armor. ¡°I¡¯ll wait,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh nods. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you how it is!¡± she says, getting up and looking around the upstairs area. It¡¯s essentially a giant, open loft that covers the entire span of the floor. The ceilings are really high and there is a large window with a reading-nook facing out towards the beach. To the side, on the corner that would be just above the theoretical counter-top below, is a square balcony. She steps out onto it, feeling the fresh winds coming over the ocean, reaching her face. ¡°It¡¯s certainly roomy,¡± says Basil. ¡°We¡¯d have to do a lot with it. But there¡¯s potential.¡± ¡°The weird hole thing is kind of fucky though,¡± ponders Jubilee, stepping out to the edge of the balcony and looking down over the railing. They have a perfect view from here of the chaos below. ¡°AH!¡± Jubilee hits their fist into their open palm, coming to a realization. ¡°Crabs can¡¯t get up the hole.¡± ¡°Aaaaah,¡± says Basil, realizing now too. ¡°Very pragmatic.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°¡­Crabs?¡± Basil nods. ¡°Sure. The house is right in the crab-zone. I¡¯m sure they get inside sometimes.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not great,¡± says Fresh, not keen on having intruding crabs in her home. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Just imagine you¡¯re asleep,¡± they say, turning around to face her. ¡°And then one of them climbs up to your room and -¡± ¡°- GETS YOU!¡± yells Basil, pinching her in the side. Fresh screams, not having expected their cooperation in this attack. She jumps back, swiping her hands over her body to remove any pinchy-fingers. Foot-demons are bad enough, but foot-crabs? This doesn¡¯t seem acceptable. Basil and Jubilee laugh, giving each other an approving nod. ¡°That¡¯s why the hole is there,¡± explains Basil. ¡°There¡¯s probably a ladder or something stowed away somewhere. Crabs can get up stairs, but not a ladder.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t have a washroom, does it?¡± asks Fresh, looking around the area. ¡°Nope,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Ocean¡¯s right there.¡± ¡°Ew!¡± says Fresh. She would obviously have to build an entire washroom if they take this house. She¡¯s willing to put in the hours for this critical project, however. The three of them head to the hole and slowly drop back down with some help from Shamrock. ¡°It needs a lot of work,¡± says Fresh to Shamrock, who simply nods in return. ¡°But the view is nice!¡± Kicking some sand out of the way, she closes the door to the sky-blue, anti-crab house behind them. ¡°Now what?¡± ¡°Now we¡¯re looking at house number two,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Huh? Really?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We get to choose?¡± ¡°That¡¯s how buying a house works, dummy,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯ve never bought a house before, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, looking at Basil and Shamrock who exchange a glance and then shrug, neither of them having done so either. They head right, from out of the door, past the staircase and the first row of four houses, stopping at the next staircase immediately after. They¡¯re still across from the dungeon, but now they¡¯re just¡­ to the left side of it, instead of the right side of it. Well, at least if you¡¯re looking at them from this way. But if you were coming from the city - Fresh turns around in the spot she¡¯s standing in. - Then it would be on the¡­ right? No, uh¡­ She looks around, having confused herself. ¡°Are you having a heat-stroke?¡± asks Jubilee, staring at her quizzically from up ahead. Fresh laughs, running after her friends to the next house which is next to the other staircase, down to the beach. There are essentially two main-traffic routes in the city down to the beach and to the dungeon and apparently both of their choices are attached to them. How¡­ suspiciously convenient. She stares up in delight at the spring-shine yellow house, it also has a very pleasing, vibrant color. The front door is ahead of them, between two large wooden beams that stick deeply into the ground, suspending an overhanging, wooden balcony above them. Fresh points to the ground. ¡°This could be a great area for a patio,¡± she says. ¡°If we make a wooden floor here,¡± she suggests, pointing at the sand below them. ¡°Then we¡¯ll have shade from the balcony too,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Maybe we could put up some tables and stuff and make a little eating area?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not making a restaurant,¡± sighs Jubilee, opening the door. ¡°No, but for the ice-cream,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It would be a nice place to relax and people sitting outside of our store would attract even more people to come by when they see them.¡± ¡°It makes sense,¡± says Basil, stepping inside. The first thing in the yellow house is a small incline that heads upwards, only for a single step, but it seems to be enough to keep the sand out. She stops, looking around. ¡°It¡¯s uh¡­ it¡¯s very spacious.¡± Fresh blinks, staring at the entire downstairs area which is simply one giant, entirely empty, square room. The front wall has a large window towards the beach and the right wall has a raised, half-window towards the staircase. There is a single door in the back. She heads towards it, their steps echoing around the empty space and looks inside. It¡¯s a stairwell that goes up. ¡°Stairs!¡± says Fresh, relieved. She isn¡¯t sure how she feels about having to climb a ladder every day in the other house. Though maybe she could convince her friends to let her install something like a fireman¡¯s pole in it, if they take that one. One thing that both of the houses seem to lack though is a basement. She supposes that makes sense though, right on the beach, a basement would probably be less than ideal because of the wet, soft ground. To her relief, this house has a wash-room to the right, half-way up the staircase. Racking her brains about the logistics of it, she realizes that this room must be inside of the cliff, just below the road of the next tier. It doesn¡¯t have a convenient stream of always-hot mountain-water like their old house, but it does have something Fresh has never seen before in this world. A shower. Granted, it looks like some madman had cobbled it together out of old bronze pipes and the water is apparently all seawater. But it¡¯s a shower alright. The others are fascinated by the thing and surprised at Fresh¡¯s ability to explain what it is. She can¡¯t help but wonder who made this? The last owner of this house must have been pretty inventive. As for the upstairs, it¡¯s simply another entirely empty room. The biggest feature is the double-glass door to the wooden balcony that hangs above the entrance that the four of them head out onto, looking over the anarchy below them. ¡°Well¡­ it certainly has a good skeleton?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°There¡¯s lots of space to add our own walls and rooms.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not crab-proof though,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Is that going to be a real problem?¡± asks Fresh, not liking this concept of nightly crab-attacks. ¡°If it wasn¡¯t, they wouldn¡¯t have built the blue one like that,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks at Shamrock. ¡°Crabs fight fiercely,¡± is all that he says, seeing her worried expression. Apparently, these two houses are their choices. Both of them will need a lot of work in different ways, but both of them also offer opportunities that the other doesn¡¯t. ¡°Sleep on which one you like more,¡± says Jubilee to them. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to make a decision soon.¡± Razmatazz This choice has been made already by the lovely patrons who help me keep this story going, by the way. You could help make such important decisions too... *wink wink nudge nudge*??=) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 225: Orders from above Stepping back into the guild is always¡­ awkward. Fresh has gotten into the rhythm of simply nodding to the barkeeper when entering inside of the bar during quieter hours, as she simply doesn¡¯t really know how to talk to her, as weird as that sounds. Jubilee and Basil have handled all of the ¡®logistics¡¯ that she didn¡¯t have the stomach for. Now it¡¯s just up to her to complete the fountain¡¯s ritual and to uphold their end of the deal. Right now, the bar is empty, except for herself and the elf, who is polishing an already polished glass, as always. Clenching her fists and steeling her resolve to overcome this awkwardness, Fresh breaks their ritual and heads to the bar instead of their room. The composed barkeeper tenses up immediately and just by her reaction, Fresh can tell that Basil and Jubilee did little to dispel the whole ¡®evil witch¡¯ rumor. ¡°Can I get something to drink, please?¡± asks Fresh, sitting down on a stool. She slides a few coins across the counter. ¡°Something non-alcoholic,¡± she adds. ¡°And that won¡¯t put me in debt.¡± The barkeeper looks at her nervously and then gazes around the bar. ¡°Uh¡­ in that case I have¡­ juice?¡± she says, picking up an apparently forgotten bottle from some equally forgotten shelf. Fresh looks around, double-checking that the bar is really empty. ¡°I know you don¡¯t believe it, but I¡¯m really not evil and scary,¡± she says in a low voice, leaning in over the bar. The barkeeper pours some juice into a glass, sliding it over. ¡°So do you travel a lot?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s why I took this job,¡± says the barkeeper after a silent few seconds. ¡°I can move around pretty freely whenever there¡¯s an opening.¡± ¡°To find a cure?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°There isn¡¯t one, it turns out,¡± says the barkeeper, grabbing the empty glass from before, starting to polish it again. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter where you go. Some things go beyond health-points.¡± Fresh nods, understanding. The woman has devoted her entire life and career just for this one goal. ¡°I think this is going to work,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m just waiting on the last ingredients,¡± explains Fresh. Her arm suddenly lifts itself up and she downs her glass of juice in one chug, before setting it down onto the counter. Her legs involuntarily force her to get back up. It looks like the fountain wants something from her. ¡°Ah! I uh, I gotta go finish some work,¡± says Fresh, a little surprised as she already starts walking back to their room. ¡°See you later!¡± she says to the curiously staring barkeeper. Opening the door, she steps into the cut-off space and closes it behind herself, looking around. The others are all gone, busy working on ¡®the plan¡¯. Jubilee and Basil are running around town, making whatever connections that they need to make and Shamrock is off gathering resources. Apparently¡­ she¡¯s going to be doing something too? The fountain sure has gotten impatient these days. Usually it would just trickle around and whisper ideas into her head, making her think that they¡¯re her own. But now, it¡¯s just taking control of her body and making her do stuff. She sighs, still being allowed to do that, as she ¡®walks¡¯ over to the corner of the room where the roll of dark-fabric is that she had bought the other day. Grabbing some tools, she flops down onto the stone floor, a little too hard, and sets to work, mumbling about the new bruise she¡¯s going to have. Her body is ¡®let go¡¯ and she feels her arms falling slack as her control returns over herself. There is a clear idea in her head and she understands that she has to do it. But¡­ Fresh looks around the empty room. ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asks the emptiness. ¡°It seems a little on the nose.¡± The fountain, if it can even hear her, doesn¡¯t reply. She shrugs. Oh well, best not to ask. Grabbing the fabric, she unrolls it and cuts out the pieces she needs with a pair of scissors. She¡¯s surprised that she knows the exact measurements of the material she needs. But then, she realizes a second later that of course she does. After that, she slides the fabric to the side and grabs an iron-bar. She only needs a little. Since she doesn¡¯t have cardboard or anything like that, this will have to do. Holding her hands above the bar, she closes her eyes and focuses. She needs a good dozen or so millimeter thin, long cylinders. Sort of like the spokes of a wheel. A layer on the top of the iron-bar is shaved off and a dozen tiny, long, thin rods roll off. She catches them and puts them by the fabric. Taking four of them, she bends them with her hands and makes a circle out of them, connecting them with her abilities to make a large ring. Then, taking the remaining eight spokes, she lines them around the outside of the circle, creating what looks like a child¡¯s drawing of the sun, out of the tiny, metal rods. So far, so good! Grabbing the large, circular piece of fabric, she sets the ¡®sun¡¯ into it and wraps it around the skeleton, attaching it with some quick-drying glue from their materials. Then, opting to use her abilities, she cuts out the fabric from the inside of the ring, creating what looks like a large, stiff, really flat, fabric-doughnut. Now it¡¯s just missing the top. Grabbing the other piece of fabric, she cuts the edges with her scissors and rolls it together into a large, loose, floppy cone shape. Fresh then attaches the hollow cone to the ¡®sun¡¯. There! Now it just needs a little touching up to hide the seams. Going through Jubilee¡¯s tailoring supplies, she takes a big purple-ribbon that she likes a lot and wraps it around the base of the cone, hiding the area that the two large pieces are joined together at. Finally, she takes a dried flower and sticks it down into the ribbon, as a little ornament. There¡¯s only one step left. Fresh pulls a jar of moonwater out of her inventory, dipping her fingers into it, she then sprinkles some over the construction and waits a moment. While worn: Obscures your face with an impossibly nebulous shadow, even while being illuminated by a direct source of light. +4 LOV Quality Effect: Sticks to your head until removed by your own hands, even under strong winds. Weight: 0.4kg She beams, holding the large hat out in front of herself. In truth, she had always wanted something like this. But even she knows that it¡¯s an unwise idea, that¡¯s why she never made anything like it. But, well, what the fountain wants, the fountain gets. Grabbing a small piece of mirror-glass from her supplies, she puts on the hat and looks at herself in her reflection. ¡°Bubble bubble!¡± says Fresh, doing her best to make a ¡®witchy¡¯ voice, while maliciously wiggling her fingers. The shadow effect really does work surprisingly well. It¡¯s just like in some old movie, she can¡¯t see her own face at all. Well. If this is all that the fountain had wanted from her, then maybe things are still pretty good. She should definitely hide it though. Jubilee will for sure get mad at her for this and she doesn¡¯t really blame them. Opening her inventory, she takes the hat off and stuffs it inside of the wet hole in her menu. Her hand however, instead of pulling itself back out, instead fumbles around inside of the inventory, grabbing something small and hard. Fresh pulls her soaking wet hand out, looking at the flattened crystal-drakonium, magical-crystal and a couple extra-large, iron, weight-reducing rings. ¡°¡­Uh?¡± She begins walking back to the corner. ¡°This is a really bad idea!¡± she says, realizing what the next step is. ¡°Everyone is going to get so mad at me!¡± protests Fresh. But the fountain doesn¡¯t seem to care. ¡®She¡¯ grabs the broom in the corner, which she had bought the other day, and runs the weight-reducing rings down the length of the shaft, sitting one at the base and one near the front. With some glue, she secures them there. Then she wraps the mat of crystal-drakonium around the middle of the broom, securing that with glue as well. As for the magical-crystal, she essentially just shoves that into the bristles of the broom. It flops out a second later, falling down to the floor. ¡°It¡¯s not gonna hold like that, unless we-¡± The entire broomstick glows, rising up into the air as the purple aura of her spell surrounds it. After the magic dissipates a moment later, it doesn¡¯t fall back down however, simply floating there before herself instead. Staring with wide, worried eyes, she watches as her hands sprinkle some extra moonwater onto the broom as well. Effect: Allows the user to fly through the air at incredible speeds. As long as they don¡¯t fall off. Quality Effect: Collects magical residue from the air around itself in a protective cloud of energetic vapors. Weight: 2.1 kg Her friends are going to be so mad. Razmatazz -) It''s still two weeks away, but I''m really excited for you guys to see chapter 239 -) Anyways, I have a cool, new website! Come check it out! ??=O Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 226: Decision ¡°Yellow,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I want to have an ice-caf¨¦!¡± ¡°What¡¯s a caf¨¦?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Blue,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Not interested in any crab-fuckery.¡± Fresh raises a finger. ¡°It¡¯s like a restaurant, but you can only buy coughee and cake there,¡± she explains. ¡°But in our case, it¡¯ll be ice-cream!¡± She looks back towards Jubilee. ¡°But the ladder is going to be so annoying!¡± she protests. ¡°How are we going to get all of my crafting supplies upstairs?¡± Jubilee points at her. ¡°If you had been doing push-ups like Veli probably is right now, you¡¯d be able to handle that problem.¡± ¡°I miss Veli,¡± says Basil. Fresh nods in quiet agreement. ¡°Will you people focus for five seconds?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. They look up towards Shamrock. ¡°Yellow,¡± is all that he says. ¡°Fuck!¡± barks Jubilee. Fresh nods. ¡°I bet Shamrock doesn¡¯t want to climb the ladder all the time either, right, Shamrock?¡± she asks smugly. He turns his head, looking at her. ¡°Ice-cream.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Ice-cream,¡± he repeats, turning his gaze back towards the circle. Fresh and Jubilee both sigh at the same time. Of course. Basil laughs quietly off to the side. ¡°Well?¡± asks Jubilee, looking at Basil. ¡°What¡¯s it gonna be?¡± Fresh and Shamrock turn towards the priestess. She has the deciding vote now. Sort of. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Basil crosses her arms, thinking. ¡°I like the idea of not getting crabbed in my sleep for sure,¡± she says, moving a step to the side to avoid Fresh¡¯s pinching fingers. ¡°But there¡¯s no wash-room in the blue house,¡± she remarks. ¡°I think I¡¯ve gotten spoiled in the west,¡± explains Basil with a sad expression. ¡°It was such a nice house. We really made a home out of it in such a little bit of time.¡± ¡°I bet it looks like shit now,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Damn kids.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll say yellow,¡± says Basil. ¡°On the condition that we crab-proof it.¡± Jubilee groans. ¡°Fine. But I want my own room,¡± they say, crossing their arms. Fresh nods, having expected as much. ¡°It¡¯s really open. We can put up a few walls,¡± she explains. ¡°So you don¡¯t want to share a room?¡± she asks, a little sad. ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee plainly. ¡°Because if I share a room with you, then I¡¯d have to share it with all of you,¡± says Jubilee, looking at Basil and Shamrock who seem to avert their gazes for a moment. ¡°You know what I¡¯m talking about,¡± says Jubilee accusingly to the two of them. ¡°Oh, please,¡± says Basil, rolling her eyes at Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ve already shared a bed more than once.¡± ¡°It sounds weird when you say it like that,¡± says Jubilee, taking their turn to look away now. Fresh shrugs, sure she¡¯s missing some context again. Oh well. ¡°The downstairs area is really big. Should we use it all for one big store-area? Or should we wall some of it off?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s use it all,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The east has a lot of different materials to work with, you¡¯re gonna be busy filling those shelves here.¡± ¡°We¡¯re gonna be busy,¡± corrects Fresh, lifting a finger. ¡°Sure, whatever.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°What about you guys?¡± asks Fresh, looking at Basil and Shamrock. ¡°If we¡¯re making rooms upstairs, do you want your own too?¡± she asks. ¡°There¡¯s space now.¡± Basil fidgets with her sleeve. ¡°I¡¯m fine with sharing,¡± she says. ¡°With everyone,¡± notes the priestess, looking at Jubilee. ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee, making a point of it. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in being kicked all night.¡± Basil lifts her nose. ¡°I sleep better when I have something to hold.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you start too with that weird, touchy shit!¡± exclaims Jubilee. ¡°I refuse to be treated like some fucking teddy-bear!¡± Basil lifts her hand. ¡°All in favor of making Jubilee share a bed with us?¡± Fresh raises her hand immediately and so does Shamrock. ¡°Vote fucking DENIED!¡± barks Jubilee, glaring at them. ¡°I¡¯d rather sleep on the beach with the crabs.¡± Basil laughs. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says, waving her hand at Jubilee. ¡°I couldn¡¯t resist.¡± She nods. ¡°So, yellow it is?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Looks that way,¡± they say looking at the others. ¡°Yellow?¡± ¡°Yellow,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Yellow,¡± agrees Shamrock, nodding once. ¡°Yellow,¡± reaffirms Basil. After everything is settled, the four of them return to their work. Fresh is glad that she managed to hide the hat and broom in her inventory before the others came back home. She isn¡¯t sure why the fountain wanted her to make such obvious implements of ¡®witchery¡¯. But she¡¯s sure that she isn¡¯t going to like it when she finds out. She just hopes that her friends don¡¯t. Or she¡¯s going to be the one who has to sleep out on the beach with the crabs. Half an hour later, Jubilee returns with the key. ¡°That was fast,¡± says Basil. ¡°Money talks,¡± says Jubilee, throwing the key across the room to Fresh who fumbles to catch it. Jubilee sighs, shaking their head. ¡°You better pull this off,¡± they say to her. ¡°Or we¡¯re fucked.¡± Fresh nods. She can¡¯t let the barkeeper down now that she¡¯s upheld her end of the deal. ¡°I¡¯ll ask tomorrow if the herbs have arrived,¡± she says. ¡°How much did we pay?¡± ¡°Under market price,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the numbers.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, tapping her chin. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the exact thing I should worry about though?¡± ¡°You should worry about how many boxes you¡¯re gonna carry through the city,¡± says Jubilee, clapping their hands together once. ¡°We¡¯re moving people. Let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°What about Thyme?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Fuck Thyme,¡± says Jubilee waving her off. ¡°He¡¯s staying here.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already arranged everything,¡± says Basil, shooting Jubilee a mean look. ¡°He¡¯ll be staying under the care of the adventurer¡¯s guild for a few hundred Obols a week.¡± Fresh nods. The four of them start packing up the things that they can carry and will need right away and start to leave the guild. Fresh looks back at their room in the cut-off space one more time. It¡¯s always so sad to leave these rooms behind, but somehow, they never really needed them apart from being a temporary retreat when they arrived in a new place. It would probably be a lot more useful if they were a more ¡®traditional¡¯ adventuring party. She closes the door behind herself, adjusting her bag and steps out into the blue fog. It¡¯s time to get to work. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± asks Basil, as the four of them make their way through the city together. Fresh lifts her hand, counting off her fingers. ¡°We need a counter and shelves,¡± she explains. ¡°We need to make the upstairs area ready to live in.¡± ¡°We need to crab-proof the house,¡± says Basil. ¡°We need to crab-proof the house,¡± repeats Fresh, lowering another finger. ¡°Oh and I need a workshop,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Or uh, we all do, actually,¡± she notes. ¡°We¡¯ll have to figure out something with your planters, Basil.¡± Basil nods. ¡°I have an idea about that, actually.¡± The city is as busy as always. Adventurers and laypeople and sailors returning from their voyages all run around in every possible direction, ducking into every store and alley. Regarding foot-traffic, this is certainly the busiest city that they¡¯ve been to. She feels like there are just more people here in general as well. She hasn¡¯t seen any of the fairies though, not since they ran into them on the beach that one time. She hopes they¡¯re alright. But it¡¯s a big city, they¡¯re probably just somewhere else. Climbing down the busy, right-hand staircase, Fresh lets her fingers run along the wall of their new house as they make their way down past the lowest tier. Maybe there could be some kind of¡­ staircase shop-window? Hmm¡­ no, there¡¯s no really good way to stop here and they would be blocking foot-traffic. But maybe some kind of display? Or advertisement? It¡¯s certainly a usable space in some way. They round the corner, stepping out onto the beach and then into the yellow house, dragging some beach sand in with them, making their very first mess in their new home. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 227: Grump ¡°CRAB!¡± yelps Fresh, jumping up onto the construction-site that is their new counter. She swings a perfectly-normal broom around at it. Trying to shoo it out without getting too close to it. ¡°Go on! Get!¡± she yells at the giant-crab, poking at it with the bristles of the broom. ¡°SHOO!¡± The crab, reaching easily up to her knees in height if she were standing on the ground, snips the broom with a massive claw and the head of it falls off to the ground. ¡°JUBILEEEE~!¡± she cries in distress. ¡°Fuck off!¡± yells Jubilee from upstairs. ¡°It¡¯s just a crab! Sweep it out of the door or something!¡± Fresh looks at the broken broomstick in her hand. ¡°It¡¯s a really big crab though, Jubilee!¡± There is a rattling noise upstairs and Jubilee sets down whatever it is they were working on. Fresh can hear their grumbling, even from here as they make their way towards the staircase. The crab snips at her again and she yelps, trying to push it away with the broken broomstick. ¡°Fucking bullshit,¡± mutters Jubilee audibly, taking on a sarcastic tone as if trying to copy her voice. ¡°Let¡¯s take the yellow house!¡± they squeak. ¡°I like ice-cream!¡± they mock. ¡°Crabs? Who cares about crabs, Jubileeee~?!¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh is certain she can hear the rolling of their eyes, even down here. ¡°I have more free space to be annoying in the yellow house!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t sound like that!¡± argues Fresh. The crab snips the rest of the broomstick in half. The broken piece of wood falls to the floor, rolling away to the side. ¡°Leave me alone!¡± she yells at the crab that stands there with its pincers raised up high into the air, snipping at her menacingly. Jubilee snaps their fingers, throwing some beach sand down to the ground. A second later, the crab vanishes, having been skewered straight up towards the ceiling by a single piece of glass. Jubilee shakes their head, heading back upstairs without bothering to look twice. ¡°A crab-proof house? We don¡¯t need a crab-proof house!¡± they say in a voice that Fresh assumes is supposed to be Basil¡¯s, given the cadence of it. ¡°Ooh, let¡¯s take the yellow house! I don¡¯t actually want it, but I¡¯m desperate so I¡¯ll agree.¡± Desperate? Did Basil really want to move out of the adventurer¡¯s guild that badly or something? She hadn¡¯t noticed. Fresh shrugs, scratching her cheek and looking at the broken stub of a broom left in her hand. Jubilee is apparently feeling a little snarky today. ¡°Thanks, Jubilee,¡± calls Fresh up after them. ¡°Do you want a hug? Will that help you feel better?¡± No response. Fresh gasps, realizing. They must be copying Shamrock now. Deciding to let Jubilee be, she climbs down off of the counter and waves to her reflection in the glass. It waves back and the pillar shatters a second later, sending a wave of glass out over the floor, together with the body of one, very dead, crab. Fresh assumes that she¡¯s going to have to be the one to clean this up. She sighs, looking at the broken broom. Oh well, nothing that some glue and some metal can¡¯t fix. She could loot the crab, but¡­ Fresh quietly scoots the dead crab out of the door with the side of her boot. Unfortunately, the process is not as subtle and quick as she had hoped it would be. It was a big crab. Grabbing their glue and a long metal rod about the same length as the broomstick, she sets everything down. First she simply glues the broken pieces of the handle together and then, using some straps, she fastens the small metal-pole to the broomstick, like a brace. 1 DMG +1 DMG against [CRUSTACEAN]-type Quality Effect: +1 WATER DMG Weight: 1.1kg ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh looks at the menu that just appeared, this is clearly not what she was expecting. ¡°Jubilee,¡± she calls up the stairs, cupping her hand by her mouth. ¡°I made a battle-broom!¡± ¡°Shove it up your ass!¡± yells Jubilee from upstairs. Fresh frowns. Maybe she really should leave Jubilee alone today? They seem really grumpy about something. ¡°Sorry,¡± she calls up the stairs quietly. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you alone, Jubilee,¡± she relents. Jubilee doesn¡¯t reply. Fresh scratches her cheek, deciding that maybe her friend will be able to fall into a better mood if she works really hard to get this place ship-shape, whatever that means. Using her new, odd, broom, she sweeps all of the glass and remaining pieces of crab together. Interestingly enough, the water damage from the broom seems to apply to sweeping and it always leaves a tiny bit of damp wherever she sweeps. It¡¯s almost like a broom and a mop in one, but also, it¡¯s terrible because of exactly that. All of the dirt clumps together and sticks as she sweeps over it with the damp bristles. She considers asking Jubilee if she can go and buy a new broom, but she decides against it, opting to take the hard way instead of bugging her friend again, during their bad day. She wonders, are they really that upset about them not taking the blue house? No, she can¡¯t imagine that. Jubilee was pretty on board with the yellow house too. Plus it¡¯s not something that they would get this upset over. Maybe Jubilee really likes blue, though? Fresh blinks. No, no¡­ that doesn¡¯t make sense. People don¡¯t get this upset about stuff like that. Jubilee is probably just having a bad day because they slept weird or something. Maybe they have a headache? Then again¡­ Fresh considers the possibility. Jubilee had once said that their favorite color was green, but - Her eyes shift around the room as she continues to ineffectively sweep-mop. - but she remembers when Jubilee had their ¡®great day¡¯ back in their northern house. They wore a clean, untattered, blue outfit and then, when they had made Fresh¡¯s cherished blanket, they had also opted for blue fabric. The pieces are all coming together¡­ Fresh nods to herself. So that means, Jubilee secretly loves the color blue! Green being their favorite color was a lie! She gasps. No, no¡­ That¡¯s dumb. She shakes her head again. Would Jubilee lie to her about something as banal as their favorite color? She thinks about it, not coming to a satisfactory answer and then just shrugs. Whatever. It¡¯s not her business. She¡¯ll finish her work here and then maybe she¡¯ll start on Jubilee¡¯s room, so they can have some quiet. ¡­Maybe it¡¯s their birthday? Fresh gasps again, ¡®realizing¡¯. Is Jubilee mad because nobody thought about their birthday today? No¡­ no¡­ that can¡¯t be it either. None of them know each other¡¯s birthdays to begin with, as far as she knows. They all share a rather odd, half-secretive, half-deeply-open friendship. It¡¯s nice, but also weird. That can¡¯t be the reason for their sour mood. ¡­Can it? ¡°Nah,¡± says Fresh, finishing up and setting the battle-broom to the side, but within arm¡¯s reach, in case another crab shows up. She shakes her head, focusing on the task at hand. Lifting her hands, she frames the big window where the counter is supposed to go. They¡¯re going to need to put a cooling cabinet there, underneath it, so they can sell ice-cream right out through it to the people sitting outside. Maybe snacks and drinks too? She nods. Then here, inside, they could have all of their equipment and other items. People would get lured in by the crowds outside of the window, stop by for a refreshing snack and then while they¡¯re already here, they might as well sell their drops and maybe buy a thing or two too. It¡¯s the perfect strategy. This shop is going to do great! She¡¯s sure of it. She already has the layout planned in her head. The room is large and square. The front door is in the middle of the room. So that means they¡¯re going to have the counter on the left, by the door and by the big window to the beach. Customers entering the shop will move down the shelves towards the right and follow the entire layout of the store, until they get around to the counter, ideally with their hands full with¡­ With¡­ wait. Their hands? Fresh stops again, thinking for a moment. This building is big. Easily twice as big as any of their other stores. That means people are going to have to walk a lot and they¡¯d have to carry everything they want from the shelves through the whole place, likely while dripping wet and covered in beach sand. ¡°Shopping carts!¡± she exclaims, her fist hitting her open palm. They needed shopping carts! People will not only have a much more convenient time that way, but they¡¯ll tend to simply buy much more in general. Of course! Something skitters down at her feet. Fresh yelps, jumping away towards the counter as the new crab snips at her and misses. ¡°CRAB!¡± she yelps, grabbing her battle-broom. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 228: Home improvement Fresh yells in joy, her arms up in the air as Shamrock rolls the ¡®shopping-cart¡¯ around the still mostly empty downstairs area. They¡¯re on their third lap and she shows no signs of losing her enjoyment in any sense. Following her burst of inspiration from before, she had set to work on making a large metal-basket out of dozens and dozens of small metal-rods which she had extracted from iron-bars. Then it was just a simple matter of attaching wheels to the bottom of it. It almost looks a lot like the things she remembers existing in her old life, but she¡¯s adapted the design a small amount to account for the longer items they would likely have on sale, such as swords or pole-arms. As such, there is a tall, thin cage on the left side of the cart that goes down all the way to the bottom, for people to put longer objects vertically inside of. Whereas the rest of it after that is simply a ¡®normal¡¯ shopping cart. Shamrock and Basil had returned, having purchased the construction supplies that she requested. ¡°It¡¯s certainly an interesting idea,¡± says Basil as they come to a stop near the front of the store. ¡°You think it will work?¡± she asks, holding the cart steady as Fresh climbs out of it. ¡°Mm!¡± she replies. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock!¡± she beams, receiving a thumbs-up in return. ¡°As long as we don¡¯t get sand in the wheels.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you make it floaty, like the sheep?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Then there won¡¯t need to be any wheels.¡± Fresh gasps, grasping the fabric of Basil¡¯s robe. ¡°Basil!¡± she exclaims. ¡°W-what?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a genius!¡± says Fresh, letting go and running over to the finished counter and sliding over it to dig around in her pile of materials behind it. With some crystal-drakonium and some of their magic-crystals, they could¡­ They could¡­ hmm¡­ Would it be suspicious for them to have magic-crystals that work outside of the mountain? She could power them up with moonwater, but maybe people would ask how they did it? It would draw a lot of attention directly to their doorstep. Fresh shakes her head. Sure, they could explain it away with some trick or some lie, but it¡¯s too risky. Even worse, she could imagine where it leads. People will want to buy them to take with them into the dungeon, to carry all of their loot. Then eventually, someone is going to want to use the magical-technology to make some kind of carriage drawn by an anqa. Before she knows it, the military will finally start knocking at their door, if not the nobles. This idea is too big, too clean, too efficient, it opens too many doors. She better not. Fresh stands back up, looking over the counter. ¡°I think we shouldn¡¯t do that,¡± she says. ¡°People would start asking a lot of questions.¡± Basil crosses her arms, thinking for a moment. ¡°Huh¡­ actually, you might be right,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t even think about that this time.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No! It¡¯s a really great idea!¡± she says. ¡°That¡¯s the problem¡­¡± Basil nods, understanding. ¡°Wheels it is,¡± she says, looking over to the cart. ¡°Can I try?¡± she asks, wanting to change the topic. Both of them look at Shamrock, who is already somehow sitting inside of the cart, watching them both. ¡°Me first,¡± he says. Fresh scratches her cheek, turning to Basil. The priestess nods, not needing to be asked. Fresh takes one side of the cart and she takes the other and together they, very strenuously, run Shamrock around the store a few times. By the time they finish and Basil has had her turn as well, it¡¯s already the evening and Fresh heads upstairs, determined to start on Jubilee¡¯s room now. She doesn¡¯t know if she¡¯ll finish, but she wants to at least make them a wall. ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What do you think about us having a biiig dinner-table right here?¡± she asks, coming up the stairs and pointing to the center of the room. ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± says Jubilee, sitting in the corner by the balcony, working on some tailoring project, sewing by hand. Fresh frowns, looking around the giant, empty, square of a space. ¡°So where do you want your room?¡± she asks. ¡°I could set it up here in the corner if you want? Then you can have an ocean-view window,¡± she offers, pointing at the bottom-left corner, opposite of the staircase. ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± says Jubilee, picking up a pair of scissors and snipping some loose threads. Fresh scratches her cheek. It¡¯s not unlike Jubilee to be grumpy, but it¡¯s not like them to be indifferently-grumpy. Maybe they really are getting sick? She nods. Ocean-view it is. A nice blue-view every morning, some sunlight and some ocean air might be just the thing to perk their spirits up. Jubilee probably doesn¡¯t get a lot of sunlight, given their wardrobe. Maybe they could sit in their room without clothes and tank some sun-energy in private? It would certainly do a lot of good for their health. Fresh scratches her cheek, deciding on that note that she¡¯s going to make a big table outside on the balcony for them to eat on, when the weather is nice and then she¡¯ll make a smaller one inside for when it rains. The materials here are a little different than in the west. Brickwork is far less common, though there is some sand-stone here and there. Instead, everything is mostly made out of things like clay and lime packed into wooden or metal framing. The first thing she does is to mark the area of the room with some chalk. It¡¯s about twice as big as Jubilee¡¯s old room in the west. Space is really cheap here in the east, like they had said on the way here. It takes her about five measured steps to reach the end of the new room from where she has marked the door and four from the window to where the side wall is going to go. Setting to work, she takes the wood that Shamrock has carried upstairs for her and begins to make a wooden frame that reaches from the floor up to the ceiling. While she¡¯s working, she can hear the snipping of Jubilee¡¯s scissors as they work on their secret project, as well as the rattle of wheels downstairs. Shamrock is apparently pushing Basil around in the cart again. Putting up the wooden skeleton is easy enough. It¡¯s just always segments of wooden frame, made up out of four boards that shape a large rectangle and then four more that serve as a cross section on either side. She makes about eight of these, leaving room for the door, and sets them up on her chalk-markings. Using some long, metal bolts, she drives them down through the frames, with her abilities, fastening them into the stone of the upstairs floor. All the while, she resists the urge to ask Jubilee if they¡¯re mad at her. Asking that would just make Jubilee mad at her. It¡¯s a self-fulfilling prophecy, really. Maybe Jubilee is just mad at everything? That sounds more reasonable to her. As for the filling of the wall-frames, first she packs in bricks of ready-made ¡®insulation¡¯ into them, which is essentially just mud, wood-chips, some straw and some other mystery-goo packed into large, brick-like shapes. It takes about an hour, but since everything is prefabricated, it¡¯s essentially just a task of stacking things on top of each other inside of the frames. All that¡¯s left now afterwards is to put a coating over it all, to cover the frames and to fill in the gaps. She nods, grabbing the large buckets and dragging them over to the construction-site with great effort, feeling the pop in her lower back return painfully to her as she reaches the half-way point. Sweaty, covered in dust and a bit of grime, she wipes her forehead on her sleeve. Making a home sure is a lot of work. Oh well, that¡¯s what makes it all worth it in the end, right? Excited to make progress, she grabs a putty-knife and begins filling in the goopy material from them. Basil comes back with dinner a little while later. Some kind of rice-like grain covered with a thin, peppery brown sauce and thin strips of browned meat. the three of them sit out on the balcony and eat together. Jubilee is skipping dinner tonight, still sitting in their corner and working on their project that Fresh hasn¡¯t inquired about. It¡¯s very hard for her to give her friends space, but she¡¯s managed so far. After that, Basil and Shamrock set to work carrying more of their boxes from the adventurer¡¯s guild to here and then they start arranging everything upstairs. By the time it¡¯s all finished, Fresh finishes up the very last spot in Jubilee¡¯s room, which now exists as a door-less construct. She stands back, admiring her work with pride. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Jubilee, handing her a giant bundle that she takes without asking. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she asks, unfolding the first of the many giant things that Jubilee has been working on all day. ¡°Curtains,¡± says Jubilee, walking off and dusting their hands. Fresh blinks, looking down at the set of large, ornate curtains that Jubilee had handmade, one for every upstairs window in the house. Clenching her fingers around the soft fabric in delight, she decides to set to work, to hang these all up right away. She wouldn¡¯t dare leave her friend¡¯s hard-work just laying around somewhere. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 229: Getting set up ¡°I miss having a fireplace,¡± says Fresh, sighing and sitting against the wall on top of her bed-roll with a blanket wrapped around herself. It gets surprisingly cold here in the east at night, especially near the ocean. ¡°I mean, I guess we could add one?¡± asks Basil, keeping her eyes closed as she is already laying down in her bedroll next to Fresh¡¯s. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh crosses her arms, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s really cozy. But I don¡¯t know if this house is ¡®fireplace safe¡¯, you know?¡± Basil yawns. ¡°I guess you might have a point¡­¡± she says, her words drifting away. It¡¯s been a long day today. Fresh spares a glance around the room, looking at the beautiful light-toned curtains that adorn the walls. Jubilee had been learning how to embroider and they¡¯re covered in small motifs of flowers and chickens. They¡¯re literal priceless artworks in Fresh¡¯s eyes. Deciding that she needs to rest, as there is a lot of work left in the coming days, Fresh lays down and scoots her back towards Basil, in a devious attempt to steal her warmth. An arm wraps itself over her shoulder and she falls asleep more or less instantly. The next day, Fresh sets to work making a heating mechanism that came to her in her dreams. It¡¯s essentially just a thin, metal box, lined with crystal-drakonium on the inside for insulation. It¡¯s then filled up with a little bit of moonwater and she throws in a few of her self-heating spheres inside. Closing the top off with a metal-mesh, she then lays a rail over it. The self-heating spheres would heat up the moonwater and, depending on how far the rail is opened, a corresponding amount of heat could exit from the devices. ¡°It¡¯s very clever,¡± says Basil, watching her mount another one of these ¡®heaters¡¯. This one is going into Jubilee¡¯s room. ¡°Suspiciously so,¡± says Jubilee, watching her from the side. ¡°Did you really come up with this?¡± they ask. Fresh lifts her nose. ¡°I did! I had a dream about it,¡± she explains. ¡°It¡¯s basically the same as the heating cabinet we had before, just for our rooms!¡± Shamrock and Basil are in charge of finding a stove for their kitchen. Fresh is going to make all of their cabinets and such. Meanwhile, Jubilee is running around the downstairs area with some chalk, marking off all of the locations for the different shelves. They decide to keep a small space on the left side of the downstairs area free, next to the counter, to act as a small storage-room. As for the upstairs area, they decide to keep the same ¡®format¡¯ for their beds as before. So Fresh sets to work making her bed on the wall adjacent to Jubilee¡¯s room. Then there¡¯s a small nightstand and a wardrobe and a waist-high stone-wall that goes out a few feet. Then Basil¡¯s ¡®area¡¯ with the same configuration and then Shamrock¡¯s. This time, she remembers to make his bed a little bigger too. By the time she finishes this all, it¡¯s already well into the start of the night. Pulling open the railing of the heater a little, she lays down in her brand-new bed and falls asleep. Though not as fast as the night before. She really is a communal creature, she¡¯s starting to notice. The next day comes. Fresh tries out their new shower. It¡¯s icy cold and definitely a step down in luxuriousness from their old underground-current-bath, but it¡¯s better than diving into the ocean. She makes a note to add a heating mechanism to this as well, but that¡¯s low priority for now. Today she instead sets to work, making a crafting area for herself upstairs. For this space, she uses the area to one¡¯s left, when one heads upstairs. She makes another walled room and makes herself a workbench inside of it. Shamrock brings her a new cauldron at her behest. It takes until about the afternoon until the workroom is entirely set-up and ready to go. Then, she allows herself the luxury of making a couple of beach-chairs for the balcony as well as a big table with four seats. Then another small table inside, also with four seats. ¡°It¡¯s really coming together,¡± says Jubilee, looking around the area. ¡°Good job.¡± ¡°Are you feeling better now, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, leaning down to ask them quietly. ¡°Sure,¡± says Jubilee, shrugging. Fresh beams with delight, but stops herself from asking Jubilee what the issue was to begin with. Best let it be. Maybe they were just having a bad day or two. ¡°Sleepover tonight?¡± they ask. Fresh clutches her heart and pretends to die. Jubilee sighs and just walks away, leaving her behind where she lays ¡®dead¡¯ on the floor. For the rest of the evening, Fresh starts making their shelves. But she doesn¡¯t manage to finish. They have a lot of shelves this time. This store is twice as big as their old one. Honestly, she¡¯s a little overwhelmed with how to fill them all. Basil and Shamrock return with their dinner and since the weather is so nice, they all sit outside on the balcony and eat together. It¡¯s very enjoyable, not only with each other¡¯s company and because of the peaceful sights and sounds of the ocean, but also because of the ¡®show¡¯ of the hectic scuffle that is the beach, as even in the evening, adventuring parties are busy at work grinding crabs. After that, Fresh calls it a night and gets ready for bed, making a point out of it to squeeze Jubilee a lot when they have their sleepover. Deviously, she secretly closes Jubilee¡¯s heater that night, so that they¡¯ll have no choice but to stay trapped in her grip. She does her best not to cackle like an evil witch as her plan comes to fruition and she feels Jubilee pressing themselves back against her front later that night. The next day comes. Shelves. There are so many shelves. Dozens of them. Hundreds, even. ¡°Rod ¡®A¡¯ goes into slot ¡®A¡¯,¡± says Fresh in a monotone, bored voice, sticking two pieces of metal together. ¡°Rod ¡®B¡¯ goes into slot ¡®B¡¯,¡± says Fresh, sticking two pieces of metal together. ¡°Rod ¡®C¡¯ -¡± This goes on for the entire day. There are a lot of shelves. Fresh runs around later that night, mumbling about rods and staring at the walls until she eventually gets thrown into bed by Shamrock. She dreams about getting lost in a labyrinth made up entirely out of empty shelves that night. The next day comes. Today, she makes the kitchen, which she has been excited about. It¡¯s between the outer wall of her workshop and the large balcony-door. The stove is already there and hooked up. She spends her day making a large cooling-cabinet for them to keep all of their provisions and drinks in, but also makes a small hot one next to the stove too, for any things that need to be quickly warmed up like tea or coughee or bread-rolls for breakfast. Coughee is a bit of a luxury item here, unfortunately. Mush-mushes, whose caps are the primary ingredient, aren¡¯t so common here. So a single cap costs easily four times what it would have in the west or the north and they certainly aren¡¯t ¡®fresh¡¯. She decides that her friends are worth it though and makes several batches of the dried powder for them to keep in storage. If they sell any, then only as an expensive luxury item. Teas seemed to be more common here in this region. Deciding that today is her day to spend time with Shamrock, she ¡®forces¡¯ him to help her in the kitchen and the two of them spend a good chunk of the day processing hundreds of coconuts that they had in a giant basket by the balcony. The coconut-water they extract into glass flasks and put into cold-storage. It could be used for all sorts of cooking recipes or for ice-cream or even just to drink as is. It¡¯s very refreshing. The coconut-meat, they mash into a pulp. Fresh decides this would be great for soaps and shampoos, so she puts some of it to the side for Basil. The rest of the pulp, they use to bake a mountain of coconut-cookies, cakes and pastries. It¡¯s a daunting sight. She has no idea how they¡¯re going to eat it all before it goes bad. But she and Shamrock fight their way through, making a considerable dent in the land-mass as Jubilee and Basil stand together off to the side and watch in curious horror. The snacks, with a little extra salt, can all be made shelf-stable. So she makes several more batches, packing them into small boxes. The first of their new wares. These would go great with a nice drink for anyone sitting outside on the beach. Same with the coconut water. She places some cooling cabinets downstairs, the ornate kind with glass windows and starts filling them up with teas, using herbs that Basil procures for her, and coconut-water. The rest of the day passes and the next day comes. Today, Fresh is making the special cooling-cabinet for beneath the ¡®beach sales¡¯ window, behind the counter. It¡¯s waist-high and sits just below the window. There is a line of empty, rectangular metal-buckets that the ice-cream is going to go into. Basil stands outside of the open window, looking in. ¡°Can you see everything?¡± asks Fresh. Basil looks down at the little signs that are adorning each of the metal-buckets. ¡°Coconut,¡± she nods, reading the first sign. ¡°Dried apples,¡± she reads. ¡°¡­Crab?¡± Basil crosses her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t think crab ice-cream is going to do so well.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°I don¡¯t know what else to do with all of the crab-meat, Basil,¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°There¡¯s so much of it!¡± Basil looks around, making sure no crabs are sneaking up on her. ¡°There are a lot of crabs, what can I say¡­¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°Maybe you can dry it?¡± she suggests. ¡°Dry it, add some seasonings. We can sell it as ready-made travel provisions for the dungeon.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Basil!¡± she says, running upstairs to start doing exactly that. She throws the bucket of crab ice-cream out. Not even Shamrock wants it. She spends the rest of the day processing crab-meat into dried provisions. Jubilee, meanwhile, has been outside in the city, drumming up interest in the business. The next day comes. Fresh sets up the shopping-carts inside of the store, to the right of the door. Basil is stocking the shelves with the items that Fresh has made, as well as with a large assortment of her own. The priestess has been busy at work, making an entire range of coconut scented creams, soaps, shampoos and everything else imaginable. Jubilee meanwhile has made more of their tote-bags, as well as drawing up tailoring plans for bathing-suits made up out of a blend of cotton and crystal-drakonium. Shamrock, not being allowed to make his little slimes here, instead helps Fresh build the deck outside, in front of the front door. They put up several beach-chairs, tables and umbrellas outside. The latter object, Fresh has to explain as they don¡¯t seem to be a really common thing in this world. But all of them are convinced with the idea and the demonstration and she ends up making several smaller ones for their wares as well. The next day comes. It¡¯s all very exhausting, but the store is really coming together. The shelves are filling up and while their assortment is still a little bare-bones, there isn¡¯t much empty space left. Fresh only needs to find a new ¡®series¡¯ of equipment that she can make, as well as to find a use for the gross monkey-paws that they still have laying around and they¡¯re going to be ready to open any day now. Razmatazz I''ve cracked a total of 1 million words! Send help... Specifically, send it to my patreon. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 230: Alchemical reaction Blazing rays of sunlight shine down onto the beach, on what feels like a particularly hot day, even by the desert¡¯s standards. But despite the heat, the shoreline is full of adventuring parties, most of whom end up as red as the crabs they¡¯re fighting, from the intense sunlight. The four of them are just getting everything set up for their opening tomorrow. Basil and Jubilee are running around the beach, carrying a large, isolated metal container filled with pre-scooped ice-cream, served on little waffle-crackers, that they¡¯re handing out as free-samples to the many adventurers all around the dungeon. It seems that fighting the crabs outside of the dungeon is even more popular than going into it, at least amongst the low-level groups. Apparently, the eastern dungeon is bordering on close to mid-level territory already in the lower floors. Mr. Monkey seems to be the cut-off point, which really does make Fresh wonder. Most of the world¡¯s population must be low to mid-level at best, from what she has seen. It seems that high-levels are really rare, for whatever reason. Maybe nobody just ever lived long enough to get there? The ice-cream seems to be a hit though and she spares an occasional glance off of their balcony, watching as her friends make the rounds and are accosted more than once, not only by some crabs, but also by some people hoping to get a second helping. Shamrock is stocking the shelves downstairs and she sits here, trying to come up with a use for those monkey paws. They¡¯re really a very awkward item to process. What can you even do with a hand? She could use the monkey¡¯s bones to make weapons¡­? No, Fresh shakes her head. They already ¡®did¡¯ bone-weapons back in the north. She sighs, leaning out over the balcony. They were said to be good for magical crafting, but¡­ Looking down, she watches as a crab scuttles its way towards the front-door below that she can¡¯t see from here. She is sure that it¡¯s closed, yet somehow, she knows that the crab is going to find its way inside despite that. She turns around, cupping her hand by her mouth to yell back down the stairs. ¡°Shamrock! Crab!¡± she calls, listening to the sound of metal boots after that. Crab? She blinks, repeating the word in her mind and grabbing a monkey¡¯s paw, running past the kitchen and into her workshop. She throws the paw onto the table and grabs a jar of moondirt and a big, hollow crab-claw. There is a large crate at her feet that she shifts to the side with her boot. Basil had brought it in here for some reason days ago. Probably dried herbs. In a rather macabre spectacle, she stuffs the monkey¡¯s paw inside of the hollow claw and then pours in the moondirt, giving it a good shake, before setting it into a bowl and closing her eyes, focusing on her abilities. She opens her eyes again, looking at the odd thing that lands into the bowl before her. It¡¯s uh, it¡¯s kind of gross, honestly. It¡¯s a big heap of moondirt, crab dust and ground up monkey¡¯s paw, all in a big bowl. This would work better with sand than with dirt, she feels. Related to that, Fresh makes a mental-note to ask Jubilee to help her make glass out of ¡®moonsand¡¯ later. But for the sake of the experiment, it should be fine. ¡°Rest in peace, Crabby,¡± she says under her breath, using a scoop to get a heap of the ¡®gunk-dust¡¯, that not even the system has given a name, out of the bowl and spreads it out on the table into a thick line of powder, about the width and length of her fore-arm. The principle of the composite material is in a sense, the same as crystal-drakonium, but different. This isn¡¯t supposed to be bouncy. Though, she honestly doesn¡¯t even know what it¡¯s supposed to be. She¡¯s just doing what feels right, as she listens to the crashing waves outside of their house. Her hands glow. The long streak of powder solidifies into what looks like a stick. She picks it up, tapping it against the edge of the workbench curiously. In that second, Fresh turns her head, looking at the menu that has appeared for a moment before the flash of light envelops her eyes. ¡°Hu-¡± ?? POISON ?? Warning: Highly volatile. Highly explosive. Handle with care! [Demon¡¯s Tether] absorbed: {Explosive damage(20)} (Fresh) [HP: 0/13] +~*-_ YOU HAVE DIED _-*~+ Her ears ring and she completely loses her orientation in the ensuing flash of light that roars around her. Everything is bright. Everything is loud And then, everything is quiet. The world turns black. An audible sighing can be heard coming from all around her, being carried through the rushing water. ¡°You had to smack it against the table, didn¡¯t you?¡± asks an exhausted voice that rings out all around her. ¡°Did I die?¡± asks Fresh, floating in the black-ocean as a vague entity with no body. ¡°You sure did,¡± replies the fountain. ¡°And how. That explosion turned you right into mist.¡± ¡°Is Shamrock okay?!¡± she asks. The entity that is the fountain floats around her. ¡°Who? Oh. He¡¯s fine,¡± it says, indifferently. ¡°Usually we¡¯d lose some time when you have to respawn, but I¡¯m cutting some corners here,¡± says the fountain. ¡°We need to make progress. Don¡¯t throw that stuff around next time.¡± ¡°Will my friends know that I died?¡± she asks. ¡°Is that still a secret?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Why?¡± it asks. ¡°They already know that they can come back, so why is it weird if you do too?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± she replies, frustrated and unable to explain her feelings. It sighs. ¡°We¡¯re fixing your body where it is. Well¡­ ¡®is¡¯. You¡¯re really a little bit everywhere right now,¡± it explains. ¡°Maybe take a deep breath,¡± suggests the fountain. ¡°This is gonna hurt.¡± Fresh feels herself floating away. The current pushes her off to some dark place, as if shushing her out of the door. ¡°And uh, don¡¯t open your eyes.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asks. ¡°I mean it¡¯s going to hurt,¡± says the fountain. ¡°A lot. And don¡¯t open your eyes. Bye.¡± Fresh opens her eyes and screams. It hurts like nothing she¡¯s ever felt before. Before her vision goes black again immediately from the pain, the last thing she sees is a black-goo oozing out of her body where her arms should be. She isn¡¯t exactly asleep after that, but she also isn¡¯t awake. For the next period of time, Fresh feels like she¡¯s just floating in that vague state that one is in when laying in bed and only a second before falling to sleep. It feels heavy, like a pull, like an anchor restraining her down to the ground. All the while, while she¡¯s in that foggy state of existence, she can feel a constant, throbbing ache in her entire sense of self. Eventually, she returns to wakefulness, finding herself laying in a bed that isn¡¯t hers. She smells Jubilee all around her. This must be their bed. Fresh opens her eyes, looking around the room. Yup. This is Jubilee¡¯s new room. She wiggles her toes and fingers. All still there. Sheesh, what a dangerous item. She supposes that she just made some kind of gun-powder at the fountain¡¯s behest. ¡°Hey, guys,¡± she says, looking at her friends. All three of them are hovering around the bed and in a way that she feels very guilty about seeing, it makes her happy to see them all worried. Because the pained expressions visible on their faces, the expressions of their eyes and postures are all painted as they are in this second for her sake. Fresh realizes that she maybe really is a bad, selfish friend. Basil doesn¡¯t stir, her head resting on the side of the bed as if she were asleep. Jubilee just sighs and Shamrock seems to lessen his stiffness. That¡¯s about the only initial response she gets. ¡°Sorry,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Are you all okay?¡± ¡°What the fuck happened?¡± asks Jubilee, ignoring her question. Fresh rolls her neck from side to side, getting a feel for her body. It really does seem to be in one piece. ¡°I was making some stuff and I exploded,¡± she explains, pulling her hand out from the blanket and scratching her cheek. ¡°Poof.¡± ¡°We were fucking worried,¡± snaps Jubilee, glaring at her. Fresh stops, lowering her hand again, realizing that she shouldn¡¯t make any jokes right now. ¡°Sorry,¡± she apologizes. ¡°I think Basil¡¯s lantern saved me,¡± lies Fresh, looking down at the priestess who is fast asleep at her side despite the commotion. ¡°I¡¯m okay. Sorry if I made you guys worry,¡± she says, sitting upright and holding the blanket against herself. She realizes that her left hand is still trapped in the sleeping priestess¡¯ grip. Jubilee sighs again. ¡°I fucking told you people it would be fine,¡± they say, looking at Shamrock as he¡¯s the only left to talk to. He just shrugs. ¡°What¡¯s with Basil?¡± asks Fresh, shaking her. The priestess mumbles something, but doesn¡¯t lift her head. ¡°Drained dry like a vampire¡¯s tits,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks around. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°She used up all her soul-points,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Told her it was a waste of time since you were at full health anyways,¡± they say, shrugging. ¡°But when does anyone ever fucking listen to me?¡± Now Fresh doesn¡¯t feel good about her friend¡¯s worry anymore and she realizes rather suddenly why she hasn¡¯t been telling them about her ability to respawn for this entire time. Because she wants them to worry about her. She wants their attention in a powerfully dramatic, childishly selfish way. She wants them to dote on her and to look out for her and to care for her well-being and to pat her on the head and tell her how good and important she is and they will, in her eyes, do this far more extravagantly if they feel that she only gets one precious life which they have to protect with every fiber of their beings. If they knew that she could respawn, then that would cheapen the value of her existence to them. That¡¯s what she has apparently felt, at least. But now she realizes that that¡¯s nonsense and that she really is a horrible friend. She is terrified for each of them every single day even if she knows for a fact that they can respawn too. So why would it be different the other way around? Maybe she really does deserve her old life more than this one? Maybe she really does deserve this world¡¯s perception of witches. ¡°I just lied,¡± admits Fresh, lowering her head. ¡°I think I died. I think I died and came back,¡± she says. Razmatazz *Rattles empty Chekov''s gun* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 231: Fashionable Nobody is really mad at her. It¡¯s not like she¡¯s explicitly ever told them that she can¡¯t come back from death. Sure, she hasn¡¯t mentioned that she¡¯s died before now, but they don¡¯t ask either. Fresh just explains that she died in her workshop and that her patron god brought her back, after a harsh scolding for being dumb. This seems to earn the fountain a few sympathy points with Jubilee, who listens intently and then nods approvingly. ¡°Well, that¡¯s all fucking great,¡± they say. ¡°But still we have a problem.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Fresh, pulling her blanket up higher. ¡°Can I get a new robe?¡± she sheepishly asks. Jubilee rolls their eyes, nodding their head to the side of the bed where her old white dress is lying. The one she arrived in this world in. Jubilee must have dug it out of her bag. ¡°A black one?¡± she asks. Jubilee spins with their finger in the air, turning around to look the other way and Shamrock turns as well, following their instructions. Basil is just laying there, drooling on the side of the bed. But at least she¡¯s not flailing around. Losing your soul-points must really be deeply exhausting. ¡°I''ll make you a new one, but that¡¯s not the problem,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The problem is that we¡¯re opening in eight hours.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s night-time, dumb-ass,¡± says Jubilee, pulling the curtain to the side. Fresh looks out of the dark window for a moment, before slipping under the covers and putting on the robe beneath their shelter. Though, wrestling her hand free from Basil¡¯s is a significant challenge. ¡°We¡¯ll manage without Basil today,¡± says Fresh. ¡°We can run a store easy-peasy,¡± she explains, pulling herself out of the bed again, now that she¡¯s dressed in something that hasn''t been shredded into tissue paper. ¡°Thanks for letting me use your bed, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°You can turn around now.¡± ¡°She¡¯s not the fucking problem either,¡± says Jubilee, nodding their head to the door. Fresh hobbles over, noticing that her body still aches in a lot of places. She looks out of the door. The workshop is blown apart. The door and inner wall are blown clear away and so is the outer wall. She can see the neighboring house. She gasps, realizing all of the rubble must have flown down onto the staircase. ¡°Did anyone get hurt?!¡± she asks. ¡°Just you,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°But the guards were fucking pissed. Not to mention the neighbors, who want us to cover the damages to their house.¡± ¡°Take the money from my share,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ll make it back. We should clean up the rubble before morning,¡± she says. ¡°Already done,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh stops, looking at him. She sighs, relieved. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m a bad friend, guys,¡± she says. ¡°Apology accepted,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get to work,¡± they say. ¡°We have a store to get ready,¡± says Jubilee, staring at her expectantly. Fresh blinks, waiting for a moment, not sure what Jubilee wants from her. ¡°Ah!¡± she realizes. ¡°Uh, okay,¡± Fresh looks around. ¡°Shamrock, bring Basil to bed please, then keep stocking the shelves,¡± she instructs. ¡°Jubilee, we still need price-tags and numbers for everything, can you take care of that, please?¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°I¡¯m gonna put up a really fast and quick roof and wall,¡± says Fresh, looking out towards the destroyed workshop. ¡°In case it rains. Then I¡¯ll make more stuff for downstairs. We still need a display for the bracelets.¡± The three of them set to work. Fresh makes her way to the workshop, looking around. The room is entirely destroyed. The table is broken in half, the outside wall and a chunk of the roof are both entirely missing. The inner walls are blackened and scorched and she isn¡¯t sure, but she feels like that little red spot that she can see there on the wall is still a bit of herself. Talk about grim. She¡¯s just relieved that the others weren¡¯t here. The floor seems to have survived, more or less, except for a small ¡®crater¡¯. That stuff is dangerous. In a world full of magical fireballs, glass spells, monsters and all sorts of things like that, gun-powder seems like a fairly harmless invention. That being said, it certainly was dangerous for her. Oh well, she can ask those kinds of questions later. First things first, she has to fix this roof. It hasn¡¯t rained here yet, but knowing their luck, today was going to be the day. The last thing their new house needs is water damage now too. Fresh scrubs a bit of ash off of the wall. It takes a couple of hours to ¡®fix¡¯ the odd damage. Making an outside wall is certainly a different task than an inner wall. But she manages, working while being constantly terrified that she¡¯s going to fall off of the wall and flop down onto the staircase below. Interestingly enough, she notices that she can get up to their roof this way. Taking a second, she climbs up and walks around on it. It¡¯s entirely flat. Could something be done with this? Maybe. But not right now. Bending down, she pulls up several sheets of wood and some plaster and begins making a ¡®fake roof¡¯ to keep things dry. After the workshop is sealed back off, she heads to the ledge above the balcony and slowly lowers herself down. ¡°There,¡± says Fresh, dusting her hands off on her old, white ¡®robe¡¯, stopping to look at herself for a second. She hasn¡¯t had this thing on in ages. She hadn¡¯t noticed it back then, but it really is rather brave for her, or at least for who she used to be. Now she doesn¡¯t really mind so much. Fresh rubs her shoulders, turning her head to look at the old scars on them. She really has changed as a person in a lot of ways. But in a lot of ways she hasn¡¯t. She herself would usually say that she¡¯s gotten smarter and learned a lot since her arrival. But after today, she isn¡¯t so sure if she isn¡¯t just imagining that. But at the very least, if nothing else, she¡¯s become more comfortable in her own skin. Closing the balcony door, she makes her way downstairs to help get the store ready. Though, she first makes a stop by Basil¡¯s bed, pulling the priestess¡¯ blanket up higher around her shoulders and apologizes to the sleeping figure for making her worry. After that, she sets to work. The first thing is to make the display for the bracelets. That¡¯s easy enough, it¡¯s simply a few bowls in a circle with a wooden stand in the middle, covered in the bracelets. She carves a small, wooden sign with an explanation and sets it next to them. Four hours remain. The shelves are ¡®entirely¡¯ stocked. Though in all honesty, they¡¯re essentially just stuffed full of the same products, lined all the way down. It isn¡¯t exactly a diverse assortment of wares, but there is certainly at least an abundance of them. Nodding to herself, she grabs a cart from the door and makes a ¡®test run¡¯ through the store. For the authentic experience, she takes off her boots and steps into the damp sand outside past the deck, dragging it in with her on the soles of her bare feet. The first thing she sees when coming is the counter to her left with Jubilee behind it. To her right are the first shelves. This is where their ¡®comfort items¡¯ are. Things people from the beach will want right away, without much fuss. The cooling cabinet stocked with refreshing teas, coffee and coconut drinks is here. Plus some light snacks, like ready to go ice-cream or their ¡®crab chips¡¯. She rolls the cart forward, past the heated cabinet next to it, which is full of hot drinks for those gray, cooler evenings, when people are walking along the beach. After that comes what Fresh has dubbed the ¡®cosmetic¡¯ section. It¡¯s essentially Basil¡¯s area. The priestess has apparently been grinding harder than even Fresh noticed, as the shelves are literally stacked full with creams, soaps, shampoos, salves, bandages and all sorts of lotions to treat everything from sunburns to minor-poisonings. She rounds the corner, heading down the aisle. Fresh stops, holding the cart in front of herself, letting out a wowed gasp as she looks around at the bright array of colors surrounding her on all sides. Clothes, shawls, towels, swim-wear and summer-dresses of all manner and design line both sides of the aisle. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she calls out, rushing through the vibrant aisle. ¡°When did you start making all of this?!¡± Jubilee looks up from the numbers they¡¯re writing on some paper. ¡°Literally since we got here?¡± they say, shaking their head. ¡°Thanks for noticing,¡± sighs Jubilee, turning back to the paper. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, Jubilee!¡± she says, feeling the fabric of a sky-blue summer dress that seems to have been made with particular craftsmanship. She holds it up in the air at an arm¡¯s length, so that it looks like Jubilee is wearing it. Noticing her doing so, Jubilee takes a step to the side. Fresh moves her arm to follow, but then seeing that Jubilee isn¡¯t in the mood to play, she sets the dress back onto the rack. Heading down the next aisle, past the door to their staircase, she looks at the last aisle which is full of equipment from the dungeon that Shamrock has collected, not having had the opportunity to come up with some items of his own just yet. He¡¯s standing there, stocking the shelves. Fresh lets her hand slide over his back as she walks past and turns the last corner with her cart. ¡°Great job, Shamrock!¡± she praises. It all still needs some work and a lot of things are still missing and there¡¯s a lot of room for improvement here and there. But as a foundation, the store is solid. Pushing the empty cart around to the counter she stops in front of Jubilee. ¡°What?¡± they ask. Fresh digs into her pocket, setting a coin on the counter. ¡°One hug please,¡± she requests, leaning over. Jubilee places a finger on the coin, sliding it back towards her. ¡°All sold out. Come back tomorrow.¡± Fresh frowns, taking her coin and putting the cart back. Another hour passes. She helps Shamrock stock the rest of the shelves. Another hour passes. Fresh checks on Basil and then gets the outside area ready. Who knows if they¡¯ll even get any customers today? But if they do, she wants it to be nice and neat outside so they can all sit and eat. The last hour passes. Fresh, Jubilee and Shamrock stand downstairs. ¡°Okay, Jubilee, you handle the inside-counter,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ll do the window-counter and try to keep up with the shelves,¡± she explains. ¡°Shamrock, you¡¯re on crab and shelf duty.¡± Everyone agrees and Fresh takes a deep breath, not sure what to expect, if anything at all. ¡°You guys ready?¡± she asks. ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Not like we haven''t done this a thousand times already.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± is all that Shamrock says. Fresh nods and turns around, grabbing the shutter of the large sales window, looking out towards the beach, she lifts it up. Razmatazz And so ends the quarterly ''pre-store'' arc =) That being said, hold on to your butts, because we got big non-store stuff coming soon. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 232: Beachfront ¡°Coconut, please!¡± says the elf, covered in pinchy crab scars. He lays the coins down onto the counter and Fresh nods, grabbing the big, round spoon and dipping it into the rectangle of coconut ice-cream, which is already almost sold out. It¡¯s not even mid-day yet. Fresh sets the ice-cream onto a waffle-cone, which she had made out of a baked, simple wet batter mixed in with a generous drizzle of honey for color and flavor. They¡¯re made in a custom ¡®cone tray¡¯ that she cobbled together out of some iron. Handing back to him, she watches as he returns to his group, sitting down in a circle on their beach chairs. (Fresh) sold: 1 [Ice-cream]{Coconut}(Excellent) for [{9} Obols] ! ¡°It¡¯s so good!¡± says an excited orc, who is a little too big for their chairs, lifting her hands up into the air. ¡°You¡¯re gonna get fat, eating that stuff,¡± says a man to their side, drinking an unsweetened cold tea. ¡°And you¡¯re gonna die old and bitter, if that¡¯s all you ever drink,¡± replies the orc, crossing her arms. Crystal-drakonium coated wheels roll around behind her as someone pushes their cart through towards the counter and begins unloading their selection of items down in front of Jubilee. It took a little while until people started ¡®getting¡¯ the concept of the carts. But after the first ones started rolling, everyone else seemed to catch on. ¡°I really like these bracelets,¡± says a voice from behind the shelves, as Jubilee starts tallying the price of the man¡¯s purchase. ¡°Look! If you take four of these, you can get eight intellect!¡± ¡°Wow¡­¡± comes an excited gasp from next to the voice. Hearing this, Jubilee flashes her a look and Fresh quickly averts her gaze. Sure, she could wear a bracelet that would double her intelligence in the blink of an eye. But she doesn¡¯t like that idea. What if that makes her too smart? What if ¡®smart Fresh¡¯ is a total jerk and her friends end up hating her? No. Best not to play around with it. Life is going pretty well as it is right now. Grabbing her bottle of coconut-water, she takes a long drink and sighs, it¡¯s so refreshing. Someone clears their throat in front of her. ¡°Ah! Sorry!¡± she says, realizing she was ignoring their next customer. ¡°What would you like?¡± she asks, looking at the familiar face. Tarja the fairy. ¡°Tarja!¡± beams Fresh excitedly. ¡°How are you?¡± she asks. ¡°I missed you guys!¡± Tarja smiles and waves back at her. ¡°Hey, we¡¯re doing good,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s been a little weird here. It¡¯s an adjustment, you know?¡± ¡°I bet,¡± says Fresh, preparing a tiny scoop of ice-cream off of a broken chip of waffle for her. ¡°Has anyone been mean to you? Do you need any help?¡± she asks. Tarja shakes her head. ¡°I just wanted to stop by, say hi and look around,¡± she says. Fresh nods, gesturing over her shoulder for the fairy to just fly in. She hands her the tiny bit of ice-cream. ¡°Here, try this,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s nice seeing you again! Hi Jubilee!¡± says Tarja. ¡°Fuck off,¡± says Jubilee, looking over their shoulder for a second. ¡°Thanks!¡± says Tarja, taking the ice-cream and flying inside. Fresh beams, looking out over the beach. The sitting-area seems to be working just as intended. The deck is slowly filling itself up with people. The chairs and tables are all long-since full and now people are sitting on the edge of the wooden platform, with their feet in the sand. Everyone is either just sitting back and enjoying a minute off of the anarchy of the crab-beach in quiet, or they¡¯re talking loudly with their friends and companions, drinking their drinks and eating their snacks to recharge. This seems to have a beacon effect of sorts. People saw everyone gathering here and sitting around, lounging in the shade with their refreshments and this had enticed more people to come by and look. They too sat down and took a rest, likely having been crab-hunting for much of the night. Then others came and saw them sitting around. It¡¯s a cycle that feeds itself and results in excellent free-marketing for them. This is their first day open and the store is already as busy as their old ones were during strong hours. Location really is everything, isn¡¯t it? Not just being near the dungeon or the crab-beach, but just by being on the beach itself. There is so much foot-traffic here. It¡¯s really fortunate that this house was available for them to have. Someone winces to the side, drawing in a sharp breath of air and Fresh looks, watching as a laughing elf rubs some of Basil¡¯s sun-burn lotion onto a man¡¯s frighteningly red back. ¡°You¡¯re such a wimp,¡± laughs the elf, slapping him once and leaving a white hand-print on his back. The man pulls in a quick breath of air. ¡°I¡¯m from the north, we¡¯re very sensitive to sunlight!¡± he says. Fresh quickly straightens up, turning to look away from the window. ¡°Hey! Do you have a dressing room?¡± asks someone by the counter. A dark-elf. Jubilee thinks for a second. ¡°Uh, no, but you can use that,¡± they say, pointing to the left, towards the downstairs, small storage-room. ¡°Okay, thanks!¡± says the dark-elf, running to the room with a bunch of sun-dresses. Jubilee turns back to her. ¡°Hey, goo-brain. Add a dressing room to the to-do list.¡± Fresh nods. She isn¡¯t sure about the hygienics of bathing-wear and public dressing rooms, but things like that don¡¯t seem to be a large concern in this world. She decides not to worry about it. ¡°I¡¯d like two scoops of the sweet-fruit one and a coconut water, please,¡± says a voice in front of her. Fresh, having lost track of her attention again, jumps back to work, serving the next customer. Occasionally, a crab sneaks up towards the deck, but Shamrock doesn¡¯t even have to take care of them, as more than one idle adventurer is ready to shoot a spell or an arrow at them from their beach-chairs. ¡°This is the life,¡± sighs a caster, putting his feet up, a bottle of coconut water in his hands. His finger is still smoking from the bolt of lightning that he had shot out to the side a second ago, without really even looking at the encroaching crab. Tarja eventually comes back, stopping to talk to Jubilee for a few minutes. Fresh hears from the conversation that the fairies are all doing well enough, but the three groups have little contact with each other now. The combat-fairies have apparently been grinding day and night, almost obsessively and are slowly becoming a real force to be reckoned with. Given their ability to fly, the crabs are entirely helpless against them. As for the fairies working under Tarja, they¡¯re running an ¡®off the books¡¯ clothing repair-stand, also down the beach, but in the other direction. People apparently had many fashion-accidents around the very snippy claws of the crabs and on-spot repairs are needed every day. The fairies who wanted to open a clinic apparently managed to convince a local alchemist to take them all in as trainees. The condition is however that all six of them only get the pay of one, single human, all together, which Fresh thinks is horrible. But the fairies are making it work somehow, opting to fight their way through until they are trained enough to open their own healing practice. The greatest relief to her is that so far, none of them have gone ¡®missing¡¯, keeping hawkishly sharp eyes on each other. There is a small buzz about them amongst the public and Fresh notices as much, listening to the people outside when Tarja flies past, waving goodbye to her. But the scenes aren¡¯t as dramatic as she was expecting them to be. ¡°Hey!¡± says the wizard with the smoking finger, who had zapped the crab before. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a fairy?¡± ¡°Sure am,¡± says Tarja, hovering in the air, turned half-way around. He rubs his long, gray beard that runs over his shirtless chest, staring at her quizzically. ¡°Never seen you guys off of the mountain before.¡± Tarja shrugs. ¡°It sucked there. So we left,¡± she explains. The wizard stares at her for a moment. Then he just shrugs too, leaning back again and closing his eyes, apparently convinced. ¡°Fair enough.¡± That¡¯s essentially it. Nobody really asks any hugely dangerous questions. People here seem very content in a lot of ways. It must be the sunshine, thinks Fresh. The rest of the day runs like that. The deck is full the entire time and all of their carts are gone, being pushed by people running through the aisles. Fresh¡¯s snacks get a lot of high praise, as do Basil¡¯s creams from all of those who are in need of them. Jubilee¡¯s clothes also receive a lot of excited gasps and squeaks and whispers. Fresh can tell that Jubilee is pretending to ignore it, like they aren¡¯t hearing them. But looking at their posture, leaning in slightly over the counter, she can tell that they¡¯re listening very intently to every kind word being said. Only Shamrock¡¯s section doesn¡¯t seem to get the attention that she thinks it deserves, which makes her a little sad, but the man doesn¡¯t seem to notice. Fresh makes a mental note that when she cooks dinner today, to make him an extra large portion. Just in case. Razmatazz -) Tomorrow we get some numbers again and then... well, don''t worry about it?? =) -) New shameful Fresh picture up on the latest patreon chapter Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 233: Table talk Fresh sighs, leaning back in relief as they finally close up for the day. Her back slides down the closed door and she lands on the very sandy floor. The little incline did little to stop the dragging in of what she feels like is a sizable chunk of the beach. ¡°What a day,¡± she says, feeling very tired, but satisfied. They haven¡¯t had a real ¡®store day¡¯ together in a while. She¡¯s just sad that Basil missed their first day here. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee, already starting on the ledger. ¡°We made good money today. Talk about foot-traffic.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think the dungeon is so popular here,¡± remarks Fresh. ¡°Everybody just wants to fight crabs.¡± ¡°That¡¯s all there is to do,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Until you¡¯re strong enough to get further in the dungeon, you¡¯re stuck killing crabs here. Hundreds and thousands of crabs.¡± There¡¯s a loud scratching as Jubilee¡¯s pen slides over the pages. ¡°Get up, we have a lot of work to finish.¡± ¡°Okaaay~¡± sighs Fresh, getting up onto her feet and grabbing her ¡®fucking, stupid-ass, soggy broom¡¯, as Jubilee had titled it, and begins sweeping up all of the sand. ¡°Good work today, Jubilee, Shamrock,¡± she says to the two of them. For the next hour, the three of them take care of the downstairs. Recrafting, restocking and reshelving everything. According to Jubilee¡¯s numbers, they made a very strong profit today, especially for their very first day in this city. ¡°So what are we gonna do with the money?¡± asks Fresh, tapping her chin with a damp, sandy finger. Jubilee slams the ledger shut. ¡°Save it until we need it to inevitably bail us out of a disaster that you created?¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°I¡¯d really like it if you guys created a disaster too for a change,¡± she says, sounding defeated, her shoulders and head drooping. Jubilee pats her once on the side while walking by. ¡°In a sense, we¡¯re all at fault for allowing you to run free like a lunatic.¡± ¡°Thanks, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, glad to have some support. Remembering her promise to herself to make dinner tonight, she checks that the door is locked and then heads up the stairs behind her friends, who are walking ahead of her. Shamrock is in front of her, so she can only go as fast as he is and the man seems to be making a point out of walking extra slowly just to tease her. ¡°Shamroooock~¡± she complains, putting her hands against his back and trying to push him up faster to little avail. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Go faster!¡± laughs Fresh, straining herself to move him. ¡°Okay,¡± says Shamrock and slowly sets his foot down onto the next step; Faster than before, but still mockingly slow. At this rate, it¡¯ll take them ten minutes to just get up the stairs. She purses her lips, realizing she needs to come up with a better strategy. ¡°I¡¯ll make us dinner, if you let me pass!¡± she offers. He doesn¡¯t know that she was going to do that anyways. Shamrock considers for a moment, slowly taking another step. Jubilee is already long since gone. ¡°Something sweet?¡± he asks, turning his helmet around. Fresh frowns, still trying to push against him. ¡°You had sweet stuff all day,¡± she reprimands, needing to take Basil¡¯s place now, in her absence. ¡°We should have something healthy and nourishing,¡± explains Fresh. Shamrock really has a severe sweet-tooth. It¡¯s even worse than her own. Shamrock seems to be considering the idea. But also seems to be leaning towards a negative response, judging by his posture. Fresh realizes she needs to play a heavier hand. ¡°Basil is going to wake up soon, so we need to make her something healthy,¡± she explains. ¡°Will you help me? Pleeeease~?¡± asks Fresh, making a pair of big eyes. His defenses break, she sees it in his shadowy gaze. ¡°Okay,¡± agrees Shamrock, now moving up the stairs. Fresh does her best not to cackle and give away her game. Not only did she achieve her goal of trying to get her friends to eat something healthy, but now she¡¯s even recruited a helper ¡®for free¡¯. Sure, her original intent was to make the dinner for his sake, but she had to convince him without sounding like she was pitying him because his items weren¡¯t so popular. Manipulative? Maybe. But the end result is that the two of them spend time together in the kitchen, making a few herb-baked fish and a large salad with a little coconut in it together. It¡¯s a lot of fun and the food looks and smells great. On the side, she ¡®secretly¡¯ sets to work, making some dessert. A witch¡¯s deviousness truly knows no bounds. A little while later, shortly before the food is finished, Basil seems to stir. Running out of soul-points must really be a draining experience, realizes Fresh, as she looks at the priestess who is finally starting to toss and turn in her rest again. ¡°Should we eat inside today?¡± asks Fresh, grabbing some plates to set the table. ¡°It¡¯s a little windy outside.¡± ¡°Sure, whatever,¡± replies Jubilee, who isn¡¯t going to eat with them directly at the table anyways. By the time they finish setting the table, Basil seems to have woken up. Rather than greeting them, the first thing the priestess does is jump to her feet and make her way down to the washroom, which is understandable. A few minutes later, the zombie that is Basil shuffles its way back upstairs and makes a beeline towards Fresh, who is sure she is about to get eaten. ¡°There¡¯s fish there! Spare me!¡± she cries, pointing at the table as a pair of arms grab her from the front. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alright,¡± says Basil, holding her head down against her shoulder. Fresh blinks, relieved that Basil didn¡¯t really turn into a zombie and returns the hug back. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Basil. I just exploded.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not normal.¡± ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± laughs Fresh, taking a step back to get some drinks for dinner. Basil continues to hold her though and so the two of them make an awkward shuffle to the kitchen and then back towards the table like that. ¡°You people make me sick,¡± says Jubilee, their elbow on the table, shaking their head which rests in their palm. ¡°Did you use your soul-points up again too, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, looking over to them. Jubilee sighs. After that, Fresh manages to unclamp Basil from herself, sitting the groggy priestess down onto her chair. Shamrock carries over their dinner, fresh from the stove and the four of them have what Fresh would consider the start of a very nice evening. They talk about their day with Basil, explaining how well they did with the store and how they ran into Tarja again. Basil doesn¡¯t have much counter-conversation to offer. Only explaining the foggy memory of an odd dream that she had. Something about a sun-rising over an black ocean. Fresh quietly sips her tea, listening as Basil explains how something like this is a very symbolic thing for people of the cloth. ¡°Are you even really still a priestess?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Aren¡¯t you just kind of pretending at this point?¡± Basil lifts her nose. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I take my oaths and beliefs very seriously,¡± she says, eating another bite of salad. Jubilee lifts their arms, gesturing with both of them towards Fresh, who is sitting there, her mouth full. Basil follows Jubilee¡¯s gesture with her eyes, staring at Fresh for a while before looking back down towards her plate. ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± ¡°I bet,¡± says Jubilee, nodding towards Shamrock. ¡°The thing he worships made us dinner. What have yours done lately?¡± ¡°Can we not?¡± asks Basil, stirring the food on her plate with her fork. Fresh looks around, realizing that the atmosphere of their nice dinner has basically been shattered now. Quietly, she gets up, swallowing her food and walks to the kitchen and pulls open the oven. ¡°Who wants dessert?!¡± she asks excitedly, coming back with a piping-hot, coconut cup-cakes that she holds out alluringly towards her friends. Shamrock raises his hand right away, not having touched his fish. Jubilee and Basil don¡¯t seem to take the bait, however, both of them are sitting back with crossed arms. Fresh narrows her eyes, setting the tray down. Carefully, she grabs the cupcakes and begins setting them out. ¡°No, thank you,¡± says Basil. ¡°As the party-leader, I say you have to eat.¡± ¡°Pass,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You can¡¯t pass!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I worked really hard on them!¡± Basil relents, taking hers and Jubilee sighs, setting theirs to the side to eat with their portion later in privacy. Fresh smiles, relieved. Another crisis averted. Razmatazz -) It''s like one of those awkward Thanksgiving dinners when your family starts arguing about politics at the table -) In case you missed it, DIS [Book {1}] is now on Amazon! [Book {1}] is chapters 1-110 Available as an ebook, paperback or hardcover edition! (If you''re interested in supporting me, the best choice you can make is to just get the cheapest ebook version and leave a review! <3 {Paperbacks and hardcovers are super expensive and I barely make anything off of them. They look cool though. But honestly, the review itself is what I''m really fiending for}) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 234: Wet-work She should curse the hero. It¡¯s about an hour after they had gone to sleep and Fresh sits awake in her own bed, having just shot upright from her rest with a very, very specific thought in her brain, which is, for some reason or another, unable to find sleep because of it. Her mind is buzzing and she feels like she¡¯s on her fourth cup of coughee, but she hasn¡¯t even had one. For some reason, her senses are simply alight and her eyes wander around the upstairs of their home. Basil had fallen fast asleep again, not having lasted long after dinner to collapse a second time. She¡¯s dead now though, having been burnt alive in her sleep. Shamrock lays there as a pile of empty, forgotten armor, filled with cobwebs and nothing else and she assumes, at least, that Jubilee is in their room. Somewhere. The problem is that it¡¯s been turned into a giant labyrinth full of their blood. It¡¯s going to be such a pain to clean out from the new curtains. Fresh sighs. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The hero is here, having arrived without any grand cosmic ceremony. The fountain knows it. He¡¯s somewhere in this world. He has been for a day or two at least. Basil¡¯s dream is proof enough for Fresh. Perhaps, because of her affinity towards holy magic, there is some connection there that makes the priestess privy to such insights on some spiritual level like she herself is. But the fountain has a clearer grasp on its understanding of these things and as such, it tells her as much. The hero is here. She should really go and curse him. Fresh rubs her head, trying to get the odd dream-like thought out of her mind. It¡¯s not fear that she¡¯s feeling, it¡¯s not like the night with the vampire back in the north. Rather it¡¯s¡­ anticipation? Excitement? She isn¡¯t sure what she had done to deserve this contingent of energy, but it¡¯s hers now. Groaning, she gets up, throwing her blanket off of herself, deciding to at least get a glass of water while she¡¯s awake. Taking a second to tuck in her dead friends, she shoots a cold glare towards Jubilee¡¯s door that she herself had made, which prevents her from doing the same for them. Was she always this clingy? Fresh wonders as she grabs a bottle of normal water from the cooling-cabinet, closing it quietly. It needs a light inside. She makes a mental note to do that in the morning. Maybe she could make something like her enchanted lanterns, but mounted to their walls and with little shutters, like the heating mechanisms? To provide light on demand. First she has to go and curse the hero though. Sighing again, she heads out onto the balcony, staring out over the starlit ocean while drinking some of her water. The beach is fairly quiet. Off in the distance, she can see the sparks of some crab-battling adventurers. But in their vicinity, nothing seems to be happening. ¡°What¡¯s tonight¡¯s moon like?¡± she quietly wonders, peering up towards the very cloudy night-sky. She really wants to do something. But she isn¡¯t sure what. Maybe she wants to make some more items? Curse the hero. Or maybe she wants to get a head-start on making a great breakfast for them all to share? No¡­ that¡¯s not it. Curse the hero. Fresh racks her brain, trying to get a grip on her thoughts. Maybe she wants to go downstairs and fight crabs? No¡­ no¡­ that¡¯s not it either. All she knows is that she can¡¯t sleep because¡­ Fresh stares out over the ocean, listening to the whispering crash of its waves which come to reach towards the shoreline. Dazed, taking a long drink of her cold water, she stares at the ocean, not sure if she heard her own thoughts right. The waves continue to crash as they always do. She blinks, looking at the bottle of water in her hands. Moonlight shines in through a pearling drop of dew on the surface of the matte glass. It dribbles down, splashing against the wooden railing of the balcony. Her senses feel so alert right now that she¡¯d swear she heard it strike against the wood. She really should go curse the hero. Soon. In the best case¡­ how about right now? ¡°Right now?¡± wonders Fresh, scratching her cheek. It¡¯s really late and she really should get some sleep before they open tomorrow, otherwise she isn¡¯t going to be of much help. She has to run the store by herself since everyone is dead. Besides, why should she¡­ Fresh blinks. Why should she¡­ She scratches her head, trying to rack her brain around the problem at hand. ¡°- Curse the hero?¡± she mutters, finally able to form her thoughts coherently. That seems like a really mean thing to do. She doesn¡¯t want to do that. Besides, she doesn¡¯t even know him. What if he¡¯s super nice? She¡¯s never cursed a person before and she doesn¡¯t really want to, honestly. She lifts her gaze, staring out towards the ocean. The water has turned entirely black, absorbing any and all starlight that might have once shone from above, leaving only an inky void. Fresh looks down at her feet, feeling something wet. Blood dribbles down past her from inside of their house, leaking down onto the sand below as it runs over the edge of the balcony. Everyone is dead and it¡¯s her fault. It¡¯s because she didn¡¯t curse the hero. ¡°Is that true?¡± asks Fresh, feeling rather spontaneously sad about this now. The black-ocean continues to crash against the shoreline, the waves seem to come closer and closer to the house with every repetition. The ocean swallows more and more land every second. Blood trickles out of Jubilee¡¯s window, blood trickles out of Basil¡¯s bed, out of Shamrock¡¯s bed, out of herself and it all falls down and stains the sand below. Because she didn¡¯t work hard, because she didn¡¯t keep her promises to herself and her cherished friends to do whatever it takes to keep this new life of theirs. It¡¯s all her fault. ¡°- Isn¡¯t that right?¡± asks the fountain, its voice coming from the ocean. Fresh shoots upright in her bed, waking from the odd dream. With damp eyes, she gets up and looks at her friends. Everyone is fine, obviously. Basil is flopping around, fighting her dream-demons like a champion and Shamrock simply rests there as always, somehow managing to spread himself even too wide for his already extra-large bed. He¡¯s not exactly covered, but he¡¯s wrapped the blanket, which Fresh had given him back in the west, around half of himself. She sighs, heading over to their beds before getting ready for work. Tucking Basil in, she puts an end to her battle and pets her hair for a moment, before doing the same for Shamrock, minus the hair-petting. She walks towards the balcony, shooting a cold glare at Jubilee¡¯s door. One day, she¡¯ll convince her friend that they don¡¯t need to hide from her or any of them every day and night. Well, that is if they¡¯re still going to be friends with her after tonight. She really hopes so. Walking past the fridge, she grabs a bottle of cold water, this time for real, taking a long drink and emptying it all at once. Fresh rolls her shoulders, stretching to get ready. She rises to the tips of her toes, reaching for the ceiling and then bends down over forward, touching the tips of them. Her back pops, but in a satisfyingly painful way. She doesn¡¯t have anything to wear for tonight though? Her inventory opens and she finds herself reaching inside, pulling out the broom, the hat and one very suspicious looking apple. That¡¯s great and all, but, does she really have to wear her night-gown out in public? Her inventory closes and Fresh inadvertently marches downstairs, down through the shelves and towards the spot on the counter where Jubilee had been standing all day. Reaching over, she digs into the lower shelf and pulls out a black-robe. This is Jubilee¡¯s work, she¡¯s sure of it. But it doesn¡¯t really fit in with any of the products they¡¯re selling. While worn: Increases [LOV SUB-VALUE]{CHARM} +25% Quality Effect: +15% DARK DMG Weight: 0.4kg Her hands snatch a leather bag from their section of dungeon-loot on her way back upstairs. She beams. High quality? Jubilee didn¡¯t tell her that they had gotten better at tailoring. She¡¯s really excited about that. But then she realizes that she¡¯s marching upstairs like a zombie, putting on the new robe over her night-gown, her thoughts being half-controlled by the fountain. Jubilee is probably going to be mad at her for taking this. That is if Jubilee even remembered making it to begin with. Also, ¡®charm¡¯? She¡¯s never heard of that before. Heading back upstairs, she takes one last look at her friends, grabbing her grimoire and the apple. She adjusts the sleeves of the new robe and heads out onto the balcony, setting on the large witch¡¯s hat and tipping it a smidge towards the side. ¡°Bubble bubble¡­¡± says Fresh, very glum and sad, grabbing the flying broom, getting ready to learn how to fly on her way there. A metal scraping suddenly catches her attention and for a moment, she thinks that one of her friends is awake, having caught her in the act of her grand betrayal of their trust. Her head shoots around, staring down at the approaching sound that comes from the darkness of their home. Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide, staring as a melted metal husk scrapes its way across the floor, having dragged itself out of some kitchen cabinet. Bending down, horrified and heartbroken, she picks up the destroyed enchanted-lantern, which she had gifted Basil. She didn¡¯t even know it was still ¡®alive¡¯. She had assumed it was destroyed as much as she herself was, during the explosion accident. Basil must have put what was left of it into the cabinet. The glass is shattered, any contents that were once inside are gone. Only a jagged, warped metal frame remains. The glow is missing and any of the ornate depictions that were once present on it, be they righteous angels or vengeful demons, have melted away, leaving only a warped disfiguration in their departure. Holding the lantern tightly against her chest with one arm, she wipes her face with the other, as she climbs onto the broom. ¡°You¡¯re good at flying, right?¡± she asks the broken lantern, running her thumb over its surface. ¡°Sorry that you always have to save me,¡± she apologizes to it, hanging it onto the side of the broom. Looking up towards the night-sky, Fresh watches as the clouds finally depart, revealing the jagged-nosed face of the witches-moon behind their vaporous bodies. Fresh kicks off, rising into the air. It¡¯s a long way to the central-city, but the night is still young and the witching-hour draws nigh. Razmatazz We''re going to be doing a thing now. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 235: Midnight ride Frigid wind blows through Fresh¡¯s hair, pressing past her face as she holds onto the broom so tightly, that she isn¡¯t sure if she¡¯s ever going to be able to unclench her fists or her clamped down legs ever again. She has never been really afraid of heights before. But then again, she¡¯s never really been anywhere high enough to be worthy of being afraid of. But now, looking down at the very, very, very distant landscape below, Fresh is pretty sure that, even if she wasn¡¯t before, she¡¯s definitely afraid of heights now. Crying for a multitude of reasons, she howls as the broom shoots her through the moonlit night. Wind rushes past her ears, fluttering the fabric of her hat and robe loudly. She certainly has control of the broom, in a sense, but right now it feels more like that it¡¯s a rocket which she¡¯s been strapped to, rather than something which she herself is flying. The broken lantern rattles against the wood of the broom that it¡¯s attached to and she finds herself making a small correction in her movement, as it tilts the broom down into a somewhat flatter angle. She¡¯s doing something really stupid and bad, her friends are going to be so furious. Not only is she sneaking out by herself without telling anyone, which is not exactly forbidden, but discouraged at the very least, but she¡¯s flying, which she has been explicitly and clearly warned about. She¡¯s also heading towards the central-city, which she has been explicitly and clearly warned about and even worse than that, she¡¯s going to find the hero, who she has been explicitly and clearly warned about. That¡¯s all ignoring the other ¡®cursing an innocent¡¯ and ¡®keeping a low-profile¡¯ issues, which she is also going against. This is really bad. This literally couldn¡¯t be worse. Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock are going to throw her into the dungeon and tell her to spend the rest of her life with Mr. Monkey, she¡¯s sure of it. They¡¯ve been willing to forgive her for a lot of nonsense and hardship, but this is too much. ¡°Jubileeee~! I¡¯m soooorry~¡± she howls, her voice being drowned out by the wind. The landscape rushes by and she has to keep her eyes closed for a while to keep them from drying out from the biting, icy night-wind pressing itself against her face. By the time she opens them again a few minutes later, she sees the desert coming to an end. She¡¯s crossed the entirety of it, what had taken them days in the cart, in a matter of maybe twenty minutes. Flying is a really, really fast way to travel. It¡¯s also horrifying. Fresh screams, perhaps having never stopped doing so at all for the last half hour, as the broom takes a sharp turn and she almost smashes into a very confused and surprised owl. She takes a sharp nosedive, hurtling towards the ground like a falling rock. A tug comes on the broom from the front end, from the enchanted lantern and her path corrects itself, the broom pulling back up just in time as her feet hover only a foot above the ground which she is soaring over, heading straight towards one of the small forests on the western border of the desert. Terrified, she pulls her head down, clambering to the broomstick like a drowning man would to a piece of driftwood, as she shoots into the tree-line. Not having a modicum of control over it at all, the broom shoots left and right through the trees as the lantern does all of the work for her, pushing her through the small clump and forest and then back up into the air. She makes a promise to fix the lantern with all the love and care in the world after they get back. If they get back. It¡¯s probably going to be the only one she¡¯s going to have to talk to for the rest of her life. The large, expansive forest begins to come into vision and she finds herself flying above a sea of seemingly endless green, not much longer after that. The broomstick seems to have slowed down a little bit, but she finds herself unable to enjoy the beautiful view of both the world and the unblemished night-sky from up here, as her stinging eyes are both too wet and too dry at the same time to see clearly. And soon enough, with the witch¡¯s moon at her back, Fresh sees the massive tree of the central city come over the horizon. It¡¯s taken her about an hour, if she had to guess, to get here from home. Now what? Can she just¡­ fly into the city? Do they have any sort of magical defenses to keep strangers out? And then? How is she going to find one person in an entire city? And then? Is she really going to curse an innocent stranger, who has never done anything to her? Visions of her dream return to her mind¡¯s eye as she flies in towards the city under the cover of the darkness of night. Thunder cracks around her, causing her to let out another scream that she didn¡¯t know she had left in her, as the heavy clouds which have loomed above her head this entire time begin to let loose. Rain begins to fall in her wake, never quite reaching her, but falling heavily enough from the thickening clouds that the starlight behind her seems to be swallowed entirely. She grits her teeth, doing her best to not let the befouled water touch her just yet. She isn¡¯t really surprised at this turn of events, the fountain is a ¡®god¡¯ of sorts, after all. Who knows what else it can do? The world becomes louder, but it also becomes darker. All of the lights of the night-sky seem to become swallowed and hidden from sight, leaving only the glow of the moon and of the city ahead of herself to fill the void. The lights of the central-city rise up the trunk of the gigantic tree, which is now really just starting to come into scale for her as she approaches. Even the tallest building in the city barely reaches up to the base of the trunk, most houses rising only to the gnarled roots of the thing that spread around the landscape, being as much a part of the city as any of the white-stone structures. The circular city with the tree in the center is abuzz, even in this late hour. The many roads and alleyways are glowing with magical light and even from up here and this far away, she can see the swarm of people moving through the many streets. She isn¡¯t sure, but she assumes that it looks like some kind of festival, given the many colorful decorations and lights she can make out from here. Maybe to celebrate the arrival of the hero? At the base of the tree is a large structure, it looks a lot like the cathedral from the north, only far larger and grander. Next to it, placed high atop a root and nested into the wood of the tree, is a second structure that all of the roads in the city seem to diverge up towards eventually. Some kind of castle or palace, high above the rest of it all. So far, so good. She hasn¡¯t been blasted out of the sky yet and nobody has come to fly her way and intercept her. Fresh lifts up higher into the sky, rising out of the glow of the city as she slows down, hovering over the walls. She¡¯s arrived. The broom is shaking. But not because of any magical force being worked upon it, rather because of her pale, bloodless fists which are still clenched tightly around it, carrying the shaking tremors of her body into the thing. She hovers there for a while, staring down at the city below herself and then, the broom slowly starts to descend, slipping in through the shadows of the boughs of the giant tree as she lands on the flat roof of some random house with violently shaking legs. Taking a second to catch her breath, she does her best to stand up and quietly peeks over the roof, down onto the street below. One hand holds herself steady against the rim of the house, while the other presses the top of her hat down to hide her silhouette. The rain doesn¡¯t seem to have come into the city with her, as if it wasn¡¯t able to cross the walls. ¡°Sweet-bread! Get your sweet-bread here!¡± calls a jovial man, gesturing to a young couple walking past him, hand in hand. They¡¯re probably just on the cusp of becoming adults, by the looks of them. ¡°How about you, boy!¡± he boisterously calls, picking up a piece of bread shaped like a large heart from his stall. ¡°For the lady? Only twenty Obols!¡± The boy and the girl look at each other for a moment, clearly both embarrassed and flustered as they quickly avert their gazes away from each other, yet still holding hands. The baker laughs loudly, his voice overpowering the buzz of the crowd flowing through the streets. He shoves the bread into the boy¡¯s hands, flashing him a wink and nudging him with his elbow, sending them away without taking any payment. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the dungeon tomorrow!¡± says a voice from the side. Fresh turns her gaze over towards what looks like a small party of adventurers. Some caster, red in the face, is talking with a full festive-mug in their hand. ¡°We¡¯re gonna get him this time! I feel it!¡± ¡°Please,¡± laughs some dark-elven woman walking next to them. ¡°We¡¯ve been trying to get that boss for a week.¡± ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s the day!¡± argues the caster, spinning around and walking backwards, lifting their hands and the mug high into the air. ¡°Not if you keep drinking like that,¡± replies the dark-elf with a smile, placing her hands on her companion¡¯s shoulders and spinning them back around, so that they face back forward. She pulls them back closer towards herself and the two of them awkwardly walk like that in connected, hugging half-steps. ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m drinking alone, you need to be drinking with me!¡± argues the caster, lifting the mug up backwards and forcefully pressing it against the dark-elf¡¯s face, splashing what Fresh assumes is a lot of beer all over her front and their own back. But rather than getting angry or upset, the dark-elf just stands there and drinks the rest of the contents being poured into her while the caster and the rest of their group start cheering her on, clearly ready to have a festive night tonight. Fresh turns her head towards the right, looking at a group of three, very drunk people who are standing at a chair-less street-table, covered in a tower of empty plates of what Fresh jealously assumes could only have been the streetiest of street foods. ¡°You guys are my best friends!¡± cries a large, muscular orc with a huge mace at his side, gripping his two, apparently very good, friends in a bone-crushing hug. ¡°I love you!¡± ¡°Do you have to say that in public?!¡± yells one of the people he¡¯s squeezing, another orc, but she¡¯s much smaller than the norm, being only the same size as the human next to them. A ¡®fucky cloak-type¡¯, as Jubilee would dub them, who is trapped in the emotional giant¡¯s other arm. But rather than getting upset, flustered or embarrassed, as Fresh would expect from the shadowy, stubbled man being crushed to death with affection, the rogue, thief, assassin or whatever other ¡®cloak and daggery bullshit¡¯ he¡¯s supposed to be, simply returns the hug, laughing as if he were having the time of his life. Fresh blinks, looking around. Everywhere she looks, things are like this. People are having fun. People are being nice. People are being festive and joyful and adventurous. Comradery and friendship and even the dreaded ¡®L-word¡¯ are clearly all visible no matter where she looks on the busy main street of the festival. No face is angry or cold or full of despair. Nobody looks as if they feel any distress or hate or suffering. Everyone is¡­ - happy? She ducks back down behind the wall, staring off into the distance for a moment. Feeling deeply confused, lost and also jealous, Fresh feels a little bit of Jubilee¡¯s energy channeling into her personality as she scratches her cheek. ¡°What the fuck?¡± asks the witch, surprised at the words coming out of her own mouth. Fresh pops her head back up, looking down at the fair happening below her, if only just to watch for a little while longer. She has a few minutes to spare. Razmatazz -) *gasps* How... unexpected? -) Early days, but I''m in informal talks for the production of DIS audiobooks on audible (No, really!) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! Chapter 236: A rough night Just because things are nice now, doesn¡¯t mean they always are, right? Fresh reminds herself of the fair back in the west. During that celebration, people there had been unusually jovial and loud as well. Well, except to her, but that¡¯s not relevant. Surely, by this time tomorrow, everyone is going to go back to being¡­ heavy. - Right? Fresh feels the cold night-air pressing up through her hair as she holds onto the handle of the broom with a vice-like grip, flying through the darkness of the starless night. The icy, persistent wind that encases her isolated form, high above the lights of the world, reminds her that right now, in this confusing instant, she feels particularly cold, particularly lonely. But she doesn¡¯t trust herself enough to let go of the broom, so instead she just shivers, squeezing her arms against her chest without loosening her grip. The witch¡¯s moon might be shining bright, but none of the people below seem to care about it in the least. In fact, some of them even take delight at the sight of it, as if it were some rare natural wonder of the world, like a particularly vibrant rainbow. Fresh circles around the city, always avoiding any stray beams of light that might find their way to the sky, always encapsulated by the cold, lonesome wind as she lands on one roof after the next, peeking down off into the streets, into the windows for any signs of what she has come to expect of this world; hardship, treachery, deceit, violence, anger, hate, prejudice, greed, lechery, injustice, cruelty and dozens of other terms. But she sees no such things. It doesn¡¯t matter where in the city she flies to, which roof she lands on, which passersby she stalks from the air, which windows she creeps towards, pressing her face against the warm glass to peek inside. Everything looks¡­ exactly like she had expected this world to look, during her initial arrival into it. It¡¯s light. Everything, everyone is light. This is the ¡®other world¡¯ she had envisioned in her oldest dreams of another life. ¡°I don¡¯t get it¡­¡± mutters Fresh to herself, kicking off and shooting back into the sky. This doesn¡¯t make any sense. Jubilee had warned her about the central city and the nobles since the two of them had come together in the north. Basil had warned her a few times as well, begging and pleading with her to never do anything to attract the attention of the horrible people dwelling in such a horrible place. Her friends wouldn¡¯t lie to her. She¡¯s sure of it. The barkeeper and her story too. It all doesn¡¯t add up. While she doesn¡¯t know about the barkeeper, she is certain that Jubilee and Basil are a lot of things and that both of them have their own issues, but they aren¡¯t liars. So what¡¯s going on? The wind tousles her hair and she shudders. It¡¯s very cold up here. She looks around herself, searching for something, anything, to give her an answer as the night-chill bites her face. Something blue catches her eyes. Fresh flies towards the roots of the giant tree, seeing a large opening in the base of it, below the castle towards the left. The central-dungeon. There is a large plaza outside of the dungeon and people, even now in this late hour, stream their way in and out through the fog. Oddly enough, some of the people exiting the dungeon seem to carry the same confused, bewildered expression on their faces that she herself has. As if they didn¡¯t understand where they were either. Outside of the dungeon-gate are dozens and dozens of vendors and stalls and this seems to be the heart of the fair. There¡¯s a large open-area in the middle with music and dancing. The dungeon certainly isn¡¯t guarded in any sense. In fact, the area outside of it is full and welcoming, lined with fountains and benches. All around the currently full plaza are taverns and shops and smiths. She can even see an adventurer¡¯s guild sign from up here. ¡°But¡­¡± she shakes her head. No. It¡¯s not worth thinking about. Somewhere off to her side, music starts playing very loudly as well, as some band sets ferverously to work. In the castle, by the sounds of it. Fresh looks towards it for a moment, fighting the urge to sneak into the dungeon to see it for herself. Sighing, she turns her broom around and heads towards the new music. She doesn¡¯t need to look around the city anymore. This isn¡¯t a place someone like her belongs in. It¡¯s too nice. The castle is nested up atop the roots of the tree, but she notices that no other structures are built into or onto it, as if there had been a determined effort to preserve the natural wonder that it is. Even the castle, which adorns a single gigantic root, seems to be built on a massive stone foundation laid over the root, rather than directly on or in it. The gates, connected to the main road are wide open and people move inside by the hundreds, as some great event seems to be starting. Swooping in over the walls, she hovers just outside of a watch-tower¡¯s window, staring through it at the backs of the two guards who are looking out of an opposite window, down towards the courtyard below. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, I could take him,¡± says the one on the right. ¡°You?¡± asks the other one, very skeptically. ¡°You think you can take on the hero?¡± ¡°I can,¡± affirms the man on the right, sounding pretty confident. ¡°Seppel,¡± says the man on the left, sighing. ¡°- you can¡¯t beat me in a fight.¡± ¡°He¡¯s just a twig!¡± argues the man, Seppel, apparently. ¡°My boy has more muscles than him!¡± The left guard shakes his head, sighing. ¡°They all arrive like that, you c-rank.¡± He knocks the other guard on his metal helmet. ¡°Give it a couple of months. He¡¯ll be bigger than your mother,¡± laughs the man. ¡°Gods know what backwater they pick them from. But they sure fucking grow fast.¡± Fresh blinks, watching as the two get into a spat about Seppel¡¯s mother. Deciding she¡¯s heard enough, she flies off again. The castle has a large, open courtyard just past the front gate, which is essentially a second market-place, by the looks of it. Stalls and vendors line every inch of it and people seem to be having a fantastic time. Just a bit further is a second gate, just as open as the first and this seems to be where the ceremony is getting ready to start. The second plaza has a raised stone terrace, which sits only a little higher than the ground. Shamrock could probably rest his chin on the floor of it, if he were standing below and two easily accessible staircases lead up towards it. Just behind the platform, is the castle itself. Closed off and guarded. This plaza is where the band is, off to the side on a second, very colorful stage that seems to have been set-up just for the festival. They¡¯re pretty good, honestly. Fresh finds some small delight in the music, even with the bitter cold gnawing on her. There isn¡¯t a lot of music in this world. She had forgotten how much she really missed it. Fresh finds her head swaying from side to side and her icy fingers tapping against the broom. She has to be careful to stay up a little higher now though. This area is brightly lit. But she needs a good vantage point as well. The keep. Flying towards it, she hovers next to an off-shooting tower, landing down on a ledge that has no window access, just beneath a balcony. She doesn¡¯t get off of her broom, not wanting to risk falling as this isn¡¯t really a great place to stand. But at least here, she¡¯s protected from the wind, from one side. It¡¯s too bad that it seems to be coming from the other direction though. She wishes she had taken her blanket with her. So¡­ now what? She supposes she¡¯s just going to have to wait until the ceremony starts. It doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯s going to be long now though. Her contingency plan, the crystal hidden in the west, did it work? Did her message ever get through to the hero, wherever he might have found himself at that time? And even if it did, after tonight, he¡¯s hardly going to listen to a word that she says anyways, let alone believe her, right? The band finishes their first song and starts their next and this one seems to be the real draw of the show. The crowd, having finally started to fill up the second plaza, seems to organically make a sort of dancing area near the stage and she watches as people seem to take right to it. It really is cold up here. Shivering, she huddles herself against her broom, watching the distant festivities as she feels the surprisingly strong vibrations of the giant drum on the stage, even up here. The orc manning it is really giving it his all. It looks like it¡¯s going to be a long, fun and exciting night for everyone down there. She sighs. Well, flying is exciting too, right? Fresh leans back, sitting against the cold wall. With one hand, she holds onto the broom and with the other, she grabs the lantern, pulling it free from its harness. ¡°You wanna dance with me?¡± she asks the destroyed lantern, holding it against her chest with one arm as she sways her body slowly from side to side to the music, up in the darkness where nobody can see her. Which is probably for the best, she imagines that she looks pretty sad. Being a witch really is very lonely business when you''re not at home. Swaying, she sighs. She wants to go home. She doesn¡¯t want to be at some stupid party. She doesn¡¯t want to cast some stupid curse on some stupid hero in some stupid city. She wants to go home and to tell her friends that they¡¯re not opening the store tomorrow morning, because they have to spend all day warming her up again and that¡¯s that. But she¡¯s pretty sure that¡¯s not going to happen. She¡¯s pretty sure that she¡¯s going to be stuck here until the hero finally makes himself seen and then she¡¯s going to do something she doesn¡¯t want to do and feels horrible about and then she¡¯s going to fly back home and her friends are going to yell at her, if she doesn¡¯t lie to them and just not tell them about this at all. But there¡¯s no way they won¡¯t find out anyways. It won¡¯t take a week before word spreads to the east that the terrible witch of the north had made an appearance. In summary, it might all be over already, really. The store, her new friendships and family, her new life as she has made it. There¡¯s no way back from this, not that she can see from up here at least. Fresh is glad that the music is so loud as she squeezes the jagged lantern harder against herself as she feels the familiar cold, the very same frigid aura that had accompanied her from her old life, return to her. Even up here, even this high and hidden away, it has found her again. The bad-thing has finally reached her once more, despite all of her efforts and struggles to keep it at bay. But at least with the loud music to cover her voice, at least with the darkness of the starless night to hide the rest of her already obscured form, she can cry in solitude. ¡°Rough night?¡± asks someone from above her. ¡°IAH!¡± Fresh yelps in surprise, flailing her arms as she jolts, almost throwing the lantern away in her surprise. She only barely catches it by the tips of her fingers, catching herself with her arms wrapped sideways over the broom, her legs dangling down into the air. ¡°Look out!¡± cries the person and she feels a hand grabbing her. A hand obviously not strong enough to hold her weight, but one that tried nonetheless. The broom cooperates, guided by the lantern and rises her up towards the balcony that Fresh flops down onto, flopping around like a dying fish for a moment as she catches her breath and double-checks that the ground beneath her is really solid. Panicking, she scrambles to her feet and looks at the very confused face staring back her way. ¡°Are you alright?¡± asks the person who helped her up. ¡°Cool hat,¡± she says. ¡°Wait! Are you that witch?!¡± Razmatazz Dun dun duuuun? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 237: Peridot ¡°Wow¡­ you¡¯re real!¡± says the strange girl, bewildered. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asks again a second time. Fresh nervously looks up at the stranger, standing in front of herself. Dusting herself off, Fresh gets up, grabbing her broom. Should she make a break for it? ¡°I¡¯m alright, thank you,¡± replies Fresh, turning away to both wipe off and also hide her own face. She blinks. Wait¡­ Isn¡¯t her face hidden anyways, because of the hat? Fresh looks over her shoulder, staring at the black-haired, brown-eyed girl standing there. She¡¯s a head shorter than Fresh is, pale, scrawny, bookish with freckles and not in the least frightened of her. ¡°Hey, can you see my face?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Uh¡­¡± the girl squints her eyes together, tilting her head from side to side, staring at her face. ¡°No, the top-half is all shadow. Like¡­ totally. It¡¯s like someone erased your face with a marker. That¡¯s so weird¡­¡± she says, lowering herself down onto her knees, staring up towards Fresh from below. ¡°Ah!¡± she corrects herself. ¡°A marker is a tool to draw with,¡± she explains, having expected some question to come. ¡°Oh. Wait. No, you already know that. Sorry. Bad habit,¡± she says, apparently being a talker. ¡°Man! You look so cool. I want a hat like that too!¡± Fresh narrows her eyes. The girl knows about witches, but isn¡¯t afraid. She knows about markers, which don¡¯t exist in this world. Her fingers twitch. Is this the hero? She figured it would be a man, given the guard¡¯s conversation from before, but¡­ ¡°How do you feel about ice-cream?¡± asks Fresh. Nobody from this part of the world could know about ice-cream, at least not yet. ¡°What¡­? Ice-cream?¡± asks the girl, a little taken aback. ¡°Eh.¡± She shrugs, her face is clearly confused.. ¡°I prefer normal chocolate. Why?¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°No reason.¡± It¡¯s confirmed. This girl is from another world, likely her own. It looks like she¡¯s found the hero then. So¡­ a curse? What kind of curse? She hopes it isn¡¯t a mean curse. The stranger seems nice. Being chosen as a hero must be rough. As the hero, this girl is for sure the center of attention in a lot of ways, which isn¡¯t great in this world. At least Fresh got to stay ¡®a secret¡¯ after her rebirth. ¡°I got your message!¡± she says, excitedly, looking at Fresh and stepping closer. ¡°It was so weird, I was like¡­ kind of dead, but then I wasn¡¯t, you know?¡± she explains. ¡°And then somebody really bright was talking. But then at the same time I saw you to the side and I touched your hand and then I was like -¡± she holds her fingertips to her head and then pulls her hands outward, making the sound of an explosion. ¡°- It was so wild!¡± ¡°Oh. That¡¯s cool,¡± says Fresh, faking a smile as she nods, lifting a finger from her waist subtly towards the girl. ¡°You¡¯re the hero, huh?¡± she asks. Apparently, her message from the west did work. She has been recognized. Fresh hopes that the girl will understand, if she knows about her circumstances. Though, she really just hopes that she will be able to forgive herself for this. Maybe if she tells herself often enough that she did it for her friends, she¡¯ll manage somehow? But she isn¡¯t sure if that¡¯s true. ¡°Uh¡­¡± the strange girl looks away. ¡°No. Actually¡­¡± she says, apparently somewhat let down as her head and shoulders drop, her gaze lowering to the floor. ¡°That¡¯s my brother.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide and her finger shoots back down. ¡°Your brother?¡± she asks, surprised. ¡°Yeah, uh¡­¡± the not-hero rubs her head. ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain. Well, no. I mean¡­ you died too, right? I saw.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Well, it¡¯s uh¡­ a little dark, but my brother and I died in a car crash,¡± she explains. ¡°Sorry to hear that,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Did a truck get you?¡± she asks, already knowing. ¡°Sure did. T-boned us good. It uh¡­ it hurt.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± replies Fresh, rubbing her arm. ¡°I¡¯d like to tell you that it¡¯s better here, but¡­¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says the stranger. ¡°Anyways, we got ¡®other-worlded¡¯, which seemed great at first,¡± she explains, walking away, apparently not in the least threatened by Fresh¡¯s presence. She sits down on a chair, by a small desk covered in drawings and scribbles. ¡°I guess you know what that¡¯s like? I thought this was going to be my big second-chance, you know?¡± Fresh leans against the wall of the balcony, not wanting to step inside too far, in case she has to make a quick escape. ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± Taking a second, she rubs the lantern to make amends for almost dropping it and then hooks it back onto the broom. There is an audible scratching sound. Looking up, she sees that the stranger has decided to forgo the social-etiquette of a conversation and is now drawing, or at the very least scratching her pen over the sheet of paper in front of herself. ¡°I thought I was gonna get some super cool thing or gimmick to start a new life,¡± she explains. ¡°One that¡¯s¡­¡± She scribbles over the page for a while, not finishing her sentence. It¡¯s quiet for a minute with Fresh just standing there while she draws. The girl sits upright, looking around as if she had just zoned out for a second and only realized where she was again. ¡°Sorry!¡± she says. ¡°- One that¡¯s more¡­¡± She slaps the pen down, rubbing her fingers through her head in frustration. ¡°- I can¡¯t find the word.¡± ¡°Happy?¡± suggests Fresh, knowing what she¡¯s getting at. ¡°Yeah,¡± she replies. ¡°Sure. Happy. You know, one that doesn¡¯t suck?¡± Fresh nods, understanding that for sure. The girl lifts up a bunch of new drawings of things from their old world. Appliances, gadgets, cars, weapons, all the ideas she had apparently recreated to show off here. ¡°Anyways. Turns out I was just a tag-a-long. Like always,¡± she says, dropping all of those pages into a waste-bin next to the desk and picking up the pen a second time. She has very active hands and kind of a spacey brain, apparently. ¡°Nobody here cares about me or my ideas. They¡¯re all just interested in my brother,¡± she sighs. ¡°Like always. I might as well have just stayed there. At least we had electricity.¡± ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s rough,¡± says Fresh, looking over her shoulder and back down the balcony. It looks like the ceremony hasn¡¯t begun yet. The irony isn¡¯t lost on her, as she stares down into the night, apparently also more interested in the girl¡¯s brother more than her. ¡°Listen, this isn¡¯t one of those kinds of worlds,¡± explains Fresh, bringing some Jubilee into her personality. ¡°You need to be tough as shit, or you aren¡¯t going to make it,¡± she explains, very clearly. ¡°I need to know, did your brother get my message, or just you?¡± she asks. ¡°Just me,¡± says the girl, scribbling. ¡°Like I said. Nobody cared, not even¡­ I don¡¯t know, ¡®god¡¯ or whoever that was.¡± Fresh frowns, looking at the dejected figure. She realizes that the girl is probably even more upset now, because she had made clear that her message wasn¡¯t for her, it was for her already and, apparently always, favored brother. ¡°Not interested in going to the party?¡± she suggests, looking back down at the scene below them. ¡°It looks like a lot of fun,¡± says Fresh, turning her gaze back to look at the very tired eyes that stare her way. There are bags with a weight beneath them that had no business being there on such a young face. ¡°It¡¯s not for me,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s too¡­¡± the girl racks her brain for a moment, pulling on her hair a little. ¡°- loud? Fun? I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t do parties,¡± she explains. Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide at that first, familiar statement. ¡°I just kind of get stuck and hide in a corner until I find a way to go back home, you know?¡± Fresh knows what she has to do now. She doesn¡¯t really want to. But she knows that she has to and so it¡¯s either going to be on her own terms, or on the fountain¡¯s. This final statement has sealed the deal, in a spiritual sense. Did the fountain really plan this far ahead? Did it know about the two of them arriving here, rather than just the hero by himself? It must have, since she has come prepared. But¡­ Fresh turns her head away, narrowing her eyes. That means the fountain knew that the girl would get her message too¡­ that means¡­ - That means that the fountain knows about her deceit. About the crystal she made in the west. It has known this entire time. It was never a secret of hers. It was the fountain¡¯s plan all along. ¡°Anyways, it was cool meeting you. I always wanted to see a real witch,¡± says the girl. ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone,¡± she mutters, not bothering to look up from her drawings. ¡°Not that they¡¯ll listen if I did.¡± Fresh crosses her arms, wondering what else it is that¡¯s bugging her for only a moment, before realizing it right away. ¡°Are you gonna give up that easily?¡± she asks. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°So what if this isn¡¯t the world you wanted it to be?¡± asks Fresh, adjusting her hat. ¡°Live like it is anyways!¡± she exclaims, clenching her fists. ¡°This is a new world, a new chance to be a new you!¡± The girl stares at her for a while, before turning back to the desk, not able to hold eye-contact for longer than a few seconds. ¡°That¡¯s easy for you to say,¡± she says. ¡°You got some great body, some class that nobody else has, a god watching your back and a whole bunch of people who care about you.¡± She sighs. ¡°Must be nice.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t have a class or a friend when I arrived here. I got those on my own!¡± argues Fresh, unable to counter the other points. ¡°With or without the fountain.¡± She turns around, stepping back out towards the balcony, about ready to leave. The hero should be outside any minute now. But her feet stop. The fountain isn¡¯t letting her leave. Not until she¡¯s fulfilled her goal of being here, in this tower, with the hero¡¯s sister. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± asks Fresh, still not having received a reply to her last statement. ¡°Your new name?¡± ¡°It¡¯s stupid,¡± groans the girl. Fresh shakes her head, looking back over her shoulder. ¡°Everyone has a name like that here. What is it?¡± ¡°Peridot,¡± says the girl, looking down at her paper but not scribbling anymore. She¡¯s just kind of playing with it. ¡°Do you have a class, Peridot?¡± asks Fresh. She shakes her head. ¡°Not yet. They want me to become some kind of supporter or something,¡± she sighs. ¡°They won¡¯t even let me be in his party though. Not that I want to. That dick.¡± ¡°And do you want to be a supporter?¡± ¡°Hell no!¡± answers Peridot with surprising, sudden energy. Her tired eyes light up a little. ¡°I thought I was gonna be some kind of cool, chosen hero,¡± she explains. ¡°For all of five minutes.¡± The girl shrugs, throwing her latest scribbles and the rest of the paper all into the trash before getting up, scooting her chair noisily away as she heads out past Fresh towards the balcony. ¡°I want a sword and a cape,¡± she says, sighing and resting her arms on the railing, looking down at the party below. With a flick of her hand, she throws the pen off into the night. Fresh nods, placing her broom between her legs and rising up a foot into the air. ¡°Wait!¡± says Peridot, but she doesn¡¯t follow up with anything else. Apparently she just didn¡¯t want her to go. Fresh sighs, staring out over the illuminated night that stretches on before herself for as far as her eyes can see. It¡¯s not like she wants to wait, or go, but there really isn¡¯t any way around it. The witching-hour is just about here and it¡¯s time to get to work. Her feet lower themselves back down to the stones. ¡°How badly do you want happiness?¡± asks Fresh, fighting through her somber mood. Peridot looks up at her. ¡°Really bad. More than anything else that I¡¯ve ever wanted!¡± exclaims the girl, leaning in towards Fresh so close that she can smell her. ¡°I feel like I haven¡¯t seen the world in color in years!¡± Fresh slowly closes her eyes, hovering for a second. ¡°Give me a coin,¡± she says. Peridot¡¯s eyes open wide. ¡°A¡­ coin?¡± She stops. ¡°Is this a thing?!¡± she asks, growing excited again. ¡°Like with the fountain and you?!¡± Fresh nods, not able to bring a smile to her face. Peridot sprints back inside, throwing everything off of her desk as she digs around, coming back with a single, gold Obol, holding it up to Fresh without any questions at all, being familiar with the memory of Fresh¡¯s arrival into this world. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°Peridot, listen,¡± she explains. ¡°This is sell-your-soul stuff. There¡¯s no going back once you go left at the crossroads.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± says Peridot, leaning in and holding the coin closer, her hand shaking, her eyes wide. Trumpets blare from down below. The music begins to come to a stop. Fresh looks over the railing and watches as the people start to gather at the central stage. It¡¯s about time. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen,¡± says Fresh. ¡°But it¡¯s probably dangerous and I¡¯ll bet that you won¡¯t be able to stay here or with your brother.¡± Peridot presses the coin past her hand and against her stomach. ¡°I don¡¯t care! Take it!¡± ¡°If you get something ¡®evil¡¯, you two might end up trying to kill each other,¡± says Fresh, wanting to make the small-print exceptionally clear. ¡°You¡¯re going to be alone and hated and misunderstood. It¡¯s going to hurt.¡± ¡°I DON¡¯T CARE!¡± exclaims Peridot, forcing the coin into Fresh¡¯s hand and closing the girl¡¯s fingers around it herself. ¡°At least then people would look at me, at least then I¡¯d have a chance, like you did!¡± she says. ¡°If I jump off of this tower right now, not one of those people down there is going to spend five seconds looking my way! I don¡¯t have a Jubilee to help me out!¡± cries Peridot, a few droplets splashing down from her face. As those tears strike the ground, Fresh can hear the whispering commands of the fountain come from them. She takes a deep breath, feeling the warm metal in her grasp. She reaches into her bag with her other hand, taking out the large, red apple, soaked and permeated for days in the black-water of her inventory. Even now, despite all of that, it looks perfect. Pristine. Holding the golden coin against it, she closes her eyes and focuses on the ability that the fountain is whispering to her about. The apple¡¯s skin turns from its rich, red tone to a bright, shimmering gold. But the body of the fruit remains soft and supple beneath her fingers. Fresh hands the apple to Peridot, her fingers not able to let go of it, until something forces her to let go. She makes a concentrated effort not to look at the item¡¯s status screen. She doesn¡¯t want to know. Peridot takes the apple with tears in her eyes. ¡°W- Will I be happy?¡± she asks, breaking through her cracking voice. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I hope so,¡± she says. ¡°Good luck, Peridot. Stay safe. Work hard.¡± The broom rises into the air as the lantern guides her into motion. It¡¯s time. She tips her hat forward, turning her gaze out ahead and down towards the stone platform. The broom moves, trumpets blare, the gigantic doors of the keep open wide and the crowd, thousands large now, erupts into a cheer louder than anything she has ever heard before. Somehow, despite all of that, Fresh still manages to hear the wet, crisp crunch of a bite from up behind herself. Razmatazz We''re the bad guys now Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 238: The bad touch The rain pouring outside of the city really does sound very bitter. Yet somehow, despite seeing it on the edge of her periphery, despite the cascade of the water being present in her ears, it doesn¡¯t seem to be paid the least of mind by any of the people here, who all only have eyes for the stage. The storm itself never seems to manage to come any closer, as if some spell cast around the city were encasing it and creating a space that is protected from any such things. Or maybe it¡¯s something less esoteric. Maybe the boughs of the giant tree simply held the rain away? Here, in this city, the rain is an oddity. Here, in this city, she herself is an oddity as well. Not because of her class or because of her new-found ability to fly or for any such things. But rather, because right now, as she stares at the same figure which all thousand of the onlookers, and then some, stare at together, she realizes that she is the only one who seems unhappy. The young man, who she can only assume is the hero, walks out on stage, wearing a suit of regal, ornate silver plate armor that is ill-fitted for his body, which clearly hasn¡¯t grown into it yet. A royal-blue cape dangles down behind him. He¡¯s tall, his hair is mid-length and raven-black with a light wave to it, his confidently surprised, fearless eyes stare out towards the crowd as he awkwardly lifts a gangly arm and waves, looking very excited and happy about this himself. ¡°Hello, everyone!¡± says the hero and that¡¯s all that it takes for the crowd to explode into a series of cheers and cries that causes Fresh to wince from the pain in her ears. She hovers in the darkness, next to a lower wall, watching as a group of people approach him from behind, as the buzz continues for a while. His party-members, she assumes. Already born just from this one statement of his, come less than subtle whispers from beneath her of how charming he is, how handsome he is, how awe inspiring he is. Fresh isn¡¯t as wowed, she just sees a reborn, gangly teenager in a suit of armor. But she supposes that she isn¡¯t exactly ¡®the target audience¡¯, as it were. ¡°My name is Garnet,¡± says the hero, his voice overpowering the crowd. His party reaches his side. A healer, some white-haired, well groomed woman who is some high-ranked priestess, by the looks of it. The hero goes on. ¡°You don¡¯t know me, but I have been a guest of your hospitality for days now.¡± Another person approaches. This is clearly the agile member of the group. Some elf with an obscenely large bow strapped sideways to her back. Her oak-brown hair is strung back in an extremely tight, scalp pulling pony-tail. ¡°I was chosen to come to your world because the gods have deemed that you are in need of aid.¡± The crowd falls silent. The hero closes his eyes and Fresh notices the posture and expression of his face. He isn¡¯t free-forming this, he¡¯s reciting some speech as if he were standing in front of a classroom, giving a presentation. ¡°Darkness has fallen over the land. Wickedness stirs in every nest. The north-wind has become breathless,¡± he explains to the thousand, and then some, faces that stare at him, as if captivated. Their mouths are agape, their eyes are wide as if they were staring at a god that had come down unto the world, like in times of old. The last party-member approaches from the keep. Fresh¡¯s eyes tear open wide, her teeth clench against themselves so tightly that she¡¯s sure she¡¯s about to crack one and the wood of the broom complains in equal manner as her fists grip and crush the handle she sits on, as she watches the familiar stranger walk to stand next to the hero. The red-wizard, from the north. ¡°For years, generations, the world around your home has become sick. Degenerated,¡± says the hero. Even here, even without touching her own body, Fresh is sure she can still feel the knick in her ribs, she¡¯s sure that she can still feel that breaking of her own heart as the memory of the creature returns to her, the creature she had trusted that had hurt her, that had abandoned her and left her for dead, that had robbed her and her friend¡¯s home. She¡¯s in the hero-party? Her? How?! ¡°For lifetimes, the disease has spread from one heart to the next. The befoulment. The ugliness -¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t really ever get angry. Not like this. Sure, she¡¯s been upset, whiny, naggy, frustrated, sad and so many other things like that. But anger? Like this? Strong, clean burning resentment? In her chest, like a pot of black-ooze coming to boil over, splashing and splattering and tainting everything around it. And with every proverbial splash, she can hear it. She can hear the laughter of the fountain. It¡¯s laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing. It finds this hilarious. It finds her expression hilarious, her feelings, hilarious, her confliction, hilarious. It¡¯s like it had been watching a show for hours, waiting feverishly on the punchline it knew was to come and here it finally was. ¡°That is why I am here. But I can¡¯t do it alone! Let¡¯s work together!¡± says the hero, bending down and grabbing the hand of the first person he can reach, pulling the very surprised boy up onto the stage as his mother stares with awestruck pride and tears in her eyes. ¡°Noble, Commoner,¡± he says, turning his head to look over the crowd, grabbing the hand of the priestess next to him with his other. ¡°Lay-person or master, let¡¯s work together to make the world a just place.¡± He says to the breathless crowd. Fresh feels her arms shaking as she stares at the red-wizard, obsessed. ¡°Let¡¯s work together to make the world a safe place,¡± he says. Her heart is beating so strongly in her chest that she can see her own body lurch forward an inch with every strike of it. Every time the red-wizard nods in silent agreement, Fresh has to suppress the urge to scream. ¡°Let¡¯s work to make the world a place where everyone can be happy!¡± he says, finishing his speech. The crowd goes wild. Fresh closes her eyes, not really in control of her, very much, fluctuating emotions right now. Happy¡­? Happy? Happy?! With her eyes shut tightly closed, everything is dark. She listens to the roaring applause which drones on beneath her like the sound of a raging river. ¡°So, do you want to tell them the bad news, or should I?¡± asks the voice of the fountain, stemming from some impossible place. ¡°Can I go home?¡± asks Fresh, stating her true wish right away. ¡°Please? I just want to go home,¡± she begs. ¡°After this, you can go wherever you like,¡± promises the fountain. ¡°As long as it¡¯s where I want you to be.¡± Fresh opens her eyes, feeling the ache in her shaking fists that are wrapped around the broom. She doesn¡¯t have a choice anymore, if she ever really did. She sits upright, adjusting her hat, wiping the tears from her face. The bell of the large cathedral tolls loudly, signaling the strike of midnight. ¡°A new day dawns!¡± shouts the hero, lifting both of the hands he¡¯s holding up into the air and in return, a thousand and some voices chant the same line back towards him, the reverberation of their voices echoing around the night as that of a harmonious collective. Only one voice separates itself from the fold, who all begin to look around themselves in confusion. A loud, sharp, feminine cackling echoes through the night, causing the hairs on every neck in the courtyard to stand on end, causing children to huddle closer to their parents with fearful eyes, causing old bones to quake and young eyes to warily, sharply watch the darkness for the oddity that approaches. ¡°WITCH!¡± shouts a voice as Fresh descends down from the sky on her broom, holding a hand sideways in front of her mouth, as she does her best to recreate a smug laugh. The crowd tears away, pressing themselves as far away from the spot that she hovers above as possible, leaving a gap in the world below her. It¡¯s as if an ocean had simply parted and decided to ignore a single spot of land in the midst of itself. People scream. People press and struggle their way away. Fresh looks at the hero she is hovering before as something, somewhere in the world, breaks in that instant. Her skin feels wet as something strikes it. A droplet. Rain. The fountain¡¯s plan is coming together. The storm has managed to breach the sanctuary of the central-city. The hero fumbles around with awkward, untrained hands, trying to pull free his sword from its sheath as he pushes the boy back behind himself. ¡°You¡¯ll find,¡± she says, turning her gaze to the red-wizard who she can see stepping back with shaking legs. ¡°- That here, the night is often longer than you¡¯d expect.¡± She lifts a finger, pointing it at him crookedly. ¡°I was warned about you!¡± he says, his sword shaking in his hands. The broom circles around the stage, circles around the hero-party. All of the onlookers in the crowd, all of the onlookers on the ¡®high-status¡¯ seats, all of them retreat away as far as they can, watching from a safe distance as the witch of the north flies a slow, calm circle around the hero-party, as the rain begins to fall ever more steadily, staining the ground with oddly dark spots. ¡°What did they tell you about me?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Was it her?¡± she asks, pointing at the red-wizard who pulls together quickly. ¡°Keep her in your party and you¡¯ll change your mind about this world pretty quick,¡± she tells the hero. The broom hovers closer to the red-wizard, who pulls back as Fresh leans in closer towards her. ¡°Hey! How about a potion?¡± asks Fresh, clasping her hands together in feigned excitement. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, you must be thirsty?¡± she asks, holding her arms out wide. The crack of thunder and lightning splits the sky, illuminating the beginning of the heavy rain. Rain cascades down all around them, as if brought on by her provocation. Which in a sense, it was. The broom shoots to the side as a massive arrow, the size of her own body flies just barely past her head. Fresh looks to the side at the archer of the hero-party, who stands there, with her gigantic bow placed onto the stage. There is a loud crashing as the projectile smashes into the inner wall of the castle. ¡°I really like your giant bow, that¡¯s so cool!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°You must be super-strong,¡± she adds on, hovering around towards the hero again. ¡°- if you can still move.¡± Turning her head, she looks at the priestess, if only for the sake of wanting to say something to her too. ¡°Hey? Can you guys just¡­ not have a crusade? Please? The world is already terrible enough. Thanks!¡± Shaking her head, she hovers back to the hero who is still standing there, his sword in his hands, both of which no longer shake. The poison rain has paralyzed him, like everyone else it has touched. This was the fountain¡¯s plan to keep her safe. It has befouled the rain, one of its rare direct interventions into the world, given its limited power. Lifting her finger, getting back on track, she reaches past his sword and places the tip of her digit against the hero¡¯s chestplate, leaning in towards him. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says quietly, because her voice would crack otherwise. She¡¯s just about hit her limit of theatrical ability. ¡°Don''t trust them. This is a bad world,¡± she whispers, closing her eyes so she doesn''t have to see what happens next, letting the broom drift her away and off into the night. The rain hammers down, washing over everyone, soaking all of them down to the bone. Only Fresh is able to move. The effect of the rain should be gone in a few minutes, at least according to the fountain¡¯s words and by then, she has already left the city, clinging to her broom with soaked clothes, with a soaked hat and a soaked body as she wraps herself around it, letting the lantern guide her all the way home. For the entire trip, she keeps her eyes closed so that she doesn¡¯t have to see anything at all and as for the bitterly cold air that bites deeply into her body, easily ripping through her wet clothes, she lets it do so. It¡¯s something to feel, other than sadness. Eventually, she can smell salt in the air, eventually, she can hear the comforting rush of the waves crashing over the ocean and for the first time since departing the central-city, Fresh opens her eyes, relieved to see the eastern-city she is approaching. It is still several hours until daybreak. Her friends won¡¯t be awake yet. It will take at least a week until word of the events of the central city arrive here. Until then¡­ Until then¡­ maybe she can keep another secret¡­? Maybe she can keep her friends, for at least the rest of the week, until the fuse finally burns through, once and for all. Sniffling and getting it all out of her system now before she wakes any of them up, Fresh hovers the long way around the city, approaching their house from the side and then quietly glides towards the balcony of their home. Safe. She¡¯s safe at last. She¡¯s home. Hovering in front of the railing, Fresh looks into the double door, leading to their upstairs and stares at Jubilee, who is standing there with crossed arms. Now, for the first time in this entire night, she feels true fear for her own continued existence. ¡°We need to talk,¡± says Jubilee, stepping outside and closing the door behind themselves. Razmatazz Oof Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 239: Red-water Fresh¡¯s heart beats strongly in her chest as she and Jubilee walk down the beach, towards a more secluded area. She had left her broom and the hat at home and the two of them now stroll down along the ocean-side. Fresh hasn¡¯t said anything yet and neither has Jubilee, as the two of them just continue walking through to an uncrabby part of the beach. She¡¯s been doing her best not to cry, but she hasn¡¯t really been managing and not even the lulling drone of the crashing waves of the ocean seem to hide her feelings this time from the world or from her friend. The two of them walk up a small incline, away from the houses and above the shoreline, towards a grassy area, covered in fronded trees. Jubilee turns towards her, after making sure the area is clear of any interested eyes or ears. Fresh has never been in a relationship before, let alone been broken up with and she¡¯s certainly never had a real friend before and lost them either, but she¡¯s pretty sure that this is what it feels like. She can feel the knot in her chest being pulled on from both ends and growing tighter and tighter, rather than becoming loose and unraveling. The deeply set emotions just seem to hurt more and more as she realizes what is about to happen. She¡¯s not going to get an extra week to spend with her friends, before they cast her out. It¡¯s going to be here, now. Come the sunrise, she¡¯s going to be drifting off alone somewhere in the world, much like she had arrived in it and honestly, she isn¡¯t sure how she¡¯s going to find the energy to do it all again. The two of them stare at each other, the waves of the ocean crashing noisily against the shoreline with a constant nudging static that keeps trying to break the tense silence, as if the ocean itself were attempting to set off the inevitable explosion. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Jubilee,¡± is all that Fresh manages to say, closing her eyes. ¡°You really did it this time, you know?¡± they ask. ¡°What the fuck?¡± she hasn¡¯t been able to open her eyes yet, but she can hear Jubilee¡¯s hands slapping down against their sides as they let their arms fall back down. ¡°You really went there? You really did that?¡± Fresh howls, not able to form any coherent words. Jubilee isn¡¯t even yelling at her. They¡¯re just disappointed and as the time-tested expression stands true, it hurts her so much more than if they were shouting and cursing at her. She wants Jubilee to hit her, to yell at her, to call her stupid and worthless and dumb, because then at least some of the spiritual burden will have been unloaded and the punishment to come thereafter will be less severe. But that isn¡¯t what happens. Jubilee has grown far too much as a person to strike her or to curse at her. How did they know about her excursion, though? ¡°The mirror,¡± says Jubilee, as if reading her thoughts. They really do know her too well at this point. ¡°You made me a creepy-ass, stalker mirror, remember?¡± they say. ¡°I woke up because of the storm and you were gone. So I checked the mirror. I watched the whole thing.¡± Fresh gasps, opening her eyes. ¡°What if I was in the shower?!¡± ¡°You dumb-ass!¡± barks Jubilee at her, their sharp tone brings her great relief. ¡°Of course I fucking checked downstairs first! I¡¯m not Basil!¡± says Jubilee, slapping the back of their hand into an open palm. ¡°Huh? What does that mean?¡± asks Fresh, not able to look up from the dirt she wants to crawl down into and die in. ¡°You really do have more goo than brain in your head, don¡¯t you?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips and leaning in towards her. ¡°It means that Basil wants you to sit on her face and pretend that you¡¯re a slime during an earthquake, you goon!¡± yells Jubilee at her in one long, breathless insinuation and Fresh finds her face growing flush at this crass suggestion. That obviously couldn¡¯t be true. Basil is one of her best friends and a holy woman of the cloth at that. ¡°I was worried about you!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, just about recharged enough to start crying again. ¡°I¡¯ll grab my bag and I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll -¡± She sobs. ¡°I¡¯ll leeeave~¡± howls Fresh. ¡°Like fuck you are!¡± says Jubilee, jabbing a finger into her gut. ¡°First you go off and curse that two-bit hero without me,¡± they say accusingly, pressing their finger into her stomach. Fresh stands there and takes it, not wincing. ¡°Then you gave that potion-guzzling, red fuck some comeuppance, without me!¡± they say, poking her again. ¡°And now you want to fucking leave?!¡± They ask. ¡°Without me?!¡± shouts Jubilee and Fresh opens her eyes, noticing that for the second time in her life, she¡¯s seeing tears in their expression. ¡°I thought we were friends?!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°We are!¡± Jubilee steps towards her. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you fucking act like it?!¡± they yell. ¡°What¡¯s with all this middle of the night fuckery?! Is it the fountain?¡± asks Jubilee, to Fresh¡¯s surprise. ¡°It¡¯s making you do this, right? You¡¯re not just this selfish and stupid, right?!¡± Fresh continues to cry, staring through her wet eyes at Jubilee as she herself fights her way through the ache in her throat that prevents her from speaking. The answer might be a little of both, honestly. But how does Jubilee know ab- ¡°Of course I know that something is fucky!¡± they insinuate, reading her mind again. ¡°You think I just want to stand downstairs and make a creepy, fucking, black robe?¡± they ask, pulling on the fabric of the robe that she¡¯s wearing. ¡°You think I want to stay in this city, when I know the fucking church is going to be marching through here in full force?¡± they ask. ¡°We¡¯re all being fucked with. We can feel it too!¡± The waves continue to crash against the shoreline. Jubilee turns their head to the side, glaring at the ocean through eyes as wet as her own. ¡°Go fuck yourself!¡± yells Jubilee at the eaves-dropping ocean, which doesn¡¯t bother to respond. They point back at her. ¡°I¡¯m not even mad about what you did,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m mad that you don¡¯t even have the slightest bit of faith in us to accept the circumstances for what they are, you selfish dick!¡± they exclaim. ¡°How do you think we would have felt if you didn¡¯t come back tonight?!¡± Fresh stares at Jubilee¡¯s hurt eyes, realizing something that she had seen before in other¡¯s expressions. ¡°Jubilee,¡± sniffles Fresh, her eyes growing as wide as the full-moon which has returned to the night-sky. ¡°Do you like me?¡± ¡°Of course I fucking like you! Shit-head!¡± they yell. ¡°Otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be out here!¡± She stares at their tears. ¡°No, I mean¡­ do you like-like me?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee incredulously. ¡°What the fuck? Of course I fucking like-like you, you fish-brained schmuck!¡± Jubilee hits their hand into their open palm again with every syllable to come. ¡°But. That¡¯s. Not. Imp- or- tant!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re trying to survive here!¡± Fresh stares at Jubilee for a moment and then finds her legs giving out as she sits down on the grass, turning her gaze out towards the ocean. There¡¯s a lot to process here. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I¡¯m a bad friend, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, considering her options for a moment. ¡°You¡¯re right, the fountain is making us do things that we don¡¯t want to do.¡± Jubilee sighs a long sigh and sits down next to her. The two of them are quiet for a while, just staring out over the endless ocean that is awash in starlight. ¡°So,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Other world, huh?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± replies Fresh, looking up at the night-sky which is now clear of clouds, leaving only a starlight filled ocean to hover above the mirroring surface of the world beneath it. ¡°It¡¯s a whole thing. I didn¡¯t know how to tell you without sounding weird, honestly,¡± admits Fresh. ¡°I bet,¡± acknowledges Jubilee. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t really care where you came from or who you were before. That¡¯s not what this is,¡± they explain. ¡°It¡¯s not what it is for me, for Basil or for Shamrock. It doesn¡¯t matter. We¡¯re all doing something new now,¡± they say, leaning back with their hands behind themselves in the grass. ¡°Anyways, are we destroying the world or something?¡± they ask. ¡°We might be,¡± relents Fresh. ¡°What does the fountain actually want?¡± Fresh looks at them, before turning back to the ocean. ¡°I dunno. But I don¡¯t think we¡¯re gonna like it.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Well. Shit.¡± Fresh nods, leaning back too. Her hand lands on top of Jubilee¡¯s, but not by accident. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± ¡°Good thing there¡¯s more than one world. Apparently,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh can¡¯t help but start laughing at this absurd statement. Sure, there¡¯s a point to be made there. But it¡¯s not really a great one. Though, maybe that¡¯s the idea? Jubilee really is a good friend in a lot of ways. It takes her a minute to finally stop laughing and she can tell that Jubilee is restraining themselves from becoming infected by her sudden outburst. The whole situation really is absurd, isn¡¯t it? Deciding that Jubilee''s feigned non-acceptance of the absurdity of it all is unacceptable, Fresh seizes her opportunity to attack her unguarded friend and springs to action, suddenly tickling them beneath their arms and around their neck. Jubilee isn¡¯t able to hold back, suffering the consequences of their cruel fate as Fresh presses her stabby witch-fingers into her howling, flailing friend, who has fallen back on the grass. ¡°Get off of me, you creep!¡± laughs Jubilee, not able to fend her off and also not really trying too hard. Jubilee rolls their head around, trying to get away and as the two of them play-fight, the fabric of Jubilee¡¯s hood snags on some twig beneath them, pulling it off as they twist their head to the side. Jubilee freezes and Fresh, not able to avoid looking, stares at the first part of her friend¡¯s body that she has ever seen, apart from their eyes. It¡¯s exactly as she had expected it to be. All of her inclinations and assumptions come together, having been proven undeniably by this moonwashed sight before her eyes. Jubilee¡¯s gaze slowly turns towards her from beneath their mask, turning to meet hers as the two of them stare at each other for a tense moment, neither sure of how to break this new, even more awkward silence. She searches for the words that she wants to say, but she doesn¡¯t quite manage to find them as her mind rushes from one image to the next of what she imagines must have been her friend¡¯s previous existence. In absence of her words, she expects Jubilee to make their escape, now that the danger of an expressive moment is abound. But Jubilee, having come to a decision, slowly lifts their hands, stopping for a moment as their fingers wrap themselves around the sides of the mask. It takes them a second to build their resolve, but without a word, Jubilee lifts it up and away and the two of them stare at each other for a while just like that. Fresh is crying again, which doesn¡¯t help Jubilee¡¯s unsure expression. Fresh cries for the sake of her friend and also for the sake of the moment, planting her face down next to theirs, wedging her face in between their neck and shoulder. ¡°Hi,¡± she cries into Jubilee with a cracking voice. ¡°I¡¯m Fresh, do- do you want to be friends with meeee~?¡± she howls, feeling the hand coming up and holding her head. ¡°Gods you¡¯re exhausting to be around,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°We already are, goo-brain. And my legs are falling asleep. Can you get off of me?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh refuses, deciding that she¡¯ll just have to carry Jubilee back herself if they aren¡¯t able to walk by the time she and they are done processing their feelings. She does push herself upright though, but not to get off of Jubilee. Rather, she takes the opportunity only to run her hands across the angular, sharp, pointy features of Jubilee¡¯s face. Her fingers wrap around their head, her thumbs running over their cheeks. ¡°This is weird. You¡¯re making this weird. You¡¯re doing a weird thing,¡± says Jubilee, raising an eyebrow and looking away. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m a weird friend,¡± says Fresh, lowering her head and rubbing her forehead against Jubilee¡¯s pale, red skin as her fingers run through their matte-white hair, as her fingers run along their long, sharp ears as she, like an animal, imprints her scent onto her friend to claim them as her own. Much like she assumes Jubilee has already done for herself and the others. How else could it be that no other demon has ever showed up and tried to take any of their feet in their sleep? The answer is obvious. They were already spoken for. Razmatazz -) Haha, you thought they were gonna break up, but it was secretly a wholesome super best-friendship moment. I won''t ask for your forgiveness. -) Did you like this chapter? Do you like this story? Please consider rating, if you already haven''t! Our current rating of 4.4 is killing me a little more every day Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 240: No plan B It is several hours later. The upstairs room of their house is quiet and the only noise which breaks the silence is the sound of Basil noisily sipping her tea while she stares across the table at Jubilee. The priestess is doing her best to keep the tea-cup and plate she is holding steady in her shaking hands. However, she is mostly unsuccessful and the pieces of dishware clacker noisily against each other. Fresh and Jubilee had spent a little while longer outside, talking about such disgusting things as their feelings and emotions to a nauseating degree. Jubilee, having been ¡®reborn¡¯ after undergoing the demonic transformation, had possessed their prior party¡¯s headquarters, haunting it much like a lost ghost, bound to the mortal coil for reasons it can¡¯t understand. However, demons, unlike ghosts, are still alive and still need to eat, to drink, to sustain themselves with nourishment and while Jubilee had been able to provide for these physical needs by donning a mask and obscuring outfit, they had been unable to provide for the same nourishment of their spirit. This only proved possible through the growth of their newly found family, but by then, much like Fresh¡¯s own kept secrets, it was too complicated, awkward and terrifying to explain the truth, even to them, for the same fear of potential loss that Fresh herself had. This is why Jubilee can see curses. This is why they have a deep affinity for the night-sky and stars, as demons all tend to in their unspoken longing to one day reach ¡®the other side¡¯. This is why the ghost in the west, whose presence is still unexplained, tried to warn them of a demon and went after Jubilee specifically. This is why Jubilee was such a harsh, cold, bitter person. This is why when Fresh had seen Jubilee''s exposed hand, during their last night in the north, she had seen red. Their hand wasn''t red from blood, that¡¯s just their skin color. These and so many other tidbits and coincidences that Fresh had noticed along the way, but never commented on, because it wasn¡¯t her business. Now, Jubilee sits here at the table, maskless, staring at Basil who is clearly having difficulties digesting this revelation. As a holy priestess, it was certainly difficult enough for her to accept Fresh¡¯s existence as a witch, as well as Shamrock¡¯s devotion to such a cause. Jubilee had always been a crank, but still someone ¡®safe¡¯ for the rules of her beliefs despite that. Now, she finds herself surrounded by a witch, a follower of a witch and a literal demon and she is clearly doing her best to stay grounded, which Fresh realizes must be very hard for someone of such faith as herself. She hasn¡¯t said anything yet. Fresh had awoken her and explained the situation, after which the priestess got ready for the day and arrived at the table, where she and Jubilee have since been sitting across from each other, staring quietly. Shamrock seems to be taking this as well as possible. He isn¡¯t bothered in the least and pulls the plate of sunny-side up eggs over towards himself, grabbing another two slices of bread as well, as he continues his breakfast as the only one with a strong appetite. Looking around the table, Fresh grabs the canister of hot tea that she had prepared. It¡¯s a floral blend, made out of blue-lilac flowers. Pouring a cup, she slides it over to Jubilee who is, for the first time, sitting at the table, maskless, though still wearing the rest of their outfit. They nod to her, setting it to the side, but not drinking. Fresh narrows her eyes. She¡¯s going to get them to eat at the table with the rest of them soon. Basil sets her cup down, her eyes still closed, taking a long, deep breath and clearing her throat. All of them look over to her. ¡°It¡¯s not that I didn¡¯t know,¡± says the priestess. Fresh blinks. ¡°After that last boss-fight in the dungeon, it was obvious,¡± she says. ¡°That level of magic isn''t human. But¡­¡± Basil looks at her tea. ¡°It¡¯s not that I didn¡¯t suspect something before that, since your combat menu never appears.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. Really? Is that true? Now that she thinks about it, she has never seen a menu appear from Jubilee in a fight. But, honestly, she had never really thought about it. Does that mean something? ¡°But I¡¯m still a little¡­¡± Basil sighs. ¡°Confused?¡± She opens her eyes, looking at Jubilee. ¡°Are you evil? Are we¡­ are we evil?¡± she asks, looking at Fresh. The story of her ¡®escapade¡¯ last night has already been told. Shamrock, as always, took it like a champion. Basil was horrified for many reasons, the largest of which being that Fresh had literally cursed the hero. This is obviously a sacrilege of the highest order for her. Fresh still remembers how Basil and Jubilee fought back in the north. That was only because Jubilee had bad-mouthed the heroes of this world. ¡°Dunno,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We sell coconut-water and bathing-suits,¡± they say. ¡°Make of that what you will.¡± ¡°We also just doomed the world,¡± says Basil, clearly referring to the cursing of the hero and not the coconut-water. Fresh lifts her hand. ¡°That was just me,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Basil.¡± ¡°It¡¯s clearly also our fault,¡± says Basil. Fresh lowers her hand, frowning. She looks down at her plate, noticing that she herself had also only been pushing her breakfast around from side to side, rather than eating it. ¡°The hero wants to kill me, Basil,¡± she says, sadly. ¡°That¡¯s why he¡¯s here. Because of me,¡± she explains again. ¡°Well he sure as fuck wants to do that now,¡± says Jubilee, leaning back on their chair with their hands locked behind their hair. The ever-confident Jubilee still has problems keeping their gaze straight when any of them look at their face, but she assumes that¡¯s just something that time has to heal. ¡°I know, it¡¯s just¡­¡± Basil sighs. ¡°This is a lot for me, okay?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, understanding and not wanting to poke any further. Basil takes another tentative sip of her tea. ¡°I have a question though. When?¡± Fresh looks at Basil and then turns her gaze to Jubilee, who she is talking to. Jubilee makes a strained effort to drink their tea, trying to buy some time. Despite the awkwardness of this moment, Fresh can¡¯t help but feel a surge of happiness as she sees Jubilee drinking at the table, together with the rest of them. In an act of unspoken comradery, she takes a sip of her tea too. ¡°About eight years ago,¡± says Jubilee, finally. Basil looks down at her tea. ¡°Were you¡­?¡± ¡°I was.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, not having any context to this conversation happening between her friends. They always seem to know things that she doesn''t, or at least things that she feels like she should know, but doesn''t. ¡°That¡¯s how I know they¡¯re all worthless.¡± Basil swirls the contents of her cup around. ¡°It must have been bad for such a radical change. It changed your magic too?¡± ¡°Sure did,¡± replies Jubilee, dryly. ¡°Church sanctioned and all. They thought it¡¯d be interesting. It was.¡± Basil stares down at her tea, not saying anything else. Fresh blinks, looking at the others. Shamrock has put an egg on a slice of toast, folded it in half and is busy shoving it through the slit of his helmet. Basil and Jubilee are just sitting there. She scratches her cheek, not knowing what¡¯s going on. Should she ask? She wants to, but maybe she isn¡¯t a part of this conversation. This feels like a Basil-Jubilee thing. Deciding to let it be, Fresh focuses on finally eating her, now cold, breakfast. She¡¯s already learned enough for one day. ¡°What¡¯s going to happen now?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Well after breakfast, we¡¯re going to put the plates away and then get ready to open,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°No, I mean¡­¡± Basil looks around. ¡°What¡¯s going to happen now?¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯re going to open the store like on any other day. Hero? We don¡¯t know anything about any hero,¡± they say, setting down their tea-cup. Fresh adores the sight of Jubilee holding it. They look so dainty. ¡°We¡¯re going to smile and wave and sell the most scandalous bathing-suits imaginable,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s what the fountain wants.¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t think that last part is true, clearly Jubilee is trying to lighten the mood, right? She looks down at her reflection in her tea. ¡­Right? ¡°- That is if you¡¯re still on board,¡± finishes Jubilee. ¡°Of course I¡¯m still on board!¡± snaps Basil loudly, clearly offended. ¡°As if I wouldn¡¯t be!¡± she says, leaning over the table in agitation. Her tea-cup and saucer rattle. She clears her throat, falling back onto her chair and crossing her arms, sitting quietly for a minute. ¡°¡­I suppose every family has their difficulties.¡± Jubilee pushes their plate away from themselves, as if disgusted. Offended, Fresh narrows her eyes and slides it back towards them. Jubilee sighs and rolls their eyes. They pick up the piece of toast and bite into it once, causing Fresh to clasp her hands over her chest, feeling her heart skip a beat. The appeasement ritual is complete. Jubilee drops the rest of the toast back onto their plate and gets up, grabbing the mask from the table and lifting up their hood. ¡°Let¡¯s clean up, people. We have money to make.¡± Razmatazz -) For reference, the bathing suits are scandalous like you wouldn''t believe. In an odd, yet predictable twist. The less fabric they have, the more expensive they are. Fashion is a complicated thing. -) Thank you for your ratings! I can finally sleep at night without screaming Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 241: Sleep deprived Fresh scoops another ball of ice-cream onto a cone, held by a wide-eyed dark-elf, who seems particularly mesmerized by the sweets that he¡¯s come back to order a second portion of. ¡°Thanks,¡± he says, nodding, but never taking his eyes off of the large cone in his hands as he turns to head back to the table his group is sitting around. Fresh blinks, looking at the window. ¡°Wow, it¡¯s really been a while,¡± she says to herself. ¡°That¡¯s because you never do any work, goo-brain,¡± snaps Jubilee from behind her, snipping away with some scissors on a new item that they¡¯re making. ¡°I do a lot of work!¡± argues Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°You¡¯re just grumpy because you¡¯re tired.¡± Jubilee turns their head. ¡°And whose fault is that? Besides, you¡¯re tired too,¡± they counter, pointing at Fresh with their scissors as she is the middle of a yawn that she quickly tries to fight her way out of and hide. But she doesn¡¯t manage to do so before Jubilee makes their point. So instead, she just faces the harsh truth of the matter too. ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m tired¡­¡± she sighs. ¡°Let¡¯s go to bed early today.¡± ¡°You can go to bed whenever you want, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We don¡¯t always have to go to bed at the same time.¡± ¡°We do,¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Hi,¡± says a voice from outside. ¡°I¡¯d like, uh¡­¡± The woman thinks for a second, looking at the signs on the counter. ¡°A scoop of sweet-bean and a bottle of water, please,¡± she says, placing some coins onto the counter. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, starting to scoop the ice-cream. ¡°How¡¯s the crab-hunting going?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a pain in the ass,¡± she sighs. ¡°Some fairies are blasting every single crab in the shady part of the beach, day in, day out,¡± she explains, nodding her head towards Fresh¡¯s left. ¡°So a lot of us are stuck out here in the sun.¡± She sighs, taking her ice-cream. ¡°But that¡¯s not your problem. Thanks!¡± she says, turning to walk away, stopping only shortly before the edge of the patio, where the shade stops. Fresh blinks, considering upselling the woman on an umbrella. It sounds like the ¡®combat-party¡¯ of the fairies are really going after life pretty hard. Good for them. Anyways, what were they just talking about? Oh yeah. She turns back around to Jubilee. ¡°Like I was saying, Jubilee. We have to go to bed at the same time. It¡¯s a tradition.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± replies Jubilee, pulling on some threads. The inside-business is a little slow today. ¡°Sure it does!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°We¡¯ve been going to bed at the same time for so long, that it would be weird if we didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°What¡¯s weird is that you think this is a thing,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head and not looking up from their work. ¡°Baaaasil~!¡± calls Fresh. Basil pops her head out from behind a shelf. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Is it a ¡®thing¡¯ that we always all go to bed at the same time?¡± Basil thinks for a second, letting her eyes wander around the store. ¡°Yes,¡± she nods. ¡°It is.¡± ¡°See?!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°I do not,¡± replies Jubilee, dryly. ¡°Besides, what if a monster breaks out of the dungeon?¡± she asks. ¡°And tries to get into our house?¡± ¡°Like those crabs, that you still haven¡¯t managed to keep outside?¡± asks Jubilee. A voice comes from the window. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. That doesn¡¯t happen here.¡± Fresh turns her head, looking at the stranger who has joined in on the conversation. ¡°Weird question. Can I get a scoop of apple, but stuffed into a bottle of milk?¡± he asks. Fresh gasps. The stranger had just invented the milkshake. Of course! It was so obvious. How could she have forgotten about such a thing? ¡°Sure thing!¡± she says, running around and gathering everything together. ¡°What do you mean? That doesn¡¯t happen here?¡± she asks while pulling a bottle of milk out of the cooling-cabinet. ¡°Oh,¡± says the man. He¡¯s a dark-elf with an athletic build, covered in tribalistic tattoos and markings. ¡°The monsters only break out of the dungeon in the other zones, because they don¡¯t have an outside area anymore.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, trying to find a way to jam the ice-cream into the bottle without any mess. ¡°The crabs,¡± says the stranger, nodding his head to the crabs. ¡°They¡¯re born from the dungeon¡¯s magic. That¡¯s why they¡¯re around the gate.¡± ¡°Oooh,¡± says Fresh, having opted to just messily stuff the ice-cream into the bottle and then just wipe off the residue on the outside with a cloth. She thinks for a second. ¡°Since the other cities developed the areas too far to allow monsters to spawn outside of the dungeon-gate anymore, the magical energies get trapped until they¡¯re strong enough to explode out all at once,¡± he explains. ¡°That¡¯s what a ¡®dungeon-break¡¯ is.¡± ¡°Ooooh!¡± says Fresh a second time, understanding now what the cause of this phenomenon was. ¡°So there won¡¯t be any here?¡± she asks, putting a lid on the bottle and giving it a furious shake. He shakes his head. ¡°Dungeons are living, breathing things,¡± says the man. ¡°Us fighting the crabs helps it by trimming its overgrowing magical energies in a controlled way and it helps us by giving us something to do.¡± ¡°You some kind of tree hugging, forest-dwelling, kook?¡± asks Jubilee, looking over from behind Fresh. ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh, handing the man his bottle and taking the coins. But he just seems to laugh, taking it as a joke. ¡°I dwell on the beach these days, actually. Thanks!¡± he says, taking his bottle and going. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, placing her hands on her hips. ¡°You learn something new every day.¡± ¡°Do you?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Because I have my doubts that you do.¡± ¡°It¡¯s settled then,¡± says Fresh, looking back at her friend. ¡°We¡¯re going to bed early tonight, crankilee!¡± There is an audible snipping as Jubilee presses the scissors closed very tightly. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Crankilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s like Jubilee, but cranky!¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you go do something productive, like making that dressing room?¡± asks Jubilee, pointing to the small, downstairs storage space. ¡°Hey. Basil. Take over the window.¡± Basil looks around the shelf, a can of lotion in her hand. ¡°Say ¡®please¡¯.¡± ¡°Please hang yourself from the nearest pole,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But before that, take over the window.¡± ¡°Ju- bi- lee! That¡¯s so mean!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t listen, Basil! Jubilee¡¯s just cranky.¡± ¡°I¡¯m gonna get cranky if you say I¡¯m cranky one more time,¡± says Jubilee, pointing a finger at her. ¡°Cranky!¡± argues Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°I¡¯m warning you,¡± threatens Jubilee. Fresh looks around, already eyeing out her escape-routes for when she says it again in three seconds. But she comes to a realization as she looks at the space that she herself had built behind the counter. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere to run, is there?¡± asks Jubilee, seeing her weakness right away. Her only choice would be to vault over the window. But that would take her too long, Jubilee would get her before she managed. Same with the counter, since she would have to take a step towards Jubilee to get past the cabinets. They¡¯d catch her there too. Basil sighs, stepping in through the counter. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it,¡± she says, stepping in between the two of them, seeing the ¡®fight¡¯ about to develop. Fresh purses her lips, but relents, seeing that she¡¯s been beaten this time. ¡°Thanks, Basil,¡± she says to the very well rested priestess, who had managed to sleep all night. Basil nods. ¡°Drink some cool water, it¡¯ll pep you up,¡± she says. Fresh grabs a bottle on her way, deciding that the priestess¡¯ wisdom is sage advice. Walking out past the counter, she looks back at Jubilee who is still staring her way. Their eyes meet. ¡°Chicken-butt,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh blinks quietly for a moment and then starts laughing, holding her gut and falling over to the floor as she continues to laugh an unreasonable amount at this absurd statement, as if it was the most hilarious thing she had ever heard. She can hear Jubilee laughing too, but she doesn¡¯t have the strength to get up and look as she is still in the midst of it herself. Basil looks over the counter towards her. ¡°Should Shamrock and I take over the store?¡± she asks. ¡°You two can go to bed now, if you want,¡± she suggests, not getting an answer right away as the two of them are still having a fit. ¡°You¡¯re clearly tired,¡± she says, looking over to Jubilee who is hitting against the counter with their fist. ¡°B- B- Basil!¡± says Fresh, managing to pull herself up to her knees. ¡°Yes?¡± asks the priestess. Fresh is still trying to fight down her laugh, pressing her lips tightly together and doing her best to keep her amusement trapped in her throat. She looks at Jubilee who is doing the same as she is, both of them snickering. ¡°Chicken. Butt,¡± says Fresh, barely able to open her mouth and falling into a new fit of laughter, together with Jubilee as the two of them lose it entirely. Basil stands there and scratches her head, having one hand on her waist as she looks at the two of them. ¡°I never got that whole thing,¡± she says, thinking for a moment. ¡°Shamrock!¡± she calls around the corner. The man¡¯s head, visible over the shelves, turns their way. ¡°I need your help, please,¡± says Basil as he approaches. ¡°You two really should get some sleep,¡± she sighs. Jubilee, having finally managed to breath their way through it, shakes their head. ¡°No can do,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Huh? Why not?¡± asks Basil, clearly upset about her mother-henning being denied. ¡°Because we all go to sleep at the same time,¡± says Jubilee, looking at Basil. ¡°It¡¯s a thing.¡± Fresh starts laughing again. She¡¯s really tired. Way more tired than it is reasonable to be, for only missing one night of sleep. But maybe it¡¯s just the stress of it all. Razmatazz Chicken butts are a long term plot-point Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 242: Snug Fresh sighs, sitting down on the floor of their upstairs room, just next to the staircase as soon as she comes up. Shamrock comes up after her and she grabs his leg, just for the sake of doing so, with a tired arm as her head leans back against the stone wall. Jubilee and Basil come up a second later. ¡°What a day,¡± sighs Basil. Business had really picked up near the middle of the day. ¡°Yup,¡± says a tired Jubilee, dragging themselves past them and heading to the kitchen. ¡°Like animals.¡± Shamrock still stands there, having been trapped by the weak, tired hand binding him in place. Pulling her hand free from the joints of his armor, Shamrock sits down on the floor next to her, leaning back against the staircase door. Having effortlessly caught him in her snare, Fresh yawns and leans her head against his arm, closing her eyes. For a brief while, she considers asking him if she can install head-rest padding on the sides of his arms, for just such occasions. But that would be rude. The man seems to have a strong connection to his armor and she doesn¡¯t blame him in the least. It¡¯s in a sense, the same thing as Jubilee¡¯s mask. ¡°Shamrock?¡± calls Basil from the kitchen. ¡°Wanna help me make dinner tonight?¡± she asks. Fresh can hear the metal of his armor clanking as he turns his head, likely to look between her and the priestess to weigh his options. On one hand, he could stay here and get some personal attention from Fresh, which he certainly hasn¡¯t gotten as of late. Or he could get up and continue working, despite having worked all day already. She¡¯s tired and rubs the side of her face against his arm, knowing what his choice is going to be already. Does it hurt a little? Sure. But it¡¯s not that she doesn¡¯t understand. Shamrock gets up again, having only sat for not even half a minute, gently pushing her head to the side as the suit of armor rises upwards. It was obvious, of course, that he would choose this over her. Shamrock might serve her as a member of the witch¡¯s sect, but he has devoted his entire life to, in a sense, serving others and while she does understand it, she also wishes that he would take a day off for himself. Relentlessly, in his past existence, he had thanklessly hunted monsters day and night all by himself without more than a few minutes pause now and then by the fountain, because he thought this would be the best way to help the world and now in this new life, he relentlessly works with them, without more than a few minutes pause now and then, because he thinks this is the best way to help the world. Shamrock¡¯s only real secret is his armor, but she has already seen through that. His goals, his motivations, his intentions are all very simple, very clean. He just wants to fight the metaphorical monsters of the world, in order to make things better. ¡°Thanks for always working so hard, Shamrock,¡± yawns Fresh, rubbing her tired eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s do something fun together, next time we have a day off,¡± she says, looking at him nodding back to her without so much as a word, as he then walks off towards the kitchen. Shamrock is a fun name, she thinks. Shamrocks are considered lucky, aren¡¯t they? It doesn¡¯t feel like the man has had a lucky life, so it¡¯s kind of sad, honestly. Frowning, Fresh looks around the room, searching for Jubilee in order to cheer herself up. She spots them sitting at the table with their head laid down on top of crossed arms, a bottle of water next to themselves. Fresh sneakily worms her way over towards them, and works on coming up with a devious plan. Should she bite them in the leg? Maybe pinch them in the side? Maybe another tickle attack? Jubilee¡¯s shoulders droop in exhaustion as they sigh, their head still down on the table as they have for sure sensed her making an approach. Fresh freezes in place, hoping that Jubilee will lose track of her if she stops moving. ¡°What are you up to now?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Nothing,¡± says Fresh, looking away, sitting in the middle of the room on the floor, very unsuspiciously. She frowns, her plan has been ruined. Then again, maybe it¡¯s for the best. It¡¯s been a long day and Jubilee looks really tired. It would be mean to pick on them now. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± ¡°What?¡± Fresh scoots over, leaning in. ¡°Is your favorite color blue?¡± Jubilee lifts their head from the table, looking at her for a moment. They place their head back down onto their arms, their masked face turned her way. ¡°Yeah,¡± they say. ¡°I lied about the green thing. Sorry,¡± admits Jubilee. Fresh nods, so it was true. But she thinks she understands. Even while Jubilee was initially ¡®opening up¡¯ to her, they were still keeping an emotional distance for their own reasons. Now they¡¯re in deep, though. The trap has been sprung on them as well and Fresh is starting to know her friend well enough to see through such mis-perceptions as this. She lifts her hands, placing them on the sides of the mask. Jubilee flinches back instinctively, but doesn¡¯t pull away. Fresh beams, pulling the mask off and setting it onto the table. Yawning, she sits herself down on the floor again and rests her head against Jubilee¡¯s leg, closing her eyes. She¡¯s really tired. But at least that¡¯s one more secret revealed. Now she just has to find out what the big issue around the central-city and her friend¡¯s confusing testimonies of it had all been all about. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan for tomorrow?¡± asks Basil, chopping some vegetables with a large knife. ¡°I¡¯m gonna be doing a thing tomorrow,¡± says Fresh. The materials for the barkeeper¡¯s ritual should be ready. ¡°So you¡¯re gonna have to run the store without me.¡± ¡°Do you need any help?¡± asks Basil. ¡°No, thank you,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m gonna use our cut-off space in the guild,¡± she says. ¡°I can just drag her in there, right?¡± she asks, meaning the barkeeper. ¡°Should work,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Just don¡¯t invite her to the party.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± yawns Fresh. ¡°And don¡¯t do anything stupid,¡± adds Jubilee. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll try¡­¡± The four of them stay like that for a while until dinner is ready, at which point Fresh manages to struggle her way off of the floor. They eat inside today, as it¡¯s a bit chilly outside for the sleep-deprived. Basil and Shamrock had made a large pot of a rich, spicy, vegetable filled curry of sorts that they eat with a loaf of purchased flat-bread. It¡¯s very good. The two of them clearly put in a lot of effort. ¡°So I put some bottles of less mild soap and stuff into the shower,¡± says Basil while they¡¯re eating. ¡°The sea-water is really weird for my hair, otherwise.¡± Fresh nods, taking a moment to run her fingers through her own hair which has gotten pretty long, reaching down past her shoulders now. The sea-water has been giving their hair a somewhat more matte look, which isn¡¯t entirely bad. But it does need a good washing now and then. She turns her head, looking at Jubilee¡¯s hair. It¡¯s white and she wonders if that¡¯s a demon thing? Jubilee doesn¡¯t seem that much older or younger than she herself is. They¡¯re just a lot more world-weary. Feeling her staring, Jubilee, turns their head. She still can¡¯t for the life of herself figure out what gender they are and now that their face is clearly visible, it feels like it would be twice as rude to ask than it was before. Jubilee¡¯s features are very sharp as they don¡¯t weigh much and from what she can see of their small body, they are somewhat muscular even. But that all doesn¡¯t really point one way or the other, especially in this world. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Uh, nothing!¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m just happy we can finally eat together at one table, Jubilee.¡± She turns her head, looking at Basil, who still seems a bit uneasy, but has managed to calm herself down over the course of the day. She probably still needs a little while to sleep on it, is all. ¡°Thanks for the food, Basil, Shamrock. It¡¯s really good,¡± she says, taking a long drink of coconut-water. It¡¯s also very spicy. The food that is, not the coconut-water. Once dinner is over, the four of them clean up and Fresh gets ready for bed, coming back a little while later as she drags herself towards her bed like a shuffling zombie. ¡°Good night, Jubilee. Good night, Basil. Good night, Shamrock,¡± she yawns, crawling into her bed from the bottom of her sky-blue blanket and worming her way through it, until she reaches her pillow. Just like every night, she listens to the rattle of the door as Basil checks it one last time, making sure no crab finds its way inside while they sleep and she listens to the clanking of Shamrock¡¯s armor, as he closes the balcony door and makes his way to his bed. Now she¡¯s just missing the sharp sound of Jubilee¡¯s door closing, which should arrive in three¡­ two¡­ one¡­ Fresh waits. ¡®One¡¯, she repeats again in her mind. Nothing happens. Opening her eyes, she sits upright just in time to see the pillow fly her way, hitting her in the face and flopping down next to her. She watches as Jubilee approaches, sitting on the side of her bed. ¡°Scoot,¡± is all that Jubilee says and Fresh obliges, realizing the weight of this gesture. She was getting a ¡®free¡¯ sleepover. Is that a childish and weird thing to get excited about? Maybe. But she¡¯s childish and weird and so far, that lifestyle has been working out well for her. Sort of. She scoots back against the wall, letting Jubilee lay down next to her as she covers them both with her blanket, closing her eyes and wrapping her arm around their stomach, pulling themselves together. ¡°You sure?¡± asks a snarky voice. Fresh doesn¡¯t get the context of the question and opens her eyes again, seeing Basil standing there too. ¡°I might bite,¡± mocks Jubilee. ¡°Though you¡¯d probably like that.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve finally come to understand why you¡¯re so rude,¡± says Basil, sitting down on the edge of the bed as well. ¡°It¡¯s just in your nature, as much as a warthog wants to dig through the mud.¡± ¡°Okay. Now I¡¯m definitely going to bite you,¡± says Jubilee, scooting back closer to Fresh to make room. She finds herself being squished against the wall, but it isn¡¯t so bad, really. ¡°I dare you,¡± says Basil, laying down too. As if provoking Jubilee, she lays facing towards them, trapping them between her and Fresh. ¡°Ow!¡± yelps Basil, twitching together just as her arm laid itself over the other way. ¡°You bit me!¡± ¡°Told you.¡± ¡°Jubilee, don¡¯t bite Basil,¡± scolds Fresh, waiting for the inevitable arrival of Shamrock who she is secretly beckoning over with a waving finger above her blanket, like she had done for Basil as well. Truly, she is a wicked, selfish creature. ¡°You bit us like five times on the way here, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°That was different!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Those were friendship-bites.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°That¡¯s not a thing,¡± they say. ¡°You can¡¯t just do dumb things and then make up words for those dumb things like they¡¯re perfectly normal.¡± ¡°They are perfectly normal!¡± she protests, considering biting Jubilee for a moment to prove her point. But she¡¯s too tired. There is a loud sound of something shifting and she opens her eyes, looking at Shamrock who is opting to drag his entire bed over next to hers. She supposes this is the only reasonable option, he can¡¯t just always sleep on the floor every time they have one of these nights. Of course, if he ditches the armor, he could fit into the bed too. But she understands why that isn¡¯t an option. Maybe one day. Sure, the fountain causes her a lot of misery and angst with its plans and dark intentions often. But sometimes, she also gets a payout like this and the universe all just seems to balance itself out a little. Now, is it really balanced? In a karmic sense? With all the harm she¡¯s caused, is she deserving of warm, happy moments like this? If such a thing as karma exists in this world, then she is sure the answer would be a clear, resounding ¡®no¡¯. But here she is, her arms wrapped around two of her friends and her fingers grasping the metal hand of the third. She nuzzles her face against the back of Jubilee¡¯s head, smelling their hair. Here she is, all of the fountain''s obligations to her have been fulfilled. She¡¯s made money. She¡¯s made friends. She is happy. Fresh yawns a second time and then falls asleep. Razmatazz -) We''re slowly getting back into our slice of life vibe -) I can''t give you any hard details because I''m under contract, but we have a signed audiobook deal for ALL of DIS! [Book {1}] could be ready for an Audible release sometime next year! <3 Spoiler - Sin-eater and other Sin-Eater is coming to an end on Patreon ''soon'', so expect a new secondary story to be up and running on RR within the coming future! DIS will continue as always. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 243: The other end It¡¯s early in the morning, just before the crack of dawn. Fresh sighs, slapping her cheeks as she stands outside of the adventurer¡¯s guild, the bag of rare materials slung over her shoulders. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself and her nervous heart down, Fresh nods to herself once and steps inside of the building, immersing herself in the loud, noisy shanty-filled tavern that is the eastern adventurer¡¯s guild. She¡¯s wearing her once-fluffy robe, from the west. Jubilee had tailored it to remove the fluff and make it more applicable to this climate, saying that she obviously can¡¯t wear her black witch¡¯s robe out in public and also advising that it would be unwise to wear her ¡®first¡¯ robe alone to a bar full of drunken sailors and soldiers, who might get the wrong idea about her profession. Fresh, while finding this unfair, had opted to take Jubilee¡¯s advice. The tailored robe is still a bit warm, having had an inner lining that Jubilee removed too, but it¡¯s bearable. Taking a deep breath, adjusting the straps of her bag over her shoulders, Fresh immediately finds herself surrounded by the smells of liquor and the sounds of drunken revelry, even this early in the morning. Shuffling past and through the party, she makes her way to the bar, where the barkeeper stands as always, polishing a glass that Fresh is fairly certain is literally the same glass that she has always been polishing, even back in the north. She can¡¯t help but wonder if the woman took it with her all the way here and was just using it as a prop of sorts. The barkeeper turns her head, seeing Fresh, her face growing pale as she quickly hurries over. ¡°Is everything here?¡± she asks quietly, leaning over the counter with excited eyes. Fresh, having expected many different reactions, is somewhat surprised by the giddy excitement that the usually somber barkeeper is expressing. ¡°Can you do it?!¡± she asks. Fresh scratches her cheek, blinking. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. ¡°Do you have time now, or should I come back later?¡± The barkeeper turns around, cupping her hand by her mouth. ¡°Silt!¡± she yells over the noise. ¡°Yeah?¡± calls a man over the raging of the party, a half emptied mug in his hand and foam around his mouth. She throws the rag at him and slides the glass from her hand along the length of the bar towards him at a perfect angle, so that it slides through every mug and cup present there. ¡°Take over the bar until I get back!¡± ¡°What?¡± asks the drunken man, clearly confused as the rag falls down from his face, slapping against the counter. The glass comes to a stop and clinks against his. Fresh scoots back as the barkeeper, rather than walking around to the small exit from behind the bar, simply places a hand on it and slides over it herself, landing on the other side next to Fresh. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh nods her head towards the door to the cut-off space. ¡°Let¡¯s go there,¡± she says, not sure if she should be surprised at the enthusiasm present in the barkeeper or not. The elf doesn¡¯t seem to be afraid of her anymore, or if she is, her excitement at Fresh upholding her end of the bargain is heavy enough to outweigh the fear she might still be feeling. Fresh is pretty sure that the elf isn¡¯t drunk, but she isn¡¯t confident about that. She pulls out the iron-key from her pocket and the two of them make their way to the door, which they can¡¯t reach fast enough as a series of whistles and hollers come after the two of them. It takes her a second, but Fresh then realizes what this looks like from the outside. Quickly, she opens the door and pulls the barkeeper inside, a little embarrassed, but also thankful for the good cover-story. Taking a deep breath, she pulls the straps of her bag tight a third time, rustling the materials one more time for good luck and then shuts the door behind herself. Now, Fresh had prepared herself for the ritual, which, according to the instructions in the grimoire, was a lot more sterile than she was initially expecting it to be. That being said, it¡¯s still an awkward, intrusive and messy process. The barkeeper, having reached a level of excitement that even Fresh is somewhat envious of, really seems to be beyond thrilled about this wish of hers being fulfilled. Fresh tries to make some small talk in the meanwhile, but finds herself inadvertently asking a rude question, as she stirs the mixture together in a small bowl in her lap. ¡°Is this really a world you want to have a family in?¡± asks Fresh, only stopping herself after the words had left her mouth. She lifts her head, looking at the barkeeper. ¡°Sorry. You don¡¯t have to answer that.¡± The barkeeper shakes her head. ¡°My life hasn¡¯t been perfect. But I¡¯ve built something for myself,¡± she explains, unbuttoning her vest. ¡°I¡¯ve met someone, you know? Someone special.¡± ¡°Good for you!¡± beams Fresh, tapping her pestle against the bowl to get rid of any dripping goop. Honestly, she hasn¡¯t really given things like this much thought since her arrival here. The barkeeper nods. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a little selfish,¡± she concedes. ¡°But I¡¯ve decided that he¡¯s the one. Even if he is a jackass. So he¡¯s just going to have to live with me as his partner,¡± she explains. ¡°But he wants a family too, you know?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°You¡¯re worried that he¡¯ll leave, if you can¡¯t?¡± she asks, expecting the obvious. ¡°¡­Huh?¡± the barkeeper blinks. ¡°No! No. We¡¯ve already talked about it, uh -¡± She lifts her hands. ¡°Not mentioning you, of course,¡± she quickly adds on, sounding a little nervous. ¡°But he said he¡¯d stay with me, even if I can¡¯t help him make a family, so¡­¡± The barkeeper crosses her arms, looking away towards the window. ¡°Now I really want to, with him.¡± Fresh blinks, realizing that her expectations have become subverted by this world¡¯s harshness, as she automatically went into the worst direction with her thoughts. ¡°That¡¯s sweet. Sorry,¡± she relents. ¡°I¡¯ve become a real grump, I guess.¡± Lifting the mortar up, she inspects the contents of the bowl. ¡°Will this work?¡± asks the elf, looking back her way. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to tell me,¡± replies Fresh, getting up and looking at the gloopy mixture. ¡°This is going to hurt,¡± she explains, setting the bowl down onto the table and then reaching into her bag for her athame and her grimoire. ¡°A lot,¡± warns Fresh. ¡°You might bleed and it might leave a big scar. Also after this, you probably shouldn¡¯t work for a week at least,¡± she lists. Though, in truth, there are thousands of other things that could go wrong. ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± says the barkeeper. ¡°More sure than I¡¯ve ever been about anything in my life!¡± Fresh sighs. She feels both unhappy and happy at the same time. Certainly she¡¯s glad to be able to help someone in such a meaningful way. But the fountain¡¯s method of achieving such a thing is, as always, upsetting and subtly distasteful for her. She nods, tapping the athame against her hand. ¡°Okay¡­¡± says Fresh, reminding herself that she isn¡¯t just doing this for the barkeeper. ¡°Let¡¯s get started.¡± The ritual takes about an hour and by the time it is done, Fresh, after checking she has no blood stains on her clothes, lurches out of their room in the adventurer¡¯s guild, leaving the barkeeper behind inside to rest and recover. As she exits alone, clearly exhausted, she receives twice as many cheers as they had gotten on their way in. ¡°She¡¯ll be out in an hour or two, uh¡­ Silt?¡± says Fresh to the man with froth on his beard, who has clearly taken to his new position as the barkeeper. ¡°Good job,¡± he says, giving her a thumbs-up. ¡°Uh, thanks,¡± says Fresh, waving him off and heading out of the door before someone tries to buy her a drink to celebrate her perceived conquest. Sighing all the way home, she lurches in over the beach, stepping around a particularly angry looking crab that can¡¯t keep up with her and heads in through the door. The store is busy. Jubilee is arguing with a customer and Basil is running around, working the window as the line goes back all the way to the water. Only now, as she steps inside, does her sigh finally come to an end. ¡°Welcome home,¡± says Jubilee, nodding to her. ¡°Welcome home!¡± calls Basil, taking a second to look up from her ice-cream duty. Fresh stares at the two of them through tired eyes and she smiles. She waves to them. ¡°I¡¯ll be down to help you guys in a minute!¡± says Fresh, finding herself a little more energized. She runs upstairs, running into Shamrock on the staircase. ¡°Welcome home,¡± says the man as the two of them squeeze past each other with some trouble on the tight staircase. ¡°Thanks Shamrock, I missed you too!¡± she says, jogging up the stairs after she slips past him. Now, of course Fresh knows that this was an odd thing for her friends to do. They have never greeted her like this before. They must have sat together after she left and conspired in secret and honestly, she appreciates it a lot. Taking in a deep breath, Fresh looks around the room, staring at the two beds still present in her corner from their sleepover last night. ¡°I¡¯m home,¡± says Fresh, finding herself smiling again as she goes to change into another, less stained, robe and to help her friends run their business. Razmatazz -) paint the man, cut the lines. Paint the man, cut the lines! P????????????????A??????????????????????????I?????????????N????????????????T?????????????????????????? ??????????T?????????????H????????????????E??????????????? ??????????????????M?????????????????A??????N???????????????????????!??????????????????????? ???????C????????????????U???????????????????????T?????????????????? ????????????????????????T??????H?????????????????????E???????????????? ???????????????????????L?????????????????????????I????????N????????????E????????S????????????!???????????????????????????? (Amenesia was a pretty cool game.) -) You can now get THE SCABBIEST DIS MERCH imaginable (stickers, pins, mugs, journals, etc) on RedBubble! These products are dubiously shady like you wouldn''t believe. I''m a writer, not a designer.??x) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing/editing commissions! My website! Chapter 244: Sparks Fresh grinds the mixture together, this time taking extra precautions around the grim-powder. ¡°Are you sure you should be making that gunk?¡± asks Jubilee, leaning against the door-frame of the workshop. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be standing there, Jubilee,¡± replies Fresh, looking over her shoulder. ¡°It might be dangerous here,¡± she explains, carefully letting the powder sift off of her fingers as she then blows over her hand, getting the rest of it off of herself. ¡°Uh, yeah? No shit,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°We have to do something with the monkey¡¯s paws and uh¡­¡± She shrugs. ¡°This is the least evil thing I could think of.¡± ¡°What were the alternatives?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Actually, wait,¡± they interrupt, seeing Fresh opening her mouth. ¡°I don¡¯t want to know that.¡± Fresh nods, closing her mouth again. The alternative would of course have been some sort of wish-granting charm, but that seems like a horrible item to mass-produce. Currently, the locals just use the monkey¡¯s paws as non-wish-granting talismans or they dry and grind them up for their magical attributes. Some of the braver types even like to eat them, apparently. So. Gunpowder it is. Though, of course, it isn¡¯t like she doesn¡¯t know that this is a horrible idea. This is one of those ¡®too good to be safe¡¯ ideas. Once the applications become apparent, word will spread around. The guard, the nobles, the military. It¡¯s going to be a huge item of interest that will put them in danger. That¡¯s why she has to render its explosive properties inert, while still leaving the power of incredibly volatile magical charge in the powder. ¡°Jubilee?¡± she asks, turning around to stare at her friend¡¯s face for a second as she remembers something that she wanted to talk about. ¡°Sorry that I didn¡¯t realize you were upset the other day because of your acquaintances,¡± she explains, looking back to the pile of powder on the table before herself as she remembers the bodies that Jubilee and Basil had found. ¡°I¡¯m a dumb friend.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve gotten used to it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Hey!¡± argues Fresh, but then sighs, realizing that that¡¯s a fair answer from Jubilee. ¡°I need your help with this,¡± she says, changing the topic. ¡°What do you need?¡± they ask, skeptically. ¡°Can you get some beach sand and make glass out of it for me, please?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ sure?¡± asks Jubilee, shrugging and going downstairs. Fresh hears the sound of glass shattering and then the sound of the front-door. ¡°Thanks, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°Sure, what¡¯s the glass for?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the beach-sand-glass,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It has a tinge of water properties that the normal dirt-glass doesn¡¯t.¡± Jubilee blinks, looking at the pile of glass that looks exactly like any other pile of glass. ¡°Are you just making stuff up now?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No, really!¡± she explains, putting on her crystal-drakonium work-gloves and carefully mixing the pile of grimpowder and beach-glass-dust together. ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± ¡°Never heard of that before.¡± ¡°It¡¯s like¡­¡± Fresh stops, considering her words and wondering if they¡¯re something she should say. She lowers her voice. ¡°Was your magic different before, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You know, before you¡­¡± ¡°It was,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s like that,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°The magical properties of things as well as people are based on their foundations,¡± she explains. ¡°Those are a lot of big words for you,¡± replies Jubilee, crossing their arms. Fresh rubs her cheek on her shoulder. ¡°I think I¡¯m getting smarter, Jubilee.¡± ¡°A frightening thought,¡± chimes in Basil¡¯s joking voice. Fresh turns around, seeing the priestess standing behind Jubilee, her hands cupped around them from behind and resting on top of the center of their chest. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°One day, I¡¯m going to be smart enough to figure out all the embarrassing things you guys don¡¯t want me to know about,¡± she explains and watches as Basil and Jubilee exchange a glance with each other. ¡°Let¡¯s hope not,¡± says Basil. ¡°Are we going to go to bed soon?¡± asks the priestess, before yawning. ¡°I¡¯m exhausted.¡± ¡°You¡¯re allowed to go to bed on your own,¡± sighs Jubilee, yawning themselves a second later. ¡°No, I¡¯m not,¡± replies Basil. ¡°Are we really making this a thing?¡± asks Jubilee¡¯s exasperated voice as Fresh turns back to her work, yawning herself now into her sleeve as she has been infected by it. ¡°I¡¯ll be finished in a minute,¡± she says. ¡°Do you guys need me tomorrow?¡± she asks. ¡°Otherwise, I want to work on the shower and on crab-proofing the house.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ I think we can manage,¡± says Basil. Fresh holds her hands above the mixture of powder, focusing on her ability. ?? POISON ?? Warning: Mildly volatile. Somewhat explosive. Handle with care! ¡°Hmm¡­ interesting,¡± says Basil, taking a step back and pulling Jubilee with herself. ¡°What does it do?¡± Fresh lifts a finger, gesturing for them to wait as she grabs some green mushroom-powder and sprinkles it into a small portion of the mixture. Picking it up with pinched fingers, she tosses the mixture down onto the floor. The instant it strikes the ground, a series of sparkles fly out in a noisy clamber, as there is a series of tiny, minuscule and very colorfully green explosions. ¡°Stop ruining the floor!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°It was very pretty,¡± notes Basil. ¡°But I still don¡¯t see what it does?¡± ¡°That is what it does!¡± exclaims Fresh, taking another pinch and tossing it up into the air, against the ceiling. It sparkles, dozens of tiny explosions crackling out as they then fall back down to the ground like fading stars. Jubilee sighs and turns around, trying to pull themselves out of Basil¡¯s clutches to leave. ¡°I¡¯m going to bed.¡± Fresh puffs out her cheek. ¡°They¡¯re fireworks! They¡¯re like¡­ little, pretty explosions.¡± ¡°Good night,¡± says Jubilee, still trying and failing to get away from Basil. ¡°Why though?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Because it looks pretty,¡± explains Fresh. The priestess nods. ¡°Certainly. But¡­ why would an adventurer buy this?¡± ¡°Because¡­¡± Fresh¡¯s finger droops. ¡°- It looks pretty?¡± Basil nods, nodding her head to the side and adjusting her glasses. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go to bed. You can figure out the rest of this idea tomorrow.¡± Fresh sighs, walking after them and closing the workshop door tightly. ¡°But that is the whole idea!¡± ¡°It needs some work,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Will you let go of me?!¡± ¡°No,¡± replies Basil, waddling after Jubilee. Fresh scratches her cheek. She¡¯s a little jealous. ¡®It needs some work¡¯, huh? She¡¯ll show them how great fireworks are. They just don¡¯t see it yet. They¡¯re missing the scale of the invention. Shaking her head, she makes a run around the upstairs, closing the windows and the balcony doors and adjusting the heaters to a comfortable setting. Fresh shudders, now that she¡¯s starting to notice the night-born chill, creeping its way over the ocean towards their home. Looking around, Fresh notices something out of place. ¡°Hey, where¡¯s Shamrock?¡± she asks, looking at Jubilee who is still trying to shake Basil off. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Basil thinks for a moment, looking up towards the ceiling. ¡°Dungeon,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Said something about killing monsters.¡± They shake their head. ¡°I get the feeling he¡¯s getting into old habits again.¡± Basil laughs. ¡°I think we did manage to domesticate him for a while there,¡± she jokes. ¡°I used to think he was so scary, back when we first saw him. But he¡¯s really a big softy.¡± ¡°Oh no!¡± gasps Fresh. Basil looks around. ¡°Huh? What?¡± Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°We can¡¯t go to bed now if he isn¡¯t here.¡± ¡°Good night,¡± says Jubilee, very clearly, rolling their eyes and slipping out of Basil¡¯s grasp. The priestess shrugs. ¡°He¡¯ll be fine on his own,¡± reassures Basil. ¡°I¡¯ve never asked what level he is, but honestly, I think he¡¯d give the best paladins of the church a run for their money.¡± Fresh frowns. She doesn¡¯t like the fact that he¡¯s alone in the dungeon. What if something happens to him? And besides¡­ She rubs her arm, sighing as she heads towards her bed. ¡°Hey, Basil? How come it¡¯s weird if he doesn¡¯t have abilities?¡± she asks, remembering Basil and Shamrock¡¯s fireside conversation during their journey here. ¡°Huh? Oh¡­ well¡­¡± Basil thinks for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s just that everyone has abilities,¡± she explains. ¡°There isn¡¯t a class that doesn¡¯t have abilities. Even low soul-point classes like fighters still have abilities that don¡¯t cost soul-points.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°So, he doesn¡¯t have a class?¡± Basil throws off her robe and changes into her ¡®grandma pajamas¡¯, as Fresh likes to call them. ¡°I¡¯ve never asked. It¡¯s not what we do, you know?¡± asks Basil and Fresh nods. Emotional privacy and an emphasis on personal-pacing is the basis of their entire relationship to one another. As for physical privacy, it doesn¡¯t seem to be a big deal for any of them, apart from Jubilee. ¡°To become a member of the sect, let alone perhaps one of the last ones left on this side of the south, requires, uh¡­¡± She thinks for a moment, laying down beneath her blanket. ¡°- a very specific mindset.¡± Basil adjusts her pillow. ¡°I don¡¯t know what made him the way he is, but I wouldn¡¯t worry. He knows what he¡¯s doing, probably more than any of us.¡± Fresh nods, deciding not to run out after the man. If he needs space in the dungeon to kill things on his own, then it isn¡¯t her place to barge in and ruin that. Crawling under her blanket from the bottom, she slips off her robe and worms her way through until she reaches her pillow. ¡°Good night, Basil,¡± says Fresh. She lifts her voice. ¡°Good night, Jubilee!¡± ¡°Pipe down and go to sleep!¡± barks Jubilee from the other side of the wall. Basil presses down a laugh. ¡°Good night,¡± replies the priestess. Fresh lays there for a while. But she doesn¡¯t find any sleep. Basil seems to do so quickly however and she watches as the priestess¡¯ arms flail around, as she begins her nightly fight to the death with the invisible demons in her dreams. After about an hour of this, Fresh gets up, realizing that this isn¡¯t going to work. Throwing her robe back on, she decides that she might as well work until Shamrock gets back. She¡¯ll be able to sleep then. Going back into the workshop, she pulls up her sleeves, opens her inventory and removes the magical-lantern that she had once given to Basil. ¡°Hey, little guy,¡± says Fresh, stroking the destroyed thing. ¡°How are you?¡± The lantern doesn¡¯t respond as she sets it down onto the table. It tries to lift itself up, but fails to do so and drags itself an inch to the side. She nods to herself. Something about the lantern had always made Basil uncomfortable. Fresh had never asked, but maybe the priestess just¡­ didn¡¯t like it? Basil had always stuffed it away into a closet or a box of some kind. Even here, it had just been shoved in a crate that was beneath her workbench. It was oddly and uncompassionately out of character for the priestess. She must just really not have liked the present. It¡¯s a little sad. Fresh remembers how happy she had felt initially, making the thing for the priestess and even how she had then stopped herself from giving it to her at first, for fear of being perceived as weird. Fresh strokes the jagged metal of the lantern with her thumb. ¡°Let¡¯s get you fixed up,¡± she says, remembering that despite all of that, she owes the lantern a debt that she really ought to repay. Razmatazz -) DIS is taking part in the Royalroad Writathon! Expect things to continue exactly as always, as I never changed my pace after the last one, lmao Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 245: Nightlight Fresh wipes her forehead on her sleeve, listening to the sounds of metal boots come up the staircase. It¡¯s the middle of the night, several hours after she had failed to fall asleep. Now she¡¯s fiddling around with the lantern, holding it steady as she tightens a few bolts on its side. It constantly tries to fly back up into the air, so she has to hold it down with one hand while she works. The door opens upstairs and closes a second later and then, after a moment of silence, the workshop door opens. Fresh looks over her shoulder, giving Shamrock a smile and a nod to quietly welcome him back home. Looking over his shoulder at Basil, sleeping on the other side of the room, he nods back to her and closes the door again. Fresh sighs in relief, turning the lantern around and squinting her eyes which feel really heavy and tired all of a sudden, to moisturize them. Letting out a loud yawn, she rotates the lantern and lets it go. It took a lot of elbow-grease, a lot of weird processes to fix the jagged metal and a few oddities like magic-crystal powder and moondirt to get the magical resonance of the item just right, but she feels like she¡¯s done it. The lantern rises up into the air. The new moonglass exterior of its body, encased between a thin, iron frame, shimmers brightly as the magical-crystal, suspended inside of its core in moonwater, flashes in a variety of bright colors. ¡°Blue,¡± says Fresh. The water bubbles and the lantern spins around once. The crystal, as well as the glow, both turn into a bright blue hue that fills the room. ¡°Pink,¡± says Fresh, placing a finger to her chin and thinking. The lantern spins, the color fading from the rich blue to a bright, floral, spring-pink. She nods at the lantern with the expression of a proud mother as it floats around the workshop, far more independently flying now than it used to. It seems to be taking its own path, rather than just sticking to her side. ¡°Purple,¡± says Fresh. Absorbs all incoming DMG for all party-members within line of sight, up to a maximum distance of 6m, equal to a total of the current primary-owner¡¯s LOV * Phase of the current moon. (New moon = 75%, Crescent = 200%, Gibbous = 300% Full moon = 400%) She yawns again. ¡°I hope you¡¯re feeling better now,¡± she tells the lantern, rubbing her eyes. All of the motifs of angels and demons and all of that she had essentially gotten rid of from its surface. Now, it¡¯s just a lantern without any preconceptions imposed onto it. Maybe Basil will like it more now? ¡°Let¡¯s go to bed,¡± she says, rubbing her eyes again. ¡°Off.¡± The lantern¡¯s glow dies down and it lightlessly floats alongside her as they leave the workshop. It diverges off to float over to Basil¡¯s nightstand, as she makes her way back to her own bed, seeing that Shamrock is now laying in his. Exhausted, she slips under her covers again, throwing off her robe a second time as she has high hopes of getting at least a couple hours of sleep tonight. Her body falls slack more or less instantly and she finds herself sinking into her mattress. ¡°Hello?¡± asks Peridot. ¡°Hellooo- ?¡± Fresh opens her eyes, feeling someone shake her. ¡°Heeey~¡± She turns her head, staring through sleepy eyes at Basil, who is jostling her. ¡°Good morning! We¡¯re getting ready for breakfast,¡± says the priestess, getting up from the side of her bed. ¡°Wanna get up?¡± Fresh groans, hiding her head under the pillow. ¡°Nooo¡­~¡± ¡°Shamrock, throw her into the ocean,¡± barks Jubilee from across the room. Fresh sits upright, hearing the pair of metal boots coming her way. Clutching the blanket to herself, she relents. ¡°Okay! I¡¯ll get up,¡± sighs Fresh. How many hours of sleep did she get? They didn¡¯t feel like enough. She looks at Shamrock, who has to be just as tired as she is. But he doesn¡¯t seem to show any signs of it. She throws on her robe again, dragging herself out of the bed that she felt like she had just fallen into a second ago. Heading downstairs, she does a quick crab-check of the washroom and then gets ready for the day. There hadn¡¯t been one in here yet. But she¡¯s sure that there will be one day. Dragging herself back upstairs a little bit later, she sits down at the table and lets her face flop down against the wooden surface. ¡°Didn¡¯t you sleep well?¡± asks Basil. Fresh groans and lets her face smush flatter against the wood. Glass climpers next to her as someone sets down a cup of what smells like coughee. ¡°Thanks, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, listening to their small steps move away from her. ¡°People who are up all night doing dumb shit don¡¯t get to complain about being tired,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I wasn¡¯t!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep, so I fixed Basil¡¯s lantern.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil, sipping her tea and looking over the shoulder at the lantern that is flying around the upstairs area by itself. ¡°I hope you like it now, Basil,¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°I made it look less scary.¡± Shamrock comes from the kitchen, setting down a large platter covered in a light breakfast spread consisting of different breads, creams and eggs. Apparently, he and Jubilee did the cooking today. Fresh wishes she had been awake to see it. The thought of the two of them next to each other in the kitchen, wearing matching aprons, is too much for her to handle. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Basil. ¡°I liked it before too,¡± says the priestess, sipping her tea and scooting her chair closer to the table. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± says Fresh, pushing herself upright and grabbing her coughee, adding a splash of milk to it. ¡°I get it if you didn¡¯t like it before. It was a little spooky.¡± ¡°What? No, I really liked it,¡± affirms Basil. ¡°Why would you think that I didn¡¯t?¡± she asks. Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Because you always kept it locked up in a box or something.¡± Basil blinks, looking at her, before staring down at her tea. ¡°Oh.¡± She shakes her head. The priestess looks over towards Jubilee, who only responds with an indifferent shrug, before turning her gaze back to Fresh. ¡°I kept it in your workshop so that you¡¯d be fine, if anything happened.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Then what about in the west? When you stuffed it in your wardrobe?¡± Basil shrugs. ¡°I put it in my wardrobe, in case there was an accident in the kitchen, so it would cover anything there.¡± ¡°Ooooh¡­¡± says Fresh, her eyes growing wide. She had misread the situation entirely. ¡°Sorry,¡± she relents, drinking her coughee. Fresh is starting to think that she finds herself being a bad friend more often than not these days. ¡°No, I should have told you,¡± says Basil. ¡°I can see why you¡¯d think that.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I should have known better. Sorry, Basil.¡± ¡°Who gives a fuck?¡± asks Jubilee, sitting down at the table. ¡°It¡¯s a fucking lantern, what does it matter? You people are fucked in the head. Eat your eggs.¡± ¡°It¡¯s about the principle of the matter, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, turning her head to look at her friend. ¡°Take the principle of the matter, twist it around a rod and shove it,¡± says Jubilee, pointing towards her with a fork. ¡°Eat your eggs, before they get cold.¡± Fresh turns her gaze, looking at the platter of fairly-decently made eggs. She assumes Jubilee was on egg-duty today, hence their insistence. She looks back towards Jubilee, seeing if they¡¯re still wearing an apron. They aren¡¯t. Dang. Feeling their wary gaze on her, Fresh starts stacking her plate full and the others begin as well. All in all, they have a very nice breakfast. The ocean air blows gently in through the balcony, carrying with it a soft, refreshing morning warmth. The four of them discuss their plans for the day. Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock are going to handle the store today, while Fresh intends to work on their washroom and to start crab-proofing the house. Shamrock apparently has an idea too, for something that he wants to make to sell and Basil needs help getting her planters set up, apparently wanting to use a section of the roof, if Fresh can set up some support-beams to make it capable of properly bearing a heavy load, such as dirt and plant-matter. The four of them clean up together and then get ready for the day, which is apparently going to be a full one. Fresh, holding a plate, stands by the basin in the kitchen and looks out of the balcony towards the ocean, trying to remember some oddity from her dream that night. But it just doesn¡¯t seem to come to the forefront of her mind. Oh well, it probably isn¡¯t important. Humming to herself, she scrubs the plate clean, listening to the mind-numbing droning of the crashing ocean waves. Razmatazz Wanna support DIS, but Patreon has been too expensive? You can now get 2 FREE MONTHS When you pledge annually! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 246: The way the wind blows Fresh grunts, laying on her back as she fiddles around with the piping running through the cabinet in the washroom. The washroom itself is just a simple, square¡¯ish room. There¡¯s the door to the stairwell on one side and a door to the bathroom on the other. It doesn¡¯t have a lock, but they¡¯ve managed to make it work so far by just hanging a little charm on the door handle when someone is inside. The charm is essentially just a little wooden-chicken on a string that Fresh had made. When entering, the shower is directly ahead to the left. There is no glass wall, curtain or barrier of any kind. It¡¯s just kind of in the middle of the room. All the water runs down into a metal grate, that Fresh hasn¡¯t been brave enough to look down into yet. She assumes it runs down into some pipe that leads to the ocean. Down there is probably where the pipes are set too. The ones that run up from the floor, towards the shower-head which is firmly affixed and not dismountable. The first thing she did was to craft a crystal-drakonium hose with a few metal-fastenings. Then she attached one end to the pipe and the other end to the shower head. Together with a small mount she had affixed to the pipe, it¡¯s essentially now fully functional as a shower and the shower-head can be taken down and held in one¡¯s hand. This simple change already made the little shower a lot more convenient. She doesn¡¯t think she¡¯s able to come up with a filter for the sea-water on the fly like this. But what she can certainly do and is doing right now, is adding a heating mechanism. It essentially works exactly like the heaters in their upstairs area. A small metal box, filled with heating beads. Depending on how far the nozzle is turned, a corresponding amount of water runs through the heating box, before mixing back in with the rest of the water coming out of the nozzle. Fresh grips the nut with a grease-stained rag, turning it tight. She wonders who the previous owner of this house was, to have come up with something like this? Showers don¡¯t really seem like a thing which exist here, in this world. So¡­ does that mean that the person was also another ¡®other worlder¡¯? Or were they perhaps just unusually inventive? It¡¯s hard to say, but whoever they were, she¡¯s grateful for their contribution to her new life. Jubilee and Shamrock probably won¡¯t care too much, but she¡¯s certain that Basil is going to be thrilled about being able to take long, hot, real showers. Well, long, hot, real sea-water showers, but still. Giving the fixture a good wiggle, to check that it stays firmly in place, Fresh pulls herself back out and steps to the side, giving the nozzle a twist. Water starts pouring out of the shower-head in a small trickle at first, but then in a full blast of icy sea-water. Holding the shower-head to the side, she turns the hot-water nozzle and waits a moment, listening to the sound of hissing water rush through the new piping. A moment later, she can feel warmth running down her fingers. The shower works. Smiling to herself, she turns the water off and hangs the nozzle back up. That was task one done for the day and it only took her an hour or so. Next up is the crab-proofing. It¡¯s really about time too. It¡¯s a miracle that none of them had gotten snipped in their sleep yet. The crabs seemed to have an easy time getting inside, but once they were in, the poor things seemed to be a little overwhelmed with the aisles and shelves and didn¡¯t quite know where to go. Ironically, the store itself had become their protection from the little critters. Fresh walks outside, past the counter to where Basil and Jubilee are busy at work. It looks like a big day today. Seeing Jubilee pointing towards the storage room as a customer stands there with a bathing suit, she makes a mental note to do the dressing-room today too, if she has the time. ¡°Crab-proofing¡­¡± mutters Fresh to herself, stepping past a man with a shopping cart as she heads out of the door and leans against the outside wall, looking around the beach. The patio is completely full, even if they only opened an hour ago. Apparently, word has been spreading about their spot and it has, over the course of a few days, already become a very popular hangout for sweaty, sun-burnt adventurers. Jubilee has been buying crab-meat by the buckets for next to nothing and Fresh has been turning that into dried chips, provisions and salted crackers which have been selling strongly and at a high profit margin. So, anyways¡­ what to do to keep crabs at bay? She turns her head, watching as a relaxing adventure shoots an arrow at an approaching crab from their patio, without bothering to get up. The arrow seems to be some form of enchanted projectile and the poor crab essentially evaporates the moment that it¡¯s hit. Maybe she could recruit the fairies? They¡¯re killing crabs all day and night anyways, so why not have them kill the ones here for them? She crosses her arms. Nah. Jubilee wouldn¡¯t approve of her spending money to hire them and besides, as protective as she is of the little creatures, despite everything, she realizes that they need to stand on their own two feet, like Shamrock had taught her. The new lantern has a repelling effect, doesn¡¯t it? So maybe something like that? She thinks for a moment longer, looking around. She isn¡¯t ¡®allowed¡¯ to make lanterns though. So¡­ what can she make that will chase the crabs away? Fresh crosses her arms, staring out over the ocean as she thinks. She gasps, realizing and runs back inside, scooting past the customers as she returns to her workshop. Of course! Though¡­ She stops, closing the workshop door quietly behind herself. She needs to find a way to make it less conspicuous. They had a lot of foot-traffic, so she can¡¯t just put something outside that could be too closely examined by some magical-artisan, who happened to be passing by. Fresh thinks for a moment, letting her eyes wander around the workshop, up towards the broken segment of roof. Fresh gets her idea, hurrying over to her workbench. Grabbing a large iron-bar, she flattens it out with an ability. Then, from that flattened sheet of metal, she cuts off a single strip, lengthwise that has a width of about four of her fingers together. That freshly cut off piece of metal, she rolls into a long, hollow tube. Setting that metal tube to the side, she grabs the remaining sheet of metal and holds her hands above it, setting to work as she extracts various odd shapes from the thing, working her way around the metal square until she reaches the end-result she was hoping for. She isn¡¯t much of an artist, but using her abilities to do this kind of stuff certainly helps a lot. Fresh beams, picking up the sheet-metal cutout of a chicken. ¡°Bakaw!¡± she says. After that, it¡¯s a simple matter of attaching the chicken to the rod with a spinning mechanism that allows it to turn freely when force is applied to it from any direction. Using what¡¯s left over of her scrap metal, she makes a cross-section and mounts it beneath the chicken. There. Now it just needs a little pep. This is going to be a little tricky, since she needs to bestow a few different things at the same time for the system to ¡®understand¡¯ her intentions for the item. She grabs her moonwater and a fistful of crab-shell dust, sprinkling both of them together over the weathervane. Pursing her lips, she then blows onto it at the same time, while channeling some of her magic towards it. The metal construct glows brightly with a purple aura that then quickly fades after a few seconds. Quality Effect: -) The metal of the weathervane is resistant to rusting -) Attracts [Wind]-type monsters Fresh blinks. That last effect doesn¡¯t sound so great¡­ Looking around her workshop, she shrugs. Oh well. It¡¯s not like there are any monsters like that around here to attract, right? It¡¯s probably fine. Nodding, more than satisfied with her work, Fresh heads out onto the balcony, dragging the table over to awkwardly climb up onto the roof. With a little elbow-grease, some bolts and an extra brick, she manages to secure the weathervane into place. Looking down at the beach below from her high perch, she watches as the approaching crabs all seem to change their minds mid-scuttle. They begin making their way back down in the other directions, some retreating away into the water. She sticks her tongue out at one particularly large crab that makes a hasty retreat and she can¡¯t help but notice that it is snipping its pincers angrily back up towards her. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 247: Touch-starved It is later in the evening, after they had closed for the day and finished their work downstairs. ¡°If I get crushed in my sleep, I¡¯m not going to forgive you,¡± says Jubilee, watching her with a wary eye as Fresh points to the spot next to their room. Shamrock carries the large beam there, setting it on the spot which she had marked with a chalk scribble. Downstairs, on the corner of the ¡®dressing room¡¯, there is another beam just like this one in the exact spot beneath here. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, Jubilee!¡± promises Fresh. ¡°That exact statement has filled me with worry more times than I can count,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh makes a square with her fingers, framing the area where Shamrock is setting the beam up. ¡°Should I sleep in your room tonight?¡± she asks. ¡°Just in case.¡± ¡°Pretty sure I just said that I didn¡¯t want to get crushed in my sleep,¡± states Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. Fresh puffs out her cheek, looking back to the work at hand. ¡°A little to the left please, Shamrock,¡± she says. The man obliges. The solid, wooden beam is an exact fit between the ceiling and the stabilized floor below. Fresh nods, satisfied. Now all that¡¯s left is to secure it into the stone. Since there isn¡¯t exactly a garden area, Basil wants to set up her planters on the flat roof of the house. This, of course, requires some modifications. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if the roof can¡¯t take a load like that on its own already, but it¡¯s better to be safe than sorry. She and Shamrock have set up a few large, massive, very expensive wooden beams to stabilize the entire structure. One collection on the bottom floor, entrenched into the foundation and then a second up on the second floor, exactly above the first ones. As for entry to the roof, inside of the workshop, while fixing the ¡®fixed¡¯ section of the roof, she added a trap-door with a lock and a ladder, as well as a small basket and pulley system to lower things down into the workshop from above. Given the popularity of Basil¡¯s products, this large-scale project is necessary, as her stores of dried herbs, which she had brought from the west, are quickly depleting. ¡°Do you need any help with your project too, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh as the man steps back. ¡°No,¡± is all that he says, shaking his head. Fresh nods. Taking a while after that, she secures the last beam in place and then makes her way up to the roof. Basil is already at work, going through great effort to drag lumber around by herself. She had insisted on doing it all by herself and Fresh understands that. ¡°I¡¯m gonna make a little wall,¡± says Fresh, pointing at the edge of the roof. ¡°Waist high. Just to be safe,¡± she says. Basil nods, wiping her forehead on her rolled up sleeve. ¡°Sure thing,¡± she says. ¡°I figured there, by the hatch we could have a little roofed over, open area,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Like a pavilion?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°And over here I want to put up a few planters.¡± ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll have room for a few chairs?¡± asks Fresh. Basil blinks, looking at her. ¡°We already have a balcony, though?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°Okay. Just asking,¡± she says, measuring how many bricks she¡¯s going to need to order for her wall. ¡°The roof¡¯s all yours, Basil,¡± confirms Fresh. ¡°We can probably put a few chairs and the telescope there,¡± relents Basil, pointing at the area by the hatch. ¡°Jubilee likes that thing.¡± ¡°Thanks!¡± says Fresh, getting up and dusting her hands off. The roof is scorching hot, being under the desert sun all day. Basil nods and Fresh heads back down the hatch, looking at Shamrock who is there at the bench, tinkering with something. ¡°Can I see?¡± asks Fresh. He turns his head, looking at her before shuffling to the side to block her view. ¡°Secret.¡± ¡°Now I want to see it even more,¡± replies Fresh, crossing her arms. Shamrock turns his head again, looking over his shoulder towards her a second time. ¡°Double secret.¡± She lets out a defeated yelp, clutching her heart and dramatically walking out of the workshop. ¡°You haven¡¯t seen the last of meeeee~¡± she cries, waving the fingers of her free hand witchily at him as she goes. Fresh exits the workshop and looks around the room. ¡­Now what? She stands there, staring vacantly as she realizes that she has nothing to do. She has been running around and working for the entire day. But her friends are all ¡®taken care of¡¯ essentially, as are all of her tasks and her chores. As Fresh stands there, looking around the upstairs area, she realizes something. ¡°Jubileeee~?¡± she asks. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, looking up from their book. ¡°I don¡¯t have any hobbies,¡± explains Fresh, having come to a sudden self-epiphany. Jubilee stares at her for a moment, before turning their gaze back down to their book, without another word. Fresh frowns and walks over and around the table, wrapping her arms around Jubilee from behind and resting her chin on top of their head. Jubilee sighs. Fresh sighs too, but for a different reason. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t read that stuff all the time, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re gonna get nightmares. Besides, you¡¯ve probably read it like ten times now.¡± Jubilee slaps the book shut, setting it down onto the table. ¡°Can I help you with something?¡± they ask, annoyed. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, her head still on top of theirs. ¡°I want to complain to the management,¡± she says, looking down at them from above. ¡°I tried to buy a hug here a few days ago, but the person at the counter said they were all sold out and I haven¡¯t heard a thing since.¡± ¡°You might actually be the saddest creature alive,¡± replies Jubilee, their fingers tapping against the cover of their book. ¡°I aaaam~¡± groans Fresh. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean ¡®sad¡¯ like that,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh grumbles into the top of their head. ¡°Just how touch-starved are you?¡± Fresh continues to grumble, rubbing her face into Jubilee¡¯s hair as an act of protest. ¡°That other world must have really blown, huh?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°If you turned out this way.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you like me, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Shut up, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, trying to get up and failing to do so. ¡°Don¡¯t waste my time asking things you already know.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not gonna let you go,¡± says Fresh, squeezing her arms tightly around her prisoner. ¡°Not until you hug me back.¡± ¡°No hugs available. You didn¡¯t pay for it,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh gasps. ¡°I tried, but you gave me my money back!¡± ¡°Ah. That sounds rough,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Try coming back tomorrow, when the store is open again. We¡¯re closed now, you see?¡± they ask, pointing over their shoulder towards the darkened sky outside of the balcony door. ¡°That¡¯s so mean!¡± complains Fresh. ¡°Running a shop is a cutthroat business.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yup,¡± replies Jubilee, eyeing her suspiciously. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, acting like she didn¡¯t understand what Jubilee just said. ¡°I said. ¡®Yup¡¯,¡± reaffirms Jubilee. Fresh blinks, playing dumb. ¡°¡­¡®Yup¡¯?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± nods Jubilee. Their eyes meet, Jubilee¡¯s narrowing in deep suspicion. ¡°Don¡¯t you da -¡± ¡°CHICKEN-BUTT!¡± yells Fresh, sinking her fingers into Jubilee¡¯s sides and tickling them. Jubilee laughs, trying to fight her off, but they¡¯re thoroughly trapped and unable to escape their horrible fate. Sure. It¡¯s not exactly a hobby, as per the classical definitions of such a thing. But Fresh finds great relief and solace in these social interactions with her family. It¡¯s not really some pragmatic activity, like a crafting process or some kind of workout or anything like that. But she supposes that ¡®socializing¡¯ counts as a hobby. As for the whole ¡®touch-starved¡¯ insinuation, she realizes that there might be something to that. But then again, she just feels like she¡¯s an entity that requires the touch of significant people to not only survive, but to thrive. Much like a flower needs sunshine and water, she needs people to express her emotions out onto and with. She realizes that this itself is her mechanism of processing and staving away the bad-thing. Maybe it¡¯s because she isn¡¯t as smart as Jubilee or Basil or Shamrock are, so she can¡¯t form other more ¡®sensible¡¯ ways to keep her emotions and way of life intact, or maybe it really is just because she¡¯s some sad, lonely creature, or maybe it¡¯s just so she can distract herself from the gaping pit of terror that is her existence, just out of sight of the warmth of their home, but Fresh realizes that she¡¯s always the happiest when she has someone to exist with. Jubilee, meanwhile, puts on a good show of trying to escape. But Fresh can tell that they don¡¯t really mean it, their body is pressing itself back towards her instead of away. Later that night, her reign of terror extends itself out to Basil and Shamrock as well, but they seem to accept their fate for what it is and as Fresh lays in her bed, still giddy and excited from her earlier spree, she listens to the crashing waves of the distant ocean, coming towards the shoreline outside of their house. As she listens to the sound echoing around the empty, dark void around her bed, her mood falls somber, as she realizes that now, despite everyone being only a few steps away, she is alone. Fresh wraps her arms around her bundled up blanket, hugging it like a person as she feels a sudden autumn-chill seep into their house. Or, getting back to her reasoning from before, maybe, she¡¯s just terrified of being alone? Maybe that¡¯s why she insists on being inseparably close to other people? Because, maybe, if she¡¯s alone for too long, she¡¯ll become the person who she used to be once again, maybe, if she has nobody to latch on to, she herself will be the one who invites the bad-thing back inside of her home and spirit? Maybe she isn¡¯t touch-starved or deprived of warmth or love, despite it perhaps looking that way from the outside. Maybe she¡¯s just terrified of being all by herself? To her tired mind, the waves of the nearby ocean almost sound like quiet, hissing laughter. Razmatazz -) Mm, that''s some good slice of life -) The merch has been unshittified! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 248: Just underfoot Fresh¡¯s shaking body hoists itself up one more time. ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± she complains. ¡°I¡¯m going to diiie~¡± howls Fresh, feeling a shake run through her body, stemming from her trembling core. Shamrock¡¯s finger presses itself against her forehead, pushing her back down and she lowers herself back down to the floor, lowering herself back to a lying position from the top of her sit-up. Basil is sitting on top of her feet to hold them down, as she couldn¡¯t manage to lift herself up off of the ground otherwise. ¡°Another,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Shamrooock~¡± complains Fresh, sweat beading down her forehead. ¡°It¡¯s literally not even sunrise,¡± barks Jubilee from across the room. ¡°Do the damn sit-up and shut up!¡± Fresh¡¯s lips quiver as she closes her eyes and pushes herself to do another one, pressing past the severe burning sensation present in her body. ¡°You can do it!¡± cheers Basil. Not wanting to make Basil a liar, Fresh exerts herself, putting in all of the strength she has left in her body into the next motion. Locking her hands on top of her chest, rather than behind her head like Shamrock had explained to her, she does her best to do one more, final sit-up. Her entire body is shaking from the strain, as if she were shivering. She¡¯s sure that if Basil wasn¡¯t pinning her bare feet down, they¡¯d have fallen off by now from all of the shaking and twitching of her muscles. Fresh lets out a strained breath, gasping for air as she reaches the top of the next repetition. Only barely. A finger presses itself against her forehead. ¡°Another.¡± Fresh falls backwards and dies. ¡°I think she¡¯s done, Shamrock,¡± says Basil, looking at Fresh who is laying there and gasping for air, failing to pretend to be dead as she tries to recuperate from her mildly strenuous workout of almost nine sit-ups. Fresh opens her eyes, staring at Jubilee who is standing there with crossed arms. ¡°That¡¯s sad.¡± ¡°I¡¯m gonna get strong enough to carry you, Jubilee!¡± promises Fresh. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°If you even try, I will literally cut your legs off and strap the rest of you to an anqa.¡± ¡°That¡¯s pretty dark,¡± remarks Basil, turning her head to Jubilee. Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°Fine! We¡¯ll keep the legs and just strap her to an anqa as is.¡± Basil nods. ¡°That¡¯s better.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not better!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± ¡®Jubileeeee~¡¯ rolls their eyes. ¡°If you guys are done fucking off, we¡¯re trying to run a business here, remember?¡± they ask. ¡°The city is going to be full as shit in another week or two.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t open for another hour though,¡± says Basil. Jubilee sighs. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t be productive in the mean-time!¡± they snap. Basil blinks, looking at Jubilee and then back down at Fresh, before looking back at Jubilee. ¡°I am being productive. I¡¯m holding her feet,¡± says Basil. ¡°Yeah!¡± agrees Fresh. Jubilee stares at them both for a moment. ¡°Hold on,¡± says Jubilee, grabbing Basil¡¯s head, turning it to the side and looking into her ear. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Basil looks uncertainly out of the side of her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m just checking, I think some of her goo-brain leaked into here,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Do you want to hold her feet instead?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee lets go of her. ¡°I do not,¡± states Jubilee, very clearly. Fresh gasps, pulling herself upright in an instant without even realizing the strain of the movement, which was, essentially another sit-up. ¡°Jubilee!¡± yells Fresh, realizing something, grabbing Jubilee off of Basil and turning them to face her. ¡°What?!¡± asks Jubilee, annoyed. ¡°Are foot-demons real?!¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I have to know!¡± Shamrock takes a step behind her, so she can rest her back against his leg instead of having to ¡®hold¡¯ the sit-up. Basil and Jubilee exchange a look. The priestess turns back to her. ¡°Of course foot-demons are real.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says the demon Jubilee. ¡°Real creeps. I try not to associate with them,¡± they explain. ¡°They make things weird, you know? Fucking foot-relishing degenerates.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes widen in horror. Basil nods in agreement. ¡°Truly the lowest of the low. Gods keep our soles,¡± she says, clasping her hands together in a praying gesture. ¡°Really?!¡± she asks, looking around to Shamrock. ¡°Yes,¡± he nods. ¡°I sleep with boots on.¡± Fresh blinks, realizing that they might be messing with her. Jubilee and Basil exchange a look and then start laughing. ¡°You know?¡± asks Jubilee, between breaths. ¡°Sometimes I think it¡¯s too easy and I should feel bad,¡± they state. ¡°But then I never do.¡± ¡°You really should,¡± lectures Basil, getting up and laughing herself as she helps Fresh up to her feet. ¡°Way it sounds to me, you¡¯re in on the joke,¡± replies Jubilee, waving the clearly laughing priestess off. Basil does her best to calm herself down. ¡°Sorry,¡± she apologizes to Fresh. ¡°They¡¯re not real. We¡¯re just teasing you.¡± Fresh purses her lips, puffing out a cheek but then lets her posture fall loose as she lets out a relieved sigh. A little teasing is a small price to pay for the truth. ¡°Okay.¡± Shamrock¡¯s metal-clad finger pokes into her gut. ¡°Tomorrow. Ten.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Ten,¡± repeats Shamrock, giving her a thumbs-up as he walks away together with a still laughing Basil. The two of them grab something to drink and head out to the balcony, leaving Fresh standing there by the beds. ¡°Psst,¡± hisses Jubilee, beckoning her over to the corner of the wall of their room, looking around the bend that the other two are busy. Fresh blinks, warily heading over to Jubilee, not wanting to be teased again. She leans down, letting Jubilee whisper into her ear. ¡°What¡¯s up, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh quietly. ¡°They¡¯re totally real,¡± whispers Jubilee. ¡°I didn¡¯t wanna scare the others,¡± they say. Jubilee nods to her and then walks off without another word. Fresh¡¯s eyes widen in an even deeper horror than a moment ago, during the first revelation. She knew it. This is horrible. This is the worst. She has to do something! Racking her brain, Fresh looks around the room for inspiration. Back in the west, her sheep had offered her protection from such things as bad dreams, but she isn¡¯t allowed to make them here and even if she did, their magic wouldn¡¯t work here and not for this situation which was very much reality-founded. She needs something else, but what? Fresh stares at their beds. As long as their feet were in the beds and not dangling off, they would be safe from any grabby, gribbly claws and teeth. Though if their feet were in the bed, but not covered, that brings a risk that more powerful foot-demons could get past the initial magical seal that the bed itself offers. Fresh often finds Basil in this circumstance, given her flailing. Shamrock as well, just because of his size and the fact that he didn¡¯t really cover himself entirely with a blanket, rather just always clutching it over one spot of his body. Jubilee at least, is a calm, quiet sleeper. But maybe this was the result of years of avoiding the foot-demons that stalk the night. Light wouldn¡¯t repel them. She¡¯s sure, she can feel it. Foot-demons can walk in a bright room and creep to the foot of a bed, as long as everybody is asleep, as long as nobody is looking. ¡®As long as nobody is looking¡­¡¯ She taps her chin, thinking. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± she says, running to her workshop. She pulls her grimoire out of her inventory, splashing water everywhere and slaps it onto the table, furiously flipping through the pages. She finds what she¡¯s looking for, written on some page in the very back of the book, the ink is still wet and the writing was clearly hastily written and has a tone to it that she can¡¯t help but feel is passive-aggressive. Grabbing a small jar of moist clay from beneath her workbench, she slaps a large few handfuls out and begins shaping the gray clay. First, she makes a single rectangle and then, she clenches the fingers of her left hand together and spreads out her thumb, holding it over the surface to get an idea of the shape. With her other hand, she crudely carves the ¡®exterior¡¯ clay away, throwing it back into the jar. It takes a little while, but soon, she has what looks like a somewhat stylized version of a hand, with its fingers held together and the thumb extended outwards. In the center of the open palm, she draws an eye with her finger, staring out straight ahead. ¡°See~ no~ e~vil~!¡± she hums to herself, looking at the thing. It just needed to be baked now and it would be ready to hang on the wall. Smiling, she picks it up and sets it onto a small wooden board, to carry it out to the stove. ¡°Hey guys, look what I made!¡± says Fresh, turning to Shamrock who is in the kitchen. She holds out the thing proudly for him to see. ¡°WHAT THE FUCK?!¡± yells Jubilee¡¯s voice and Fresh looks around in terror at the sound of their distress, seeing them fly up into the air. Their body presses against the ceiling of the house. ¡°JUBILEE!¡± yells Fresh in despair, running over to help them. Jubilee slides along the ceiling away from her and is pressed into the corner of the wall. She stops, looking down at her hands and then yelps, throwing the hamsa back into the workshop as she realizes. Jubilee falls down, landing in Shamrock¡¯s arms. Fresh sighs in relief. ¡°Are you okay, Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°What the fuck was that?!¡± they ask, looking around the room. ¡°Do you need anything?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Are you hurt?¡± ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°That was my fault,¡± she stares at Shamrock, somewhat jealously, as he holds a flailing Jubilee in his arms. ¡°Put me down, Shamrock!¡± barks Jubilee, jabbing an elbow into his breastplate and waving Basil off with their other hand. ¡°Fucking hell,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their arms out as Shamrock sets them down. ¡°I almost flew out of the fucking balcony!¡± ¡°Sorry, Jubilee!¡± apologizes Fresh again, making a quick retreat backwards to her workshop before she gets into trouble. Her foot steps onto something wet and soft and she recoils instinctively, looking down at the smushed hamsa with a foot-print in it. She gasps. She scoops out the thing, putting it back onto the wooden board. This time, she controls herself. She wasn¡¯t thinking before. Jubilee had entrusted her with the foot-demon secret. She can¡¯t just reveal that to the others not even an hour later. Silently, she sets the project down on the side, making a note to finish it in secret. After that, she heads out of the workshop and allows herself to get scolded, if only to keep the peace. The others need to be protected from the foot-demons and she¡¯s willing to make this sacrifice for them. Razmatazz A hamsa is like a spooky drawing of a hand, with an evil eye in its center, used to repel evil forces. Fun fact every one of my amazon stories has my own personally designed hamsa in the frontmatter to protect you from malevolent spirits and me from refunds! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 249: A sigh of trouble Fresh nods, satisfied. She pulls the curtain to the side along the rod and listens to the slight hissing sound as the metal rings run along the bar that they¡¯re fastened around. She pulls the fabric curtain back open again. And then, a second later, she closes it again. Fresh blinks, sliding the curtain of the new dressing room open again for another, of easily a dozen, times. ¡°Will you knock it off?!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re such a pain in the ass,¡± they mutter, sighing. Fresh turns her head around, staring at Jubilee who is behind the counter. Stepping inside of the dressing room, she closes the curtain behind herself and looks at herself in the mirror that is mounted on the wall there. Her reflection nods to her and she nods back to it. ¡°No crying at work!¡± shouts Jubilee, raising their voice. Fresh purses her lips and opens the curtain again, stepping back outside into the storefront. In that case, she¡¯s decided to postpone her crying until after they close the store tonight. ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°The dressing-room is done!¡± she exclaims, gesturing with both of her hands towards the finished dressing room. She had essentially cut their downstairs storage closet in half. The left half by the counter is now a dressing room with a curtain and the right is a small, two by two meter storage space. Jubilee flashes her a thumbs-up and returns to their scribbling inside of the ledger. Fresh frowns. ¡°Jubilee, are you mad at me?¡± ¡°I am unable to feel mad,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Just like I can¡¯t feel my fucking back,¡± they say, stretching themselves forward, placing their hands on the back of their hips. ¡°I don¡¯t think either of those things are true,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Should I give you a massage later, Ju~ bi~ lee~?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Basil has oil for sore muscles.¡± ¡°I bet she does,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head and looking over their shoulder at Basil who is working the window. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. Basil narrows her eyes, turning her head around in the middle of selling some ice-cream. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± asks the priestess. Jubilee rolls their eyes and ignores her entirely, turning back to Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re asking a weird thing again,¡± states Jubilee. Fresh blinks and then shrugs. ¡°Am I?¡± she asks. ¡°So¡­ no massage?¡± ¡°No massage,¡± repeats Jubilee. ¡°Especially not with your weird-ass crab-fingers.¡± Fresh looks down at her hands, pinching her fingers together. ¡°I can give you a massage,¡± offers Basil. ¡°You can stay at least five steps away from me at all times,¡± says Jubilee. Basil nods. ¡°I¡¯ll come by before bedtime then.¡± ¡°Bring a knife, you¡¯re going to need it if you try,¡± remarks Jubilee. Fresh scratches her cheek and decides that she¡¯s causing trouble by staying down here. So instead, she runs around the store, restocking shelves. Shamrock is taking the morning off to work on his project, so she¡¯s covering for him. ¡°Hey, did you hear about the center?¡± says a hushed voice from the aisle across from her. Fresh fumbles around with some equipment from the dungeon, pretending to be busy as she eavesdrops. ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± says a worried voice. ¡°They say a hero showed up again! Wasn¡¯t it supposed to be another ninety years?¡± ¡°No, I mean, that¡¯s great and all, but I meant about the¡­ you know -¡± She lowers her voice. ¡°- witch,¡± whispers the other one quietly. ¡°Mhm,¡± mumbles the voice. ¡°I heard she killed a few hundred people with a single curse and flew off.¡± ¡°Really? I heard she tried to eat the hero whole and got blasted away!¡± ¡°You think?¡± ¡°Makes sense to me. My priest told me that a team of exorcists blew her and her cult out of the north too.¡± ¡°Hey¡­¡± they lower their voice. ¡°¡­Isn¡¯t there that guy here? Isn¡¯t he¡­?¡± ¡°I saw him too!¡± whispers the other one back. Fresh¡¯s eyes open wide as she tries to listen more, but the two of them move too far out of earshot. She looks around, still adjusting the same helmet she has been playing with for a minute now. What should she do? Fresh hurries back around the shelf, wanting to go to Jubilee. But there is a line before the counter, as all of their customers seem to be converging at once to pay for their things and Basil is busy as well, as the line outside seems to be stretching on around the way. Frowning, she decides to just go upstairs for a moment to calm down. Sure, it¡¯s not a secret that Shamrock is an obviously noticeable entity. They had talked about this many times before, in fact. But would it be a problem, now that the infamous witch of the north had made a public appearance again? And on such a grand scale? She hadn¡¯t even considered it before. Fresh closes the door behind herself and heads upstairs, knocking on the workshop door before opening it and peeking inside. Shamrock turns his head around. ¡°Hey, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh. The man nods, staring her way to see what she wants. Fresh blinks, not sure what it is that she wanted herself. ¡°Just checking in,¡± she says, closing the door again. She sighs, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead with the back of her wrist. She has no idea what she¡¯s doing. What¡¯s she so worried about? Everything is fine. Except for her own blunders, everything is going as well as could be, considering the circumstances. Looking around the upstairs area, she slaps her cheeks to liven herself up and then heads back downstairs, returning into the fray. Despite everything going on in her head today, Fresh manages to make the rest of the workday a success. She manages to keep the shelves topped up and the ice-cream restocked. Coconut seems to be the biggest seller by far, which makes her happy as it feeds into the tropical stereotype that she can¡¯t help but create in her own mind¡¯s eye of this place and it makes Jubilee happy, because it¡¯s by far the cheapest one to make. ¡°Fucking coconuts. They¡¯re everywhere.¡± ¡°Like sand on the beach,¡± says Basil, kicking a coconut that had rolled out of the pile back towards the heap. Eventually, when the day calms down, Fresh pulls Jubilee to the side and whispers her fears into their ear. But Jubilee just tells her not to worry. Everything is fine and it¡¯s not like they didn¡¯t know this would happen. So, essentially, they tell her exactly the same things that she herself had already thought before. Hearing Jubilee repeat her own words brings her a lot of comfort. At least until she finds a quiet minute to stare out of the window together with Basil, the two of them looking over the seated crowd, towards the ocean. Watching its crashing waves reach the shoreline, listening to their mind-numbing drone, she can¡¯t help but wonder; are the two of them really having the same train of thought? Or is the fountain at play here, manipulating them in order to force them to stick to ¡®the plan¡¯, whatever that might be? Fresh sighs, staring out over the water. Basil sighs too, but for a different reason. Hearing them sigh, Jubilee also sighs, but also for a different reason. ¡°We should go swimming,¡± suggests Fresh. ¡°Pass,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯d like too,¡± replies Basil. ¡°But I think there are monsters in the water.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh, looking out over the ocean. ¡°For sure,¡± says the priestess. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of all sorts of giant fish and sharks and weird, grabby tentacled hydras.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°Besides¡­ uh¡­¡± ¡°What¡¯s up, Basil?¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t know how to swim,¡± says Jubilee. Basil turns her head around. ¡°Hey! As if you can.¡± Jubilee shrugs, not bothering to turn around, ¡°I can.¡± ¡°As if! Prove it!¡± ¡°No.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Oh. That¡¯s not a big deal, Basil,¡± she reassures. ¡°I can teach you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to get eaten, thanks,¡± says Basil, looking out over the water. Fresh sighs. Then Basil sighs, but for a different reason and then Jubilee sighs, but also for a different reason. Razmatazz New litrpg, crafting-heavy story coming ''soon''. I''ll let you know when it pops! =) Expect owls. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 250: Four leaf clover Wondering why she isn¡¯t dead yet, Fresh opens her eyes and stares at the broad, metallic surface that has appeared before herself. A giant, dark-cobalt armored back, belonging to a man who can¡¯t quite contain his excited, heavy breathing. She breaks, her voice shattering like so much ice and glass. ¡°Why aren''t you running?!¡± howls Fresh, feeling her broken shoulder painfully snap back into place from the restorative magic of the befouled lantern floating at her side, as she pushes herself forward from the glass-sign of their store that is pressed between her hurt back and the rubble of their home in the north. The stones beneath his boots crush into brittle fragments as he presses his weight forward against the golem, as he holds the blade of the sword, which runs lengthwise down the span of the ice-golem¡¯s arm, firmly in place. His eyes shine out of the shadowy gaps of his metal helmet, as he turns his head only slightly to the side to look at her distraught face. Shamrock says nothing and lets go of the sword, his armor falls to the ground in an instant, shattering apart with nothing left inside to hold it together, as if the body inside of it had simply vanished into thin air. Knowing that she is about to to die, Fresh looks up in fear towards the ice-golem that is about to crush her. But instead, she sees a muscular, dark-elven woman, wearing a red wizard¡¯s hat that has, oddly enough, a large mushroom-cap as its brim. ¡°LET GO OF ME!¡± shouts the woman and Fresh feels her body lurching to the ground as something cracks against the side of her chest. The air leaves her lungs as she falls to the dirt, holding her aching body. The dark-red wizard reaches over her, grabbing the glass sign from the ruined store and taking it with herself as she runs off into the darkness. Fresh gasps for air, but she can¡¯t quite seem to find any. Her eyes and her lungs burn as she feels around herself. She¡¯s trapped inside of something. A tube. No, a chimney. Looking around, she tries to squeeze her arms free but they won¡¯t move as she¡¯s firmly lodged inside of the stone chimney. She¡¯s stuck. A voice comes from below. ¡°Ah, wait, I¡¯ve heard of this,¡± says Jubilee, stepping into the fireplace beneath where she¡¯s stuck. They look up the chimney, straight towards her. There¡¯s no way they can¡¯t see her here if they¡¯re standing just beneath her. ¡°The shaft runs up along the walls of the other rooms. If you light this, I¡¯ll bet you anything that the walls across from the stairs up there will start getting hot.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± yells Fresh, but she just listens as a pair of boots walks away, holding a conversation with someone that isn¡¯t her. Jubilee had seen her, but didn¡¯t say anything. There¡¯s no way they couldn''t have seen her from down there. Everything erupts in fire and Fresh closes her eyes, only opening them a moment later as she feels the constraint on her clothes become tighter from the front. Opening her eyes again, she looks at Basil who is standing there before her, behind the counter of their old store in the north. ¡°They told us two to watch you,¡± confesses Basil. ¡°The clergy. So we did and then he¡­ he¡­¡± Basil sniffles, fighting it all back. ¡°When you offered me the position, they told me to take it to keep a closer eye on you,¡± she concedes. ¡°But I did it because I wanted to know.¡± Her voice cracks. ¡°I wanted to know if you¡­¡± A thread on Fresh¡¯s robe pops as it snaps from the pressure of the priestess¡¯ tugging hands that are wrapped around her collar. ¡°I wanted to know if you killed my only friend!¡± cries Basil, looking up at Fresh with an expression of pure, contorted suffering before she starts howling. ¡°Oh. That,¡± says Fresh, lifting a hand to her own throat in surprise at the words coming out of her mouth. ¡°Yeah. We did that,¡± admits Fresh. ¡°W- what?¡± asks Basil, her eyes going wide as her trembling hands let go of her. ¡°Yeah,¡± repeats Fresh. ¡°Right through the throat,¡± she explains, running her fingernail over Basil¡¯s shaking neck, feeling the frantic beat of the priestess¡¯ heart through the single digit that touches her body like the fang of a viper. ¡°Well. The first one was. The other cuts, well¡­ we couldn¡¯t leave anything behind, you know?¡± she asks, as if it were obvious. ¡°We¡¯re professionals, Ba~ sil~!¡± she says in a sing-song tone. Basil screams and charges at her, but before she can make contact, Fresh sits upright in her bed, panting and gasping for air. Of course, it was all just an odd dream. One of those nightmares that she gets sometimes, even without the fountain lending a helping hand. She looks around the room, checking all the beds in the darkness from her corner, making sure that they¡¯re full. They are. Fresh lowers her head back down, hiding it under her pillow so that she doesn¡¯t wake the others up with her crying. Sure, it was just a dream. But in a sense, it¡¯s also more than that. This journey of theirs has been a lot, to say the least and she herself was entirely unprepared for it from the beginning. This strong emotionality that she has managed to foster with her new family has, of course, not been given to her for free. She had to earn it with blood, sweat and tears. But at the same time, she also had to pay tolls that were of a less physical nature. In a sense, those traumatic experiences that her mind is always subconsciously processing is what makes her more like her friends than ever before. None of them are ¡®clean¡¯ or whole and all of them are broken in a way. Her bed shifts as something heavy sits down on the side of it. Looking out from under her pillow, Fresh stares at Shamrock¡¯s back as he sits on the edge of her bed. He isn¡¯t looking her way, he¡¯s just sitting there, staring out towards Basil or his own bed. Hiding her face one more time to get out the last sniffle, Fresh scoots closer towards him, pulling her blanket along with herself. She presses her stomach against his back and pulls in her knees, touching his right side with them as she essentially wraps herself around him from behind. Pulling the blanket back over herself, she places a hand on him. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock.¡± ¡°Sleep,¡± is all that he says, nodding and Fresh obliges, closing her eyes and she finds that in that next portion of the night to come, that there are no monsters that manage to find her in her dreams. They had all been killed already. The man is an enigma to her in one sense and in another sense, he isn¡¯t. Jubilee, the demon, has clear reasons for their personality being what it is. Basil, the priestess who belongs to a kinder world than this one has reasons for the way she is as well. But Shamrock? Even in her sleep, she feels the lurching of his armor as he sits there, breathing so loudly that she is sure, in her sleep-addled half-waking state, that a gale is blowing in through their home. Shamrock is¡­ well, that isn¡¯t important, what Shamrock physically ¡®is¡¯ beneath the armor. But what he, the man from the sect, is as a spiritual entity, that is an enigma to Fresh. Shamrock serves the witch¡¯s sect, he serves her because he wants the world to be lighter. But why? What does he gain from it? What does he hope to reap as his reward? He breathes again and in her strange half-dream, she feels as if she were aboard a boat and his exhalation had caused a great tide that lifted her higher and higher up atop the ocean, which is made entirely out of a fuzzy, blue, blanket. Or is that, the lightening of the world, the reward itself? But why would he even want that? After all the things he¡¯s caused himself to endure by wearing the armor, after all the maliciousness he receives by the people surrounding him, why would he want to make the world lighter? For them? They¡¯re not worth the effort, are they? The ship lowers back down as the blanket-ocean returns to a normal height. Fresh looks over the ship¡¯s railing, glaring at the blanket that has dared to defy her. She puffs out her cheek at it, making a display of her dominance. The blanket, knowing its place, quickly expands itself outward and pushes the ship back up again towards the lofty heights. She sighs. Being party-leader is really exhausting work. The odd night does eventually come to an end and when Fresh awakes to the morning sunlight, shining in through the balcony, she finds that Shamrock is still sitting there, not having moved an inch. Feeling her stir, he turns his head and nods to her, rising to his feet without saying or remarking a single thing and as the day would go on, he wouldn¡¯t say a single thing to Basil or to Jubilee either. It¡¯s not that this ¡®sleepover¡¯ is a secret of some kind, but rather, it¡¯s just not something he would ever feel the need to talk about at all. She slept bad, so he came over to help her feel better. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s the entire calculation. Just like he would do for Basil, as evidenced by the dream-sheep he had gifted her back in the west and as Fresh is sure he would do for Jubilee as well. It¡¯s as natural for him as it is to drink water when thirsty. Fresh wonders again, as she stares at his broad back with her blurry eyes, as he vanishes into the kitchen, why? It¡¯s driving her crazy, honestly. Especially after the whispers from yesterday. Why take the risk? Why carry the burden? Why put yourself in harm¡¯s way to help a world that its people itself clearly don¡¯t care about? Shamrock is the first one awake and she watches from her bed with groggy eyes as he puts on a comically dainty apron with a giant chicken on its front that Jubilee had made and, while everyone else is still in bed, he sets to work on making breakfast by himself. It¡¯s not like it¡¯s his turn to make breakfast. Somebody else could do it. But he is there. Breakfast needs to be made. He can make it. It would help if he made it. That¡¯s all there is to it. It makes Fresh feel bad, honestly. Sure, she has problems, but so does Shamrock and in light of that, there he is, not having slept through the night, making the world ready for them to inhabit, while she is still laying in her bed. Fresh clenches her fists, determined to do her best today. She throws off her blanket and jumps to her feet with vigor, getting changed and then neatly making her bed. Getting ready for the day, she then rouses Basil, violently jumping into her bed and tickling her first thing in the morning. The priestess howls and makes a hasty escape, apparently having dreamt about water a little too much in the night. ¡°Sorry!¡± calls Fresh after her, heading to Jubilee¡¯s room and knocking on the door. ¡°Jubilee! Good morning!¡± ¡°Fuck off!¡± calls a groggy Jubilee. Fresh smiles, heading to the kitchen and bumping into Shamrock from the side, on purpose. ¡°Can I see your project today?¡± ¡°When it¡¯s done,¡± says the man and she smiles. A scream comes from downstairs. Basil. The bowl that Shamrock is stirring drops in an instant as Shamrock rushes to the door with Fresh in pursuit. Jubilee¡¯s door opens behind them. They tear open the stairwell door and look down at it together, seeing Basil standing at the bottom. In between them, in the middle of the staircase, on its way up towards them, is a very grody, damaged, scorched, broken and mangled stuffed thing, covered in muck and grime and the befoulment of many seasons. There, before them all, stands a stranger, familiar to only two of them, in a sense. The little teddy-bear with green eyes that Fresh had gifted Jubilee back in the north stares up their way and nods once, locking eyes with Fresh. Fresh blinks, deeply confused, but then nods back, not wanting to be rude. The pact had already been sealed long ago. Razmatazz -) AHA! The long-term plotpoints are long like you wouldn''t believe. (The bear was given to Jubilee in chapter 94, if you want to go back) -) You might not like dream chapters, dear reader, but I hope you have come to understand their importance by now Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 251: Up for debate The four of them sit around the inside table, staring at the mangled teddy-bear that they had placed atop it. Despite lifting it up and setting it away from themselves several times, the bear keeps dragging itself forward as it shuffles straight towards Jubilee. One of its beady eyes hanging just as loosely from a thread, as its disconnected, tattered arm that only remains in place because of some fluff that has been knotted up with gunk and some twigs. ¡°It kind of smells,¡± remarks Basil, tilting her head and watching it shuffle back towards Jubilee with its arms held open, as if it were expecting a hug. Fresh nods in solidarity with the little thing, feeling its pain as it gets rejected for the dozenth time. ¡°Why the fuck is it walking?¡± asks Jubilee, pressing their palm against its face to hold it away as they turn their head to stare at Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a bear, Jubilee,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°Bears can walk.¡± Jubilee stares at her for a moment, letting out what might be the longest sigh Fresh has ever heard come from them. ¡°Basil,¡± says Jubilee, annoyed. ¡°Hit her.¡± Basil blinks, staring at Jubilee and then over at Fresh. ¡°Me?¡± ¡°You¡¯re the closest person and somebody really needs to,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°Please don¡¯t hit me, Basil,¡± says Fresh, looking nervously at the priestess, unsure if she¡¯s going to do it or not. Basil shrugs and lifts her tea-cup to take a drink instead. ¡°I mean, why the fuck is the stuffed bear walking when it clearly couldn¡¯t walk before?¡± asks Jubilee, annoyed. They press a finger against the bear¡¯s forehead, pushing it down. The bear falls onto its bottom and is trapped there as Jubilee squishes it down. Fresh leans in. ¡°Jubilee! Don¡¯t be mean to the bear!¡± ¡°The bear is creepy as fuck!¡± yells Jubilee. ¡°Why is it alive?! It wasn¡¯t alive when you made it!¡± Fresh frowns, pushing Jubilee¡¯s hand away as she picks up the oddly damp bear with both hands and runs her fingers over its fur, reminiscing about the strong feelings she had while making this. ¡°We made it together, Jubilee. Remember?¡± she asks, looking at it. The bear turns its head to look at her, but then it turns back, reaching out for Jubilee from across the table. ¡°It¡¯s breaking my heart,¡± remarks Basil. ¡°It¡¯s probably fucking haunted,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Do a ghost check.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I think it was always uh¡­¡± She tilts the bear around at an angle, looking at it. ¡°- ¡¯alive¡¯,¡± she finishes. ¡°I remember it nodding to me,¡± explains Fresh. Jubilee¡¯s fingers tap against the table. Fresh recognizes the sound as one of clear agitation. Jubilee does this a lot when they¡¯re bothered. ¡°And you didn¡¯t think this was an important detail to mention? That the stuffed-bear moved?¡± ¡°I thought I was just seeing things,¡± she explains. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it was really, you know, moving,¡± replies Fresh, ogling the little bear as its legs wiggle in the air. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s like with the sheep?¡± asks Basil. ¡°From the west? They always had a certain uh¡­ liveliness to them.¡± ¡°They were fun,¡± says Shamrock, perhaps just wanting to say something. Breakfast is canceled today, past a few ready-made things that they could pull out of the kitchen and eat. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that because of the mountain-crystals though?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°This little fuck is nothing but stuffing and mold.¡± ¡°Maybe the mold is magical?¡± suggests Basil. Jubilee glares at her. ¡°That¡¯s the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever heard and I think less of you as a person for having said it.¡± ¡°Sounds like someone needs a hug,¡± suggests Basil, taking another sip of her tea and nodding to Fresh. Fresh nods back and sets the bear down. The two of them watch as it makes its next approach towards Jubilee. ¡°It sure does like you,¡± says the priestess. ¡°It¡¯s Jubilee¡¯s bear, after all,¡± says Fresh. Basil smiles. ¡°It¡¯s cute that a grump like you has a teddy-bear,¡± she says. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had such a delicate side, Jubilee.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for it and I left it behind to be burnt,¡± says Jubilee, making a point out of it as they cross their arms. The bear walks across the table towards them, standing at the edge. It lifts its one good arm open towards them, like a child hoping to be picked up. ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± complains Fresh. ¡°Think about how hard it worked to find you!¡± she says, staring at the thing. Not only must the creature somehow have managed to escape their house in the north unscathed, but it also managed to leave the city, wander through the forest, perhaps straight towards the west and then, after their departure, straight towards the east. Since that day, it must have been outside in the elements, fighting its way through the storms and the rain to get back to its owner. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m thinking about,¡± says Jubilee. They reach across the table, grabbing the fruit bowl. Haphazardly, they turn it over, throwing all the fruits down as they shove the bear back and trap it beneath the upside-down bowl. ¡°Jubilee!¡± complains Fresh. Jubilee slams both of their open palms against the table. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it, you idiots?!¡± shouts Jubilee, looking at the three of them. They lift a finger, pointing at the trapped bear. ¡°If this fucky thing managed to find us, then how do we know someone else can¡¯t?¡± they ask. Fresh and Basil look at each other, apparently only now realizing this. ¡°How do we know this is even your magic?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°What if somebody looted it from the north, enchanted it with some kind of scrying spell and is using it to track us?!¡± asks Jubilee. Basil sets down her tea-cup, looking over to Shamrock now instead of Fresh. The two of them nod, having come to an unspoken understanding. ¡°I¡¯ll get the oven ready,¡± says Basil, getting up and sliding her chair away. Fresh blinks. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for breakfast anymore, Basil,¡± she says, watching as the priestess throws some wood into the metal stove, looking around for the fire-starter. Basil shakes her head. ¡°We need to destroy it,¡± she explains. ¡°What?¡± ¡°The bear,¡± says Basil. ¡°It has to go. If Jubilee¡¯s suspicion is right, this could be dangerous,¡± says the priestess. Fresh¡¯s eyes widen in horror as she looks at the little, trapped bear that had undergone a greater adventure than any of them to find its home and now, having finally arrived, it will get its reward. Basil strikes the fire-starter together, igniting a small blaze inside of the oven. Fresh jumps up to her feet, placing her hands on the table as her chair slides back. ¡°You can¡¯t!¡± she says, horrified. ¡°You can¡¯t just kill it!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not alive,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Look at it!¡± argues Fresh, pointing at the bear that is trying to lift up the bowl, but unable to as the glass thing is far too heavy for it to even budge. ¡°It¡¯s wrong!¡± Basil obliges and watches the bear for a while. The sad expression that is already painted on her face stays just the same, before she turns to look at Fresh. ¡°This is one of those times,¡± she says. ¡°Remember what we talked about? Back when we arrived here in the east?¡± ¡°It¡¯s innocent!¡± argues Fresh, starting to walk around the table. ¡°We can¡¯t j -¡± A large hand grabs her shoulder from the side. She turns her head to look at Shamrock who is stopping her from leaving. ¡°- So was the hero,¡± says Basil. ¡°But you did what you had to do.¡± The blood leaves Fresh¡¯s face. ¡°Shamrock! Let me go!¡± argues Fresh. Shamrock does not let her go, simply shaking his head once. ¡°That¡¯s such a horrible thing to say!¡± yells Fresh at Basil, feeling her eyes become wet. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do that!¡± she argues. ¡°JUBILEE!¡± she yells, crying now. Jubilee doesn¡¯t respond, sitting there with crossed arms. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this,¡± says Basil, walking towards the table with a hurt expression on her face. ¡°You know that I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t forgive you!¡± yells Fresh, trying to fight her way out of Shamrock¡¯s grip. ¡°Or you!¡± she yells back at him, crying. ¡°Ever!¡± Shamrock is as quiet as always, but now, so is Basil, apart from the emotions present in her throat and eyes that she shares with Fresh, but which she tries to suppress. After standing there quietly for a second, Basil has come to her decision and lifts the glass bowl up, grabbing the bear. ¡°JUBILEE!¡± howls Fresh. ¡°I MADE HIM FOR YOU!¡± she yells, far beyond ugly-crying now, watching as Basil carries the bear away. In that instant, she feels everything that she had felt back then, during that dark night in which she had gifted her companion the bear as a sincere token of her true friendship, fighting through the terrors of her violently shaking heart and resolve to do so. That flood of emotions, that flood of uncertainty, that panic of doing the wrong thing and of being rejected, all of those sensations return to her, but now in a painfully different way. Unlike the first time, now, she is being rejected. This time, she is doing the wrong thing, at least in the eyes of everyone else. Droplets strike against the wood of the table, thudding down as the only other ambient sound present in the room, apart from the crackling of the growing fire in which the bad-thing hisses. The cosmic joke is, however, that the bad-thing is also present in her tears. The bad-thing is everywhere. It has found their home, it has found them. Even after they had gone with a lightning pace away from the north, away from the west, away from the core of the forest where she had felt it last, it has, like the bear, found them and the bad-thing has set a trap. ¡°Basil,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Leave the bear.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t be serious?!¡± yells Basil, clearly upset. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s my bear. Leave it.¡± ¡°This was your idea!¡± ¡°I changed my mind,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Because she cried?!¡± yells the priestess, clearly beyond vexation. ¡°She always cries!¡± she exclaims, pointing at Fresh. Jubilee nods. ¡°You¡¯re crying too.¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m scared!¡± yells Basil. ¡°I want us to be safe!¡± ¡°Understandable. Give me back my bear,¡± repeats Jubilee, tapping against the table. Basil lets out a frustrated half-scream, clutching her hair with one hand. In an instant, she turns around towards the oven and arcs her arm back and Fresh knows that in that time-slowed second, that it¡¯s too late. Jubilee won¡¯t be able to get up in time to stop her and she certainly can¡¯t. Shamrock has chosen his side of the debate and Basil has chosen hers. The bad-thing hisses and Basil¡¯s arm moves. The priestess falls to the ground in front of the oven, hiding her face down in her knees as she breaks down and cries, like any mentally healthy adult would do in the middle of the kitchen, before going to work for the day. As she wraps her arms around her legs, and sits there, Fresh watches as the bear turns around and stares up at Jubilee, who has scooted their chair away. Fresh expects them, it being Jubilee and all, to walk over and snatch the bear away. But instead, Jubilee stops next to Basil and grabs the traumatized priestess from the side in an unexpected hug. The bear joins in, finally reaching Jubilee. His part being done, Shamrock lowers his hand, letting go of her and the two of them look at each other for an emotionally confusing moment, before turning back to look at the unusual scene unfolding before themselves, knowing that right now, neither of them belong to it. Razmatazz On that happy note, NEW STORY! You like Razz''s stories, yes? You want more, yes-yes? Then please check it out and please leave a rating so that I can get enough traction to keep writing for you for free! (Also, I''ll think you''re super cool! x-x) I can only manage to do this stuff at the pace I do it at if people actually find my stuff to read and the main way to become visible is through ratings. Otherwise my stories will have to go the way of TANGO (rip) because I just can''t justify the time investment if nobody ever sees it. Please scratch my back and I will scratch yours with many, many, many particularly scratchy words! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 252: Conflict resolution Basil isn¡¯t talking to her right now. Fresh stands downstairs behind the inside counter, running the store today with the priestess behind her at the window. Shamrock is doing his usual work and Jubilee is upstairs, inspecting and fixing up the bear. It probably won¡¯t get a hug, but at the very least, Jubilee is going to patch it up a little, after checking to make sure that it is entirely ¡®fuckery free¡¯, as they had promised Basil, saying that if they find anything, they¡¯ll destroy the bear themselves. (Fresh) sold: 1 [Sun-dress]{Yellow}(High) for [{49} Obols] ! ¡°Thank you, come again!¡± she calls out to the muscular, battle-scarred orc who is walking away, admiring the dainty, pastel-yellow dress that she had just purchased. Fresh throws the coins into the money-drawer, turning her head back to look at Basil, who is still frigidly looking out of the window, despite there not being anyone there to buy anything right now. Fresh supposes that she understands. She did a very childish thing, crying so loudly about a teddy-bear. Sure, it was ¡®alive¡¯ in the same sense that any of her sheep were and sure, she had made it with clear, loving intent for Jubilee, but by her fit of emotionality this morning, she had once again chosen ¡®the other¡¯ over them in front of Basil and Fresh is starting to feel that the priestess is losing her ability to forgive her for doing so. Perhaps it¡¯s something that can be forgiven once, or maybe even twice. But she¡¯s been doing it so often now, that she can¡¯t help but feel that she has crossed a line that Basil isn¡¯t willing to compromise on anymore. In truth, she hates herself for it too. Of course she would choose Basil over something like the bear in a life or death situation, it isn¡¯t even a contest. But in her stubborn mind, she doesn¡¯t think that the bear is a threat and that destroying it is the ¡®bad choice¡¯ in this situation. But Basil clearly thinks the opposite and she feels that Fresh has, once again, in a life or death situation, chosen someone who isn¡¯t her, who isn¡¯t them. Fresh realizes that maybe she herself is just being selfish? Maybe she just isn¡¯t able to see someone else¡¯s world-view and insists on imposing her own onto them like always, to the point of crying and screaming if she doesn¡¯t get what she wants? In a sense, Fresh can¡¯t help but wonder that if they aren¡¯t all still a big family, if she isn¡¯t the spoiled-rotten brat of it? She finds herself rubbing her arm nervously, not sure if there is a way to make this up at all. The irony isn¡¯t lost on her, that something like her cursing of a paragon of Basil¡¯s faith wasn¡¯t enough to shatter the foundation of her trust, but that a simple teddy-bear would be the thing that set this into motion. The morning had started so nicely as well. ¡°Are we still friends, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, breaking the silence. Basil turns around to look at her, but then looks back away out of the window without saying a word. A series of coins rattle in front of her as a customer comes to set down his assortment of items. ¡°Do you have these in red?¡± he asks, pointing at the swimming-shorts in his hand. Fresh blinks and returns to her work. The day runs on calmly enough. The shop is busy like any other day and the customers come and go like they would on any other day. Eventually, it comes to an end and after they close up the store, Basil simply heads up to the roof and works on her area by herself for the rest of the evening and by the time they go to bed, she lays down entirely wordlessly, not even sparing a breath for a ¡®good night¡¯. Jubilee had fixed up the bear, giving it a pass in regards to magical-safety. But rather than keeping it in their room, they give it to Fresh, saying that ¡®it¡¯s creepy as fuck¡¯. Fresh lays there, holding the bear against herself, feeling it squirm as it tries to get away to go to Jubilee. Not even it wants to stay with her. It feels pretty cold tonight, she notices. Must be the autumn air. The next day comes and runs on just as silently and awkwardly. They don¡¯t have breakfast together anymore, or dinner. Basil is entirely ignoring her and as for Jubilee and Shamrock, there seems to be an uncertainty and awkwardness in the air now, that Fresh just doesn¡¯t know what to do with. It¡¯s like a river that she doesn¡¯t know how to cross, despite being able to see her friends on the other side of it from where she stands. The next day comes. Then the next day and then the next day after that. Soon a week comes to pass, a week that Fresh kind of only exists in a half-aware state in, as she feels like she is walking on egg-shells no matter what she says, what room she enters, who she looks at. It¡¯s like she¡¯s always just waiting for someone to shout at her or slam a door or even hit her, but nobody ever does, obviously. Rumors from the central city begin becoming more abundant. Talk of the mighty hero and of the horrible witch of the north, who had come in the darkness of midnight to try and murder him in his sleep. Apparently, she had taken the hero¡¯s sister, the girl called Peridot, as well, bringing her to some dark cave in the deepest reaches of the south to be eaten, if not tortured and played with for aeons. She has been missing and entirely unseen since that night, so the worst has been assumed. As for the curse that had befallen the hero, no rumors or myths ever seem to come their way, as if it never happened. Only ever stories of a failed murder attempt or of how she was beaten back and embarrassed. One particularly embarrassing story is that she had apparently tried to seduce the hero, but was harshly rebuked because he was a pious, holy man, far above such things, especially coming from a craven old crone such as herself. According to that story, she had broken down at the rejection and flown away, crying as she vanished into the night. So, at least one tiny bit of it was true. Nobody talks about any of this around the dinner table, because Fresh is the only one who sits there, sliding a piece of dry bread around before herself. She hadn¡¯t bothered to use a plate, the bread is just laying on the table. The next day comes. Someone tries to attack Shamrock in the store, calling him a monster. Shamrock throws the man out over the counter, past Basil and Jubilee. The adventurer flies through the window and past the patio, sliding into the wet sand outside. After that, nobody tries anything else. The next day comes. There is talk of an approaching regiment of soldiers from the north who are going to be here any day now. Apparently, they¡¯re already in the desert. It hasn¡¯t gotten better, Fresh lays in her bed, trying to sleep. It¡¯s been over a week now, since the ¡®teddy-bear day¡¯. She hasn¡¯t been brave enough to speak to Basil and the priestess certainly hasn¡¯t made any efforts to talk to her, going out of her way to avoid Fresh and the others by locking herself either up on the roof or in the shower for hours at a time, outside of work. A rattling comes from across the room, from the workshop and she lifts her head, looking at the door. Shamrock¡¯s crafting has been unsuccessful as well, though he won¡¯t talk about it either. The sounds of work become ever louder, but she recognizes the noises as ones born of frustration. Of things being tinkered together and taken apart, being brushed off of the table with the side of an arm. She isn¡¯t feeling brave enough to talk to him either, but she can¡¯t help but think that the man is feeling troubled as well. Perhaps he is trying to come up with something that will be of use to them, but is unable to? Or if he has an idea, perhaps he is simply unable to bring it to reality, not having a class or any abilities to do so with? It makes her feel horrible, but if she had known that it was going to be like this, she would have thrown the bear into the fire herself. Fresh closes her eyes, squeezing the struggling bear tighter. Maybe tomorrow will be the day that everything goes back to normal? Tomorrow comes and everything is the same as it was the day before. Later that coming night, Fresh falls back into bed. ¡°Maybe tomorrow?¡± she mutters to the bear and falls asleep. Tomorrow comes and everything is the same as it was the day before. Later that coming night after that one, Fresh falls back into bed. She opens her mouth to speak, looking at the bear. But tonight, no words come out. She gives up. It¡¯s over. Fresh closes her eyes and starts to fall asleep. ¡°Hey, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, jostling her shoulder. Fresh opens her eyes, looking at Jubilee. She holds her arms out open wide, opening a space in her bed with a quivering lip. Jubilee rolls their eyes, nodding their head to the workshop. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s time. Why are you in bed?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°It¡¯s time for what?¡± Jubilee stares at her, sighing. ¡°Have you been zoning out into your weird fucking dreamland all week?¡± they ask. ¡°Get up. We¡¯re having dinner.¡± ¡°Dinner?¡± Jubilee leans in towards her, lightly flicking her forehead. ¡°Ow!¡± ¡°Dinner,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Bring a blanket, it¡¯s cold on the roof.¡± ¡°The roof?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee stares at her and then sighs, snatching the bear away from her before walking away, shaking their head. She wants to protest, reaching after the bear. But she relents, closing her mouth again as she sees it grab Jubilee¡¯s arm and clinging there. Looking around, confused, Fresh gets up and gets dressed again, grabbing her blanket. Everyone is gone, despite it being their bed-time. Creeping through the upstairs, she heads towards the workshop and looks at the open hatch. She hasn¡¯t dared even go near it, for fear of Basil proverbially biting her head off if she even attempted to make an approach. Gulping, she closes the door behind herself and heads up the ladder. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Basil¡¯s voice. ¡°I spent ten minutes arguing with him about the price of a third ball of ice-cream,¡± she sighs. ¡°That¡¯s why I don¡¯t work the window,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Can you even reach it?¡± quips Basil. ¡°Probably after I throw you off of the roof and stand on your fat head I can,¡± replies Jubilee. Confused, Fresh looks out of the hatch at the sight of the new roof. She had been locked inside for so many days that she hadn¡¯t even seen the house from the outside. But the roof, once an entirely flat, loveless stone surface has been transformed into something verdant and beautiful. All around the edge of the roof is a waist high stone wall, encapsulating the rows of standing wooden poles and troughs, covered in already growing vines and ferns. Sprouts jut out of the many wooden basins and she¡¯s sure she can hear water running somewhere, but she wouldn¡¯t have the faintest idea where. Here, by the hatch, the wall is higher and a pavilion is strung over, covering over a round table, adorned with four chairs, two of which are full with Basil and Jubilee. The air smells strong of savory, pleasantly greasy food. A hand grabs her from the side and pulls her up, Fresh yelps in surprise, noticing that she¡¯s being carried over to the table. ¡°Hi, Shamrock,¡± she says. ¡°Hi,¡± says Shamrock, setting her down on the chair next to Basil and walking back. The two of them look at each other for a moment and then both of them look away. ¡°Oh no you fucking don¡¯t!¡± says Jubilee¡¯s voice from the side, snapping their fingers. Fresh turns her head, looking at them. Jubilee has their mask off as the wall here is high enough to hide them from the world. ¡°We¡¯re putting an end to this,¡± they say, glaring at the two of them, tapping a finger against the table. ¡°Now.¡± Fresh blinks, looking around at the table. It¡¯s covered in only the streetiest of street-foods. Fried meats and fish and breads and sweets and salty things. There isn¡¯t a hint of a vegetable or anything home-cooked anywhere to be found. ¡°Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee, snapping their fingers. ¡°Say ¡®please¡¯,¡± says the giant, turning his head around. Fresh hears the sound of water again and turns her head around to locate the source. Set against the tall segment of wall by the hatch are four large kegs on a stand. ¡°Fucking please,¡± sighs Jubilee, rolling their eyes and leaning back over their chair with one arm. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake.¡± Shamrock pushes the kegs to the side, setting the stack on top of the hatch and preventing it from being opened again. He comes back, setting a large, glass stein down in front of her, filled with what is undeniably very foamy beer. The next one thuds down next to Basil and then Shamrock goes back and gets two more, setting one down by Jubilee before taking his place at the table. ¡°What¡¯s all this, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re playing a game,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You two are gonna love it.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°See those?¡± asks Jubilee, pointing at the stack of small kegs behind her. ¡°Yeah?¡± says Fresh, nodding. ¡°The game is that nobody is leaving this roof until all of those are empty,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Fun!¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°I don¡¯t dri -¡± ¡°- You do now!¡± barks Jubilee, interrupting the priestess as they slide the large, glass stein closer to her. ¡°If you can¡¯t talk about your bullshit like the children you are,¡± they say, looking at the two of them. ¡°Then we¡¯re going to do it like adults. Drink.¡± Fresh stares at Jubilee, confused. Her eyes wander around the table towards Shamrock who stares their way just as expectantly as the former, before her gaze passes over Basil, who is fumbling around with her sleeve. Finally, her gaze lands down at the reflection present before herself. Looking at the girl in the reflection inside of the stein, she watches as she nods once to herself. Fresh lifts the mug and presses it to her lips. She can¡¯t really say that she likes the taste, as it is far more bitter than what she is used to. But, that being said, this is a small sacrifice to make if it means that things have a chance of going back to the way they belong. She clenches her free fist down beneath the table tightly shut, pressing her eyes shut as she continues to drink her way down through the bitterness. Then, nearing the bottom, her stomach feeling very full already, Fresh hears the priestess next to her following the good example set by the party-leader. Razmatazz Let''s just hope that nobody does anything regrettable while their inhibitions are lowered. *Closet door swings open ominously all by itself* *Kicks it back closed with the back of his foot without turning around* Everything is going to be fine! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 253: Communal ¡°JUBILEE!¡± yells Fresh, doing ¡®the dance¡¯. ¡°I have to use the bathroooom!¡± she howls. ¡°Keg¡¯s still full,¡± says Jubilee, knocking on the second keg down that hasn¡¯t even been opened yet. The first one, they had emptied through the four of themselves together. It was enough for each of them to have two steins-full. She isn¡¯t sure about the others, but she¡¯s definitely feeling¡­ something. But right now, that feeling is overwhelmed by the more important biological function at hand. ¡°I think there¡¯s a bucket back there,¡± says Jubilee, pointing off to the other side of the darkened roof. ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± cries Fresh in distress, not wanting to use a bucket Fifteen minutes after that, Fresh sits at the table, opting to not talk about what just happened and the four of them essentially gorge themselves on street-food. Usually, Fresh would insist that they eat something healthy and nourishing and especially something homemade, first and foremost. But something about this occasion warrants this kind of food. It belongs to the moment, as much as the stars do to the night. Fresh feels the world move just a little. She¡¯s never really had much alcohol ever in any of her existences, so to say that she is a little overwhelmed by the feeling is somewhat of an understatement. She does her best to fight down the ¡®sea sickness¡¯ by coating her insides with greasy, battered and fried foods. It really does work surprisingly well. As for Basil, the priestess seems to be sharing the same strategy as herself. They still haven¡¯t really talked, but after sitting next to each other for a while, the tenseness in her shoulders seems to droop. But Fresh still feels a strange pull inside of her chest and finds her eyes darting over the table now and then to look at the others, at their expressions, at their plates, at their mugs. Jubilee and Shamrock seem to be enjoying themselves, the two of them are engaged in a very one-sided conversation about the dungeon. ¡°Can you pass those long stick-things?¡± asks Basil. Fresh blinks, turning her head. ¡°Please?¡± She nods, handing the basket over to her, a piece of fried fish still in her own mouth. Fresh looks down at her cup, swallowing the rest of the fish and picking it up. The taste doesn¡¯t get any better, but she does like how warm she feels from drinking it. Fifteen minutes after that, Fresh scoots her feet nervously around beneath the table in place of twiddling her fingers. The second keg has been opened. ¡°Anyways, what the fuck was her problem to begin with?¡± asks Jubilee. Three pairs of eyes turn Fresh¡¯s way. Fresh takes a large drink of her beer, buying herself a few seconds. Eventually, she has to breathe though and she lowers the cup, foam still sticking to her lips. ¡°I think she just really liked the potions,¡± she says, uneasily. ¡°No fucking way!¡± says Jubilee, leaning in over the table, clearly affected as well. Fresh hadn¡¯t thought about it, but Jubilee is pretty small and doesn¡¯t look like they have a lot of fat on their body. They probably get inebriated much quicker than even inexperienced drinkers like Basil and herself. As for Shamrock¡­ well, she has no idea. He¡¯s just being Shamrock right now. The man simply takes turns shoving food into his helmet and gazing up at the night-sky. ¡°She had to have some kind of weird addiction or something!¡± they say. ¡°Nobody else went that crazy for them.¡± Basil leans in, crossing her hands together and resting her chin on them. ¡°Maybe she really did just like the potions?¡± ¡°I doubt it. They tasted like ass,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°Hey!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I made those with a lot of love!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Yeah, I saw you sitting on the floor, tearing those mushroom-caps apart with your bare hands, like some kind of grody street-urchin.¡± ¡°Sometimes you have to use your hands!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Ain¡¯t that the truth?¡± quips Jubilee. Fresh blinks. ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee laughs, hitting their fist against the table, rattling the plates. Basil does her best to push down a laugh too, but not entirely succeeding. Fresh and Shamrock exchange a look and pass each other the respective bowls of food on their sides of the table as a trade. Fifteen minutes after that, keg number two is about empty. Fresh is fighting for her life to drink her fourth stein. But she¡¯s noticing that¡­ something is off. ¡°BUCKET!¡± she yells, jumping to her feet. Jubilee holds their arm out, blocking her. ¡°Bucket¡¯s occupied, dummy.¡± ¡°Baaaasil~!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°Hurry up!¡± Fifteen minutes after that, the four of them sit around the table again. ¡°It was so weird!¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡­ uh¡­¡± she blinks, looking around as she loses track of her own story. ¡°I cried so much when I saw the necklace was gone!¡± she explains. ¡°She tore the fucking house apart,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Should have seen it,¡± they say, nodding to Basil. ¡°I was so scared you guys found it!¡± says Fresh, grabbing Basil without thinking about it. ¡°It was really bad!¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Basil. ¡°That would have been very unfortunate,¡± she says, thinking. ¡°It was for the rat,¡± says Jubilee. Fifteen minutes pass after that. ¡°Shamrooock~!¡± howls Fresh, rubbing her face against the man¡¯s arm. He turns his head, looking at her. ¡°You were so cool! Back wh-¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± asks Basil. Fresh turns her head. ¡°It means he was really awesome!¡± ¡°Oh. What an odd way to say it.¡± ¡°Probably some other-world bullshit,¡± says Jubilee. This causes Basil to go even deeper into her drunken thoughts. The priestess shivers, holding her arms around herself as the night chill has begun to set in, the desert heat having left for the day. Fresh blinks, clearing her throat noisily. ¡°I was sure I was going to die and then you were all like -¡± Fresh narrows her eyes, lowering her voice to a gruff growl. ¡°¡®I kill monsters¡¯¡± she says. ¡°You should have seen it, guys!¡± she says, looking at the others. ¡°He fought the golem with just his hands for a while too!¡± ¡°Excuuuuse me. I was too busy fighting vampires to watch the show,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes and swaying in their chair. ¡°I couldn¡¯t get past th-the-the line,¡± stutters Basil. ¡°But I thought that you were really impress-ess-essive too, Shamrock!¡± she says, oddly excited. The man gives them all a thumbs-up and nods. ¡°Sometimes, you have to use your hands.¡± Jubilee and Basil howl, falling off of their chairs. Fifteen minutes pass. Keg three has been opened. Fresh stands behind Basil¡¯s chair, having wrapped her blanket around them both. ¡°You¡¯re really warm,¡± remarks Basil, an odd lull and pause between her words. ¡°I know!¡± exclaims Fresh excitedly, wrapping her arms more tightly around the priestess as she presses her face into the side of her neck. ¡°I feel like it¡¯s summer again,¡± she says. The two of them look over to Jubilee and Shamrock who are having an arm-wrestling competition. ¡°I¡¯m s- sorry about the bear,¡± says Basil quietly. Fresh bites her. ¡°OW!¡± yelps Basil. ¡°Sorry,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m s-s-orry about being dumb and stupid and selfish and dumb and -IOW!¡± yelps Fresh. Pulling back as she gets bitten in return. ¡°You bit me!¡± ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± says Basil. ¡°You had it coming.¡± ¡°Are we¡­ uh¡­ are we friends again, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. Basil turns her head. ¡°We never stopped.¡± ¡°It sure felt like it -IOW!¡± she rubs the spot. ¡°What was that for?¡± ¡°I just wanted to do that,¡± says Basil, wobbling up to her feet. ¡°Bucket.¡± ¡°Bucket?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Bucket,¡± says Basil. ¡°Bye Bas¡­ Bas¡­ Basil!¡± says Fresh, squinting her eyes tightly shut for a moment before opening them wide. The world feels pretty wobbly. She feels like a slime in an earthquake. Taking her chance, she gets up and goes over to Jubilee and Shamrock. ¡°You can do it!¡± she cheers, cheering for both of them at the same time. To her surprise, Jubilee and Shamrock seem to have a pretty decent matching as neither of them have really lost ground yet. She¡¯d be sure that in a normal case, Shamrock would win a contest of strength like this easily. But maybe the alcohol is having an unusual effect on him, given his ¡®personal situation¡¯. Fresh looks down, her eyes going wide as she sees an exposed cut of Jubilee¡¯s mid-riff, where their shirt had hiked up a bit. ¡°Jubileeeeee~!¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, gritting their teeth and turning their head towards her. ¡°You¡¯re JACKED!¡± yells Fresh, looking at an exposed, very visible part of Jubilee¡¯s stomach and poking it. Jubilee swipes her hand away with their free one. ¡°Hey! Personal space!¡± they bark, returning their gaze to Shamrock. ¡°What the fuck is a jack?¡± ¡°No, I mean¡­¡± Fresh blinks, feeling the world quake at her feet. ¡°I mean¡­¡± she blinks. ¡°BUCKET!¡± Fresh runs off into the night, heading towards the communal bucket. ¡°Basil~! Hurry up!¡± Fifteen minutes pass. Shamrock and Jubilee had a stalemate and are now taking a short break to drink more before trying again. Basil and Fresh meanwhile have compiled a devious plot to both bite one of Jubilee¡¯s long, almost elf-like ears at the same time and quietly make their approach from the side. Fifteen minutes pass and then fifteen minutes more. It¡¯s surprising how quick this has all gone, really. Keg four has been opened. But at this point, Fresh is fighting for her life to even stay ¡®awake¡¯, let alone drink any more. The arm-wrestling competition had to be canceled. Jubilee and Shamrock broke the table. One of the legs on their side of it had given way from their wrongly applied pressure after Fresh and Basil¡¯s attack. The last of the food wasn¡¯t very salvageable, but the steins were. None of them drink anymore though, having been beaten by keg number four. ¡°Shhhh-amrock!¡± says Fresh, looking back behind herself at the metal helmet which looks down her way. Surprisingly, she is one of the last ones awake, together with him. Though, ¡®awake¡¯ is a generous term. ¡°Shamrock!¡± she says again, laughing. ¡°Sham- Sham- Sham- Shamrock!¡± Basil and Jubilee stir. Shamrock sits with his back against the wall and she is sitting with her back against his chest. Basil half-lays leaned back against her chest with Fresh¡¯s arms around her front and Jubilee lays in front of her, being held in turn by the priestess. The blue blanket is awkwardly draped around all of them as well as was possible. She finally got her lap-stack. Sort of. ¡°Yes?¡± asks the man. Fresh starts laughing, bonking her head against his breastplate. ¡°Shammy~!¡± ¡°Shamrock,¡± he corrects. ¡°Shamalama~ lama~ lam!¡± ¡°Shamrock,¡± says the man. ¡°Shamilee!¡° He shakes his head. ¡°Shamrock.¡± ¡°Shamil?¡± she suggests, grabbing his arm and pulling it around herself. ¡°Shamrock.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ Shresh?¡± she asks, nesting herself in against his metal body. ¡°It¡¯s Shamrock.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you¡­¡± Fresh feels her body trembling as a random chill runs through her. Any warmth that she felt before, brought on by the alcohol, has now turned into a deep, saddening cold feeling that is thankfully held at bay by the compensating warmth of her friends. ¡°Don¡¯t you¡­¡± she blinks. ¡°Feel, uh, it?¡± He shakes his head, tapping against his chest twice with his free hand. Fresh nods, understanding. ¡°Can I?¡± she asks, lifting a hand up towards his visor, brushing the edges of the rough, battle-scarred metal, wanting to at the very least reach inside of it to touch him. ¡°Inadvisable,¡± he says, softly grabbing her hand and setting it back down. She frowns, but she understands the danger. ¡°Shampoo!¡± Fresh laughs, pressing her face against his armor, sure that she is about to sleep now. It isn¡¯t a decision or a choice, she just knows that it¡¯s something that her body has decided to do entirely without her consent in the matter. ¡°Shamrock,¡± is all that he says. ¡°Because I¡¯m lucky.¡± Perhaps seeing that the situation has been dealt with, or perhaps seeing that the night has now certainly come to an end, Shamrock slowly rises to his feet. Fresh will never quite understand how he did it, as she only feels herself being carried with her eyes closed, but in the next instance of clear wakefulness that she finds herself in for only a brief second, she finds her boots taken off and herself lying in bed together with all of the others, Shamrock included, as he has moved his bed their way. Basil is laying there, biting Jubilee in her sleep oddly enough. But Jubilee just seems to be knocked out and doesn¡¯t notice a thing, their head resting on Fresh¡¯s shoulder. Wiggling her head to the side, she presses her ear to the suit of armor and listens to the noise coming from inside of it as she falls back to sleep. Oddly enough, that night, she dreams about buckets. Razmatazz -) I''d say that everything went pretty well, all things considered! =) Trivia - Beer and drinking We¡¯ve talked about alcohol before in a few different trivias as you might recall. Let¡¯s talk about it a little more. There are lots of interesting stories here that can get super wild in some cultures. Do you know where the English word ¡®alcohol¡¯ actually comes from? The term stems back to ancient Arabic and derives its roots from the phrase ¡®al-kuhl¡¯ which means as much as ¡®body eating spirit¡¯. Pretty gnarly, right? Funny enough, the English word ¡®ghoul¡¯, like the undead kind, finds its roots here too. Can you hear it? ¡®Al-kuhl¡¯ / ¡®ghoul¡¯. There¡¯s something to be said there for one of the perceived states that one might arrive in after drinking too much. Anyways, alcohol has a mythology as long and large as recorded history itself. Every advanced ancient culture, EVERY one that we have records of have some mythology regarding drinking. The Sumerians, the Greeks, the Babylonians, the Egyptians, the Aztecs, there isn¡¯t a single exception of a notable antique society. There is certainly something to be said here, no? There is some argumentation that many of these societies developed solely through the ability to produce alcohol, both the use of as well as the mental states offered by it. (As well as ample use of psychedelic states. But we¡¯ll talk about things like the old Norse culture¡¯s affinity for magic mushrooms, the Hindu culture¡¯s Soma or the greek¡¯s Eleusinian mysteries another day. That¡¯s a loaded trivia for sure.) Beer and wine are the big ones here. Though, beer is perhaps the more ¡®notable¡¯ one, especially if we¡¯re focusing on the Germanic region of the world, that this story finds its deepest roots in. Though, just as a side-note, my favorite drinking ¡®god¡¯ is the ancient Aztec ¡®Centzon-Totochtin¡¯, who is literally, and I can not emphasize this enough, four-hundred drunken rabbits who come together as a single god-like entity. He¡¯s a hive-mind of 400 drunk bunnies and I think that¡¯s great. So, returning back to our topic at hand. Remember our ¡®friendship¡¯ trivia, from back in the day? When we talked about the story of Gilgamesh and his super dude-bro, Endiku? Well, in tablet II of the Epic of Gilgamesh (Sequels are really always worse, aren¡¯t they?) Endiku, who was being kind of a dick, is confronted by a prostitute named Shamhat. She tells him to get his shit together and to help with that, Shamat gave him a ton of bread to eat and an even larger amount of beer to drink. After drinking SEVEN jugs of it, Endiku became human and stopped being a huge dick for a while. (Note, these were ancient Sumerian jugs. They were pretty big.) Is there something to be said here? Perhaps, somewhere. But I lost track along the way because I ramble. The point is that alcohol can be a useful tool to help smooth things over. Anyways! That has been our trivia for the day. Thanks for reading! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 254: Slice of egg-toast Fresh sits at the table with a shaking hand, shoveling another spoonful of ice-cream into her mouth. The sweetness distracts her from the pounding in her head and the incredibly dry sensation of her brain, which feels far more crunchy than how she feels a brain should be, under ideal circumstances. She had half-expected Jubilee to scold her for eating garbage for breakfast, but Jubilee is too busy laying with their head pressed sideways against the table, a bottle of water held against their forehead and groaning. Swallowing the mouthful of sweet-bean ice-cream, Fresh turns her head, looking at Basil who is sitting on the floor by the balcony, still in her robe from last night, her head and arms hanging limply at her side, as if she were a marionette, laid down by its owner who had become bored of it. Fresh scoops the spoon back into the bucket of ice-cream, getting another mouthful. Fresh¡¯s eyes go wide as a large hand reaches in, taking the spoon from her. ¡°Hey!¡± Shamrock shakes his head, carrying the ice-cream and the spoon away, coming back a second later with a slice of toast with a fried egg on it. Fresh frowns. ¡°I wanted ice-cream.¡± He nudges the plate her way. ¡°No.¡± Fresh groans, leaning back against her chair and away from the food. Shamrock walks over to Jubilee, poking their forehead with his finger. ¡°Fuck off.¡± ¡°Drink.¡± ¡°Fuck oooooff,¡± groans Jubilee. ¡°Drink,¡± repeats Shamrock, poking them again. Jubilee lets out the saddest sound that Fresh is sure she has ever heard, as they sit back upright and stare at the bottle of water they had been clutching, but haven¡¯t opened for half an hour now. Shamrock, seeing that this situation was handled, heads over to the corpse that is Basil. ¡°Shower.¡± ¡°Go away, Shamrock,¡± says Basil, moaning. ¡°Shower,¡± he repeats, lifting her up. Basil yells in surprise, squinting her eyes as she is hoisted into the air, as if she were so dizzy that she wasn¡¯t able to properly process this new movement. ¡°IAH! Shamrock!¡± she complains, having the strength to utter protest, but not act it out. ¡°Shower,¡± is all that he says. Fresh watches as Shamrock walks out the door to the stairs with Basil, who is slung over his shoulder like a dead body. A minute later, he comes back upstairs, dusting his hands. Fresh notices that he has some difficulty with the motion. He seems to be staring down at his own hands, watching himself do it. His gaze rises back up to the table. Fresh turns to Jubilee, who just shrugs and opens their water bottle, taking a drink. Fighting the urge to die, Fresh looks down at the single slice of toast and egg, not sure if she has it in herself to eat something like this right now. ¡°I guess we¡¯re not going to run the store today?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What the fuck is your problem?!¡± barks Jubilee, wincing at their own loud tone a second later. Fresh blinks, confused, thinking that they¡¯re yelling at her. But she realizes a second later that they were looking at Shamrock, who has made his way back to the kitchen and is now washing the dishes from last night. He turns his head, looking at them, before turning back to his work without another word. ¡°Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t be mean to¡­¡± She shakes her head, feeling the world wobble for a moment. ¡°- Shamrock,¡± she finishes. ¡°Shut up and eat your egg,¡± replies Jubilee, holding their head in their palms. Fresh groans. The rest of the day essentially goes on like this. The two of them sit at the table while Shamrock takes over the brunt of the work. Basil is missing, apparently having decided to live her newest life inside of the shower. ¡°Just make a sign that says we¡¯re closed, shit-head,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°No. You,¡± replies Shamrock. Jubilee lets out a frustrated sigh. ¡°Come on, Shamrock,¡± they groan. Shamrock shakes his head, slapping down some paper and a pen in front of Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t be mean to Shamrock. He¡¯s being really nice.¡± ¡°Eat your fucking egg!¡± yells Jubilee at her. Fresh looks down at the single slice of toast and egg that are still there, having long since become cold and soggy now. Hearing a scratching sound, she lifts her head, watching as Jubilee writes a ¡®we¡¯re closed, fuck off¡¯ sign for Shamrock to hang up downstairs. The man stands there, watching with a tilted head and an observant eye. They finish the note and Jubilee¡¯s head falls back down to the table. Shamrock, taking the paper, walks past her on his way down and Fresh grabs his arm, stopping him. She beckons for him to come closer. ¡°I¡¯ll help you tomorrow,¡± she says quietly into his ear. Shamrock nods and goes on his way. The thing is, Shamrock doesn¡¯t know how to write. Sort of. Fresh had always assumed as much, but she¡¯s never really had the evidence until now. It makes sense though, she had seen more than once how he had to mess with his hands to get them to sit right when making some new gestures, she bets it''s hard for him to hold something small like a pen. ¡°Can you check on Basil, please?¡± she calls after him. ¡°Fuck Basil,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Let the water take her. It¡¯s for the best.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°Eat your egg!¡± Fresh looks down at her egg and breaks down into tears like a rational adult. An hour later, Fresh has managed to drag herself out onto the balcony and is laying on a lounge chair under an umbrella, in the hopes that the sunlight will restore life into her body. But, according to Jubilee, it was just something she¡¯d have to wait out until tomorrow. So she¡¯s doing exactly that now, her legs out in the sun with her upper body in the shadow of the umbrella, a bottle of coconut water at her side. Basil, who had to be forced to get into the shower, had to be forced to get out of it as well. But now she is back at the balcony, sitting on the floor of the doorway where she was before. The only difference is that she¡¯s clean now. Basil exhales, sighing loudly as Jubilee walks past her, coming out of their room, shuffling like a zombie towards the cooling cabinet to get something to drink. On their way back, Basil reaches out and grabs them, stopping their exit. Jubilee sighs just as loudly, not having the energy to fight and just sits down next to her. The two of them sigh a second time each, now in unison. ¡°You guys should get some sunlight, it feels great,¡± says Fresh. She expects to get told to eat her egg, which she has still neglected to do, covering her breakfast with an upside-down bowl. But instead, the two of them just groan at her. She watches, tilting her head, perplexed as Basil rests her head down sideways on top of Jubilee¡¯s and just lets out a long breath as she holds them. Fresh scratches her cheek. Everyone sure has gotten touchy lately. Not that she minds. She just feels a little left out. Oh well, it¡¯s nice here too. She turns back towards the blue sky that is visible beyond the rim of the umbrella, wiggling her toes towards the sun as an act of defiance and she takes another drink of her coconut-water. Later that day, having gotten hungry after all, Fresh rummages around the downstairs, digging through the snack cabinets. She had had enough of the sun and it has managed to stay relatively cool downstairs. So here she is, down in the dark room downstairs, eating the merchandise. Sure, she isn¡¯t allowed to eat these snacks, since these are the ones ready for sale. But that¡¯s why they taste better than the ones they have upstairs. There¡¯s something about the packaging, the price label, the barely tangible difference in temperatures between this cooling cabinet and the one upstairs that makes it all taste different. The downstairs snacks are better. Fresh crunches down on the forbidden crab chip, listening to the crunch echo out around her. ¡°Are you down here?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh bolts, quickly hiding behind a shelf, taking the bag of crab-chips with her. ¡°You better not be eating the merchandise!¡± yells Jubilee, their voice echoing around the darkened store as they walk down the first aisle. Fresh quietly scuttles away, tip-toeing around to the last aisle, as she hears them coming towards the snack cabinet. ¡°There¡¯s something missing here!¡± barks Jubilee. Rising to the tips of her toes, she looks over the shelves and sees the door of the cooling cabinet open. This is her chance to escape. Fresh, sneaking as fast as she can, makes a break for the door. She¡¯s just going to hustle upstairs and pretend that she had been there the entire time. Truly, a devious plot. She can¡¯t help but smile at her own wickedness as she makes her way to the door. She stops, looking at Shamrock who is standing there, blocking the way. Her eyes go wide and she hurriedly points back over her shoulder, towards where Jubilee is, making a begging motion with her hands a second later. He shakes his head and, to her horror, lifts the plate up with the egg and the piece of the toast from this morning that she still hasn¡¯t eaten. She recoils, knowing that she has to make a choice now. With shaking eyes, she looks at the egg and then down to the bag of crab chips in her hands. There¡¯s only a few seconds left before Jubilee sees them. She has to act now. Understanding the man¡¯s deal, she nods, doing her best not to cry. She hands him her bounty and takes the plate with the egg, scooting past him and up the stairs as he heads out into the store. ¡°Shamrock! You greasy fuck!¡± yells Jubilee the second she passes around the corner. ¡°I should have known it was you!¡± they bark. Fresh hurries up and away, listening as Shamrock takes the verbal beating that was meant for her. In recognition of his sacrifice, she closes her eyes and bites into the egg-toast, opening her eyes a second later as she smacks her lips. ¡°It would have been better warm¡­¡± she mutters to herself. Razmatazz -) There''s a lesson in here somewhere -) The title is a play on the chapter title from the north, ''slice of toast'' which was already a play on ''slice of life''. The saga continues Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 255: A change of pace ¡°The sun-burn lotion needs to be restocked,¡± says Fresh, scribbling into a small journal that they use for keeping track of the inventory. ¡°Next!¡± she calls, nodding. Shamrock obliges, pushing the shopping cart that she¡¯s sitting inside of further along the shelves. Fresh stares out from side to side. ¡°Ah! Hold on,¡± she says, looking at the bracelets. ¡°We¡¯re running out of green-beads. Those are really popular here,¡± remarks Fresh, making another scribble. ¡°See?¡± she asks, pointing at the first word. ¡°That¡¯s ¡®green¡¯.¡± Shamrock nods. It is late in the afternoon, they¡¯re still open, but business has slowed down a little so Fresh wants to take the opportunity to get their evening work done with quickly, in the hopes that she has a little more free time to spend with Shamrock in order to teach him what she knows about writing, which isn¡¯t a lot. She also wants to ask Basil to teach her something as well. ¡°Left,¡± calls Fresh and Shamrock turns the cart down the clothing aisle. ¡°You¡¯d look great in a swim-suit, Shamrock!¡± jokes Fresh, turning her head upside down to look at him. She realizes a second later that that might have been rude, given the circumstances. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean anything bad.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have the legs for it,¡± replies Shamrock and Fresh laughs, getting a mean look from Jubilee who refrains from telling them to stop goofing off and to get back to work, as it appears that both of them already know that. Jubilee really has an eye for colorful clothes though. Fresh hadn¡¯t really thought about it so much, apart from being shocked by Jubilee¡¯s rise in crafting-quality once, but back in the north, when they had first opened their store, Jubilee had to be persuaded to make even the most simple and drab fabric bags. Now, here they were, having filled an entire shelf with the most colorful and also uh - Fresh blinks. - ¡®Imaginative¡¯ swim-wear, dresses and such articles imaginable. Fresh lifts a pale-red towel off of the shelf and just feels the fabric for a moment, admiring how soft it is. The two of them go past the counter. Fresh waves to Jubilee and Basil from the cart together with Shamrock. Basil waves back, laughing. Jubilee rolls their eyes. Rounding the corner, they head into Shamrock¡¯s aisle. The man has certainly been busy, heading off into the dungeon at all hours to find more items. But there isn¡¯t anything here that is his, in the sense that it came from his hands. Sure, everything here came from his efforts, some of which were more than likely considerable in their magnitude, but Fresh thinks it¡¯s important that everyone has a way to express themselves by the act of creation. There¡¯s something grounding about the act of creating a thing and there is certainly something about the results of the process which act as a spiritual foundation, for when the bad-thing comes. ¡°You having trouble, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Coming up with an idea?¡± He shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m not good at it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what Jubilee said too,¡± says Fresh. ¡°But they got good at crafting too!¡± ¡°No,¡± says Shamrock, tapping his head. ¡°I¡¯m not good at it,¡± he repeats. Fresh looks at him for a moment, but then she understands. He isn¡¯t referring to the act of crafting, which might be hard enough as he often has difficulty with some motions of his hands, especially delicate ones, but rather he is referring to the act of coming up with ideas for items. Fresh turns around and stands up in the cart, pressing her face against his helmet and poking his chest. ¡°You are. Don¡¯t say that!¡± says Fresh, feeling the gust of air push out of his helmet. ¡°Your little slimes were really great!¡± she says excitedly, but quietly. The store is empty, but just to be sure. Shamrock says nothing, taking a step back and holding the cart out at arm¡¯s length. Fresh purses her lips, leaning over far too far to keep the cart balanced, but places her hands on his shoulders, despite how far away he is. ¡°It¡¯s not about a great idea, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Or about making money. It¡¯s about killing monsters,¡± she says, a metal thud ringing out twice as she knocks against the spot above his heart. ¡°You know what I mean?¡± He nods. She nods back, satisfied. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s finish up so we have some time later!¡± The rest of the afternoon comes to an end, with the only exciting moment being the great ice-cream caper. On their way back around the counter, Basil had to go to great lengths to sneak them a small ice-cream away from Jubilee¡¯s watchful eyes. Fresh takes it, nodding once to seal a debt that she will never be able to repay. She and Shamrock scoot around the aisles once more, eating their prize in secret. Later that evening, she and Shamrock sit outside on the balcony by themselves. She doesn¡¯t think that he¡¯s shy, but still, she closed the balcony door so that the two of them can work in private. Sure, Basil would certainly be a better instructor than her, without a doubt. But this is something that she wants to do together with him. She feels like there won¡¯t be any inhibitions if he learns from some ¡®knuckle-dragger¡¯ like herself, as Jubilee would call her. Anyways, it''s not that he doesn''t know how. He just has problems holding his hands right. So the two of them spend a while just practicing the alphabet at first, which is a very surreal experience for Fresh, to say the least. Because, as she stares at the letters that she is writing, she realizes that she herself had never even spent any real time studying them. She had certainly known how to read her old language in her old life, but this new one? She just kind of always knew it. Sort of. Sure, she has problems with longer words sometimes, but that¡¯s about it. Jubilee had already forbidden her from making signs ages ago, because she always spelled things wrong and they said that it ¡®made them look unprofessional¡¯. ¡°Wanna do this again tomorrow?¡± asks Fresh after they stop, as Basil tells them that dinner is ready. The priestess had made it together with Jubilee, which is again, something Fresh wishes she could have watched. Shamrock nods. Later, over dinner, Fresh turns to Basil. ¡°Baaaasil~?¡± she calls across the table. Basil looks at her suspiciously, recognizing the tone. ¡°Yes¡­?¡± ¡°Can you teach me how medicine works?¡± The priestess tilts her head. ¡°Medicine? What kind of medicine?¡± Fresh shrugs in response to the question. ¡°Just medicine.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Jubilee leans in over their plate. ¡°I don¡¯t think you should be making medicine. This seems like a bad idea.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Why? I make food all the time,¡± she counters. Basil and Jubilee exchange an unsure look. ¡°And besides, I made potions before and that was fine and besides-besides, I bet I could make some really good things as a witch!¡± she says, excitedly. As she says the ¡®w¡¯-word, she notices that Basil doesn¡¯t even recoil at it anymore. ¡°I dunno¡­¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Yeah,¡± replies Basil. ¡°You¡¯re getting into my section.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Ah, no!¡± she explains. ¡°I don¡¯t want to make things for the shelves. That¡¯s your corner, Basil,¡± she concedes. ¡°I just want to know how, in-case we ever need anything like that.¡± Basil and Jubilee exchange another look. ¡°Well¡­ okay,¡± says Basil. ¡°But can we do it tomorrow? I¡¯m beat.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Thanks, Basil!¡± ¡°But no fucking moonwater!¡± throws in Jubilee. Fresh puffs out her cheek. ¡°What? Why not? What about moondirt?¡± ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee, dryly. Her finger taps against her cheek. ¡°Moonglass?¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°Why do you insist on just adding the word ¡®moon¡¯ to things?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault, Jubilee!¡± she argues. ¡°Everything is made with moon-stuff, so it has to be called that.¡± ¡°Does it really?¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°It does. It¡¯s the rule!¡± explains Fresh. Jubilee decides to let the topic go and they finish their dinner. Honestly, it¡¯s nice to just have a quiet meal together. Things have been so hectic for so long. There was the whole hero-incident and then their fight and then the party. So, just sitting for a quiet meal with everyone is a real luxury, realizes Fresh. She hopes that things will finally start to relax a little, so that they can all just breathe for a few days. Outside, somewhere off in the distance, a trumpet or a horn of some kind blares loudly, signaling the arrival of a regiment of soldiers, approaching the city just before the break of moonlight. ¡°Fuck,¡± says Jubilee, looking over their shoulder towards the balcony. ¡°They¡¯re here.¡± Razmatazz -) Hello reader, I just wanted you to know that I like you ??uwu -) I still can''t give you any details yet, but the coming Audible audiobook is getting a really exciting S-rank narrator who you might already be familiar with. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 256: Magic words ¡°Hocus pocus!¡± yells Fresh at the crude, stuffed doll she had made, holding her fingers out towards it as ¡®witchily¡¯ as she can. ¡°Ghost-goo!¡± Nothing happens. ¡°Shamalama- lama- lam!¡± Nothing happens. ¡°BUBB -¡± ¡°- WILL YOU SHUT UP?!¡± yells Jubilee from the kitchen. ¡°You¡¯ve been babbling like an idiot for¡­¡± Jubilee stops, holding their hand to their chin. ¡°Well, actually for a few months now.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± They swipe their hand through the air. ¡°But you¡¯ve been doing this all morning!¡± ¡°But Jubileeee~!¡± argues Fresh, clenching her fists. ¡°I have to find out what that one ability is that I took.¡± Jubilee tilts their head. ¡°What?¡± Fresh picks up the doll, lifting its hand to make gestures for her as she explains. ¡°Remember, back when we left the north? I leveled up and everyone saw?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Yeah? That¡¯s literally why we had to leave.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Mm! Well, the thing is, I picked some ability then real fast to get rid of my menu and I still don¡¯t know what it was,¡± she explains. Her friend stares at her for a while, taking a long, noisy sip from the mug of coughee in their hands. ¡°Can¡¯t be important then, can it?¡± they ask. ¡°If you haven¡¯t missed it so far.¡± ¡°But maybe I¡¯ll need it now!¡± she explains. ¡°This could be dangerous, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Are you sure we should open the store today?¡± ¡°You and I both know that we don¡¯t have a choice in the matter,¡± says Jubilee, looking at the mug in their hands. Staring at it for a second, they sigh, and pour all of the contents out into the basin. ¡°Besides, we¡¯ll need the money eventually for something.¡± ¡°What if someone from the north is there?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Someone who recognizes me?¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°That is a reasonable question,¡± they say, wiping their hands off on their sides as they walk towards her. Fresh¡¯s face lights up. This counts as praise, right? Eagerly, she awaits Jubilee¡¯s answer to her worries. Fresh blinks, watching Jubilee walk right past her without saying another word. ¡°Hey!¡± yells Fresh after them, having hoped for more. ¡°Try ¡®abracadabra¡¯,¡± jokes Jubilee. ¡°I heard that¡¯s a good one.¡± Fresh purses her lips, puffing out a cheek in agitation as she looks back to the doll in her hands. Setting it down, she points at it. ¡°Abracadabra!¡± The doll flops over onto its side. Nothing happens. Deciding to let it rest for now, Fresh takes the doll and sets it into Jubilee¡¯s room, next to the teddy-bear that looks up her way. ¡°Try to get along, okay?¡± she asks, heading back out of the room. Still having a little time left, she makes her way up to the roof where Basil had retreated to earlier as well, her patience not having lasted as long as Jubilee¡¯s, surprisingly enough. Quietly looking out of the hatch, Fresh peeks around. ¡°Like this?¡± asks Basil. Shamrock shakes his head. ¡°Harder,¡± he explains, holding his palms out facing forward. ¡°Try again.¡± Basil tilts her head, but then sighs. ¡°Okay.¡± She clears her throat. ¡°But let me do it, you¡¯re too rough.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± agrees Shamrock. ¡°Pat-a-cake! Pat-a-cake! -¡± Fresh gasps, quietly ducking down back into the workshop. Shamrock and Basil, up on the roof, playing pat-a-cake in secret? How scandalous. Heading downstairs, she knocks on the door to the shower, hearing the water running. ¡°Jubilee! Will you play pat-a-cake with me?¡± ¡°Fuck off!¡± yells Jubilee from inside of the shower. Fresh sighs, going into the store. ¡°- And you better not eat anything from the shelves!¡± Now she grumbles, closing the door behind herself. She had gone through a lot of trouble modifying the shower, at first just with the heating elements. But then, she had to make some further adjustments so that Jubilee could actually even use it. Being of a smaller build, they had difficulties reaching the shower-head. However, this has given birth to a new problem. That being that Basil and Jubilee are often spending far too long in the shower. Shamrock hasn¡¯t taken to it. She supposes that he doesn¡¯t care for the salt-water, which she understands. She really should work on some kind of filter for that. But¡­ ¡°What would we do with all the salt?¡± she mutters to herself, looking around. Sure. Salt is always good. But, it feels like it would be a lot of salt and they can only use so much, even for their products. And they can¡¯t sell it. It would cause too many questions to arise about their sourcing of the product. Her eyes rise up towards the window. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± she gasps. The solution would be to of course simply pump the excess salt back down through the pipes, back into the ocean. Is that great for the environment? Probably not, honestly. But she feels like the crabs can take a little extra salt from one household. It¡¯s so obvious. Fresh bonks herself on the head with her hand as she walks to the window behind the counter, to carefully peek out through the shutters. The beach is slowly starting to fill up with people. It looks like it¡¯s going to be a busy day today. Though, she doesn¡¯t see anyone who appears to be a soldier of any kind. She supposes that they have little interest in the crab-beach. They¡¯re probably all located in the direction of the harbor. The harbor¡­ ¡­The harbor? Fresh blinks. Harbors are on the water. Water¡­ Water, like in her inventory? ¡­Her inventory? Her grimoire! ¡°AH!¡± yells Fresh in surprised delight, having successfully followed the trail of her own thoughts to their final conclusion. Opening her inventory, she reaches inside and pulls out her grimoire, dropping the wet book onto the counter and flipping through the pages. ¡°You know what ability I got, right?¡± she asks it, her hands already moving through the pages towards one near the middle. Then again, maybe that would be her opportunity to solve the whole Jubilee¡¯s gender question? She blinks. What an odd thought. Though, should she just ask Basil? Would that be weird? Basil probably knows for sure. No¡­ no¡­ it feels wrong. She decides to just leave it be. Don¡¯t touch a running machine, right? Shaking her head, she heads back upstairs, wondering why she has Mr. Mushroom on her brain all of a sudden and why she even bothered to go downstairs to begin with. She¡¯s probably just bored. ¡°Nyaaah~¡± Not much later after that, they open up the store as usual. Nobody seems to really have any complaints about their having been closed yesterday, which is an excellent opportunity for Fresh to hammer in to her friends the need to take at least one day off a week, so that they can rest, like they had agreed to do in the other cities as well. Even if they never quite seemed to have managed. ¡°Big news,¡± says the familiar ¡®milk-shake dark-elf¡¯, as Fresh has dubbed the man. ¡°You guys hear that horn too?¡± he asks. ¡°Who fucking didn¡¯t?¡± barks Jubilee from behind Fresh, who is taking great pains to shake the man¡¯s milkshake properly. She really should invent some kind of¡­ shaky machine to shake these for her. Thankfully, they aren¡¯t so popular yet as he is the only one who really wants them. But she can see more and more people looking his way each time he orders one. It¡¯s only a matter of time. ¡°How¡¯s the crab-hunting going?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Kind of weird, honestly,¡± he says, taking the bottle as Fresh hands it to him. ¡°Huh? How come?¡± He shrugs. ¡°The crabs have been really aggressive lately,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s not like them.¡± ¡°They¡¯re literally giant killer-crabs,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s exactly like them.¡± Hearing the next customer in line clear their throat, the man looks over his shoulder at them and then waves goodbye. ¡°Ah, sorry. See you tomorrow!¡± How odd. Fresh looks around the beach. Honestly, from here, it looks like business as usual. But then again, maybe she just can¡¯t tell from here. She makes a note to get someone to take her crab-hunting later. Fresh can¡¯t help but feel like she might have something to do with this. Though, after serving ice-cream for another few hours, she doesn¡¯t really worry about that as much anymore as she does about her own cramping fingers and sore back. Razmatazz -) DIS has breached a combined total of 1 million views (On RoyalRoad)! Thank you all for reading!?? *-* -) On that note. Please rate this story if you already haven''t! The higher we go into chapter counts, the more people we lose along the way. In order to be able to keep up our momentum, we need more readers to trickle their way through to the current chapter. You know this spiel already, dear reader. For that to happen, we need to feed the rating monster. Thanks for your time!??<3 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 257: Ju~ bi~ lee~ Fresh stands at the workbench, tinkering around with a small, glass vial of grimpowder. Lifting it up, she gently tips it over and watches as several flakes of it fall down to the table, exploding against it the second they strike with tiny, audible crackling pops. ¡°What the fuck are you even doing with that stuff?¡± asks Jubilee, standing in the workshop as well, as they are sewing together a long, leather bracelet that is meant to serve as protection for their forearms. Jubilee has been working on a very light layer of leather equipment that they can wear beneath their obscuring outfit, in order to protect themselves from the glass of their own magic. ¡°I¡¯m experimenting with colors, Jubilee!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°Look!¡± She picks up a different vial, filled with pink-grimpowder and tilts it slowly to the side. The flakes fall out and crackle against the table in a shower of spring-washed yellow and pink sparks. ¡°See?¡± she asks. ¡°Isn¡¯t it pretty?¡± Fresh holds out the little vial to Jubilee who just takes a nervous step back. ¡°Why the fuck is my name on it?¡± asks Jubilee, staring at the little sign on the vial. ¡°Oh!¡± Fresh lifts a finger. ¡°That¡¯s because the sparkles from this bottle look like your eyes, Jubilee!¡± ¡°That¡¯s a weird thing to say,¡± says Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°You¡¯re doing a weird thing again,¡± they explain, raising an eyebrow. Fresh frowns, looking at Jubilee and then back to the vial in her hands. ¡°So you don¡¯t like the sparkles?¡± ¡°What? Do I -?¡± Jubilee stops, taking a second to sigh very loudly. ¡°The ¡®sparkles¡¯ are fine, goo-brain. But what fucking point do they even have?¡± ¡°They sparkle, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s the point!¡± She gives the vial a little twist, letting a small shower of crackling sparkles rain down between them both. ¡°Better idea,¡± says Jubilee, waving their hands to get the smoke out of their face. ¡°How about you make a barrel of that really explosive stuff and we sell it to the highest bidder?¡± they suggest. ¡°That¡¯s super dangerous!¡± says Fresh. ¡°If we sell them the real one, they¡¯re going to use it to hurt people!¡± ¡°So?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Some people could do with a little hurting,¡± they say, shrugging and then getting back to their work. ¡°You know, sometimes I wonder if you¡¯re ever going to get jaded?¡± Fresh shrugs, setting the vial carefully back into the wall-mounted holder and then bumps into Jubilee from the side with her waist on purpose. They make an annoyed grumble, pushing her back away. ¡°Would you be sad if I did?¡± ¡°We all have to grow up eventually,¡± they say, continuing their sewing. ¡°Even you.¡± Fresh sticks out her tongue. ¡°Bleeeh~!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°I¡¯m an adult, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t see all the horrible stuff everywhere,¡± she says. ¡°But I¡¯m just gonna look at it, acknowledge it and then focus on the things I can actually do something about,¡± she explains. Jubilee thinks for a moment. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± they look at her suspiciously. ¡°- surprisingly reasonable, coming from you.¡± Fresh makes a ¡®glasses¡¯ gesture with her eyes. ¡°I see things too, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°You should have seen what I saw Basil and Shamrock doing yesterday!¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡± ¡°Anyways, can I get some moonglass?¡± she asks. ¡°I want to start making glasses like Basil¡¯s, but for the store!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you have any left?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I was thinking about Mr. Mushroom the other day, so I tried to make a new sculpture of him. But out of moonglass.¡± ¡°That went well last time,¡± says Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°You should try the next one out of crystal-drakonium,¡± they suggest, knocking on a rubbery bar, sitting on the table. ¡°I know a few people who would put in giant orders for them.¡± ¡°JU- BI- LEE~!¡± complains Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t corrupt my artistic vision!¡± she argues. ¡°I thought you were an adult?¡± asks Jubilee sarcastically. ¡°It¡¯s called banter. That being said, I really do know people. Especially in this city.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not doing that!¡± argues Fresh, sighing as she clears the table of any and all crystal-drakonium, grabbing the last bar and holding it in her hands for a moment. ¡°Oh, sure. Now you have moral boundaries.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve always had moral boundaries, Jubilee!¡± she says, waving a wobbly bar of crystal-drakonium around in front of them. ¡°Get that thing out of my face!¡± Fresh gasps, looking at Jubilee who is swiping her hand away. ¡°I have an idea!¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡± Fresh bends down, grabbing a barking Jubilee on their stomach with both hands, turning them from side to side to look at them. ¡°What the fuck are you doing?!¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°What if we melt some crystal-drakonium, like with Shamrock¡¯s slimes and then paint it over your leather?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°While we¡¯re at it, we can put some of your explosive powder inside of my mask and you can shove a rare-wood staff u-¡± ¡°JUBILEE!¡± scolds Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°FINE!¡± they relent. ¡°We¡¯ll melt your damn goo. Never a fucking quiet minute, is there?¡± They shake their head. ¡°Better not ruin my armor. I¡¯ve been working on this for two days.¡± Fresh beams, clasping her hands together. ¡°It makes me happy that you¡¯re taking care of yourself, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Are you my mom? Fuck off,¡± says Jubilee, pointing to the door. Fresh obliges, taking the bar of crystal-drakonium out with her to the kitchen. At first she had wondered why Jubilee had chosen now to make any sort of armor, rather than ever before. Jubilee¡¯s magic has always been dangerous and they had said and shown as much ever since she met them. She had only ever seen one outfit of Jubilee¡¯s that wasn¡¯t tattered to shreds from cuts and rips and for the longest time, she could only imagine what the body beneath those layers looked like. Now that she can see it and the many scars covering it, she realizes why they are making the armor now, as she begins melting the bar in a pot, using the methods Shamrock had explained to them. Much like she had often exposed herself to the cold as a method of self-punishment, Jubilee had used cuts. It was a long time ago, but she still remembers Jubilee¡¯s mattress from the north. It was caked and crusted with blood and originally, she had assumed it was from their life as an adventurer. But now, as she has come to understand her friend better, she realizes that that blood was drawn for the purpose of helping a numb person find the sensation of a feeling, any feeling, like she had once done herself. The fact that Jubilee is showing themselves, using Basil¡¯s anti-scarring cream and taking preventative measures for the future shows that they have healed. Fresh continues to beam, taking the pot off of the stove and walking back to the workshop with it. ¡°Careful!¡± she calls, setting it down on the workbench and stepping away. ¡°It¡¯s super hot.¡± ¡°Great,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It also smells like a goblin¡¯s ass and c - Do you mind?¡± Fresh shakes her head, standing behind Jubilee, having grabbed them in a spontaneous hug. ¡°No. I don¡¯t mind,¡± replies Fresh. Jubilee tries to squeeze their way out. ¡°You know damn well what I meant!¡± ¡°I know you¡¯re shy, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°But I¡¯m glad you¡¯re feeling good these days.¡± ¡°What? What the fuck are you talking about?¡± asks Jubilee, still trying to get away. ¡°I¡¯ll feel better when I finally escape the nightmare that is my life,¡± they reply as Fresh nuzzles her head against the side of theirs. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work!¡± says Fresh, letting go and jumping up to her feet very abruptly. ¡°GO TEAM!¡± she calls, holding her hand out to Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m not doing that.¡± ¡°GO TEAM!¡± repeats Fresh, nudging Jubilee. She leans over, holding her hand by her mouth. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t tell anyone,¡± she whispers and seals the deal with a wink. Jubilee rubs their forehead, holding their hand out to hers. ¡°Go¡­ fucking team. I guess?¡± ¡°GO TEAM!¡± cheers Fresh and the two of them set to work. It doesn¡¯t take too long. Jubilee¡¯s under-layer of armor is really just a chest-piece with some fluff near the edges to catch splinters of glass, as well as some bracers with fluff as well, to prevent any glass from going up their sleeves. The exterior of the leather, they paint over with the liquefied crystal-drakonium and then they let it sit for a little. The extra layer adds a small, hardly noticeable sheen to the leather that doesn¡¯t feel much heavier than before. Now, it has the additional effects that it helps insulate temperature better and that it offers slight resistances to magic-damage. Fresh asks why Jubilee doesn¡¯t have a combat-menu and Jubilee explains that only ¡®people¡¯ get a combat-menu. Humans, elves, fairies and so on. Monsters, to which demons count, don¡¯t get one unless they are attacked by a humanish creature. While most monsters are still bound by the rules of the system, demonic magic is an exception. It does its damage solely based on real, physical destruction, which syncs up with what Fresh has seen of Jubilee¡¯s fighting so far. It¡¯s grim. What this means however, is that Jubilee¡¯s attacks entirely bypass the health-point system, despite having health-points themselves. ¡°So if a monster eats another monster in the forest, there¡¯s no menu?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Nope,¡± replies Jubilee, adjusting the fluffy trim around their neck again as they put on their finished armor. ¡°Just a huge fucking mess.¡± Fresh nods, stepping back a step, admiring her friend. She clasps her hands next to her face in delight. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she cries, more than pleased. ¡°What?¡± asks an exhausted Jubilee. ¡°You look great!¡± ¡°Shut up, goo-brain,¡± replies Jubilee, shaking their head and pulling out a strand of white hair from their armor. They can¡¯t hide the fact that they¡¯re smiling though. Fresh sees it and they know that she sees it. So they roll their eyes and the two of them pretend that nothing ever happened. It¡¯s just what best friends do. Razmatazz uwu, what''s this? *Pokes Jubilee* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 258: Swoopy ¡°¡¯The fish is BIG!¡¯¡± exclaims Fresh, gesturing out with both of her hands. She finds that she has misjudged the situation, watching as Shamrock scribbles down the words she had just said. It isn¡¯t that he doesn¡¯t understand how to write, he¡¯s clearly far smarter than she herself is. He simply lacks delicate control over his fingers and wrists to do so. She supposes that he never had much use for finery such as this before. But the point is that she has adjusted her training. She isn¡¯t so much teaching him how to write now, as he already knows that in theory. She¡¯s teaching him how to write by giving him things to practice his hand-movements with. ¡°How big is it?¡± asks Basil, sipping her tea. ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, thinking for a second. ¡°It¡¯s super big!¡± she says, holding her hands out wide at her sides. ¡°Like, huge. It¡¯s a huge fish.¡± ¡°That¡¯s frightening,¡± says the priestess. Obviously, there isn¡¯t actually a real fish, let alone a giant one. This is all just playful, imaginary babble to give Shamrock odd sentences to write for the sake of practice. She looks up, seeing that he¡¯s done. It looks a little wobbly, but it¡¯s legible. ¡°Good job! Uh¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°¡¯Everyone died and Jubilee finally got some quiet¡¯,¡± says Jubilee, not lifting their gaze from their book. Fresh gasps. ¡°Don¡¯t write that, Shamrock!¡± she says. The man stops, having already started. He lifts his gaze to look up at her. ¡°If you write that, you might reverse-jinx it and it will come true!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Do you just make this shit up on the spot, or is that what you really believe?¡± they ask. ¡°It¡¯s always very colorful,¡± says Basil. ¡°I always try to predict what she¡¯s going to say next. But I get it wrong every time,¡± she says, setting her tea down. Fresh frowns. ¡°Ah!¡± Basil lifts a finger, clearing her throat. ¡°¡¯Jubilee hugged a very colorful fish!¡¯¡± Shamrock starts writing. ¡°Don¡¯t write that, Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee and Shamrock stops. ¡°Jubilee! Stop messing up Shamrock¡¯s practice!¡± says Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Oh, sure. Me getting some peace is off the table, but making word-me hug a fish is okay?¡± Fresh blinks, turning her gaze to Basil for a second before looking back towards Jubilee. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Fuck off. Why don¡¯t you go hug a fish?¡± they suggest. ¡°It¡¯s not just any fish, Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a huge fish!¡± She holds her arms out as wide as she can. ¡°Gigantic!¡± Basil chimes in from the side. ¡°Don¡¯t forget that it is colorful too.¡± Jubilee lifts their book back up, hiding their face behind it. ¡°I¡¯m surrounded by children.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°Okay, uh¡­ ah! ¡®Jubilee, Basil, Shamrock and Fresh all hugged the giant, colorful fish!¡¯¡± She nods, listening to the sound of the pen scratching against paper. ¡°Is that better, Jubilee?¡± ¡°As long as I don¡¯t have to suffer alone, like I am now,¡± they say. ¡°Awww.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°I¡¯d never make you hug a fish by yourself, Jubilee.¡± They shake their head. ¡°What the fuck is even happening here? Did you all go upstairs and drink without me?¡± ¡°It¡¯s called education,¡± says Basil, taking another sip of her tea. ¡°Maybe you should try it some time.¡± ¡°Sure thing,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Why don¡¯t you educate the class on what you do in the shower for an hour every single day?¡± Basil lifts her nose in offense. ¡°Taking a shower, obviously. You should try it sometime too,¡± she says, pinching her nose. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°What¡¯s that ¡®mhm¡¯ supposed to mean?¡± asks Basil. ¡°It means, ¡®mhm¡¯,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh turns her head back to Shamrock, letting Jubilee and Basil have their spat. She looks over the page. ¡°Mm! Great job, Shamrock!¡± she says. ¡°Oh, look.¡± She points at one of the letters. ¡°This one needs a bigger swoopy,¡± explains Fresh, motioning with her fingers. Shamrock nods, correcting the letter to give it a bigger ¡®swoopy¡¯ and then lifts his eyes up towards her expectantly. Fresh thinks for a second, looking at the other two. ¡°¡¯Basil and Jubilee love each other, very much!¡¯¡± Both of them turn her way at the same time. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare write that, Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee. Shamrock lifts his head, staring at them, before turning to Fresh. She gives him a nod of approval and he continues his work. The evening goes on like this, it¡¯s a very calm and serene time. Fresh had been terrified that after all of the drama of the previous weeks and with the army here from the north, they would never find a quiet minute again. But the drama of the central city doesn¡¯t seem to find them here and neither do any of the soldiers or crusaders, who are off in the harbor part of the city that Fresh realizes she has never actually been to. Though, now might not be a great time to go to check it out. The business is running smoothly and they¡¯re making a real attraction of themselves as the line and the patio both seem to get fuller and fuller every day. Their umbrellas as well are strong sellers and several of them can be found all along the beach during the daytime, offering plenty of shade, if not refuge from the many pinchy crabs who are indeed, particularly aggressive lately. ¡°I ran into Tarja today,¡± says Basil. ¡°While I was getting the bread.¡± ¡°How¡¯s she doing?¡± asks Fresh. Basil shrugs, sipping her tea. ¡°All is well, from the sounds of it,¡± she says. ¡°She mentioned the crabs too. Her tailoring uh¡­ ¡®business¡¯ is booming,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Lots of snipped swim-wear.¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised that any of them are still alive,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I guess they managed to grow some teeth after all.¡± ¡°Do you three ever wonder where Veli is?¡± asks Basil. ¡°All the time,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Ah!¡± she turns to Shamrock. ¡°¡¯Veli is doing very welli¡¯!¡± Shamrock nods and writes. ¡°Ugh,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°If that cry-baby fuck-head had sat on his ass for a few hours instead of being a princess, we wouldn¡¯t even be having this conversation.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°It was our fault, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Like fuck it was!¡± barks Jubilee, setting their book down and closing it. They tap against its cover with an agitated finger. ¡°After all the hours I wasted trying to instill some toughness into that squeaky, little fuck and he just runs away? Because his feelings got hurt?¡± they ask. ¡°What happened to ¡®I kill monsters junior¡¯?¡± asks Jubilee, lifting their arms. ¡°What happened to all the fucking training?¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers. ¡°Gone. Just like that. That ungrateful, little chicken-shit.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°Oh no, Jubilee!¡± she says, covering her mouth. ¡°I never knew you were so sad about Veli!¡± Basil nods. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡± ¡°The fuck?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Do I sound like I¡¯m sad?¡± Basil reaches across the table, placing a hand on Jubilee¡¯s forearm. ¡°It¡¯s okay. We understand.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you do,¡± says Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°¡¯Jubilee has problems talking about their feelings¡¯,¡± dictates Basil to Shamrock. Jubilee grabs Basil¡¯s hand, pulling it off of their forearm. ¡°If I have to fucking talk about my feelings one more fucking time, I¡¯m going to bite your hand off, shove it down my throat and choke myself to death so that I can finally be done with it all!¡± ¡°If you say so,¡± says Basil, sipping her tea with her free hand. Fresh blinks, noticing that despite the fact that Jubilee had pried Basil¡¯s hand off of their forearm, Basil was now just holding their hand just like that. She blinks, feeling a little jealous as she stares at Jubilee trying to shake Basil¡¯s hand off of theirs, but the priestess just calmly holds on, continuing to sip her tea as if nothing was happening. ¡°Would you like to say a prayer with me tonight for Veli?¡± she asks, rubbing her thumb over the top of Jubilee¡¯s hand. ¡°Fuck Veli!¡± barks Jubilee, finally managing to wrangle themselves free. ¡°We have enough cry-babies in this house already,¡± they say, jumping up off of their chair. ¡°Imagine if we had one more sobbing slacker here?¡± Jubilee shakes their head, picking up their book and going to their room. ¡°We¡¯d fucking drown, financially and literally. Good night.¡± With that, Jubilee shuts their door and a loud, long, perhaps even theatrical sighing can be heard from the other side. ¡°Wow, I had no idea that Jubilee liked Veli so much,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Well, it makes sense,¡± replies Basil. ¡°Huh?¡± The priestess shakes her head and lifts a finger. ¡°¡¯Jubilee is the fairy queen¡¯.¡± ¡°YOU FUCK!¡± yells Jubilee, tearing their door back open. Basil yelps and jumps up to her feet to run away. ¡°GET BACK HERE!¡± yells Jubilee, running after Basil in what Fresh considers to be a very surreal moment. Is it weird that she feels jealous about not being chased? She shrugs, turning back to Shamrock¡¯s writing. This time, he got the swoopy right. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 259: A leaf of basil Basil plucks the single flower off of the top of the large, richly green bundle of leaves and sets it to the side, down onto the workbench. ¡°It¡¯s important that you move your arm in a circular motion when you¡¯re crushing it,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Look, like this,¡± says the priestess, grabbing the mortar and spinning it around the pestle in a slow, clockwise motion. ¡°That helps the oils separate themselves better from the leaves.¡± Fresh nods, staring down at the bowl that Basil is holding down against the table. ¡°Don¡¯t get too close, this one smells a bit like gunk.¡± Fresh blinks, moving in a little closer and then she recoils, wincing as the scent finds her. ¡°Iagh! Ew!¡± she says, rubbing her nose. ¡°Basil! It smells so gross.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± replies Basil. ¡°You know?¡± she asks, tapping the mortar against the edge of the bowl a few times. ¡°You¡¯ll find that the most bitter herbs are the most useful for medicine, for some reason.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, tilting her head. ¡°Are there any good tasting ones that are healthy?¡± ¡°Oh, sure,¡± says Basil. ¡°Mentha for example.¡± Fresh nods. They had been using the mint-like plant for a while for their candies and ice-creams. ¡°It has great properties if you¡¯re sick with a stuffy nose.¡± Grabbing a little spoon, she scoops the brownish-green goo out of the mortar and sets it into a separate bowl. ¡°But as a rule of thumb, bitter herbs that you can¡¯t eat often find their use in alchemy instead.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh looks at the bowl of sludge. ¡°I dunno, Basil. If they were good for us, then why did the universe make them taste bad?¡± The priestess smiles, pressing down a laugh. ¡°When I was a girl, I was told that the gods made them that way on purpose,¡± she explains. ¡°So that we wouldn¡¯t waste them, you know? So that they would always be around when we fall ill.¡± Basil takes another bowl, taking a spoonful of the green pulp and mixing it in, together with some water. ¡°Aww,¡± says Fresh, looking at Basil while doing her best to ignore the bad smell of the herbs in the room. ¡°That¡¯s a really cute story, Basil!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°Did your family tell you that?¡± she asks, thinking for only a split second after the words leave her mouth. Fresh blinks. Shit. ¡°Ah! I¡¯m sorry!¡± she quickly adds on, catching her own mistake. ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking,¡± apologizes Fresh, waiting to get yelled at for having said an insensitive thing once more without thinking. Basil grew up as an orphan, after all. Basil shakes her head. ¡°I got sick a lot, after I arrived in the church¡¯s care,¡± she explains. ¡°Most of the children do. Usually most arrive from troubled circumstances as is and it¡¯s cold in the quarters and there isn¡¯t much to eat.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± replies Fresh. She of course already knew that, the eating part at least. Basil had explained as much to her once before. But she doesn¡¯t really know what else to say, so she leaves it at that. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Basil. ¡°That¡¯s why most of us get some kind of gathering sub-class,¡± she explains. ¡°You need it, if you want to find food.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°Anyway, this here is called goldenseal,¡± she says, pointing at the goopy herb. ¡°Because of the flower?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the long stalk of broad leaves left on the side, that has a single, golden flower sitting atop it. Basil nods. ¡°Because of the flower.¡± She lifts the flower up, holding it to her nose and taking a deep smell of it, before holding it over to Fresh who bends her head down forward, warily taking a smell of it too. ¡°Oh!¡± says Fresh, surprised, her nose twitching. ¡°That smells really nice!¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Basil. ¡°The leaves are bitter,¡± she explains, nodding to the bowls of goo. ¡°But the flower is very fragrant and rich. It makes a great tea that helps if you have a bladder infection.¡± ¡°Neat,¡± says Fresh. ¡°But doesn¡¯t that go against the bad-smell, good-medicine rule?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a rule,¡± laughs Basil. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ a generalization.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°What about the goo?¡± she asks, looking at the bowl that Basil had set aside with the single spoonful of green mush. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s our bitter,¡± says Basil, setting the flower down to the side. ¡°See, the leaves of the goldenseal are great if you have an infected wound, especially one that¡¯s begun to swell in an unsightly manner.¡± ¡°So you just smear it on?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Well, in principle. But like this, it will go bad by tomorrow,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°So we need to add some salts and some fats and put it into a dark container,¡± she says. ¡°That will give us another two to three weeks on the shelves,¡± says Basil. ¡°Longer if we keep them cold, like in one of your cabinets.¡± She reaches over to the side. ¡°Do you remember this?¡± she asks, holding out a familiar flower. Fresh stares at the thing. It¡¯s the same flower she herself had gathered to make Basil¡¯s medicine once, back when the priestess had come down with a cold in the west. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh hits her fist into her open palm. ¡°It¡¯s echinacea!¡± she says with a prideful smile on her face. ¡°Mhm!¡± Basil nods, delighted. ¡°This herb is a very potent medicine for things like colds and fevers.¡± She sets another bowl to the side, scooping out another spoonful of the original green mush and then hands Fresh the flower. ¡°Break this apart into there, will you?¡± Fresh nods, taking the flower and starts ripping it apart into small pieces. Basil goes on. ¡°So.¡± She taps the one bowl that Fresh is hovering over. ¡°This bowl of goldenseal, we¡¯re going to mix with the echinacea and it¡¯s going to be a very strong cold medicine.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. Basil taps the other, original bowl. ¡°This one, we¡¯re going to be adding fats and salts to, in order to make a salve.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Thanks for taking the time to show me all of this, Basil!¡± ¡°Of course,¡± replies the priestess. ¡°It¡¯s what friends do, isn¡¯t it?¡± Fresh nods. Basil had always been able to be more open about her feelings than Jubilee or the entirely uncommunicative Shamrock. ¡°Do you think we could have been friends if I did manage to become a priestess, back then?¡± asks Fresh. Basil laughs. ¡°There isn¡¯t much time to make friends at the cathedral,¡± she says. ¡°But I think we would have managed.¡± She shakes her head, grabbing a bottle of oil. ¡°It¡¯s better this way though,¡± says Basil. ¡°There are hundreds of priests and priestesses in the cathedral. But now, I only have to share you with Jubilee and Shamrock,¡± she says, entirely shamelessly. She looks over, seeing that Fresh has finished tearing apart the flower. ¡°Okay, now stir that around,¡± she instructs, handing her the spoon. ¡°That being said, I¡¯m sure you would have done a good job. You certainly have the spirit for it,¡± says Basil. ¡°Honestly, living in the church sounds kind of sad, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I think I¡¯d cry a lot.¡± ¡°But you cry a lot now too?¡± asks the priestess. Fresh sighs. ¡°I can¡¯t help it. I¡¯m just super emotional,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t know why.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°Try to keep that,¡± she says. ¡°Too many people lose that on the way and by the time they get where they¡¯re going, they don¡¯t even feel joy anymore.¡± ¡°I think it is because I cry a lot though,¡± theorizes Fresh. ¡°You think?¡± asks Basil and Fresh nods. ¡°Yeah, I think so. Every time I get really sad or really happy, I just kind of feel it, you know? Until I¡¯m done feeling it and then, after that, everything is better.¡± Basil thinks for a moment. ¡°There may be something to that,¡± she considers. ¡°You can¡¯t carry your spiritual burdens around with you, if you don¡¯t accumulate them to begin with.¡± ¡°Right?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I wish we could watch a sad drama and eat ice-cream and cry together, Basil. I bet it would be a lot of fun!¡± ¡°Oh!¡± says Basil, surprised. ¡°Well, in that case, there¡¯s a theater here in the city we can go to?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯ve never actually been to one, honestly.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°That¡¯s a great idea, Basil!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°Really?¡± asks Basil, apparently surprised at her reaction. ¡°Yeah!¡± replies Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s probably just gonna be the two of us though,¡± she says, pondering. ¡°We can¡¯t take Shamrock to a place like that with the soldiers everywhere and Jubilee doesn¡¯t seem like a theater type.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ no¡­¡± says Basil, not sounding as sad as Fresh had expected her to. She pops her head out of the door to the workshop. ¡°Jubilee? Do you want to go to the theater sometime?¡± Jubilee stares up at her from their book, lowering their gaze back down into again without saying a word. Fresh frowns. ¡°I guess that¡¯s a ¡®no¡¯ then.¡± She closes the door. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s just gonna be us then, Basil!¡± She says, looking back at the priestess who is smelling the flower again. ¡°I¡¯ll look forward to it then,¡± smiles the priestess back at her. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 260: Crabs ¡°Tell me your secret, crab,¡± whispers Fresh under her breath, standing at the edge of their house¡¯s ¡®safe zone¡¯, where the magic born of the enchanted weathervane, which repels the crabs, has its border. The crab stands a meter before her, doing an odd, agitated dance with its pincers in the air, clacking angrily. But it doesn¡¯t move towards her, not able to break past the barrier. It¡¯s certainly very angry looking for a crab. She¡¯s pretty sure that its mouth is even foaming a little, though, that might honestly just be from the foamy sea-water. ¡°Stop talking to the crab, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, standing behind her with crossed arms. They sigh, shaking their head. It is the middle of the night and Fresh wanted to take the opportunity to find out what¡¯s going on with the crabs. ¡°But Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°We have to find out why they¡¯re being so -¡± ¡°- Don¡¯t you dare say it,¡± says Jubilee, interrupting her. Fresh smirks, pressing her lips tightly together to hold down a laugh. Somehow this is even funnier for her than if she had just said the joke. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°I will literally leave you here by yourself.¡± Fresh snorts, not able to stop herself. ¡°But- But Jubilee!¡± she manages to squeak out, between her tightly shut lips that open only for a fraction of a second each time. ¡°We have to find out why they¡¯re so -!¡± Fresh howls, grabbing her gut and falling over into the sand, laughing. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Don¡¯t show weakness in front of the crabs, dumb-ass,¡± they say, motioning to kick her while she lays on the ground. But Fresh grabs Jubilee¡¯s leg, striking from the beach sand and bites it. ¡°Ow!¡± Jubilee pulls their leg back. ¡°Why the fuck do you people always bite?!¡± Fresh, having calmed herself looks up at them. ¡°Because -!¡± ¡°- Don¡¯t give me that ¡®friendship bite¡¯ bullshit, you degenerate!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°But Jubileeeee~!¡± ¡°What?!¡± Fresh smirks. ¡°The crabs are crabby, Jubilee!¡± she exclaims, finally having found the strength to finish her joke. Jubilee stands there with crossed arms and then turns around wordlessly, trying to leave. But Fresh is still clamped around their legs. ¡°Don¡¯t show your back to the crabs, Jubilee!¡± she exclaims, as Jubilee drags her behind them, back towards the house. Fresh is surprised at how strong Jubilee is, given their size. They sigh, picking up some sand. ¡°No! Don¡¯t kill it!¡± says Fresh. ¡°What the fuck do you want from me then?!¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Will you let go?!¡± ¡°It¡¯s the crab-ambassador, Jubilee!¡± she explains, pointing back at the single crab that continues its angry, snippy, crab-dance. ¡°You can¡¯t kill the crabbassador!¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to do it now, just because you called it that,¡± states Jubilee, snapping their fingers before Fresh can stop them. ¡°Nooo~!¡± cries Fresh, clutching her face in horror with one hand. ¡°You are such an exhausting person to be around, sometimes,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee!¡± exclaims Fresh, looking up at the dead crab, suspended on a glass pillar. ¡°You might have just sparked a diplomatic crisis!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not the first time,¡± replies Jubilee dryly, before continuing their attempted escape. ¡°Come on,¡± they say. ¡°Let¡¯s go to bed. I¡¯m tired.¡± ¡°Can I sleep in your room tonight?¡± asks Fresh, getting up onto her feet. ¡°No.¡± She frowns. ¡°Do you want to sleep in my bed then?¡± ¡°No. Creep.¡± ¡°Pleeeease~?¡± ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee, shaking their head as they walk back home. Fresh reaches down, grabbing their hand. ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you?¡± ¡°Friendship hand-holding!¡± Jubilee stares at her, before returning back to the house, taking both their hand and Fresh with them. ¡°Next time, I¡¯m killing myself instead of the crab.¡± ¡°JUBILEE!¡± The night passes peacefully, Fresh falls into her bed alone, despite her best efforts. Then, several hours later, she wakes up. It isn¡¯t morning yet though. Why is she awake? Groggily, Fresh blinks her heavy eyes a few times to get the dew out of them and to unblur her vision, as she slowly sits upright, looking around the room. It¡¯s raining, apparently. Is that why she woke up? Fresh yawns, rubbing her eyes and getting up, shuffling towards the balcony door to check that it¡¯s closed for the night, making a note to tuck both Basil and Shamrock back in, as they both had thrown off their blankets again. She stops, looking at the balcony door. It¡¯s already closed. That¡¯s odd. It doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯s raining either. Rubbing her eyes again, she walks closer towards it and then steps outside onto the balcony, looking around for the source of the noise that she hears. A clacking fills the air, she had assumed it was rain droplets striking against the windows, but that isn¡¯t it. Instead, she finds the source. ¡°JUBILEEEEE~!¡± screams Fresh, running inside and tearing open Jubilee¡¯s door. Surprised, they jump, flailing their blanket around as they fall out of their bed. ¡°What the fuck?! What is it?!¡± they yell. ¡°CRABS!¡± shouts Fresh, running to get the others who have also already been awoken by her shouting. ¡°What? Are you okay?¡± yawns Basil, Fresh grabs her. ¡°CRABS, BASIL!¡± she yells, dragging the pajama-wearing priestess after her, grabbing Shamrock¡¯s hand on the way as he was already in motion. The three of them head out to the balcony and look out and a second later, Jubilee comes too. ¡°What the fuck?¡± whispers Jubilee. A line of crabs surrounds the house in a semicircle, all standing on the outer edge of the barrier, their claws in the air, snipping furiously. The sound of their closing claws is what Fresh had originally thought was rain. ¡°What are they doing?¡± asks Basil, placing her hands on the railing and squinting. ¡°Protesting,¡± says Shamrock. Jubilee sighs. ¡°They¡¯re fucking crabs. They don¡¯t know what protesting is.¡± ¡°I told you, Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°You killed the crabbassador!¡± ¡°Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Grab her legs and hoist her over. We¡¯re giving her to the crabs.¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t give me to the crabs!¡± argues Fresh. The four of them turn back to look at the crabs, standing in a circle around the house. Jubilee sighs, walking over to the balcony table and stealing some dirt from Basil¡¯s potted plants. ¡°Hey!¡± protests the priestess. ¡°Shut up,¡± says Jubilee, throwing the dirt over the railing and snapping their fingers. Glass explodes all through the air and the row of crabs to their left is destroyed. They all watch as a moment later, new crabs rise up out of the sand in the distance. The new-comers, rather than dispersing over the beach, make their way to the house, to fill the ranks. ¡°What the fuck?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Shamrock, come on,¡± they say. ¡°We¡¯re going down there to kill some crabs.¡± Shamrock nods excitedly. ¡°That won¡¯t work. Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°They¡¯re making a statement.¡± ¡°Again,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t know how many times I need to say this, but they¡¯re crabs, goo-brain. They don¡¯t make ¡®statements¡¯.¡± Fresh points outward at the angrily snipping crabs. ¡°That isn¡¯t a statement. They¡¯re just being fucking weird.¡± ¡°I think they want revenge, Jubilee!¡± ¡°They can fuck off.¡± Basil turns back around. ¡°Maybe we can appease them with something?¡± she suggests. Jubilee points up towards Fresh. Basil shakes her head. ¡°Since you killed the crabbassador, maybe we should give them you.¡± ¡°THERE¡¯S NO SUCH THING!¡± yells Jubilee, stomping back inside. ¡°I¡¯m going to tear my fucking hair out one day because of you people.¡± They march into their room, stomping back out a second later with the little doll in their hands that Fresh had made the other day to test her abilities out on. She gasps. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t!¡± Jubilee would and hurls the doll out over the railing, past Fresh¡¯s reaching hands. It spirals through the air, its little doll hand seemingly reaches for hers as it flies, its glossy, button-eyes shimmering in the soft glow of the midnight moonlight. ¡°Noooo!¡± The doll lands amongst the crabs and they descend down upon it. Fresh can only watch in horror as it is torn to pieces. A second later, the crabs return to their formation. ¡°Well. That didn¡¯t work,¡± says Basil. ¡°Jubilee! How could you?!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°Please. You were trying to blast that thing apart with your spells for a whole day. Get off my ass,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh frowns, looking back out at the beach and staring at the formation. ¡°Hey, do crabs ever go into the water?¡± ¡°They live on the ocean, I¡¯d assume so?¡± says Basil. ¡°No, I mean, do these crabs ever go into the water?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I only ever see them on the beach.¡± ¡°Maybe because you can¡¯t see them when they¡¯re underwater?¡± says Jubilee, sighing. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I think they¡¯re land-crabs.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t do this. I¡¯m going to bed,¡± says Jubilee, turning around. ¡°We can¡¯t just ignore the problem,¡± says Basil. ¡°This will be terrible for business!¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Way I see it, it¡¯s an attraction. We might draw in a lot of curious people.¡± ¡°We might also draw in a lot of unwanted attention,¡± remarks Basil, crossing her arms. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°You will for sure if you keep wearing that when it¡¯s cold outside,¡± they remark. Basil gasps in shock, lifting her crossed arms higher. ¡°I got it!¡± says Fresh, having been lost in her own daydream for a while. ¡°Shamrock, give me a boost please!¡± she asks and Shamrock lifts her up onto the roof. ¡°Be careful!¡± calls Basil. Fresh climbs up over the wall, onto the roof. Grabbing the weathervane, she unattaches it. Immediately, the crabs stop their chorus, their claws lowering back down to their sides. From up atop the roof, she watches as they begin to scuttle on their way as if nothing ever happened, heading down past the house along the strip of land between their door and the ocean. ¡°They just wanted to go past the whole time,¡± says Fresh. ¡°They can¡¯t go into the water and we were blocking their movement over to the other side of the beach!¡± she calls down to her friends. The three of them stare at her from down below. ¡°Okay. Whatever. I don¡¯t care. Good night,¡± says Jubilee, heading back to their room. Basil and Shamrock exchange a look and shrug. ¡°Come on down,¡± says Basil. ¡°Let¡¯s get some sleep. We¡¯ll figure the rest out in the morning.¡± Fresh nods to the priestess, watching as the two of them head inside. She lifts her gaze, staring out over the moonlit sands of the beach, out towards the giant, barnacle covered and sea-washed dungeon gate. She isn¡¯t sure if it isn¡¯t just the stress of the odd situation, or maybe a blur in her tired eyes, or maybe even just a figment of her always overactive imagination. But as she squints, gazing at the glowing portal of the dungeon, she swears that she sees a small, human-like figure standing there, just outside of the glowing portal. Their body is made out of the very same, ethereal material as the aura, as if they were a being made entirely out of it. The person, holding a crab, pets it and nods to her once, before heading back and melding back into the glow of the dungeon. If they were ever really separate from it at all, that is. Fresh rubs her eyes, looking again. But this time, there is nothing there. She scratches her cheek, deciding that it isn¡¯t worth worrying about, before heading back downstairs and falling back into bed, tucking in Basil, Shamrock and a vehemently protesting Jubilee on the way to her own. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 261: Breakfast with the family Fresh sits at the table, her hands are wrapped around the steaming mug of red tea as her eyes are locked downward, staring at the swirling liquid beneath herself. She hasn¡¯t blinked for a while, being lost to the mesmerizing spin of the red-water. Ever since that night, back when they had to flee the north, Fresh often finds that she, - She tilts her head. - that she doesn¡¯t like red. Fire is red and it is warm and comforting, but the fire had tricked her back in the west when she thought she was getting an ¡®out¡¯, by deceiving the fountain, through the crafting of the enchanted-crystal that she had tried to use to communicate with the hero. That was just a trick of the fountain, though. A manipulation, in order to get her to follow the plan. Maybe it was even just a jab at her, from up above, just for the sake of being mean to her and ruining her hopes of finding an ¡®escape¡¯ with her friends. The wizard from the north, a person she had naively trusted and felt a very one-sided connection with, had literally fractured one of her ribs and left her to die after stealing from their home. And even after her confrontation with the caster in the central-city, she still finds that she feels¡­ unsatisfied by the conclusion to this series of events. ¡°Hello?¡± asks Jubilee, snapping their fingers next to her face. ¡°Stop snoozing, goo-brain.¡± Fresh blinks, turning her head to look at Jubilee¡¯s red skin. Maybe it isn¡¯t such a bad color? She thinks that the shade of soft, almost pastel red that Jubilee carries is beautiful in a way. But it also came at a horrible price. She leans over, rubbing her cheek against the top of Jubilee¡¯s head. ¡°What the fuck?¡± ¡°Good morning, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, forcing herself to snap out of it and to take a sip of her tea. ¡°I think I¡¯m traumatized by the color red.¡± ¡°What? Red? Who gives a fuck?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Get a stick, paint it red and shove it until you¡¯ve worked through your drama.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Basil from across the table. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Everyone has their bullshit to deal with,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I won¡¯t accept sad memories as an acceptable excuse to not fucking help make breakfast,¡± they say. ¡°Get your shit together.¡± Basil sighs, agitated. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± she explains. ¡°You should know that best of all.¡± ¡°Can we make breakfast together today, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Are you having a day?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips and Fresh stares down at her tea, realizing that she is indeed, having a day, whatever that means. ¡°I made breakfast yesterday. It¡¯s your turn, jackass.¡± ¡°I know,¡± says Fresh, getting up to set to work. ¡°I just feel blue today, sorry.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t last a week without me, you know?¡± they ask. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll make the eggs.¡± ¡°Thanks, Jubilee,¡± beams Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re such a great friend!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°And it¡¯s cost me nothing but my nerves and ten years of my life-span.¡± Basil noisily sips her tea. ¡°You weren¡¯t doing anything good with it anyways, before we got here.¡± ¡°Oh, so now you¡¯re included in my life too?¡± asks Jubilee, snarkily as they walk past the priestess. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s hand as they walk past her. ¡°I sure am.¡± ¡°Ugh,¡± Jubilee pulls their hand free, shaking it out as if disgusted. They look up at Shamrock, who is carrying plates and cups to the table. ¡°If you touch me too, I¡¯m going to crawl into your armor and eat you from the inside out.¡± He stares down at them and shrugs. ¡°Hug?¡± he asks. ¡°Fuck off, Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°One day,¡± says Basil. ¡°You¡¯re going to learn that you don¡¯t always have to be such a grump.¡± ¡°Yeah, when I¡¯m in the grave,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If you become a ghost, Jubilee, you can haunt us,¡± says Fresh, grabbing a few large pots. ¡°But I¡¯d prefer it if you stay unghosted.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Sometimes I wonder if I¡¯m the only one in this house who isn¡¯t delirious and starved for affection?¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°You¡¯re just the only one who doesn¡¯t want to admit it.¡± ¡°Are we really having this conversation?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m just here to make some fucking eggs. Get off my ass,¡± they say. ¡°Thanks,¡± nods Jubilee as Fresh hands them the eggs from the cooling cabinet. The eggs here are very ¡®natural¡¯ for a lack of a better word, so they last for weeks outside of the cooling cabinet without going bad. But here in the east, since it¡¯s so hot, they have to be kept cool. Otherwise they would spoil in a few days. Eggs are also sort of expensive here in the east. Fish seemed to be the most common food here. Well, crab meat, actually. But that counts as ¡®fish¡¯, right¡­? But one can only eat so much seafood before one is unable to see food anymore. Fresh smirks, that was a good one. Anyways. Shamrock doesn¡¯t like fish to begin with and the three of them have eaten so much fish these last few weeks that she¡¯s sure they all learned how to swim, simply through the absorption of the fishs¡¯ life forces. ¡°So, do you think our crab problem is solved?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee cracks a few eggs open into a bowl. ¡°No. Now they¡¯re just going to start coming back into our house again,¡± they say. ¡°I don¡¯t see why we can¡¯t just put the weathervane back up.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t block the crab-traffic, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s their beach.¡± ¡°The fuck? The way I see it, it¡¯s our beach by right of conquest. Fuck the crabs!¡± She shakes her head. ¡°We need to find a way to live together with them,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°They¡¯re probably afraid that their spawning zone is going to be destroyed, like all of the other spawning zones.¡± Jubilee lets out a long, theatrical sigh. ¡°Again and I can not repeat this often enough, they¡¯re crabs. They can¡¯t think that far ahead.¡± ¡°Balance with the natural world is important,¡± agrees Basil. ¡°If the gods wanted us to remove the spawning zones, they wouldn¡¯t have made them in the first place.¡± ¡°What the fuck kind of sense does that make?¡± asks Jubilee. A heavy voice comes from the table. Fresh turns around, looking at the giant man who is drinking his morning sweet-tea from a particularly dainty cup. ¡°Little of the old world remains,¡± he says. ¡°It must be cherished.¡± After that, Fresh rebakes a loaf of sourdough bread while Jubilee makes a batch of eggs. Basil decides to make things a bit healthier by mixing together a bowl of bright, vibrant salad, to add some color to their meal. Jubilee had deemed this unnecessary, saying that the yellow in the eggs was color enough. As for any morning blues that might have remained, brought on by odd memories of the color red, Fresh finds herself lacking any such things by the time breakfast is over with. Sure, there are a lot of things that she has to process. This new life of hers has gone so fast and so much has happened, both terrible and good and she is sure that her subconscious mind simply isn¡¯t able to keep up with it all. It¡¯s going to take a lot of time to get to a healthy place. But, if they can live their life like this, if she can spend her mornings like this one, surrounded by people who understand and are compassionate with her feelings, allowing her to be so herself, then maybe that is proof that there is a lighter place for all of them to inhabit one day after all. And maybe that place isn¡¯t even so far away, maybe it isn¡¯t some mystical ¡®end of the journey¡¯ spot that they might one day find. Fresh laughs as she watches Basil and Shamrock fight over the last piece of fruit in the salad, smiling as she watches Jubilee reach in during their scuffle to claim it for themselves. - Maybe it¡¯s closer than one might expect. Literally right at her fingertips already. Fresh takes a sip of her red tea, smiling. The color red isn¡¯t really so bad. It¡¯s just that she¡¯s made bad connections and associations with it. But, much the same, the opposite can be said of the color blue or purple. Any meanings that they might have are purely in her mind and in a sense, that is deeply alleviating. Because it means that even the bad things in life, with enough time, with enough effort, with enough love, they too can be made good and whole again and those connections can be remade, so that the river of thoughts and existence flows to a happier, brighter place, to a safe-haven that the bad-thing might never be able to find. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 262: Productivity Fresh clamps down on Basil, grabbing her from behind. The priestess, unsurprised, continues her work of serving ice-cream at the window. ¡°No fraternizing at work!¡± yells Jubilee from behind them. Fresh turns her head around. ¡°I¡¯m not fraternizing, Jubilee! I¡¯m giving Basil a hug!¡± she argues. ¡°That¡¯s literally fraternizing,¡± replies Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± says Basil, turning her head around to look over her shoulder. Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°Well I do.¡± They nod their head to the side of the counter where the way out is. ¡°Go on. Get. Scram!¡± they say. ¡°Go do something productive!¡± ¡°Okay,¡± sighs Fresh, letting go of Basil. She grabs the priestess¡¯ long, strawberry-blonde hair and starts braiding it. ¡°What the fuck are you doing now?¡± ¡°I¡¯m braiding Basil¡¯s hair, Jubilee. It¡¯s something productive,¡± explains Fresh, looking at her friend. Seeing their eyes narrow through the slits of their mask, she yelps, letting go of Basil¡¯s hair and quickly hurries away before she gets yelled at. As for their crab problem, she isn¡¯t entirely sure, but it feels like it may have solved itself. Since that night, there hasn¡¯t been a single crab that has found its way inside of their home. She likes to think that whatever happened that night, they came to a mutual understanding with the crabs or with the entity that she feels like she had witnessed emerging from the dungeon. They stay out of the crabs¡¯ way and the crabs will stay out of theirs. It¡¯s a good compromise. She heads upstairs. ¡°Shamaloo!¡± she calls out, looking for Shamrock. She peeks into the workshop. ¡°Shamboozle?¡± Shamrock turns his head from the workbench, looking her way. ¡°Shamrock,¡± is all that he says and Fresh laughs. ¡°Sorry, Shamrock!¡± she replies, knocking on her head. ¡°Can I come in?¡± she asks, looking at the workman¡¯s knife in his hand, that is far too small for his large grip. He nods and Fresh steps inside, approaching him from behind and trying to hug him from the back. ¡°Jubilee told me to go do something productive,¡± she says, as if that was her explanation for the hug. Shamrock nods, understanding. Turning his head to look back at her, he looks down before himself and then back at her again. ¡°Look,¡± says the giant, stepping to the side. Fresh beams, looking past him towards the table and gasps. ¡°Shamrock! They¡¯re super cool!¡± she says, looking at the collection of little, wooden figurines, carved out of a mixture of different beach-woods and decorated with small pendants and charms made out of crabs, seashells and pretty rocks. Each of them is about the size of the length between the tip of her middle finger and her wrist. Some of them look like people, but some of them look like monsters as well. Here¡¯s one that¡¯s clearly human but the one next to it is a goblin and that one there is clearly a dragon of some kind. There is another one, it looks like a man who Fresh can¡¯t help but feel is vaguely familiar in an odd way that she can¡¯t explain. They aren¡¯t the greatest artworks ever made, by any stretch, but Fresh is wowed because she knows that her friend, having no crafting abilities or class of any kind, has made these painstakingly by hand, with nothing but a knife that is too small for his grip and a lot of time. One thing she can¡¯t figure out though, is why they each have a small indent in their sides, until she watches Shamrock set them together and then she realizes they''re a set. The wood connects together, the human and the dragon and the goblin and all of the other little, wooden creatures all stick together like the pieces of a puzzle, as they form a whole circle, all of them the pieces of one greater thing. It doesn¡¯t actually do anything, not having any magical effects of any kind. But, that isn¡¯t the point. It isn¡¯t supposed to do anything. It¡¯s supposed to be something, to represent something. Fresh looks out over the collection and her eyes catch the one figurine of a human again. A man, but she just can¡¯t place what¡¯s bothering her about it. Seeing her gaze, Shamrock turns his head to her and then looks back at the figurine. ¡°Gauden,¡± says the man, explaining. Fresh gasps. ¡°The witch?¡± she asks, realizing. ¡°I thought Gauden was a woman?¡± Shamrock shakes his head. ¡°Spillaholle, Perchta, yes,¡± he explains, poking her softly in the forehead. ¡°Gauden was a man,¡± he says, his chest lurching outward as he speaks. ¡°Before he left.¡± Fresh blinks. She supposes the ¡®leaving¡¯ thing was a reference to the other witches having left to go past the south border, to never return to this side of the world. ¡°Did you know them, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh and Shamrock nods, lifting his hand to strike against his chest twice with his knuckles. ¡°I was there,¡± he explains, his eyes wandering around the room. ¡°When they left.¡± Fresh tilts her head, still holding on to him. ¡°Were you friends?¡± He nods and Fresh thinks that she understands. Shamrock knew the other witches, that¡¯s how he was introduced to his lifestyle, to the path he had chosen to walk. She presses her cheek against his armor. He had probably gotten it back then. The others, most if not all of the sect, including the witches Gauden and Spillaholle, had gone to the south, having had enough of this side of the world, perhaps holding it for lost and as being beyond redemption. Maybe they were right? Who knows? ¡°How come you stayed?¡± she asks, realizing that it¡¯s a rude question. If Jubilee, if Basil, if Shamrock were to simply pack their bags and decide that it¡¯s time to leave, she isn¡¯t sure that she would have the strength to stay behind without them, to walk another road all by herself like Shamrock had chosen to do back then. Shamrock stares at her, before turning back to the circle of figurines. He adjusts them, scooting them closer together as he thinks. ¡°I kept the faith,¡± replies the man. ¡°Someone had to.¡± This is the answer she had expected and yet, it still manages to make her sad. Shamrock¡¯s whole life has been in service of others, even down to his most basic, fundamental principle of being, everything has been to help others and she¡¯s worried that there just isn¡¯t enough space left for Shamrock himself in all of that jumble. ¡°I¡¯m glad you stayed, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh and he nods in return, placing a large hand on her head. ¡°I was given two feet to walk,¡± says the man, pulling her free from himself. ¡°Not to hide,¡± he says and Fresh nods, understanding his message. ¡°We¡¯re gonna make it better here, Shamrock,¡± promises Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t know how, honestly. It feels like a lot sometimes,¡± she admits. ¡°Like more than is possible to fix. But we¡¯re gonna do it!¡± He nods, satisfied. ¡°Strong.¡± ¡°STRONG!¡± howls Fresh, starting to cry as she reattaches herself to the man¡¯s armor. It takes a while, before she has finished ¡®processing her emotions¡¯ as she had described it to Basil, but eventually, everything that needs to be felt has been felt and everything that needs to be done has been done and she heads back out of the workshop, wiping her face as she decides to get a light lunch ready for everyone. They¡¯re all working so hard, they¡¯re all chasing after some distant goal and she¡¯s just been goofing around. Getting some food ready, just some simple sandwiches and soup, she carries everyone their portions, alleviating Jubilee of their counter-duty so that they could have a chance to go upstairs and eat too. It¡¯s been a while since she worked the counter anyway and she¡¯s missed it a little. The little interactions with the customers, the little spats about a product costing an Obol more or less, being able to watch the world pass you by from a secure spot that you not only own, but that you belong in. Like a bird, sitting in a comfortable, bough-hidden nest while a storm rages on outside, working in the shop, living in the shop, brings her a security that she only ever really appreciates while she¡¯s at the best vantage point, right in the middle of it all. She smiles a satisfied smile. It¡¯s going to be hard and rough and complicated, but somehow, she¡¯s going to make the world a better place. Not just for herself, not just for her friends, but for everyone in it. Even if they don¡¯t appreciate her doing so. ¡°Excuse me?¡± asks a voice from the ice-cream window. Fresh turns around, looking past Basil at the man in full, ornate armor standing there, looking around confused. A crusader, a soldier from the north, given the imagery on his armor. ¡°Is this the, uh, the Dungeon Item Shop?¡± asks the young, somewhat awkward looking man as he stares around curiously. Razmatazz The tikis are cursed. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 263: Awkward ¡°Sure is,¡± replies Basil, without skipping a beat. ¡°What would you like?¡± she asks, acting entirely unphased by the question. The young soldier lowers his head, his tan-brown hair lowering over his face as he looks at the ice-cream that Basil is gesturing towards. ¡°Oh uh¡­¡± he turns his head, looking off to the side. Fresh follows his gaze, seeing that the ¡®milkshake dark-elf¡¯ is sitting there on the beach, making a gesture with his hands to signify something large. ¡°Can I get a large bottle of milk with a scoop of coconut mixed into it, please?¡± he asks, sighing as if he were relenting on something that he didn¡¯t want to do. ¡°Sure thing!¡± replies Basil, not having lost any of her cool at all. ¡°Isn¡¯t it hot here in all of that?¡± she asks, pointing to his armor, making smalltalk as she works. The soldier sighs. ¡°Like you wouldn¡¯t believe. Look.¡± He looks around, checking that nobody is behind him. ¡°I¡¯m just here because my brother likes your store,¡± explains the soldier, leaning in over the counter. ¡°You might want to change your business¡¯ name. It¡¯s a little¡­ unfortunate,¡± he suggests. Basil stares at him, as if perplexed, while she shakes the bottle in her hands. ¡°What do you mean?¡± The soldier lowers his voice. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear about the north?¡± ¡°The north?¡± asks Basil, playing completely dumb. She shakes her head. ¡°No, we moved here from the west. It was too cold for us, you know?¡± The man looks around again. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to talk about this. But there was a business in the north, with the same name as yours. Run by the witch herself.¡± He turns his head, looking at the dungeon. ¡°I get that it¡¯s the obvious thing to go with, considering the location, but maybe consider changing your name for a while?¡± Basil laughs. ¡°You¡¯re very sweet. Here,¡± she hands him the bottle. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone will get us mixed up,¡± explains Basil. ¡°I doubt anyone would be so foolish as to think that we''re associated with something like that. And especially that we''d use the same, exact name.¡± The man takes the bottle, rubbing the back of his head uncertainly. Basil places her hands on her hips. ¡°Anyways,¡± she leans in over the counter. ¡°Are you calling me a ¡®w¡¯-word?¡± she asks, very sternly. ¡°Am I going to have to talk to your commander?¡± The young man, clearly in over his head, quickly lifts his hands. ¡°No! No, miss, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says, clearly taken aback by Basil¡¯s direct confrontation. ¡°Like I said, my brother likes you guys and I¡¯m just trying to be helpful. You know what people are like these days,¡± he explains. ¡°You seem like a nice person.¡± Basil frowns, staring at him for a while. She sighs, her posture loosening. ¡°They don¡¯t pay you guys much, right?¡± she asks. ¡°Thank you for your advice,¡± says the priestess. ¡°That one is on the house,¡± she says, pointing at the bottle in his hands. ¡°But next time, if you say the ¡®w¡¯-word again, it¡¯s going to cost double,¡± she warns sternly. The young man looks at the bottle and then at her, nodding. ¡°Thank you, uh¡­¡± He looks around, awkwardly, clearly not knowing what to do now. ¡°Thanks,¡± he says again, instead of ¡®goodbye¡¯ and nervously shuffles away. Fresh waits for a moment and then wants to praise Basil for her fantastic acting, but then she realizes that she shouldn¡¯t open her mouth about that down here to begin with. Basil turns her head around and nods to her and Fresh nods back. Crisis averted. She supposes that there is something to be said for hiding in plain sight. Sure, their name was conspicuous, much like literally half of their group. But in a sense, that made it too obvious. ¡­Right? Fresh blinks. She has no idea, but it¡¯s been working well so far. She supposes that if the fountain didn¡¯t want them to keep the same name, then it would have made them change it. So it¡¯s probably fine, right? Yeah. Fresh nods to herself. That makes sense in her mind. She thinks¡­ The rest of the day comes and goes without much more than that. Eventually, she pushes the last shopping cart back into the row and then closes the door, falling with her back against it and sliding down to the ground. Despite everything having been more or less calm, she was still fairly on edge for the rest of the workday. ¡°What should we do now, guys?¡± asks Fresh, looking up at the others. Jubilee turns their head from behind the counter, staring at her. ¡°Well. You should clean the floor, first of all.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she protests. ¡°It was really scary, you should have seen Basil!¡± says Fresh. ¡°She was such a great actor, she even had me fooled!¡± Her friend raises an eyebrow. ¡°I bet,¡± they reply and Fresh isn¡¯t sure which part of her statement they were referencing. ¡°Hey!¡± argues Fresh out of principle. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee stacks a pile of coins onto the counter. ¡°It means you sweep the floors,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at Fresh. ¡°You clean up that sticky mess you made by the window,¡± they say to the priestess. ¡°And you.¡± Jubilee points at Shamrock. ¡°You restock the shelves without eating any of the damn merchandise!¡± Fresh gets up onto her feet, happy to see her friend being as rude as ever. That means everything is okay. It would be scary if Jubilee wasn¡¯t being pretend-mean. ¡°So you think it¡¯s fine, Jubilee?¡± she asks, walking over to the counter. Jubilee stares at her, the tension in their shoulders falling slack as they let out a tired sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± They look around at the others. ¡°But this is what we¡¯re doing now. We¡¯ve dealt with more stressful bullshit than this.¡± ¡°There¡¯s truth to that,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to going to bed tonight.¡± Fresh turns her head to Shamrock. But the man has nothing to add and simply starts stocking the shelves without so much as a shrug or a nod. Scratching her cheek, she decides that it¡¯s time to finish up for the night too and grabs her damp broom, sets to work on cleaning the floors, which are particularly sandy today. Later that night, after all of the work downstairs is done and the four of them had a light tea, none of them being up for dinner except Shamrock who found some extra sandwiches from that afternoon, they sit around the kitchen table and look at Shamrock¡¯s creations. Jubilee sits there, their elbow on the table and their head resting on their fist as they stare at the little totems. ¡°And¡­¡± they raise an eyebrow. ¡°You think people are going to¡­ buy these? For money?¡± Shamrock shrugs, but not to signify that he doesn¡¯t know the answer to that question. But rather that he doesn¡¯t care about it. ¡°I¡¯d buy them, Shamrock!¡± says Fresh, grabbing his arm and holding her head against the cold metal of his body. ¡°No refunds,¡± says the man, turning his head towards her. Basil snorts, setting her tea-cup back down before she makes a mess. ¡°Did he just make a joke?¡± asks Jubilee, sounding almost skeptical. ¡°Shamrock makes jokes all the time!¡± says Fresh, defending him. ¡°Anyways. I wouldn¡¯t bring them back for a refund!¡± Jubilee nods, still not having lifted their head from their fist. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯d be too scared to go up to the counter and make a fuss,¡± says Jubilee. They turn to Basil. ¡°You should have seen her, back when I caught up with her in the adventurer¡¯s guild, back in the north,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The ways her knees were shaking looking at the shot, you¡¯d think she had a ghost in her ass.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°Do you have to use language like that at the dinner table?¡± Jubilee stares at the priestess. ¡°Way I see it, we aren¡¯t having dinner. So it¡¯s just a table.¡± ¡°Anyway,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯m sure it was a very frightening ordeal.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± agrees Fresh. ¡°It was! But Jubilee came to save me and then¡­ uh¡­¡± she thinks for a second. ¡°Actually. Jubilee scared me a lot after that too, so it was still really scary for a while.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah?¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Someone had to scare you straight, you goon. You¡¯re lucky you didn¡¯t vanish into the fucking shadows,¡± explains Jubilee, tapping against the table with a finger. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, by the way,¡± they say. ¡°And what did I fucking get out of it?¡± they ask, gesturing around themselves as if there was nothing there. ¡°I can still offer you that massage?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Fuck off, Basil,¡± replies Jubilee and Basil shrugs, continuing to sip her tea. Fresh crosses her arms, looking at Basil. ¡°No fair. I want to give Jubilee a massage!¡± she argues. Shamrock raises his hand, signifying his willingness as well. ¡°How about this?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°How about you three get bent and we all play the ¡®don¡¯t touch Jubilee¡¯ game!¡± they exclaim. ¡°It¡¯s really fun. The only rule is -¡± Jubilee taps their finger against the table. ¡°Don¡¯t fucking touch me.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°You have the worst games, Jubilee. How is that fun?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fun for me,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°So lavender oil or rosehip oil?¡± asks Basil, scooting her chair back and getting up. ¡°Lavender,¡± says Shamrock, getting up too. Fresh turns her head. ¡°Ooh! Can I smell them first and then decide?¡± ¡°Sure thing,¡± says Basil. ¡°I will literally cut your hands off if you try,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯d do you some good,¡± explains Basil, setting her empty cup down in the kitchen. ¡°You seem very tense.¡± ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± replies Jubilee, getting up as well. ¡°Anyways. I¡¯m going to bed and if I smell a single thing that is even close to a flower, I will set this house and all of you on fire,¡± they threaten. Fresh lifts a finger. ¡°But Jubilee, your hair already smells like flowers because of the soap.¡± Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches. ¡°It¡¯s really nice!¡± Jubilee stares at her and then sighs, defeated. ¡°You know what?¡± they ask. ¡°I¡¯m too tired to argue anymore,¡± they say. ¡°Let¡¯s just go to bed without any weird fuckery, okay?¡± ¡°So, no massage?¡± asks Fresh to be sure. ¡°With your icy witch-fingers?¡± asks Jubilee and Fresh looks down at her fingers, wiggling them. She honestly hasn¡¯t even realized anymore that she is just constantly clammy and cool these days on her skin, despite how warm she might feel sometimes. Fresh looks to the side, grabbing Shamrock¡¯s hand. She gasps. ¡°Shamrock! Your fingers are cold too!¡± she says, looking at his metal hand. Basil and Jubilee stare at the two of them for a moment before looking back at each other. ¡°Mine are warm,¡± says Basil, holding up a hand. ¡°You¡¯re trying too hard,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Denied,¡± they say, planting their hands on their hips. Basil shrugs. ¡°If I try anyway, are you going to bite me again?¡± ¡°No, because you¡¯d probably like that.¡± Basil gasps, covering her mouth. Fresh blinks looking at the two of them, not entirely sure she is able follow the context of their ensuing spat. She shrugs, looking at Shamrock. ¡°Wanna put our mattresses together to make a giant mattress cave?¡± she asks. ¡°Yes,¡± is all the man says and the two of them set off to do exactly that, leaving Basil and Jubilee to sort out their argument in peace. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 264: Soft It¡¯s late at night. The others are asleep and Fresh stands out on the edge of the balcony, staring out over the dark ocean. Her hair is soaking wet, just like her pajamas, skin and body. It has been raining for a while now. But somehow, the rain had roused her from her sleep and has drawn her out onto the balcony, where she has been standing for a while now. There isn¡¯t really a reason for it. She hasn¡¯t been drawn here by any mystical force, by any whispering, cosmic voice or beckoning. It¡¯s just raining and she thinks that that¡¯s nice. Fresh closes her eyes for a second, taking in another deep breath of the air. The air here by the ocean has always felt very clean and sharp to inhale, but somehow, with the rain causing the scent of it to become more matte and damp than it usually is, it gives it a soft pleasantness. ¡®Soft¡¯. She repeats the word in her mind, staring down at her wet pajamas. They¡¯re soft. Her skin beneath them, soft. Her body beneath that, soft. Fresh turns her head, looking around for more soft things. The cushions of the chairs. The curtains that Jubilee had made. The wet sand of the beach below herself. The fluffy, dark clouds that float up high in the sky. All of these things are soft. Is that relevant to anything? No. Not really. But does it have to be? Fresh doesn¡¯t think so, she¡¯s just making a list of soft things, so that if she ever gets into a conversation about all of the soft things in their home with any of the others, she¡¯ll be ready. Now, is this likely to happen? No. It¡¯s very unlikely, in all honesty. But it¡¯s strangely fun and in a weird, delirious way, it feels like a good, productive use of her time instead of sleeping. She isn¡¯t sure why she couldn¡¯t sleep, honestly. ¡°Moon sure is bright tonight,¡± she quietly mutters to herself, staring up at where the moon should be. But it¡¯s impossible to see, because of the thick layer of obscuring clouds, covering it all up. A noise comes from behind herself and she turns her head, looking at Shamrock who is standing in the door. She nods to him and he nods back, stepping outside into the rain. ¡°You¡¯re gonna get all wet, Shamrock,¡± she says, looking back up towards the clouds. The man doesn¡¯t seem to be bothered and simply makes his way to her side, staring up at the dark sky in which no moon can be seen. She supposes that it¡¯s fine. All of the salt-water is probably bad for him anyways, so a bit of fresh rain will do him some good too, in a sense. ¡°It¡¯s bright,¡± he says, his head lifted up towards the rain. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh in agreement and the two of them stand there in the rain for a while, just watching the droplets fall to the ground from the dark, lightless sky. ¡°Hey, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh, now being aware that she herself is asking the question. Not like the last time, when the two of them had stood out on the balcony together, back in the west. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± she asks, asking something already. He nods and honestly, Fresh would have been surprised if he had done anything else. She turns back to look at the endless, black expanse that is the ocean. The droplets of rain strike down onto its surface, bringing a great, odd disturbance to the water. From here, from this distance, it looks as if the world were shaking as a whole, perhaps because of the coming of some great, calamitous being. Some titan, shaking the world to its foundations with each of its monstrous steps. The bad-thing, manifested into a physical form. But in reality, it¡¯s just raining. ¡°Is the central-city really as bad as the others say it is?¡± she asks, turning her head to look at him, strands of her long hair glued to her face in thick bundles, as rain water runs down her head. Shamrock, facing forward, turns his gaze towards her for a moment, before looking back towards the sky. If it was anyone else, she¡¯d say that they were looking away to avoid the question and to weigh their options. But Shamrock, she knows, is just looking at the sky much in the same way that she herself is. There¡¯s something about it. Something that she never really noticed before in her old life. The vastness of it, the sheer, overwhelming scale of it. But not in a frightening way, that might make one insecure of their own position in the world or their value as a small, insignificant creature. But rather, it¡¯s as if it were a canvas, the largest piece of art made for mortal eyes to see. Painted by heavenly hands to span from one end of the world, all the way around to the next. A real sky, one that isn¡¯t polluted and full of energy and lights, one that is as clean and as presentable as it was intended to be by the makers, should there even be such things, is hypnotic. She feels it and she knows that Shamrock does too. ¡°When I was there,¡± she goes on. ¡°It was really nice. I mean, sure, I was only there for a little bit and there was a festival going on, so I know it wasn¡¯t the real thing. But¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a while, before going on. ¡°It felt different than the places we¡¯ve been,¡± she says. ¡°It felt light. Really light.¡± She looks at him. ¡°And I¡¯ve been feeling like, when I went there, to this really nice place, that I dragged in a bunch of gunk and I just messed it all up for everyone.¡± Shamrock shakes his head and Fresh listens to the sound of water striking against his armor. ¡°Sometimes,¡± says the man, staring up at where the moon ought to be. ¡°We are misguided,¡± he explains, pressing a large finger just above her heart. ¡°Our faith leads us astray.¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± asks Fresh. Is he referring to his own faith in her? Did she let him down already? The man lifts his hands, taking a second to cup them together to catch the falling rain. Fresh smiles, he¡¯s gotten a lot better at moving his fingers more dexterously. She imagines it must be really hard for him. She watches as the gap between his hands fills up with water. ¡°Sometimes,¡± he says again, his breastplate heaving as he takes a long breath. ¡°We hold a precious thing,¡± explains Shamrock, opening his hands and letting the water fall down to the ground, now that he was done with it. He pull a long, thick strand of hair from her face and holds it out, squeezing the abundance of water out of it. ¡°Sometimes, it holds us,¡± he says. ¡°Captive.¡± Fresh stares at him for a while. The man always has such a simple way with words, but he loves his turns of speech at the same time. But she thinks that she understands. ¡°So it was a lie?¡± she asks, turning back to look at the water of the ocean. ¡°Forgive them,¡± says the man. ¡°They hold a precious thing,¡± he explains, turning around to go back inside. ¡°Sleep,¡± says Shamrock, waiting at the door for her. Fresh sighs, taking in a long breath of the rainy, night air as she processes. So, Jubilee and Basil did lie to her about the central-city. But why? She still hasn¡¯t understood that. And what about the barkeeper and her story? It had to be true, but¡­ what if she was mistaken about the details? She just doesn¡¯t know. But what she does now understand is that her friends were fearful of her knowing the truth about it. Did they think that if she found out that there was such a real, happy place in the world, that she would leave them to try and enter it alone? Even after everything, is that still a credible fear that they carried in their hearts? That she would just pack up and go if she found out the truth? She recalls Basil¡¯s words to her, back in the west, when she had gotten that rare-wood staff to repair. ¡®People like us aren¡¯t welcome there.¡¯ Fresh turns around, walking back across the balcony. Grabbing Shamrock¡¯s hand, she drags him inside and closes the balcony door, setting him in the corner by the kitchen. Gesturing for him to wait, she drags herself to the wardrobe and grabs as many towels as she can successfully manage to. The enchanted-lantern rises up off of Basil¡¯s nightstand and floats softly alongside her, giving her only a weak shine to illuminate her steps without waking the others. Heading back to the dark kitchen where Shamrock is standing, she begins to dry him and herself off as best as she can, working through a mountain of towels until both of them are dry enough again to not ruin their beds. After that, as she lowers herself down onto her mattress, having changed out of her pajamas, she stares at the bed across from hers, between her own and Shamrock¡¯s, at the priestess who lays there with closed eyes, but isn¡¯t flailing around in her sleep. The lantern lands back on her nightstand and dims itself once more. Fresh lowers herself down into her own bed, covering herself with the heaviest, thickest arrangement of soft blankets that she has and rests her damp hair onto her soft pillow, letting out a long, tired sigh to signal that she is ready to finally sleep. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± says a soft spoken voice from the other side of the waist-high, stone wall that separates their beds. Fresh closes her eyes. ¡°Friends shouldn¡¯t lie,¡± concedes the priestess and Fresh nods in silent agreement, before falling into a sleep so deep, that not even the loudest surge of the coming storm or crash of thunder can wake her from her rest. Razmatazz -) DIS Book 2 is ready for amazon, but I''m fighting with them to prove that I own the publishing rights. Sigh. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 265: Cutie There¡¯s something about autumn that Fresh can¡¯t really put her finger on. It¡¯s the late afternoon of the next day and she is standing next to Basil, helping run the window as business is particularly wild today. Any traces or inklings of the rain from last night are already gone and taken away, the scorching desert sun having risen to its apex and dried out the world far faster than she had thought possible, given the intensity of the rain. But all of the water has either been drawn deeply into the ground, or pulled up into the air, leaving nothing but the dry, hot sands and stones beneath. But, at the same time, despite the hot, season-less climate that they find themselves in, it still feels like autumn. Fresh scoops in another ball of apple ice-cream into a waffle, handing it to the man outside while Basil runs a second row of customers to her right. ¡°Next!¡± she calls and listens as the next person in line, a caster of some kind who is wearing a swim-suit, but still wearing a large, pointed hat, makes a complicated, long order that she finds herself surprisingly able to keep track of as she works in a semi-dazed state. Her body runs through the motions of her work, as if it were an automatic process. But all the while, her mind is focused on the autumn. Autumn is a lot of things. It¡¯s the last ¡®green¡¯ season. It¡¯s the precipice, just before the coming of winter. It¡¯s a season in which things are said to die in, like the many leaves of the trees, falling to the ground. But there is also something oddly peaceful about it. There¡¯s an acceptance of the entailed death. Despite the coming of winter and the harshness that that might bring, there is a peace to autumn that neither the energetic spring or the vibrant summer have. Honestly, she has no idea what she¡¯s thinking about exactly, but by the time that her train of thought finally comes to an end, she blinks and ¡®wakes up¡¯, finding herself standing in front of an empty window with an empty ice-cream scoop still in her hand as she stares at the empty spot where she feels like someone should be. But there is nobody there. The line is gone, the customers are finished for the day, having packed up to go home or to hunt crabs longer into the night. Fresh blinks, turning her head to look at Basil who is slumped down on the floor, sitting with her back against the counter and her arms down at her side, limp, as if she had been drained of every last ounce of both her spirit and strength. They had sold a lot of ice-cream. ¡°Get up, you slacker!¡± barks Jubilee at the priestess. ¡°We should hire somebody to run the window,¡± says a clearly exhausted Basil, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s leg and pulling them towards herself. Jubilee tries to shake her off, but fails to do so and Fresh watches in confusion as Basil rests her head against their side. ¡°That¡¯s literally what we hired you to do, jackass,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh scratches her cheek, watching as Basil sighs. ¡°There wasn¡¯t as much work back then. It was easier,¡± says the priestess. ¡°I don¡¯t recall your contract ever saying anything about ¡®easy¡¯ work,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Will you let go of me?!¡± they snap at her, trying to get away. ¡°I never got a contract,¡± says Basil. ¡°We just made a verbal agreement.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°We¡¯re adventurers. That¡¯s how we do things. You can always go back to the church if you don¡¯t like it here.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± says Basil, looking up at them with a hurt gaze for a moment. Fresh closes the window for the day, watching as Jubilee sighs. ¡°Sorry,¡± says her friend in an unusual moment of relinquishment. They hadn¡¯t talked about last night and Fresh honestly isn¡¯t sure that they are ever really going to. She¡¯s sure that Basil had taken Jubilee to the side sometime today and let them know, but nobody has spoken to her about it and she hasn¡¯t spoken to them about it and in a way, everything is fine like that. She knows that they have their reasons and now that the curtain has been drawn wide open and now that they know that she knows, they can come to her at their own pace. She can wait. She has no better place to be and she needs them to see that, even if they might already know it now. She needs them to see it again and again and again, until they finally learn that they¡¯re all friends and that ¡®this¡¯ isn¡¯t going to go anywhere. Taking an hour, they close up the store, restocking all of the shelves and doing some light cleaning to get ready for the next day. Making the new batch of ice-cream for tomorrow is always the worst part, honestly. It isn¡¯t a ton of work, it just takes a lot of time. Well, except for Shamrock, as he is always on shaking duty. Fresh considers making an ¡®ice-cream machine¡¯ out of some magical components, it would save a lot of time. But, maybe tomorrow. For now, she just wants to drag herself upstairs and eat something that isn¡¯t ice-cream. Opening the door from the staircase, she stands there and lets the others walk past her as she stares at the oddity in their living space. Jubilee¡¯s teddy-bear stands there, outside of their room. Seeing them approach, it holds its arms up and walks their way. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± sighs Jubilee, lifting a leg to kick it away. ¡°Jubilee!¡± yells Fresh, setting her leg in front of theirs to stop them from doing so. ¡°It¡¯s nice to be greeted when you come home,¡± says Basil, waving to the bear that walks up to Jubilee and hugs their leg. ¡°I¡¯m a little jealous.¡± ¡°Ugh¡­¡± Jubilee bends down, picking up the bear with the tips of their fingers as if they were holding something disgusting. ¡°I¡¯ll throw you to the crabs like I did with the other one,¡± they threaten. The bear stares at them for a second, dangling up in the air. It lifts its arms, trying to steal another hug. Jubilee sighs, throwing the bear over their shoulder and Fresh catches it, yelping. ¡°Jubilee! Don¡¯t be mean to the bear!¡± ¡°The bear is creepy as fuck,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s always watching me.¡± Fresh blinks, looking down at the bear. ¡°Well. Yeah,¡± she explains, squeezing the bear against her chest. The bear however has turned around in her grasp, reaching out towards the person who it loves the most in the entire world. ¡°It¡¯s your bear, Jubilee.¡± ¡°It¡¯s almost romantic in a way,¡± says Basil, getting a kettle of tea ready for the evening. ¡°Red or blue?¡± she asks, looking at Shamrock. ¡°Blue,¡± replies the man and Basil nods, grabbing the blue satchel of tea leaves. Fresh steps into the living area, closing the door to the stairs behind her with her foot, continuing to hold the bear. She looks down at it, gasping to herself. ¡°Soft¡­¡± ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee, taking off their masking and flopping down face-first against the surface of the dinner table. She sits down on her spot, setting the bear down but holding onto it as she looks it over. It¡¯s completely fixed up, having looked pretty rough after arriving from its adventure. But now, even on the new fabric, there are wear marks where hands and arms have been tightly holding it. Fresh smiles, looking at the bear and then at Jubilee. The bear turns its head around, looking at her and she looks back at it, nodding. She understands. The bear has really been working hard, hasn¡¯t it? She lifts it up, planting a proud mother¡¯s kiss on its forehead before setting it down onto the table and letting it walk over to Jubilee. It reaches their head and latches onto it with a hug and Jubilee just lets out a long, tired sigh, not bothering to look up. ¡°Here,¡± says Basil, pouring her a cup of tea. ¡°Let it sit for a few minutes. It¡¯s hot.¡± ¡°Thanks, Basil!¡± says Fresh and Basil nods. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± asks the priestess, looking over towards Jubilee and the bear. ¡°Sure thing, Basil,¡± replies Fresh, nodding. Shamrock sits down next to her. ¡°Uh¡­ this might be weird, but¡­ is the bear, you know¡­ ¡®alive¡¯?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°It¡¯s as alive as the sheep were, or the lantern is.¡± ¡°Somehow, that doesn¡¯t help me understand,¡± replies Basil. ¡°So¡­ are they alive too?¡± Fresh tilts her head, staring at the priestess and then over to the bear for a while. ¡°Are your feelings real, Basil?¡± ¡°What?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°When you feel something, like, if you¡¯re really happy,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Or really super sad, is that real?¡± she asks. ¡°Are those feelings real things that exist?¡± Basil leans back on her chair, pulling on her sleeves as she thinks. ¡°Well, I certainly feel like they are when I feel them?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Right now, the bear is feeling like it¡¯s alive. So it is.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Witch magic is weird, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t get it myself, honestly. But I do know that my results are based on my feelings,¡± she says. ¡°When I made the bear, I was feeling something strong, so the bear feels that too,¡± she explains. ¡°I guess it has to be alive, to feel that too?¡± she assumes. ¡°It couldn¡¯t feel if it wasn¡¯t alive.¡± The lantern flies over, resting on the table next to Basil and to Fresh¡¯s surprise, she lifts a hand and rubs it. ¡°Is that so?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± she smiles, looking at them, glad that they¡¯re getting along so well with their gifts. She blinks, turning her head to Shamrock as she realizes something. ¡°Shamrock! You need a cute thing too!¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Pleeease?¡± she asks. ¡°I have a sword,¡± he says, pointing to the sword next to his wardrobe. ¡°It¡¯s cursed,¡± says Basil, taking a long sip of her tea. Shamrock nods. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°How have you been managing that curse anyways?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it super dangerous?¡± He shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s taken care of.¡± Basil stares at him and then at Fresh, seemingly unsatisfied with this answer, but she sighs and then nods. ¡°Okay. But you better not die in your sleep or something.¡± ¡°I will not,¡± replies Shamrock. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee from across the table. ¡°At least have the decency to die in the dungeon or something,¡± they say. ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to carry your heavy ass downstairs.¡± ¡°Nobody is going to die in the dungeon or in their sleep!¡± says Fresh, crossing her arms. Jubilee groans. ¡°Great. Those are literally the two best places to die and now they¡¯re off the table.¡± Shamrock throws the entire contents of his cup into his helmet, setting the glassware down before scooting his chair back as he gets up. ¡°Where are you going?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Dungeon,¡± replies the man, walking over to the cabinet to grab his sword. Fresh stares at him for a while. ¡°That sword must be really low-level for you, Shamrock,¡± she says. ¡°Should I make you a new one?¡± ¡°No,¡± is all that he says, hoisting the large, two-handed, cursed blade over his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s cute.¡± Fresh blinks, looking at the grim, bone-weapon made out of hundreds of goblin¡¯s teeth and starts laughing. Razmatazz -) Well that was easy this time. DIS [Book {2}] is NOW AVAILABLE on amazon as an ebook! (Paperback and hardcovers ''soon'')! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 266: Home together Fresh flips the pages of her grimoire, sitting outside on the balcony with her feet kicked up onto the table and her chair leaned back. She¡¯s looking for anything that could offer her that particular bout of inspiration that she¡¯s looking for. It¡¯s after their closing, but before bed-time. Shamrock is still in the dungeon and Jubilee and Basil had vanished to take care of something about an hour ago. Fresh assumes that it¡¯s shady business, given how shifty Jubilee was acting. Thieves¡¯ guild stuff, if she had to bet on something. She really wishes that Jubilee wouldn¡¯t get Basil involved in these kinds of things, not that she wants Jubilee themselves to be involved either. She sighs, flipping a page. Well, she¡¯s not their mother. Everyone has to make their own decisions for their own lives, right? ¡°Get your feet off of the table, you fucking animal,¡± barks Jubilee, a loud snapping present in their air as they walk in and through the kitchen. Fresh blinks, turning her gaze in towards the house, wiggling her toes in protest. ¡°Hi, Jubilee!¡± she calls in through the balcony door. ¡°I was just thinking about you guys.¡± Jubilee sighs, taking off their mask and setting it down onto the table. ¡°Do you ever live your own life? Or do you just creep us all day, every day in your head?¡± Fresh tilts her head, thinking for a second. ¡°Just you guys, I think,¡± she says, her eyes wandering upwards. ¡°Unless I¡¯m sad, then I think about myself a lot.¡± ¡°Yeah, that checks out,¡± replies Jubilee dryly, grabbing a bottle of coconut-water from the cooling-cabinet. They open it, taking a tender sip before shuddering and setting it back. ¡°Fucking coconut water. I can¡¯t see this shit anymore,¡± they mutter, grabbing a bottle of sweet-tea instead. ¡°You should drink some normal water,¡± suggests Fresh. ¡°Too much sweet stuff is bad for you.¡± ¡°Get off my ass, mom,¡± replies Jubilee, snarkily. Fresh gasps. ¡°I was just thinking about being your mom too!¡± she says, finally pulling her feet off of the table and leaning in towards Jubilee who stares at her with one of the most confusing expressions she has ever seen them make. ¡°This conversation is going to stop here. We will never speak of this again. Goodbye,¡± is all that Jubilee says, turning to walk away to their room. ¡°Do you want dinner?¡± she asks, calling after them. ¡°I¡¯ll cook.¡± Fresh tilts her head a second time, looking past Jubilee. ¡°Hey, where¡¯s Basil?¡± she asks, realizing that the priestess isn¡¯t there with them. ¡°She took a bend to the dungeon to hang out with Shamrock, I guess?¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Steak?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have any steak,¡± says Fresh, looking at the cooling cabinet. ¡°How about fish?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sick of fish and I¡¯m sick of coconuts.¡± ¡°Crab?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee stares at her, still teetering on the edge of their room, shaking their leg that the bear has latched on to. ¡°I will literally lock you out if you name one more thing that comes from the ocean.¡± ¡°Salad?¡± suggests Fresh. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°I thought you wanted to make dinner.¡± ¡°Salad is dinner.¡± ¡°Please,¡± replies Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s hardly food,¡± they say, sighing. They look down at the bottle of tea in their hand and swish it around, not looking particularly excited by it either. ¡°You sure are picky, Jubilee,¡± replies Fresh, closing her grimoire and getting up. ¡°It¡¯s called having standards, goo-brain. Try it some time,¡± they reply. ¡°If she did,¡± says Basil, coming in from the staircase with Shamrock in tow. ¡°She couldn¡¯t be your friend anymore.¡± ¡°Oh great,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I thought I¡¯d have at least an hour away from you,¡± they say. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, was the dungeon too scary for you?¡± Basil lifts her nose, walking to the cooling cabinet to grab a bottle of herbal tea. ¡°As if anything could frighten me after having to spend a whole evening with you.¡± ¡°Fuck off,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Make me,¡± replies Basil, taking a long drink from her bottle. Fresh blinks, staring at the two of them. ¡°Hello,¡± says Shamrock, waving. He doesn¡¯t often join in on the ¡®banter¡¯, opting to take the high-road more often than not. Fresh waves back. ¡°We¡¯re just talking about dinner, guys,¡± says Fresh. ¡°How does steak sound?¡± she asks. ¡°But someone has to go with me to the market.¡± ¡°I¡¯d prefer something light,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Like fish or salad.¡± ¡°We have that literally every day!¡± protests Jubilee. Basil continues to ignore them, drinking from her bottle instead. ¡°Pancakes,¡± suggests Shamrock. Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°Pancakes are a breakfast food.¡± Fresh lifts a finger. ¡°What if we take a pancake, put a steak on it and some salad on that and then another pancake on top?¡± Jubilee stares at her for a second and then shuts their door, stepping inside of their room without saying another word. Fresh yelps, reaching after them. Basil shrugs indifferently and sits down at the table, taking off her boots. ¡°Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Will you go to the market with me, please?¡± ¡°No,¡± replies the man, shaking his head. ¡°Huh?¡± she asks. ¡°Pleeease?¡± begs Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go alone and Jubilee is being grumpy and Basil is taking off her boots already.¡± ¡°No,¡± he repeats, sitting down at the table. ¡°Shamrooooock~¡± ¡°No.¡± She sighs, having been beaten. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll go by myself then,¡± she relents, grabbing her bag and putting some socks on. By the time she¡¯s ready to go, she sees Basil waiting on her, having put her boots back on again. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you,¡± she concedes. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I bet you¡¯re tired too.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°We¡¯ll manage together, come on,¡± says the priestess, opening the door for her. ¡°So, steak?¡± asks Fresh, happy to have some company on this new adventure. The priestess sighs. ¡°Fine,¡± she relents. ¡°But only if we can buy the expensive ones,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t trust cheap meat,¡± explains the priestess. Fresh nods, agreeing to the terms of the deal. Their grocery budget is more than substantial as is anyways, so they can afford to splurge on nice things too. The two of them make their way to the city. This late in the evening, most of the vendors are already closed or closing as they speak. But a few of them are always open a little later, particularly the food merchants, capturing the last bit of hungry foot-traffic. People on their ways back home from work or from the dungeon. Making their way to an ornate, little plaza filled with greenery and a fountain, the two of them walk around and find some nice cuts of meat, as well as a bundle of fresh vegetables. Though she does find herself staring for a little too long at a pile of apples. Shaking her head and picking up the basket, Fresh gasps as she sees the thing laying behind it. ¡°I¡¯d like this too, please!¡± she exclaims, sliding another few coins across the counter. It¡¯s easily three times as expensive as they were back in the north, but what¡¯s a little money worth anyways? Not as much as this piece of fruit, in her eyes. (Fresh) bought: [Orange muka-fruit](Normal) for [{36} Obols] ! ¡°Basil!¡± she calls to the priestess who is sitting on the bench by the fountain, waiting for her. ¡°Look what I found!¡± she says excitedly, showing Basil the orange fruit. Basil gasps in delight. It¡¯s the same kind of orange fruit that she had always bought the priestess back in the north, after Basil had gone on a tirade once about her favorite color being orange. She hands it to her. ¡°Thank you!¡± says Basil excitedly, smiling at her. She scoots to the side. ¡°Would you like to share it with me?¡± Fresh sits down, setting the basket down at her feet. ¡°It¡¯s yours, Basil,¡± smiles Fresh, waving her off. Basil nods, tearing it in half and giving her a piece anyways. ¡°It¡¯d taste better if you had some too. Otherwise I¡¯ll feel like a glutton,¡± laughs the priestess. ¡°Mm!¡± Fresh takes it without protest. ¡°So, what did you guys do earlier?¡± she asks. ¡°Shady stuff,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t like it.¡± ¡°I bet,¡± says Fresh, biting down into the odd fruit, remembering that you¡¯re supposed to eat it with the peel. It really is very banana¡¯ish, from the texture to the mushy consistency. But it¡¯s very bright tasting and almost sour in its flavor. Basil smiles, looking down at the thing in her hands. ¡°You know,¡± she says. ¡°These have always been my favorite, even since I was young.¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s your favorite color?¡± ¡°No, not because of that,¡± replies Basil. ¡°But it¡¯s sweet that you remember that.¡± Fresh clasps her hands together. ¡°I remember everything about my friends, Basil.¡± Basil laughs. ¡°It¡¯s creepy when you say it like that,¡± she says, pointing at Fresh¡¯s wide, almost unblinking eyes that stare at her. ¡°Everything,¡± says Fresh in a monotone voice, pressing her eyes open wider and leaning in closer to Basil who laughs and pushes her back away to her side of the bench. She starts laughing too. ¡°No, it¡¯s just¡­¡± Basil thinks for a second. ¡°Do you ever do something weird, but not really for a real reason?¡± she asks. ¡°Like, you make up a rule that you can only do something if something happens? Or something like that you can¡¯t step on a crack with your left foot today?¡± she asks. ¡°Sure,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°I do stuff like that all the time.¡± ¡°I figured,¡± replies Basil, biting into her fruit and apparently relishing the flavor, as she doesn¡¯t say anything for a while. ¡°Well, it¡¯s kind of a thing. But when I was a girl,¡± she starts. ¡°And don¡¯t laugh!¡± warns Basil, going on. ¡°I got one of these as a present.¡± She holds up the piece of fruit in her hands. ¡°After my first winter at the church.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, listening intently as she eats. Remembering what Basil had told her about that last sentence in particular already, that must have been quite a feeling to see the spring come around again. Especially as a child. ¡°It was from a special person,¡± she explains. ¡°And then, on that day, I decided that I was never allowed to buy these for myself,¡± says Basil, looking at the piece of fruit in her hand and as her sleeve lifts itself up from the movement of her arm, Fresh sees the golden bracelet that the priestess had bought for herself with some of the first money that she earned together with them. She¡¯s still wearing it. ¡°I¡¯m only ever allowed to eat these if someone gets them for me without me asking. Even if they¡¯re my favorite.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°Basil!¡± she says, her mouth still full of mush. She covers her mouth with her hand, before swallowing. ¡°That¡¯s super sad and also super cute.¡± ¡°Uh, thank you. I think?¡± says Basil, pulling her sleeve back up to cover her bracelet as she takes another bite of the fruit. ¡°So what happened to that person?¡± asks Fresh, finishing her piece. Basil just shakes her head. ¡°Oh.¡± She scratches her cheek. Somehow, she feels like she should have known. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± says Basil, finishing hers as well and wiping her hands on her robe. ¡°I never told anyone and since then, you were literally the first person to give me one,¡± says Basil. ¡°Boy, that sure threw me for a loop.¡± She scratches her cheek. ¡°I learned a lot about myself during those days.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Anyways,¡± says Basil, getting up. ¡°I¡¯ve found that there are a lot of special people in this world,¡± she says. ¡°I just want to try to be one of them, you know?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, getting up and grabbing the basket with one hand, noticing how light it feels for her. She has gotten stronger for sure. With her other hand, she grabs Basil¡¯s hand and the two of them make their way home. ¡°You¡¯re already one of them, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°For me.¡± ¡°You are too,¡± says Basil, looking at what is apparently a particularly interesting window off to the side, somewhere else. ¡°For me.¡± And like that, the two of them go home and by the time they all prepare dinner together, everyone ends up being in a much lighter mood, before they all fall into a deep, restful sleep. Razmatazz -) Cute! *Ratchets boxcutter* CUTE! -) The inevitable HAMBAHGAH arc will just have to wait for another day I''m afraid =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 267: S-Rank eggs Fresh¡¯s arms shake violently, her entire body rattling around like a frightened skeleton in the dungeon as she rises up one more time, with her teeth clenched as tightly shut as her eyes are. A loud, long, furious breath leaves her body as she reaches the apex of her movement and then, on arms that no longer work, she falls down forward, back to the ground and releases a wild battle-howl. ¡°Shove it!¡± barks Jubilee from the kitchen, waving a spatula at her in an attempt to get her to be quiet. ¡°Your screaming is making me ruin the eggs!¡± ¡°I did ten, Jubilee!¡± says Fresh, still panting from her morning push-ups. ¡°I did ten!¡± she exclaims again, looking over to Shamrock who gives her a proud thumbs-up from the table. ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± says Basil, not bothering to look over from her tea-cup. It is early in the morning of the next day and everyone is just starting to gather around for breakfast. Fresh, having found herself in a particularly energetic and productive mood today, decided to get her morning workout in like she has been doing for a few days now. Give or take. She flips over, laying on her back for a second as she catches her breath and gets up, crawling under her blanket to change out of her pajamas and into her robe. Crawling around beneath her blanket, she pops back up at the foot of her bed and looks out from beneath the covers, staring at the others from the safety of her burrow. Shamrock and Basil are sitting at the table. The two of them have come to an arrangement of sorts with their crafting for the store. Shamrock will be carving his figures somewhat larger and then hollow them out, so that they can be used as vases for some of Basil¡¯s flowers that are ready to be replanted. ¡°So for the buttercups, I¡¯d like the pot to be a -¡± ¡°- Slime,¡± says Shamrock, finishing her sentence for Basil. ¡°Uh, actually¡­¡± Basil stares at him for a second, before sighing. ¡°Fine. A slime is fine,¡± she relents, taking a sip of her tea. ¡°Then the Echinacea I¡¯d at least like to be planted in something that looks like a -¡± ¡°Dragon.¡± ¡°Shamrock!¡± says Basil. ¡°Not everything has to be monster-shaped,¡± she says. Fresh tilts her head, the two of them had been going over details like this for a while and at this point, Fresh isn¡¯t even sure if it¡¯s a real conversation anymore or if the two of them aren¡¯t just goofing around. As for Jubilee, they¡¯re running around the kitchen and swearing up a storm as they try to manage everything on their own. Between balancing frying eggs for four people and getting the rest of the food ready as well, it¡¯s a lot to juggle for one person. Especially for Jubilee, who, given their smaller build, has trouble reaching the stove, but not for a lack of trying. Despite that, Jubilee makes the best eggs. Fresh nods, she¡¯s certain of that. The official ¡®egg-ranking¡¯ is Jubilee in spot number one, as a clear winner. They really fry them up nicely so that the yolk is thick, but runny and the edges of the white are crispy. Plus they always seem to find the right mix of seasonings, so she looks forward to theirs every time it''s their turn. All of them like a runny yolk, so it works out. She herself didn¡¯t, at first. But she finds that it has grown on her. Shamrock is number two on the egg-cooking totem-pole. He doesn¡¯t make a great fried, in all honesty, as he seems to have trouble with the ¡®flipping them¡¯ part. Though this has gotten easier since she showed him the ¡®lid trick¡¯ that lets him fry the eggs without flipping them. But that means that they are still a bit wet on top and it¡¯s not the greatest thing ever. But he does make a mean scramble. As for Basil, well¡­ Fresh blinks. The priestess puts a lot of love into them. That¡¯s worth something, right? It turns out that despite having thousands of chores back in the church, cooking was never one of them. Anyways, she obviously has to leave herself out of the official egg-ranking, as she would be a biased participant in the race. Though, her secret is that she herself is pretty confident that she even outmatches Jubilee, because while Jubilee knows how to add flavor to their food, she knows how to cook with love. But not like Basil does. It¡¯s different. Of course, the game changes when pancakes are the topic of discussion. Shamrock is the pancake-king, by leagues. Getting up out of bed, she quickly fixes it up and then scoots over to the kitchen. ¡°Let me help you, Jubilee,¡± she says, taking over bread reheating and toasting duty so that they can concentrate on the most important thing. After another fifteen minutes, everything is ready and they sit together at the table to eat. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan for today?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Same as every day,¡± replies Basil, cutting her toast. ¡°And every day before that,¡± throws in Jubilee from the side. Fresh nods. ¡°Mm!¡± She likes the sound of that. They don¡¯t get enough ¡®everyday¡¯ days. There¡¯s always something happening or some drama or some trouble or some sad feeling or something. So these days that are the quietest, these days that are the most peaceful and unremarkable, these are her favorite of them all. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re making a killing here. The fucking ice-cream,¡± they say, shaking their head. ¡°I hate to do it, but I gotta hand it to you,¡± says Jubilee, looking at her. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, looking around at the table. ¡°But we don¡¯t have any ice-cream here,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Besides, you shouldn¡¯t have ice-cream for breakfast, Jubilee.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Just once. Just once, I want a normal conversation. Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Hit her.¡± Shamrock lifts a hand, with his finger ready to flick her and Fresh yelps, cowering back in fear. ¡°Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee again, watching her. ¡°I changed my mind. It¡¯d be like hitting a limping puppy. She¡¯s suffering enough already.¡± Shamrock lowers his arm. Fresh opens an eye carefully, looking out at him. ¡°Were you really going to hit me, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. The man looks at her before looking down at his eggs and then back at her. ¡°Yes.¡± She clutches her heart in anguish, feeling it shatter into a thousand pieces. ¡°How could you?!¡± He lifts a hand, pointing at Jubilee. ¡°They¡¯re good eggs,¡± he says. ¡°The best.¡± The shards of Fresh¡¯s broken heart shatter into the finest dust imaginable, leaving her distraught and lost in her endless hopelessness. Everything that she knows is a lie. ¡°You¡¯re damn fucking right they are,¡± says Jubilee, tapping against the table with their finger. ¡°There, there,¡± consoles Basil, patting her on the back. ¡°You¡¯ll get there too one day, with enough practice.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you like my eggs, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. Basil looks at the others before, continuing to vigorously rub her back. ¡°You certainly uh, put a lot of love into them!¡± she says. Fresh dies. How could she have been so foolish? So brazen? So egoistic and so very, very wrong about everything that she had held to be an inalienable fact? ¡°If you¡¯re gonna die, go do it outside!¡± barks Jubilee at her. ¡°Looking at your sad ass is ruining my breakfast.¡± Fresh un-dies, sitting back upright in her chair. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°I was talking about the profit margins on the ice-cream,¡± they explain. ¡°It costs shit-all to make and we¡¯re selling it by the bucket-load.¡± Basil nods, sipping her tea. ¡°Honestly, everything is going pretty well,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s because of the beach or the sun, or what it is. But people really like spending their money here.¡± ¡°Told you,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s a port-city with a mid-level dungeon,¡± they explain. ¡°Once you get strong enough to leave crab-city and go into the dungeon, you¡¯re making good money here.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, considering. ¡°And they¡¯re all walking right past our house if they want to go to the dungeon or to fight the crabs,¡± says Fresh, realizing. ¡°So we¡¯re getting double the traffic, right?¡± ¡°Makes sense to me,¡± says Basil. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t really know what to do with my money.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a surprise,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Why don¡¯t you buy more gaudy jewelry?¡± Basil lifts her nose. ¡°How about we buy you a mask that sticks to your face forever? Preferably one that covers your mouth.¡± ¡°How about you go fuck yourself?¡± asks Jubilee, pointing at her with a fork. ¡°How about you go fuck yourself?¡± replies Basil. Hearing the priestess swear, Fresh gasps. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she exclaims. ¡°Stop corrupting Basil!¡± ¡°Basil¡¯s a lost cause,¡± says Jubilee, taking a sip of their tea, entirely unphased. ¡°I told you we should have ditched her back then.¡± Basil rolls her eyes. ¡°Please. As if you could run away from anyone with those short legs of yours,¡± she quips. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I think you¡¯re getting spoiled by us. I¡¯m pretty sure your legs used to be half the size that they are now.¡± Basil gasps. ¡°Another month and we¡¯ll have to buy a cow-bell.¡± ¡°Ju~ bi~ leeeee~!¡± complains Fresh. ¡°Oh shush,¡± says Jubilee to Fresh. ¡°Why don¡¯t you focus your energy on learning how to cook a decent egg?¡± Basil laughs and then so does Jubilee and she¡¯s pretty sure that Shamrock even joins in. Then she herself starts laughing too. Sure, she¡¯s crying at the same time. But she¡¯s also laughing. So maybe it evens out in the end. Razmatazz Don''t you think they''re so cute together? They''re such a big family, I''m dying! ;_; On that note. Rate this story if you want me to keep them alive. I WILL murder them reader. I''ll do it. Don''t test me. Haha! Just kidding ...unless? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 268: Lizard Fresh lays sprawled out on the balcony, her limbs facing every which way as she basks in the midday sunlight for the remnants of her lunch-break. Pressing her tongue out of her mouth, she pulls it back inside a second later. ¡°Lizard,¡± says the girl quietly, to answer Basil¡¯s question before closing her eyes again and taking in a deep breath of the hot, midday air. ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t be laying on the floor,¡± says Basil. ¡°We have perfectly good furniture.¡± ¡°Lizards don¡¯t use furniture, Basil,¡± replies Fresh, not bothering to open her eyes. It¡¯s so warm. Business is booming as always, but they split the counter up into two groups. Jubilee and Shamrock are running the store right now, while the two of them recover and then they¡¯ll switch and let the others take half an hour too. It¡¯s just something they¡¯re trying out, to see if it makes the day go by easier. Fresh has opted to use her lunch break not to eat or to drink, but rather to rest as would the greatest rester of all animals that she knows, the lizard. Is there any creature more relaxed than a lizard, bathing in the sunlight on a nice, warm rock on the beach? She doesn¡¯t think so and so, she emulates the creatures, hoping to draw from the innate, natural wisdom that she perceives them to have. She presses her tongue out of her mouth again, simply for the sake of it. She isn¡¯t quite able to reach her own eyes to wet them. ¡°Sure, but¡­¡± ¡°You could learn from the lizards too, Basil,¡± says Fresh, stretching her legs out and flopping over the other way. Sure, it¡¯s not a rock. But the balcony itself is pretty nice too. ¡°But what if you get hungry later? You should eat.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t!¡± says Fresh, not sure why she¡¯s so confident about this statement. Basil sighs. ¡°I bet you will.¡± ¡°Nu uh!¡± replies Fresh, pressing herself up with her hands to look at the priestess. She blinks, lowering herself down again. Arguing is unlizardlike. A chair scoots to the side as Basil sits down at the table on the balcony. ¡°Jubilee is going to yell at you if you eat anything from the counter,¡± she warns. ¡°You¡¯ll have to wait until dinner-time then.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± agrees Fresh, closing her eyes and basking in the bright sunlight for the remainder of her break while Basil sits quietly at the table, eating a light sandwich and sipping her usual tea. It¡¯s a very relaxing half hour, but it eventually does come to an end and Fresh, feeling as energetic as ever, rises to her feet and stretches herself out tall. She almost expects her back to pop as she does so, but it doesn¡¯t and she smiles a warm, satisfied smile towards Basil. ¡°I¡¯m ready! Wanna go downstairs?¡± ¡°Okay,¡± says the priestess and the two of them go on their way to relieve the other two. The first thing that she sees when she gets downstairs and around to the counter is a gloved finger pointing at her. ¡°About fucking time!¡± ¡°It was half an hour,¡± says Basil. ¡°Food is on the table.¡± Jubilee waves the priestess off, walking away and just leaving the counter unmanned, despite a customer standing there, ready to pay. Fresh yelps running over to replace Jubilee and to help the man with his purchase. ¡°Any trouble?¡± she asks, calling after Jubilee as she turns her head around to look at Shamrock. Ice-cream seems to be moving slower than usual today, judging by the still decently full containers. ¡°Nothing some delegation couldn¡¯t fix,¡± says Jubilee before walking off and Fresh doesn¡¯t really know what to interpret from that statement. ¡°Good job, Shamrock,¡± says Basil as she takes his spot. ¡°I left you some food on the table upstairs.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± says the giant man, nodding. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You didn¡¯t make me any food, Basil.¡± ¡°I asked you three times!¡± argues the priestess, sighing. By the time she looks back to the window, a large line seems to have formed out of nowhere, as if everyone was just waiting for the intimidating man from the witch¡¯s sect to leave. (Fresh) sold: [Bracelet]{Red}{Green}{Green} for [{57} Obols] ! ¡°Thank you, come again!¡± calls Fresh after the man as he leaves. The day is fairly busy and Fresh finds herself running around far more than usual. At least for that half hour. With just the two of them down here, she has to work the counter and refill the empty shelves at the same time. Basil doesn¡¯t really have the opportunity as the ice-cream window might as well be a portal to another dimension that is made entirely out of people. So, in the rare spare minute she finds, Fresh runs to the window to help Basil as well. It feels like everyone who was avoiding the window while Shamrock was here is now rushing towards it, having seen his replacement. She feels a little sad for him honestly, it must have felt very lonely, standing here and getting mean looks the whole time. Wiping her forehead on her sleeve, she runs back to the counter and begins tallying the amount that the next customer has to pay. Though, now that she thinks about it, she supposes that she understands what that feels like, that was her entire life in the west, essentially. Though, now that she double-thinks about it, that must be what life is like for Shamrock all the time anyways. The west was the exception for him. Her stomach growls. Fresh turns her head, looking over at Basil who narrows her eyes at her as if to say ¡®I told you so¡¯, but she doesn¡¯t have time to make a remark as she is just too busy. After the others return, Fresh understands Jubilee¡¯s prior snarkiness. The half-hour really felt like a lot longer. Two people is just too few for the size of their operation. Three of them needed to be here all the time to stop them from becoming overwhelmed. Thankfully, after Jubilee gets back to run the counter and Shamrock takes over the shelves, Fresh runs to Basil¡¯s rescue and does her best to help serve the ice-cream, fighting off every little bit of temptation to eat any of it herself. It isn¡¯t easy, by any means, but if there was ever a chance to prove her resolve to Basil, then it¡¯s now. The universe has given her this moment to prove her worth and Fresh makes the best use of it that she can, not even sparing a second glance at any ice-cream or bags of crab-chips that make their way over the counter until eventually, the window closes and Fresh finds herself staring at it, wondering why there is nobody there. A moment passes as she stares at the shutters until she realizes that the day is over. Her stomach growls and she flops down to the ground, sitting on her bottom. Turning her head, she sees Basil has already beat her to it and has landed on the floor already. ¡°Like animals,¡± sighs Jubilee and for a moment, Fresh thinks that they mean the two of them. But after seeing them shaking their head which is still resting on the counter, she realizes that they meant the customers. ¡°It was a busy day today,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°I don¡¯t think the lunch-break idea will work.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s fucked,¡± says Jubilee, lifting their head up and pulling open the money drawer. ¡°The half-hour of rest wasn¡¯t worth the work.¡± ¡°Maybe only ever one person then?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°Like we¡¯ve been doing.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh in exhausted, but fervent agreement with her eyes closed. A crinkling sound of paper comes from next to her and she lifts her gaze, looking at Basil who is opening a bag of crab-chips. Feeling both her and Jubilee¡¯s gaze on her, Basil laughs meekly. ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡± ¡°It¡¯s coming out of your pay!¡± barks Jubilee at her. Basil shrugs, holding the bag out to them. ¡°Crab-chip?¡± asks Basil. Fresh watches Jubilee¡¯s eyebrow twitch beneath their mask as Shamrock rounds the corner, coming to the counter as well. Jubilee sighs and takes off their mask. ¡°Fine. But you¡¯re still paying for it,¡± they say, taking a chip and sitting down as well. With her free hand, Basil pats the spot next to her and Shamrock sits down there. He seems tired too, which is a surprising sight for Fresh. His armor seems a little droopy now, as if he didn¡¯t have the energy to stand straight anymore. Basil tears the bag open wide and sets it down between the four of them. ¡°Should we be having snacks for dinner?¡± asks Fresh, taking another chip. ¡°Oh no, no,¡± says Basil. ¡°We¡¯ll be having dinner after this,¡± she explains. ¡°Ooooh,¡± says Fresh, realizing as she bites into the chip. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°You¡¯re cooking if you want anything. I¡¯m out.¡± ¡°Same,¡± says Shamrock, his breastplate heaving. Basil looks up at Fresh. ¡°Uh¡­¡± stammers Fresh. In truth, she really wants to say no too. She¡¯s exhausted and perfectly content with eating a load of garbage food like this before falling into bed. ¡°I can help, Basil,¡± she relents, feeling her inner lizard die. Seeing her delay, Basil sighs, getting up. She grabs a bucket of ice-cream from the counter and a load of spoons and sits back down, handing them each one. ¡°Dinner¡¯s ready!¡± calls Basil enthusiastically. ¡°I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one?¡± asks Jubilee, taking their spoonful nonetheless. Shamrock seems to brighten up as well as the instant he gets some food, he seems to be sitting straighter and taller once more. Basil shakes her head. ¡°I decided to be more like a lizard today,¡± she explains. ¡°What the fuck?¡± asks Jubilee, tilting their head. ¡°Lizard,¡± explains Basil with a single word, sticking out her tongue. Fresh nods. ¡°Lizard, Jubilee,¡± she says, doing the same thing. ¡°I ate a lizard,¡± says Shamrock. All three of them turn towards him. ¡°When I was small,¡± he adds on. ¡°Must¡¯ve been one big fucking lizard then,¡± sighs Jubilee, looking at him. ¡°It fought well.¡± Jubilee looks down at the bag of chips and ice-cream laying before them and sighs, dropping their spoon. ¡°Okay, you know what? Fuck it. I¡¯ll cook,¡± they say, getting up and dusting their hands off. ¡°You people are sad. I refuse to be a part of your lizard cult.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll find your way to the faith eventually,¡± says Basil, getting up. ¡°The only thing I¡¯m going to find is a fucking frying pan while you guys take care of this mess,¡± they say, pointing back at the pile of food on the floor. ¡°Thanks Jubilee!¡± calls Fresh after them. She looks back at Basil. ¡°Lizard.¡± ¡°Lizard,¡± replies Basil. The two of them look at Shamrock who stares at them, before getting up too. ¡°It didn¡¯t taste good,¡± is all that he says and Fresh sighs in relief. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 269: I, bakaw It is late at night and Fresh is sitting upright in her bed, staring across and over the waist-high, stone walls that separates her bed from Basil¡¯s and from Shamrocks. Her eyes wander over Basil¡¯s thrashing form, over to Shamrock¡¯s bed against the opposite wall. But she isn¡¯t looking at him. She¡¯s looking at the wooden figure of a chicken that he had carved. It stands there on his nightstand, looking at her, mockingly, judgmentally. ¡°Bakaw¡­¡± mutters Fresh under her breath. ¡°Sleep,¡± says Shamrock, turning his head towards her, but not getting up. Fresh points at the chicken, not wanting to speak too much, so that she doesn¡¯t wake up Basil. Shamrock follows her finger with his gaze towards the chicken and then stares at it and then back at her for a moment. Lifting his arm, he turns it around so that it looks the other way. This brings a new problem with it, however. She might now be free of the chicken¡¯s wrathful glare, but¡­ well¡­ Fresh blinks and then snorts. ¡°Chicken-butt.¡± ¡°Sleep,¡± repeats Shamrock, placing a large finger to his helmet in a shushing movement. Fresh presses down her smirk, laying back down in her bed and covering herself up with her blanket. Now, the waist high, stone walls separate them again. But that doesn¡¯t help. She knows that it¡¯s there. Just standing there on the nightstand with its back turned to her. Fresh does her best to press her smile closed, trying not to laugh. ¡°Sleep,¡± says the heavy voice a third time, as if he had known even without seeing her that she was still laying there and fighting the chicken-giggles. Doing her best to be an adult, Fresh closes her eyes and thinks of other things. She thinks of spring days both bad and good. She thinks of the long, dreary summer and its bitter end. She thinks of the mild autumn that they now find themselves in and before her thoughts can get to what the winter to come might be like, she finds herself asleep without so much as a single feather in any of her dreams. Fresh wakes up. There is a noise. Given the slackness of her body and the weight of her eyes, she feels like she has been asleep for several hours already. Footsteps. Fresh listens intently. Those are Jubilee¡¯s feet. She knows the sounds of each of her friend¡¯s feet against several different surfaces, both barefoot and with shoes. Well, except Shamrock. Her sound catalogue of him is always only with shoes. Anyway, is that weird? She blinks, squinting her eyes to get the dew out of them. It might be weird. Maybe that¡¯s one of those things that she just shouldn¡¯t tell the others about. It sounds like Jubilee is getting a drink, she can hear the cooling cabinet and the rattling of bottles. She hear¡¯s a quiet ¡®will you fuck off¡¯ come from the kitchen and she envisions Jubilee shaking their leg, trying to get the clingy bear off of themselves. The bear is likely offended that they had to leave the bed at this late hour. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± they sigh, closing the cabinet again. Fresh assumes that they¡¯re going to go back to their room now, but instead, an oddity occurs. Jubilee¡¯s footsteps come closer to their beds and in a secret moment, she hopes that the bear is going to share Jubilee with her for the rest of the night, but instead, Jubilee makes a beeline towards Shamrock¡¯s bed. There is a slight sound of wood scooting over wood as something is turned a few times. This goes on for a minute and Fresh just lies there, listening, until eventually Jubilee walks back away towards their room. Blinking, she sits upright and looks. The chicken is staring right her way, its beady, black, soulless eyes gaze her way, hungrily, angrily, terrifyingly. Fresh yelps quietly and hides herself back under her blanket and pillow. The chicken is mad at her for laughing at its butt. In her sleep dazed state of being, she¡¯s absolutely sure of it. At least until she falls back to sleep and forgets all about it. The next morning comes and Fresh finds herself running around the upstairs area with wet hair, having just gotten out of the shower. Standing in the kitchen, she now cooks a big pot of tea. ¡°Green or yellow?¡± she asks Basil. ¡°Let¡¯s do yellow today,¡± says the priestess, yawning and leaning back on her chair. ¡°Didn¡¯t you sleep well?¡± asks Fresh, getting the bag of yellow tea-leaves. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know,¡± says Basil, rubbing her eyes. ¡°I had weird dreams.¡± Jubilee sighs, sitting down at the table. ¡°That¡¯s to be expected when you spend all day cooped up with these people,¡± they say, shaking their head. Basil plays with her empty tea-cup. ¡°I think you¡¯re a part of ¡®these people¡¯, you know?¡± Fresh listens to the two of them get into their usual early morning spat and smiles. The two of them really care about each other, it¡¯s really cute how they always bicker like an old married couple. Her gaze rises up past Shamrock, who is on egg-duty today, towards the curtains that Jubilee had made. Fresh¡¯s eyes narrow as she sees them. The chickens. Jubilee had detailed the curtains with dozens of chickens. Lowering her gaze, she looks at the eggs that Shamrock is frying up for breakfast. Chicken eggs. The hairs on her neck stand on end as her eyes slowly turn towards the side of her head, which moves just as stiffly as the rest of her frozen body, as she looks back behind herself towards their beds, towards the chicken which is still there on Shamrock¡¯s nightstand. Except now, it is turned their way. Fresh yelps, grabbing Shamrock and hiding behind him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asks Basil, getting up. ¡°Did you burn yourself?¡± she asks, concerned. ¡°The chicken!¡± yells Fresh, pointing at the wooden chicken. ¡°It¡¯s haunted!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can keep living like this.¡± Basil turns her head. ¡°¡­The chicken?¡± ¡°The chicken!¡± repeats Fresh, shaking Shamrock¡¯s armor beneath her fingers. ¡°Eggs,¡± says the man. Fresh blinks, looking at him, realizing that she was getting in the way of his cooking. ¡°Sorry,¡± she apologizes and then steps to the side, deciding to hide behind Jubilee instead. ¡°Basil!¡± yells Fresh from across the table at the priestess, as she is now still hiding behind Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s a ghost in the chicken!¡± Basil sits back down, sighing. ¡°I really don¡¯t think that¡¯s likely,¡± she says. ¡°Are you okay? Do you need to sleep more before we open?¡± she asks. ¡°A good whack over the head is what she needs,¡± says Jubilee, pulling her arm off of themselves. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll knock whatever¡¯s loose back into place?¡± ¡°Bakaw!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Basil, taking a long sip of her tea. ¡°Bakaw.¡± ¡°Bakaw,¡± says Shamrock, setting down the plate of eggs onto the table. Eggs that are clearly superior to the ones that she makes, but that isn¡¯t important right now. Fresh focuses her attention on the chicken. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna say it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You really should,¡± argues Basil. ¡°But then again, maybe having fun for the third time in your life would cause you to explode?¡± ¡°I fucking wish it would,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Will you let go?!¡± Feeling herself being removed, Fresh, like a parasite, clamps down tighter on her host, draining them of their warmth. ¡°I don¡¯t trust it,¡± says Fresh, still not having lost the staring contest with the chicken. Shamrock walks around and grabs her, pulling her free from Jubilee and setting her down onto her chair. ¡°Trust it,¡± he says. ¡°What the fuck are we even talking about here?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Is anyone ever going to acknowledge that she¡¯s clearly hysteric and delusional?¡± ¡°Oh hush,¡± says Basil. ¡°We haven¡¯t even had breakfast yet.¡± ¡°That¡¯s sort of my point,¡± says Jubilee, lifting an eyebrow before taking a drink of their coughee. Fresh stares at Jubilee, considering their actions from last night. ¡°Hey Jubilee? How come you messed with the chicken last night?¡± Jubilee coughs, setting their cup of coughee down and hitting their chest. They shoot a glare her way, but then shrug as if nothing had happened. ¡°It was facing the wrong way,¡± they say, grabbing a slice of toast. ¡°I turned it,¡± explains Shamrock, lifting a hand. ¡°Scared,¡± he says, pointing at Fresh. ¡°You were scared of a wooden chicken?¡± asks Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Okay, well, no. Forget I asked.¡± ¡°Chickens can be super scary, Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°When I got to this world, I got attacked by a chicken!¡± ¡°Sounds about right,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s the natural order at work. Chickens are higher than you on the predation ladder.¡± ¡°Now that I think about it,¡± says Basil, spreading some butter onto a piece of bread and then lightly salting it. ¡°I remember you always playing with those glass-chickens, back in the north,¡± says the priestess, looking up towards Jubilee. ¡°They were facing the wrong way,¡± explains Jubilee, tapping against the table. ¡°Have some fucking respect for the chickens, you slackers,¡± they bark. ¡°They¡¯re hard-working animals.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Do you like chickens, Jubilee?¡± ¡°I appreciate them more than I do you three.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± says Basil. ¡°Tell it to someone who believes it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell it to the fucking chicken after I shove it up your -¡± Fresh sighs, tuning out of this morning¡¯s conversation that has drifted into the usual direction. Basil and Jubilee continue bickering with each other and Shamrock is just as delighted as always to eat real food. She, meanwhile, stares at the chicken as she bites into her egg-toast, making sure not to break eye-contact with it. She has to assert her dominance over it, after all. Razmatazz Bakaw Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 270: Cooking It is late in the evening after what was another very successful day of work. Fresh stands on one leg, holding her hand out over the batter that is flattened out on the kitchen counter, as she sprinkles a dash of red-seasoning from her hand. Humming as she works, she lowers herself down and grabs a bottle of dried herbs, rising back up to her feet and spinning around in a circle where she stands, as she hums a song that she doesn¡¯t quite remember the origin of. Crumbling some of the dried herbs onto her open palm, she holds her hand out before herself and blows over it, sending the dried, crumbled herbs flying out forward. Feeling everyone¡¯s gaze on her, she turns her head around and looks over her shoulder. ¡°Cooking,¡± she answers, before Jubilee can ask her what she¡¯s doing. Grabbing a bottle of oil, she drizzles it out over the dough, swaying from side to side as she works. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s what you¡¯re doing?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m cooking with love!¡± she exclaims, looking over her shoulder and winking. ¡°Like you do with your eggs?¡± ¡°IAGH!¡± Fresh yelps, clutching her heart and covering her eyes with her other forearm. ¡°That¡¯s so mean, Jubilee!¡± ¡°What¡¯s with the theatrics?¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head. Fresh shrugs and turns around, grabbing the pepper. ¡°And what the fuck are you even making?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± says Fresh, grabbing the pepper and throwing a dash of it onto the dough, spinning around and pouring it down over her shoulder. ¡°Cooking is an adventure, Jubilee!¡± she exclaims, continuing to sway from side to side. ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna go get some bar-food,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be such an old sour-puss,¡± says Basil. ¡°Old? You¡¯re one to talk, grandma,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you can even still walk up the stairs.¡± Basil crosses her arms. ¡°And I¡¯m surprised that you can even manage to get up on that chair. But here we are.¡± ¡°Here we are,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Here we aaaare~!¡± says Fresh in a sing-song voice, planting her feet firmly onto the floor, holding her hands up into the air and twirling her torso around in a circle. This would usually be the point when Shamrock joins in the conversation to say the line too, but he¡¯s off in the dungeon. Fresh sometimes thinks about accompanying him. But then she thinks about Mr. Monkey and she can¡¯t bear to ever see him again. Losing him once hurt too much, she doesn¡¯t think that she can go through that kind of pain a second time. ¡°I wish we had music,¡± says Fresh, continuing to wobble around. ¡°Sure,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Let me just go hire a bard to sit outside our house all day.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°Really?!¡± she asks, turning back to Jubilee. ¡°Fuck off,¡± they reply. ¡°If you want music, then sing. At least you¡¯d be living true to your bird-brain.¡± Fresh frowns and rubs her arm, getting flakes of dried herbs all over her forearm, she looks back at the dough. ¡°I¡¯m too shy,¡± she admits. ¡°I don¡¯t have the strength to do it,¡± says Fresh, realizing in this very instant how true that is. She can talk to her friends extremely shamelessly about her feelings towards them, she can hold their hands, hug them and dote on them to an unhealthy degree. But singing in front of them? Out of the question. That would be embarrassing. ¡°You hum all the time,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Humming isn¡¯t singing!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s like the difference between seeing someone in their pajamas and seeing them in their underwear!¡± Jubilee and Basil exchange a look and then turn back towards her. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯ve seen you in both of those already,¡± says Basil, sipping her tea. ¡°Creep,¡± says Jubilee, holding their head which is laid down on their hand. ¡°I¡¯m not a creep!¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee points at her. ¡°You literally admitted to me once that you were.¡± ¡°BETRAYER!¡± yells Fresh, pointing at Jubilee. ¡°That was a special moment!¡± ¡°If by ¡®special moment¡¯ you mean I was laying defenselessly in bed when you accosted me, then yes.¡± ¡°That makes it sound way worse than it was!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re making it sound like I was a total creep in front of Basil!¡± ¡°Anyways,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. They point at Basil. ¡°Pretty sure we saw you in your lacy underwear, when you got nabbed by that ghost.¡± Basil chokes on her tea. ¡°That¡¯s right. I didn¡¯t forget. Anything.¡± Fresh gets back to her cooking, she decides it might be time to change the topic. ¡°Anyway, why don¡¯t you guys sing then?¡± ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± replies Jubilee. Basil is still coughing and hitting against her own chest. ¡°But Jubilee! I¡¯m sure you have a cute singing voice!¡± says Fresh. ¡°I remember you humming back in the north too!¡± ¡°Am I going to have to use your own metaphor against you?¡± asks Jubilee. They stop, sitting back upright as they then stare down at the table for a moment. ¡°Have I really fallen this low?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have much of a singing voice either,¡± says Basil, adjusting her glasses. Jubilee nods. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard,¡± they say. ¡°When you¡¯re in the shower, it sounds like someone¡¯s drowning a harpy.¡± Basil gasps. ¡°Are you listening to me in the shower?!¡± ¡°You fucking wish,¡± quips Jubilee. ¡°I can hear your screeching through three walls!¡± they bark, leaning over the table towards Basil. Basil gets up, pressing her hands onto her side of the table and leaning over it towards Jubilee. ¡°I guess that makes sense for someone with such ridiculous ears!¡± Fresh stares at the two of them as both of them sit back down, crossing their arms. To the side, the door opens and Shamrock steps in. ¡°Home,¡± is all that the man says. Relieved to have some back-up to help lighten the mood, Fresh holds her arms out to her sides and spins her way across the room towards him. ¡°Hi, Shamrock!¡± she says, feeling two large hands grabbing her shoulders. The world spins as she is pushed back in the direction that she had come from. ¡°Hello.¡± ¡°We were just talking about singing, Shamrock!¡± explains Fresh, holding her head back so that her crown presses against his breastplate. ¡°And Jubilee¡¯s underwear!¡± ¡°What the fuck? No we weren¡¯t,¡± says Jubilee. Basil thinks for a second. ¡°We really should though.¡± Jubilee looks at them. ¡°How about you three fuck off?¡± Shamrock shakes his head, planting Fresh back at her post and sitting down at the table. He sets his bag full of monster drops and gunk down onto the floor. ¡°I just came back,¡± he says and Basil starts laughing. Fresh wonders if this is what Jubilee calls ¡®banter¡¯? She sometimes honestly can¡¯t tell if her friends are really arguing or if it¡¯s just how they talk. Basil and Jubilee are always bickering these days, but she still finds that they¡¯re very close despite that. She supposes that every friendship is a little different. She has a different friendship with Jubilee than she has with Basil and a different friendship with Basil than she has with Shamrock. She supposes that it works the other way around too. Jubilee has a different friendship with Basil and Basil has a different friendship with Shamrock and everything is all wiggly and wobbly and connected like a spider¡¯s web made out of slime-goo. Finishing the dough, she flattens it out onto a baking tray and scores it with a knife, before putting it into the oven. Dinner that night is honestly very nice. The odd thing she had made turned into a very long, flat, fluffy pastry-crusted bread that they ended up ripping into pieces and eating with various things that they had laying around; spreads and oils and butter and some vegetables and fruits. And later that night, Fresh lays in bed and thinks, pulling her covers up higher as something in her head begins to spin into motion. The connections are slowly coming into place as she thinks about tonight¡¯s conversation at the dinner table. She doesn¡¯t think about any of the arguing or any of the other conversations that were had later on, or even about her failed attempt at getting Shamrock to sing. No, Fresh thinks about one, very particular thing. A tiny detail, mentioned only in a single sentence, Jubilee¡¯s long, sharp ears. Jubilee knew. Her fingers clasp the blanket tighter, tight enough to become pale. Back in the north, when she had gone upstairs in secret, breaking into Jubilee¡¯s most sacred space, they had known. If Jubilee can really hear Basil¡¯s singing in the shower from upstairs, then there isn¡¯t a single chance that they didn¡¯t hear her trampling around just above their head in the middle of the night. She turns her head, looking over at the wall that her bed sits beside. She had betrayed Jubilee¡¯s trust that day and not only did they know it, but the ever short-fused and hot-burning Jubilee let it slide. Jubilee never lets anything slide. Fresh sits upright, turning her head to look at the chicken on Shamrock¡¯s nightstand. Not only did Jubilee let it slide, but on the morning of the next day, they had worn their favorite outfit and the flower she had given them. Why? Fresh¡¯s eyes look away from the chicken, which Basil had ensured her is unhaunted, and float around the room as she thinks. Why? She knows what Jubilee looks like now, sure. But she still doesn¡¯t know who Jubilee, her best friend, is. Why? The thieves¡¯ guild. The snakelike man, Patala. All of their odd, secretive conversations with Basil, who also knows something that she doesn¡¯t. She sighs, shaking her head. No. It isn¡¯t her business, right? Fresh lays back down. Jubilee can do whatever Jubilee wants, she reminds herself. ¡®That isn¡¯t what this is¡¯ repeats Fresh in her mind, closing her eyes and falling back to sleep as she mutters the sentence that Jubilee had told her that night, when she came back from the central-city. Lifting a hand, she softly knocks twice on the wall to Jubilee¡¯s room, before falling to sleep. In her descent into her strange dreams, she¡¯s sure that she hears a soft knock come back twice from the other side. Razmatazz Wholesome, but also vaguely ominous Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 271: Checking in The waves of the ocean crash against the shoreline as explosions ring out from all around them. Sand flies up high into the air, along with bits of crab and it all rains back down again, as if they were in the center of a strangely wet sandstorm. Fresh holds one of her ears closed, tilting her head as she looks at the side of the magical-floating-fairy-house out on the beach. ¡°So?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°How does it look?¡± asks the nervous fairy. Fresh looks at her and then tilts her head the other way, staring at the thing. There had clearly been a fire of some kind in the night. The wood is charred and scarred and most everything is broken, from the windows to the fluffy lining of their sleeping area to the melted globs of crystal-drakonium insulation that drip out from the cracks of the wood that remains. ¡°It looks bad, Tarja,¡± admits Fresh. ¡°Super bad,¡± she asks. ¡°Is everyone alright?¡± The world explodes behind them as a particularly ambitious caster blasts away one crab after the next with a level of energy that Fresh can¡¯t help but find enviable this early in the morning. The sun had barely risen when they had been woken up by Tarja, who was knocking on their balcony a little bit ago, asking for help. Apparently, for one reason or another, their house had caught fire in the night and burnt to the point of becoming mostly uninhabitable. ¡°Everyone¡¯s fine,¡± says Tarja. ¡°It was just Sauli and me here, everyone else was working when it happened.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re both fine?¡± asks Fresh. She doesn¡¯t actually know which fairy Sauli is supposed to be, but she still wants them to be okay. ¡°The necklaces?¡± she asks. Tarja shakes her head. ¡°We¡¯re all fine. It¡¯s just that our house is¡­¡± She turns her head, looking at the mess that remains and sighs. ¡°It¡¯s ruined.¡± Fresh nods, feeling some sympathy with the little fairy. Though, ¡®little¡¯ is relative. Tarja seems to have filled out a lot more and while she hasn¡¯t grown in height, she has certainly grown into her body. Must be all the crab meat. ¡°What about your tools?¡± asks Fresh. Tarja spins around, showing her the ¡®quiver¡¯ of needles on her back. ¡°I saved the important ones,¡± she says. A crystalline wave shoots along the beach, skewering several crabs at once. Fresh turns her head, thinking for a second that it¡¯s Jubilee¡¯s glass magic. But no, it¡¯s literally crystals, like the ones from the west. But they shatter a second later, but rather than falling to the ground, they simply blow away as if they had been made up out of fine sand, sitting atop a desert dune in the wind. ¡°There sure are lots of interesting kinds of magic,¡± notes Fresh. ¡°Huh? Oh,¡± says Tarja. ¡°That¡¯s Karri,¡± she explains. ¡°Look.¡± The fairy lifts a finger, pointing. Fresh squints, recognizing one of the familiar fairies. She isn¡¯t from Tarja¡¯s group, rather, she is one of the fairies who was training to become a healer. Fresh beams, lifting a hand and waving. ¡°Hi, Karri!¡± she calls across the beach. The fairy looks up from her work and laughs, waving back with a big smile. ¡°She grew into her magic a week ago,¡± says Tarja. ¡°She¡¯s been blasting crabs here in every free minute since.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh. She plants her hands on her hips, letting out a deeply satisfied, long exhalation. ¡°You¡¯ve all been working so hard,¡± she says, nodding with pride. Turning back, she looks at the destroyed house. There might be some setbacks here and there, but the fairies are really developing into hard-working, satisfied people. ¡°We can fix this,¡± says Fresh, looking at the house. ¡°But it might take a day or two,¡± she admits, tilting her head. ¡°I figured,¡± says Tarja. ¡°In the meantime, you guys can stay on our roof, if you want?¡± suggests Fresh. ¡°We¡¯ll be out of each other¡¯s way then, but you guys don¡¯t have to sleep in crab-country.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°We don¡¯t want to be a burden anymore.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯ll ask the others. But I think it should be okay,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m gonna unhook your house and take it with me, okay?¡± Tarja nods as she sets to work. ¡°Hey,¡± says Tarja. ¡°Uh, can I ask you something?¡± ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± asks Fresh, fiddling with some of the cords that they had tied the house down with against a few trees, up against the top of the shoreline. ¡°How come you¡¯re always helping us?¡± asks Tarja. Fresh shrugs. ¡°Because I want you to like me,¡± she replies, plain as day. ¡°I¡¯m selfish like that, you know?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Tarja. ¡°That¡¯s pretty honest.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ve found out that it isn¡¯t worth lying, Tarja,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re just gonna cause more trouble for yourself in the long-term if you do.¡± The two of them part ways, with Fresh carrying the destroyed house back to their shop. Tarja is going to stay there and get the others up to speed when they get back from their routes along the beach with their mobile tailoring business. ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± calls Fresh, carrying in the broken house through the front door. It¡¯s still about half an hour before they open for the day. ¡°Hey,¡± says Jubilee, not looking up from the counter at first, until they seem to smell the burnt smell coming from the fairy house and look up towards her. ¡°Those ungrateful little fucks¡­¡± ¡°It was an accident, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Can the fairies stay on our roof?¡± she asks. ¡°Just for a day or two, until I can fix this.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Please?¡± ¡°No,¡± repeats Jubilee, tapping their finger against the counter. Fresh blinks, staring at them as she stands there with the fairy house in her arms. ¡°Please?¡± she asks again. ¡°Fine, whatever! I don¡¯t give a fuck. Go ask Basil,¡± sighs Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Jubilee!¡± beams Fresh, walking to the stairs. ¡°You¡¯re getting ash everywhere!¡± barks Jubilee after her. She turns her head back as she enters the stairway, calling over the shelves. ¡°I¡¯ll clean it up in a minute!¡± Heading upstairs to her workshop, she sets the house down on the bench and heads to the table. ¡°Baaasil~?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Is it okay if the fairies from Tarja¡¯s group stay on the roof for a day or two?¡± she asks. ¡°Just until I fix their house.¡± ¡°Is everyone okay?¡± asks Basil and Fresh nods. The priestess sighs. ¡°Did you ask Jubilee?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°And what did Jubilee say?¡± ¡°Jubilee said yes, but to ask you too.¡± Basil sips her tea. ¡°As long as they don¡¯t mess with the plants, it¡¯s fine,¡± she says. ¡°But you¡¯ll have to do your crafting in the shower until then.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± blinks Fresh. ¡°What if one of them peeks through the trap-door to the roof?¡± asks the priestess. Fresh thinks for a second and then sighs, realizing that she¡¯s right. ¡°What about you, Shamrock?¡± she asks. He just nods, pouring his tea into his helmet. ¡°Thanks guys!¡± beams Fresh, heading back to the workshop. The rest of the morning she spends making an assessment of the damage. She isn¡¯t an expert, but it looks like the fire started in the sleeping area. A piece of crystal-drakonium is stuck, melted to the wall where a spell of some kind looks to have impacted it. The entire area around it is charred. Did someone use their magic in bed? She shakes her head. Young people can be so irresponsible. Fresh blinks, realizing what she just thought. She steps back from the workbench, setting down her tools. She decides to pester her friends for the remainder of the morning instead. She needs to use her youthful energy to its fullest, while she still has it. After that, they open the store and business comes into full swing again. The ice-cream window is booming as always and Basil is becoming a real master at her tasks there. Jubilee is working the front counter as always and spends their free time arguing with customers, some of whom seem to be there only to argue for the sake of doing so. Shamrock¡¯s figurines and his combined planter-pot project with Basil have been placed out onto his shelving area. The loot from the dungeon has been compacted into a tighter space, in order to make room for the new figurines. Most of them are still low-quality. But the first two or three ¡®normals¡¯ have begun making themselves seen as well and Fresh feels a deep pride as she stands there, holding the man¡¯s left arm with both of hers wrapped around it as they peek through the shelves from the clothing aisle, watching some customers on the other side. ¡°This one!¡± exclaims an excited swordsman. ¡°I really like this one,¡± he says, grabbing a figurine. From the placement of it, Fresh recalls that one being a minotaur. ¡°It has your face,¡± sighs the woman next to him. ¡°Huh?¡± he asks, taken aback. He looks at it and then at her. ¡°I was gonna get it because I thought it looked like you.¡± ¡°WHAT?!¡± The man laughs and runs past her to the counter, managing to evade her clawing after him as she begins her pursuit. ¡°Good job, Shamrock!¡± beams Fresh, rubbing her face against his arm. ¡°Can you help me with the fairy house too?¡± she asks. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten really good!¡± she beams. Sure, this was perhaps a slight exaggeration. But sometimes, a little spoiling is necessary to help her friends¡¯ self-confidence. ¡°Pleeeease~?¡± she asks. Shamrock stands back upright, his head looking over the shelves again as he turns his gaze down her way and nods once. ¡°Okay.¡± Later that day, after work is over, the four of them find themselves on the roof and wait for the fairies to arrive. Jubilee knocks on the empty kegs. ¡°Should we just lock the little shits up in here?¡± they ask. ¡°I¡¯d kill to see a drunk fairy.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t corrupt the innocent!¡± ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh places her hands on her hips. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes and ignores her question and then, a minute later, several small lights rise up in the distance and float towards their house as six small figures, with their bags on their backs, make their way to them. Fresh clutches her hands together in front of her chest. She¡¯s oddly excited to have everyone ¡®home¡¯, if that even makes any sense. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 272: Windy Fresh, standing on the roof, gazes through the telescope up towards the night sky. ¡°I still don¡¯t get what we¡¯re looking for,¡± says Tarja. Fresh lowers her telescope, staring at the fairy, who is holding a tiny, fairy-sized telescope herself. Tilting her head, she looks back up at the sky. ¡°We¡¯re looking for everything, Tarja,¡± says Fresh. ¡°The clouds, the stars, the birds,¡± she lists. ¡°They¡¯ll tell us a lot about what¡¯s going on in the world.¡± ¡°Will they?¡± asks the fairy, skeptically. Fresh shrugs. ¡°I think so,¡± she says. Lowering her telescope, she stares out over the ocean instead, towards the distant lights out on the water. She assumes that they are from a ship that is out at sea and heading into the harbor. ¡°Ah! That one looks like a kobold!¡± she says, gazing back up at a cloud. ¡°Does that mean anything?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh lowers the telescope again. ¡°No,¡± she admits. Tarja sighs. ¡°Unless you believe in omens,¡± says Fresh. ¡°In which case, look out for kobolds in the near future, I guess?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think this is a very productive use of our time,¡± says the fairy. Fresh frowns. She knows that it is, but she isn¡¯t really able to explain it right. Gazing up towards the night-sky without the telescope, she stares up towards the stars that are unusually bright tonight, given that it¡¯s a moonless night and that the clouds are only thin and sparse. ¡°So how do you guys like the east?¡± she asks, setting down the telescope and jotting down the word ¡®kobold¡¯ into her notes. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± says another fairy from the side, a green-haired boy, Liro. He has poison-magic, which Fresh thinks is a little spooky. Apparently, it¡¯s a branch of magic that sits between water and dark magic. The magic of this world is a whole system in and of itself, which Fresh realizes she has never even bothered to dig into. But it¡¯s apparently a loaded topic. There are literally entire academies dedicated to magical crafts and classes. Though, some kinds of spell-casting are more socially acceptable than others. Poison magic, like necromancy or ash-magic is frowned upon by polite society. The fact that some people were just born into and couldn¡¯t do anything about it isn¡¯t really a relevant point. Though, this does seem to be culture, location and time dependent. Necromancy is seen as really bad in the north, where the church has control. But in the west, it¡¯s more of an issue that is shrugged off and here in the east, it isn¡¯t really a topic of concern at all. Then again, a few hundred years ago, people saw things entirely differently. Witch-magic, unfortunately, is just disliked everywhere these days. ¡°I really like how warm it is during the day,¡± says Liro. ¡°The mountain was always so cold.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Tarja, pulling her fluffy coat tighter around herself. ¡°It¡¯s cold at night here too though.¡± Liro nods. ¡°But at least it¡¯s warm during the day.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°So your business has been going well?¡± ¡°It¡¯s great,¡± says Tarja. ¡°We¡¯re saving up to buy a real house,¡± she says. ¡°Not that we don¡¯t like yours!¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I get it,¡± she says. ¡°You guys need a real base of operations if you want to grow your business.¡± Sauli chimes in from the construction site of their new, temporary home. ¡°I miss the snow!¡± he says. ¡°It was always so fluffy and soft. The sand here just isn¡¯t the same.¡± ¡°Snow?¡± asks Fresh. She doesn¡¯t remember it ever snowing on the mountain. ¡°Yeah!¡± says Sauli, lifting a finger to point to the sky. ¡°Up higher on the mountain. I went there sometimes. There was a lot of snow!¡± ¡°Ooooh,¡± says Fresh, understanding. She looks at the temporary shelter that they still need to finish, before the fairies can sleep tonight. It¡¯s really just a wooden cube beneath the overhang, insulated with crystal-drakonium and stuffed with some fabric and fluff. It¡¯s basically just a really sloppy bird-house. But it will do for now. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to work,¡± she says. ¡°You guys need to get up early tomorrow too.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± agrees Tarja, setting down her telescope. ¡°Can I ask something weird?¡± asks Fresh, picking up some more materials to return to the project. ¡°What do you guys think Veli is doing?¡± The other fairies look at each other for a second, before returning to their task. ¡°He¡¯s probably doing pull-ups from a branch or something,¡± says Liro. Sauli shakes his head. ¡°I bet he made himself a sword out of some monster¡¯s bones and is outside, killing even more monsters with it.¡± ¡°He¡¯s probably asleep,¡± says Tarja, breaking the dramatics of the conversation. ¡°He was always early to bed and early to rise.¡± Fresh nods, she likes that answer the most. Picking up some fluff, she tucks it into the inside of the house, hoping that wherever the fairy is resting, that his bed is as warm and soft as this one. After another half an hour, the simple construction ¡®finished¡¯ and secured down. The other three fairies of Tarja¡¯s party also make their way back, having been in town to buy food and materials. Fresh wishes them all a good night and heads downstairs. ¡°The wind is picking up,¡± she calls out of the hatch. ¡°So try to stay inside for tonight, okay? Good night!¡± ¡°Good night!¡± call six voices her way as she closes the hatch and sinks down into the workshop. ¡°And?¡± asks Basil, standing at the workbench and looking up at her as she comes down the ladder. ¡°How is everyone?¡± ¡°They¡¯ve grown up so much, Basil,¡± says Fresh, almost ready to cry. The priestess nods. ¡°You did well with them.¡± ¡°We all diiid~¡± howls Fresh, grabbing Basil and crying into her shoulder with pride. ¡°There, there,¡± consoles the priestess, setting her tools down and patting her on the back. ¡°They¡¯ll be fine. Come on, let¡¯s go get ready for bed,¡± suggests Basil and Fresh agrees. The four of them end their day and soon enough, the morning comes once more. ¡°So how come we haven¡¯t been doing equipment repairs?¡± asks Basil over the breakfast table. ¡°We¡¯ve always offered repairs.¡± Fresh smears some orange jam onto a slice of toast, sliding it over towards Basil. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Because, Basil,¡± says Fresh. She points up towards the roof. ¡°If we stole all the repair business, what would they do for money?¡± Jubilee points at her. ¡°It¡¯s not stealing if we offer a better product at a better price,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s called competition,¡± they say. ¡°It will do them good to have some pressure to adapt.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No. I don¡¯t wanna,¡± she says. ¡°Besides¡­¡± She lowers her voice, leaning in over the table. ¡°Aren¡¯t we supposed to not sell the same things as in other places?¡± ¡°Repairs don¡¯t count,¡± says Jubilee, lifting their mask to take a sip of their tea. They have to keep the balcony curtains shut as long as the fairies are here, so that nobody can peek inside and see Jubilee. Outside of the house, there is a whistling as a wind presses past the structure, shooting up the long stairway up towards the city. It isn¡¯t so much that a storm is coming as that it has just gotten really windy lately. Though, by the open ocean, it was always a little windy to begin with. ¡°Well.¡± Basil bites into her toast, continuing a moment later. ¡°I suppose we¡¯re doing alright without them.¡± ¡°It was free money though,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re leaving a lot on the table.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°We¡¯re doing well because of the ice-cream.¡± ¡°Sure, but we could be doing better,¡± suggests Jubilee, pointing at her with their fork. Shamrock reaches from his seat, stealing a piece of fruit from Jubilee¡¯s plate. Basil had made a small fruit-salad for a breakfast side-dish. Fresh had to cut the orange ones though, otherwise the priestess wouldn¡¯t have been ¡®allowed¡¯ to use them. Not that she minds. Fresh thinks it¡¯s a really cute ¡®rule¡¯ for Basil to have. ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°Greed harms,¡± is all that he says, shaking his head and putting the piece of fruit inside of his helmet. ¡°Don¡¯t fucking lecture me when you¡¯re stealing my food, shit-head!¡± barks Jubilee at him. Basil reaches over, scooping a piece of her fruit-salad onto Jubilee¡¯s plate. ¡°I think Shamrock is saying that it might be in our best interest to let the fairies have some room to grow.¡± ¡°Room to grow?¡± asks Jubilee, looking her way. ¡°They have an entire fucking desert to grow in.¡± ¡°There¡¯s only one beach though and we¡¯re here too,¡± says Basil. ¡°So we¡¯ll have to share.¡± ¡°Says who?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Survival of the fittest. If the fairies can¡¯t make it under a little pressure, they don¡¯t deserve to make it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The big slime eats the little slime.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh from across the table. She really hates that phrase. ¡°No!¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m not letting this go. If we baby them, they aren¡¯t going to grow right.¡± Jubilee lifts their arm, grabbing Shamrock¡¯s hand as he moves to take another piece of their fruit. ¡°Fuck off, Shamrock. I¡¯m sick of your shit,¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°I think what Shamrock is trying to say,¡± says Basil, coughing. ¡°Is that it¡¯s in our best interest to share,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°We want the fairies to do well and we don¡¯t need the little bit of extra money that badly.¡± She shrugs. ¡°So it only makes sense.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± agrees Fresh. ¡°Cooperating with them is only going to help us both,¡± she says. ¡°But if we take their business, it¡¯ll only help us and that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°That sounds pretty good to me,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Please,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°You can stop acting like you¡¯re so callous and indifferent.¡± Jubilee glares at her. ¡°It¡¯s not an act. Fuck ¡®em.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± asks Basil, smiling a smug, victorious smile as she sips her morning tea. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re so concerned with them growing up right?¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes, shoving Shamrock¡¯s hand away. ¡°Fuck off, Basil.¡± ¡°No, you.¡± Fresh sighs in relief and endures another round of ¡®banter¡¯ between her friends as they finish breakfast. An hour later, they go downstairs and open the store for the day. Though it looks like business is going to be slower than usual. The sky is oddly cloudy and the wind is oddly strong and from somewhere out in the distance, a bell is ringing. ¡°Is that the harbor?¡± asks Fresh, trying to locate the sound. ¡°Sounds like it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, looking out of the ice-cream window. ¡°Hey. What¡¯s that?¡± she asks, staring at the red blob off in the distance. ¡°What¡¯s what?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Oh.¡± They narrow their eyes, squinting at the thing sitting out on the distant ocean. The ship from last night that she had seen is still there, anchored outside of the harbor. But now, a fire is raging on the distant thing and several boats make their way out towards it. A strong wind blows in through the window, carrying with it the smells of sea-salt and smoke. Razmatazz ''Huh? What was that noise? *Looks around, arrow sticking out of skull* *Sees nothing* ''Just the wind...'' Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 273: Bored Business is tense today, to say the least. Though, more aptly said, there is no business today and the atmosphere of the city itself is tense. Except for the odd guard or soldier who finds themselves fighting crabs on the beach during their routes, nobody comes by. They¡¯re the only ones out on the beach today and the only ones killing any crabs and so, they¡¯re the only ones who ever stop by the window where a particularly bored looking Basil stands. The beach has been closed off for now, as well as access to the dungeon entirely. Fresh stands behind Basil, leaned against her back as the two of them look out of the window together and sigh. There had been an attack of some kind on the ship in the early morning hours. Fresh didn¡¯t really understand it, as they only heard a word here and a murmur there, but there was something about a saboteur. Apparently, there had been someone on the ship who didn¡¯t belong there and they very much didn¡¯t want the ship to leave the port of call. The strange man, who everyone on the coast has been warned about, apparently vanished after diving off of the boat. At least according to the eye-witness accounts. Though, those are held to be unreliable. It was dark and the storm was strong and the soldiers doubted that anyone could swim from there to the shore without getting snatched or eaten by some monster in the water. The ocean is apparently full of all sorts of horrific, high-level things. Just in case however, the shoreline and the dungeon, where an intruder like this might hide, have been locked off for the general public for an ¡®indefinite period¡¯. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to be selling much ice-cream today,¡± says Fresh. Basil shakes her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so either,¡± she says, as both of them look out over the gray sky. The wind is still blowing today. ¡°Should we close?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Are you fucked in the head?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We already sold two bottles of water and a towel,¡± they say. ¡°We¡¯re staying open.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°That¡¯s what¡­ not even sixty Obols?¡± she asks. ¡°This is a waste of time.¡± ¡°Oh yeah?¡± asks Jubilee, leaning against the counter. ¡°What else do you have to do, misses ¡®time is precious¡¯?¡± ¡°We could cook a nice lunch together?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°Or we could play a game, or we could fix up the house a bit?¡± she shrugs, lifting Fresh¡¯s face up together with her shoulders. ¡°There¡¯s lots of stuff we could do.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°And who¡¯s going to work the ice-cream window?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not going to sell any ice-cream today,¡± sighs Basil. Fresh frowns. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll reopen the beach tomorrow?¡± she asks. ¡°Doubt it,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh sighs. ¡°We could all take a big nap together?¡± she suggests. ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯d be up for a nap,¡± says Basil, yawning. Though perhaps out of boredom rather than exertion. ¡°But Jubileeee~¡± says Fresh, looking out at the gray skies outside. ¡°It¡¯s perfect cuddling and nap weather!¡± ¡°What the fuck are you, a house-cat?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re merchants, we¡¯re trying to run a store here,¡± they argue, hitting the back of their hand into their open palm. Basil reaches with her arms around her back, grabbing Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s hard to run a store with no customers.¡± Fresh gasps, pulling herself free from Basil as she comes to a realization. With some energy, she jumps over the counter and runs out of the front door, heading to the other side of the ice-cream window. ¡°Hi, Basil!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Hi,¡± replies Basil, watching as Fresh sets a coin down onto the counter. Fresh beams, her dream is finally becoming a reality. ¡°One hug, please!¡± she exclaims, sliding the coin towards Basil with her finger. Basil looks at it, checking to see if it''s real and tosses it down into the bowl. Leaning over the counter, she holds her arms open and Fresh moves in for the kill, grabbing the priestess in a window-hug. ¡°I always knew that this day would come,¡± says Jubilee, sarcastically. ¡°What? When I became the favorite?¡± asks Basil snidely, rubbing Fresh¡¯s back. Fresh looks at Jubilee, blinking. ¡°No, when you start selling your body,¡± they reply. Basil gasps, turning her head around. ¡°You¡¯re such a horrible, rude, little gremlin!¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°I am what nature made me.¡± ¡°Cranky,¡± says Shamrock, coming past the counter. ¡°Game night?¡± he suggests. ¡°It¡¯s not night and we don¡¯t have any games,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh lets go of Basil, coming back inside. ¡°We could make a really big lunch together and have a little party with the fairies?¡± she suggests. ¡°Then we can play some games and stuff!¡± ¡°Pass,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Oh, come on,¡± says Basil. ¡°It¡¯ll be fun.¡± Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°No fun allowed during work hours.¡± Basil lifts her nose. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard that rule before.¡± ¡°It¡¯s on the sign,¡± says Jubilee, clearly raising an eyebrow behind their mask. ¡°Sign?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee snaps their fingers. Shamrock bends down and picks up a wooden board from his side of the counter that had apparently been strategically planted there for exactly this moment. He lifts it up, showing it to them. ¡®No fun allowed¡¯ is engraved into the wood in a handwriting that Fresh recognizes as Shamrock¡¯s own. Apparently, Jubilee had conscripted him for this task. ¡°See?¡± asks Jubilee, pointing up at the sign. Basil stares at them, dumbfounded, turning her gaze to look at Fresh who is doing her best to hold in a laugh and failing. Jubilee apparently has been really bored too. ¡°How long have you been waiting to use that?¡± asks Basil. ¡°A week,¡± says Shamrock, setting the sign down. Jubilee turns their gaze to look at him, nodding. ¡°Good work.¡± ¡°I serve.¡± ¡°Damn right you do,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee~!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t corrupt Shamrock!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to dignify that statement with a response.¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers at Basil. ¡°Shut the window. We¡¯re done.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Basil looks at Jubilee and then at the window. ¡°I¡¯m not wasting more of my life here for a few coins. We¡¯re closing,¡± states Jubilee. ¡°Wait.¡± Basil turns back towards them. ¡°Were you just arguing for the sake of arguing?¡± Jubilee nods, dusting their hands and going around the counter. ¡°It¡¯s boring as fuck here today.¡± The priestess sighs, but Fresh can¡¯t help but continue to laugh. They close the store early today, seeing little point in it being open any longer and instead, the four of them head upstairs and start preparing a big lunch. Fresh goes one floor further and heads out onto the roof. It really is very windy though. Heading over to the improvised fairy-house, she knocks on the side. ¡°Hey guys,¡± says Fresh. ¡°How¡¯re you doing?¡± Sauli pops his head out of the door. ¡°Hey. It¡¯s boring,¡± he says. ¡°The others are getting weird,¡± he explains, sighing as he looks back over his shoulder at the others. For some reason there¡¯s a lot of giggling. Fresh scratches her cheek and shrugs. ¡°We¡¯re making lunch. You guys wanna join us to eat?¡± Tarja¡¯s head pops out of the door next to him. ¡°We¡¯re up for lunch!¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Come on down then, we¡¯ll eat inside. It¡¯s too windy up here,¡± she says. ¡°Okay! We¡¯ll be there soon!¡± says Tarja and the two of them vanish back down into the fairy-house. Fresh shrugs, having had the feeling that they were acting a little odd. But that¡¯s not her business. Heading back down, she tells the others and helps them get food ready. The fairies fly down through the balcony a little while later, coincidentally, perhaps, right after the table is finished being set. Lunch is a very nice experience though. The four of them sit around the table at their usual spots, Jubilee with their mask on as they entertain their guests. The fairies tell them all about how they¡¯ve been doing and all of the weirdo¡¯s they¡¯ve encountered during their living here so far. It sounds like there are a few odd-balls here or there, but all in all, everything is going pretty well for them. Well, apart from the whole house thing, but that¡¯s only a minor detail in the grand scale of things, in Fresh¡¯s eyes. They aren¡¯t thrilled about the beach being closed either. Tarja shrugs. ¡°At least we aren¡¯t losing any foot-traffic,¡± she comments. Fresh nods, supposing she had a point. If there was ever a time for their business to shut down for a few days, it might as well be while the beach itself was closed. An hour and a half later, lunch is eaten, the conversations have been had and the fairies even stay for the clean-up. They seem pretty exhausted though and make their escape after that. Fresh stretches, yawning noisily as she shuts the curtains behind the fairies and shuffles over to Jubilee, taking off their mask for them from behind. ¡°Nap?¡± suggests Fresh. ¡°After you eat.¡± She sits down, resting her head on the table. That question essentially goes unanswered, at least with words. Everyone seems to be ¡®talked out¡¯. Jubilee finishes eating their lunch and then without a word, shuffles to their room, kicking off their boots on the way. Fresh rises from the grave, shuffling after them and Basil shuffles after her. Jubilee just sighs, but doesn¡¯t say anything as Fresh enters their room uninvited and lays down next to them. Basil lays down next to her and Shamrock lays down on the far end. She closes her eyes, listening to the howling winds outside that seem to press on as forcefully as before, having not lost even a little of their energy, unlike the four of them. Fresh pulls up the blanket over them all and they nap for the rest of the day. Razmatazz Everything has been so fun and wholesome lately! *-* I wouldn''t worry about it Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 274: Bubbly bubbly Energy. For some reason, Fresh feels that she is absolutely bursting with energy today. The store might be closed now for the second day in a row, after they had spent the entire remainder of yesterday napping together in what might be one of Fresh¡¯s favorite memories ever. But that doesn¡¯t stop her from running around the building, energy tingling in her heels as she runs up the staircase for the fourth time, having grabbed some materials from downstairs. Sliding to a halt in the kitchen, she catches herself on one leg and grabs a big pot from the lower kitchen cabinets. Jubilee sighs. ¡°It¡¯s exhausting watching you, you know?¡± ¡°What¡¯re you up to?¡± asks Basil. ¡°IDEA!¡± yells Fresh, taking the pot with her into the workshop. Shamrock is standing next to the workbench and tinkering with some stuff and she runs up next to him, pressing the side of her body against him to nudge him to the side. ¡°Hi, Shamrock!¡± she says. ¡°Hi,¡± says Shamrock, nudging her back. Fresh yelps, losing her balance. The pot clambers down onto the workbench and she catches herself on the ladder. ¡°I¡¯m okay!¡± Shamrock nods, looking back to his work. Pulling herself up, Fresh returns to the workbench, running her fingers over the bottles of grim-powder that are secured to the wall. She wants the least explosive one. Her finger runs over two vials. This one is full of water-essence powder. But so is this one. One is green and one is blue. ¡°Green or blue?¡± she asks Shamrock, who has no idea what she¡¯s doing. He turns his head to look at her for a second, before returning back to his work. ¡°Green.¡± ¡°Thanks, Shamrock!¡± beams Fresh, grabbing the green vial of grimpowder. Carefully, she sprinkles a dash of it into the pot from a very low height, so that it doesn¡¯t explode. Placing the rest back onto the wall, she grabs the pot and runs out of the workshop, closing the door behind herself with her foot. Running a lap around the table once, through the kitchen and then back around again, she stops at the stove and sets the pot down onto it. ¡°What I wouldn¡¯t give to have that kind of energy,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°If you¡¯re asking to be five again, that door closed a long time ago,¡± quips Jubilee. Basil looks up at them. ¡°If I pull on your ears, do I get a free wish?¡± ¡°Depends,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Is your wish to get a black eye?¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± calls Fresh from the kitchen. ¡°Stop threatening Basil!¡± ¡°Basil is going to get what she deserves one day,¡± states Jubilee, placing their head on their hand to signal their extreme boredom. ¡°But she already got a hug yesterday, Jubilee,¡± explains Fresh, looking over her shoulder. Jubilee sighs and Basil smiles a smug smile, sipping her tea. Grabbing a bottle of sweet-tea, she slowly pours it into the pot of grimpowder. With a spoon, she slowly stirs the mixture around and lets it come to a stop. Then, grabbing their honey, she drops a spoonful of it into the concoction and turns on the heat. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m boiling grimpowder!¡± says Fresh ecstatically. ¡°You¡¯re doing what?¡± asks Jubilee and she hears two chairs scooting away from her and the kitchen. ¡°Please don¡¯t destroy the kitchen,¡± says Basil. ¡°Plus that¡¯s our only pot!¡± ¡°You¡¯d think we could afford more than one,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Anyways, isn¡¯t that stuff poisonous? Ignoring the whole exploding thing.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not poisonous if you boil away the poison!¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡­¡± Jubilee looks at Basil. Basil seems to share their concern. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how poison works either,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Besides, should you be boiling explosives?¡± she asks with understandable concern. ¡°It¡¯s fine!¡± reassures Fresh. ¡°Since it¡¯s water-based grimpowder and only a little, it¡¯ll work out.¡± ¡°Somehow, that was just a reassurance with no actual explanation,¡± states Jubilee. Fresh taps the spoon against the pot, setting it down and then stepping back from the pot. She walks around the table. Once. Twice. And then she stops, walking the next lap backwards. ¡°Cooking!¡± she explains, seeing their lost expressions as she returns to the pot that has begun to boil and stirring it again before taking it off of the heat. Grabbing a glass, she takes some ice from the cooling cabinet and drops it into the cup, before pouring some of the mixture from the pot into it. ¡°You¡¯re really going to commit suicide?¡± asks Jubilee, skeptically. ¡°Right here? In front of Basil?¡± Fresh frowns, listening to the crackling of the ice inside of the glass as the hot liquid and ice meet each other. Effect: Restores +10 STAMINA / 100mL Quality Effect: Restores +2 SOUL / 100 mL Made with LOV: +6 DEXTERITY for 30 minutes Value: ??? ¡°Hey, those are good values,¡± says Basil. ¡°Are we just going to ignore the poison thing?¡± asks Jubilee, watching as Fresh lifts the glass and takes a long drink from it. With pride, she holds it out to her friends. ¡°IT¡¯S BUBBLY!¡± Basil and Jubilee stare at each other, before looking back towards her. ¡°But why?¡± ¡°Because of the grimpowder, Basil,¡± explains Fresh. Basil nods. ¡°Sure. But¡­ why is it bubbly?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°What do the bubbles do?¡± ¡°Why are you even bothering?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s bubbly because it has to be bubbly, Basil,¡± explains Fresh, giving her the glass. ¡°See? Try it!¡± ¡°Is this some kind of cult¡¯ish death ritual?¡± asks Jubilee. Basil shrugs, looking at the item¡¯s window again, perhaps to make sure that the poison-indicating skull is really gone from it, before taking a sip from the glass. Her eyes open in surprise. ¡°It really is bubbly¡­¡± she says. ¡°Right?!¡± asks Fresh. Basil slides the glass across the table to Jubilee, who catches it from sliding off. ¡°Try it,¡± she says. ¡°There might be something here.¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°You want me to try a drink that is literally made with poison, out of a glass that the two of you have already slobbered over?¡± Basil lifts her nose. ¡°Please. We both know that that¡¯s a selling point for you and not a hindrance.¡± ¡°You know what?¡± asks Jubilee, lifting the glass. ¡°I¡¯m going to try it just because I hope it does kill me.¡± They lift the glass to their lips and take a long drink from it, smacking their lips a second later and looking at it curiously. ¡°Fucking bubbles¡­¡± ¡°Well?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You know?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t hate it.¡± ¡°Same price as the normal sweet-teas? Or more expensive?¡± suggests Basil. Fresh sighs. ¡°It¡¯s not about making money, guys.¡± The two of them look at her for a moment before turning back to each other. ¡°Same price,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll give them the illusion of choice and knock them off their socks with it.¡± Basil nods. ¡°As long as they¡¯re buying from us.¡± Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°You guys sound really evil when you talk about money-stuff.¡± The two of them give her another look, but then turn back to each other again. ¡°Should we make the other drinks ¡®bubbly¡¯ too?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee rubs their chin, contemplating. ¡°Let¡¯s stick with the sweet-teas,¡± they say. ¡°I think the coconut water would be pretty nasty with bubbles.¡± ¡°Stop ignoring me!¡± exclaims Fresh. Jubilee looks up towards her. ¡°Run three laps around the table and I¡¯ll listen.¡± Fresh groans, rolling her eyes in obvious protest. But then she runs three laps around the table, poking Jubilee once with each lap. Reaching her original spot, she clenches her fists and leans in towards them. ¡°You guys are always trying to sell the stuff that I¡¯m only making because I want to make you happy!¡± she argues. ¡°It makes me feel bad.¡± Jubilee lifts a finger. ¡°Counterpoint. Selling things that you¡¯ve made make me happy.¡± Basil grabs her hand. ¡°Thank you very much, that¡¯s very sweet of you,¡± she says. ¡°This is a really good idea though. Wouldn¡¯t it be better to share it with the world, than just with us?¡± Fresh blinks, staring at the priestess. She¡¯s actually almost convinced by her argument at first, at least until she sees the glint of Basil¡¯s golden bracelet down beneath her sleeve. Then she can¡¯t help but wonder if there isn¡¯t a hint of ¡®old¡¯ Basil working her way back to the surface. She plants her hands on her hips. ¡°I¡¯ll let you guys sell it, if you do three laps around the table.¡± ¡°Pass,¡± says Jubilee, sliding the half-empty glass back across the table to Basil who catches it and takes another sip. The priestess stares at it for a while as a tense silence seems to hang between the three of them. Basil sighs, rising to her feet. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do it,¡± she says. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, watching as Basil scoots her chair back into the table and then, just as she had demanded, runs three laps around it. Fresh rubs her arm, feeling a little bad now all of a sudden. Sure, it¡¯s a ¡®harmless¡¯ gesture, perhaps a little foolish at worst. But she still feels bad about having essentially forced her friend to do it. Reaching the end of her odyssey, Basil catches her breath and looks over towards Jubilee. ¡°You owe me.¡± ¡°To make it up to you, I¡¯ll allow your continued employment,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m not your employee. We¡¯re partners!¡± argues Basil. ¡°To make it up to you, I¡¯ll allow you to continue being my partner,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. Fresh smiles at Basil. ¡°Okay, Basil!¡± she says. ¡°Sorry about that. We¡¯ll sell the bubbly drinks,¡± she confirms, gazing at the priestess. As she looks at her, Fresh finds her eyes wandering to the side, past her face, towards Shamrock¡¯s bed where the wooden-chicken is still standing. It stares at her, judging her for having been a bad friend. She takes a step to the side, so that her view of it is blocked. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 275: Closeness ¡°Ice-cream!¡± calls Fresh, helping Basil push the cart along. ¡°Come get your ice-cream!¡± She looks around the street. It doesn¡¯t look like there are any takers. They had been outside for about an hour now. Since no business was coming to them, they had decided to take their business to the people. However, with the cloudy, gray weather hanging over their heads, the mood-dampening wind still howling through the city and the lack of adventure, giving the closure of both the beach and the dungeon, there just doesn¡¯t seem to be a sense of action anywhere to be found. Let alone anyone who wants ice-cream. Fresh sighs. ¡°It was a good try,¡± consoles Basil. ¡°But I think until the weather straightens itself out and the beach reopens, we might be out of luck.¡± Fresh frowns, looking at her and then down at the cart. The two of them had spent all morning making a small, wooden cart with crystal-drakonium lining on the inside, in which they had ready-packed balls of ice-cream, as well as other snacks and drinks. But, the streets, while not empty, certainly lack any adventurous flair to their wanderers. Basil reaches into the cart, pulling out a pair of popsicles. ¡°Here. On me,¡± she says, handing Fresh one. The two of them stand there, leaning against the cart, watching the town walk past them. The popsicles were a really good idea and honestly one that was so obvious that she didn¡¯t see it right in front of her face the entire time. It wasn¡¯t until someone had come to their window, asking if they sold frozen coconut-water too, that the idea came to her. So in a sense, today has been a very productive day so far. But in another, it hasn¡¯t. ¡°Thanks, Basil,¡± says Fresh, the two of them strike their popsicles together and watch the world go by. ¡°How do you like it here?¡± asks Fresh, trying to make small-talk. She doesn¡¯t want to go home and rot there just yet. Basil thinks for a moment, though she doesn¡¯t exactly carry the impression of a great philosopher as she nurses the coconut-popsicle. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she says. ¡°Honestly, I liked uh¡­¡± she looks around, but then shrugs. ¡°I liked the west more,¡± says Basil. ¡°It was cozier, I suppose?¡± Fresh nods, understanding. The mountain and the cold certainly brought an ambiance with it that was hard to identify. Maybe it was because of the great heights of the mountain and the seclusion of it. Or maybe it was because of the security and ¡®solidity¡¯ of their home, literally carved from solid rock. Or maybe it was just because it was, despite its troubles, the place she feels she has grown the most in so far, but the west was really a very cozy, homey spot. Once she gets past the horrible way the people there treated the fairies that is. Not including the ¡®bullying¡¯ that she went through, if it could be called that. Though, she doesn¡¯t want to place those things on the same scale of harm. ¡°What about the other place?¡± asks Fresh, knowing better than to say the word. Basil shakes her head. ¡°My ranking is the west, then the east, then the other place,¡± she says. ¡°We¡¯re running out of places,¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°I like it here too though, it¡¯s a lot more, uh¡­¡± she looks around, trying to find the word to describe the way she feels about the vibe. ¡°Relaxed?¡± she guesses. ¡°People aren¡¯t so uptight here. I think it¡¯s the sun.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Basil. ¡°Well, except for now.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± sighs Fresh. But then she smiles, tasting the sweetness of her popsicle. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad that we could be friends,¡± admits Fresh. ¡°So I guess all of my bribery worked, huh?¡± she asks. ¡°I was super scared when we ran into each other, back then,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Outside of your, uh¡­ old home.¡± Basil laughs. ¡°You really don¡¯t have a problem saying things like that, do you?¡± she asks, pulling on her sleeve with a free finger. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No, I do,¡± she admits. ¡°It¡¯s really hard sometimes,¡± she says. ¡°I used to never be able to say or do anything that I wanted, because I was always scared that the person I wanted to get to like me would think I was weird,¡± she explains. ¡°And then my hands would get all sweaty and I¡¯d feel my heart beating and I¡¯d cry and it was really bad, Basil,¡± exclaims Fresh, leaning in sideways towards the priestess. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says Basil, looking away. ¡°I still get that now, actually.¡± Fresh tilts her head, eating her popsicle and staring at the side of Basil¡¯s face as she watches some random crowd, as if they were particularly interesting all of a sudden. ¡°But you should do it anyways, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Even if it¡¯s scary.¡± ¡°You think?¡± asks the priestess, looking back her way. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, looking at a random crowd herself now, that she now pretends to find particularly interesting. ¡°All adventures end eventually, right?¡± she asks. ¡°That¡¯s what the others said.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± agrees Basil in a solemn tone. ¡°Then you¡¯ll regret it, if it does and you didn¡¯t say and do everything you wanted to do,¡± explains Fresh. Basil thinks for a second. ¡°You¡¯ve thought about this a lot, huh?¡± ¡°I have a lot of free time while doing chores,¡± laughs Fresh. The wind blows past them, pushing through the crowded, busy street as it encapsulates them and in that second, Fresh has the oddest sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, as if this conversation had happened before already, in some form or another. She blinks, shaking her head and getting the odd thought out of it. ¡°Wanna go home and bug Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. Basil nods. ¡°How come we never bug Shamrock?¡± asks the priestess. Fresh grabs the cart and thinks for a second, not pushing it just yet. ¡°Uh¡­ hmm¡­¡± Fresh ponders, staring at the cart. ¡°I don¡¯t think I know how to bug Shamrock,¡± she explains. ¡°He¡¯s unbuggable. Besides -¡± Fresh raises her gaze to Basil. ¡°Jubilee likes being bugged.¡± Basil laughs. ¡°Sometimes I wonder about that.¡± The two of them push the cart back. The staircase was bad enough to get it up, but getting it down is going to be a real pain too. ¡°So how come you two always fight?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You and Jubilee.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Basil thinks out loud for a moment. ¡°You know, maybe it¡¯s just like the thing you were talking about before,¡± she suggests. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You know, when you want to do something, but then you do something else instead because you¡¯re too nervous to do the first thing?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Mm.¡± Basil adjusts the cart towards the left, to avoid a stone on the road. ¡°It¡¯s like that.¡± Fresh nods, understanding. ¡°But you¡¯re not really fighting, right?¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°No, not at all. We get along great, you know?¡± The two of them head back home, going through a fairly substantial struggle to carry the little cart back down the stairs towards the beach. Thankfully, the staircase is empty and they don¡¯t have to work their way around any people. ¡°We¡¯re home!¡± calls Fresh as they step into the store, no response. But that¡¯s expected since everyone is upstairs. ¡°Let¡¯s unload the ice-cream,¡± suggests Basil. Fresh nods and the two of them unload the wares from the cart back into the cooling-cabinet. ¡°We¡¯ll try the cart again on a better day, okay?¡± ¡°I sure hope so, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°After all the work we put into it.¡± She sighs, rubbing the wood of the thing for a moment. Blinking, she looks down at the ground and picks up a piece of old, dried out sea-weed. They must¡¯ve dragged it in yesterday or today. Beach life is really messy. She throws it away and the two of them head upstairs. ¡°We¡¯re back!¡± calls Fresh. Shamrock is laying in his bed, with a hand held up into the air. Jubilee sits at the table. ¡°Please leave again,¡± replies Jubilee, not looking up from their book. Basil walks in past her to the table and takes the book from their hands. ¡°Hey!¡± barks Jubilee. The priestess sets the book down and hugs Jubilee. ¡°Can you not touch me in public?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Or ever?¡± ¡°Sorry, I missed you,¡± says Basil. ¡°What? What the fuck? You two were gone for an hour at most.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Basil. Feeling Jubilee¡¯s gaze on her, Fresh scratches her cheek and shrugs to signal that she doesn¡¯t know what¡¯s going on either and then makes her way over to Shamrock¡¯s bed. ¡°Hi, Shamrock!¡± she says. ¡°Scoot!¡± she requests, gesturing for him to make space for her, so she can join him. He turns his head towards her. ¡°No.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°Please?¡± ¡°No.¡± Fresh frowns, looking at him. It¡¯s unusual for Shamrock to deny a request of hers. ¡°Okay. Sorry,¡± she says, scratching her cheek, looking around herself for something else to do. Jubilee and Basil are busy doing whatever it is they¡¯re doing. Maybe she could cook lunch? But she isn¡¯t really hungry¡­ hmm¡­ Maybe she could make some items for the store? Well¡­ that isn¡¯t very fun. It¡¯s not like they¡¯re going to be able to sell them for a while. ¡°I bet you¡¯re bored too, huh?¡± asks Fresh, looking back at him. He nods. Without the store and the dungeon, Fresh bets that the man just doesn¡¯t know what to do with himself. Those are his two biggest things. She sighs again, walking away towards the workshop. On the way there, she stops to wipe a scuff off of the floor. It looks like a small burn mark. Did she drop some grimpowder here? She doesn¡¯t remember. Oh well. Shrugging, she heads into the workshop, sure that she can find something to make. Razmatazz -) I wouldn''t worry about it -) Special thanks to RR reader Angela for always giving me fun and cool ideas! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 276: Long days Fresh sits in the workshop, polishing several different moonglass lenses as she finishes making another batch of glasses in all manner of varying focal strengths. Obviously, it would be better to make these custom-fit to everyone¡¯s personal needs for the lenses. But that isn¡¯t a viable business model for them, it would take up hours and hours of her time. So, she feels that they¡¯re better off making different kinds and just letting people try them out to see what¡¯s the closest fit. Is it ideal? No, not really. But when is anything ever ideal? She sighs, looking at the moonglass statue of Mr. Mushroom that she has sitting on the workbench, across from herself. ¡°Nyah~¡± says Fresh quietly, wondering what Mr. Mushroom is doing right now? She bets that he¡¯s asleep in his den, dreaming about something nice. She hopes so. Being a monster that lives in the dungeon sounds like a really stressful life. The mushroom-statue doesn¡¯t respond. Jubilee walks in, sipping some of the bubbly sweet-tea. ¡°Hey, goo-brain,¡± they say. ¡°It¡¯s time for bed.¡± ¡°Okaaaay~¡± relents Fresh, setting down the last pair of glasses and rubbing her tired eyes with her forearm. ¡°Good night, Mr. Mushroom,¡± she says to the statue, walking out of the workshop past Jubilee, who is rolling their eyes. ¡°Stop talking to the statue, weirdo.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a weirdo!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m just being nice.¡± ¡°Basil,¡± says Jubilee, snapping their fingers. They point up at Fresh. ¡°Is she a weirdo?¡± Basil looks up, yawning. ¡°As much as the rest of us.¡± ¡°Wrong answer,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°You let me down more and more every day.¡± ¡°Mr. Mushroom was a really nice guy!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s only polite to wish him a good night.¡± ¡°I never got that whole ¡®Mr. Mushroom¡¯ thing,¡± says Basil, looking up from the table over to Shamrock. The man, still laying in his bed, shrugs. As they get ready to sleep, Fresh goes on to explain her arrival here and her encounter with Mr. Mushroom. Basil isn¡¯t thrilled about her story of eating the creature, more or less raw, but she does seem to find some humor in it. ¡°Wait,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You died?¡± they ask. ¡°To the very first mush-mush in the dungeon? On floor one? Of the easiest dungeon?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°I¡¯d find that hilarious, if it wasn¡¯t such a tragedy.¡± ¡°Right?!¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I was so sad about having to kill him.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the sad part,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head and walking back upstairs as they leave the washroom. ¡°It¡¯s certainly a story,¡± says Basil, patting her on the back as they walk up the staircase. ¡°Do you think that anyone else has ever been killed by him?¡± she asks. ¡°By a level one mush-mush?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Yeah, some cripples and some orphans, I bet. Maybe even some crippled orphans. No offense.¡± Basil sighs, rolling her eyes. ¡°Roll your eyes at me again and I¡¯ll pop ¡®em right out of your head,¡± threatens Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯d have to reach them first,¡± replies Basil. Jubilee nods as they head back into the upstairs area. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right,¡± they say. ¡°Getting past your flat chest might be easy enough, but it might be hard to reach past that over-extended gut of yours.¡± ¡°Back at the orphanage,¡± says Basil, crossing her arms and lifting her nose. ¡°The meanest kids were just the ones who didn¡¯t know what else to do with their feelings,¡± she explains. ¡°So I understand that you still have a lot of growing up to do.¡± Fresh watches the two of them start to bicker again as she heads to her bed. ¡°Good night, Shamrock!¡± she says, looking somewhat perplexed at the man who is still laying there. It¡¯s really not like him. The dungeon and their business being closed seems to have hit him harder than she thought it would. ¡°Good night,¡± says the man. ¡°Hug?¡± she asks, holding out her arms. He shakes his head and she frowns, shrugging and dropping her arms. ¡°Okay. Good night,¡± she says again, slipping into her pajamas and crawling into her bed. Soon enough, the other two finish their nightly conversation and find their way to their beds too and soon enough after that, sleep comes to them all. The next day comes. Fresh is sitting downstairs, staring out of the empty ice-cream sales window. ¡°No customers again today,¡± she sighs. ¡°Beach is probably still closed, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Let¡¯s close it up again. No point in wasting daylight.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Do you think it will be open again soon, Jubilee?¡± she asks, sounding worried. ¡°Fuck if I know. Not until they catch that arsonist, I guess,¡± they say. Fresh frowns and closes the window again. After that, she heads upstairs and finishes the reconstruction of the fairy-house. ¡°So, one big room is enough for you guys?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the six fairies. ¡°I could make you separate rooms too?¡± she suggests. ¡°Why?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°So you can sleep by yourselves?¡± asks Fresh, as if this were obvious. The fairies exchange a confused look with each other. ¡°Why would we want to do that?¡± asks Liro. ¡°Huh?¡± Sauli chimes in. ¡°It¡¯s warmer and softer and safer if we all sleep in the same room,¡± he explains. Fresh nods, understanding. She feels the same way, but obviously, the fairies and herself have a different view of the world than most other people here. Privacy is a bigger issue for most people than it is for the seven of them. ¡°Alright,¡± agrees Fresh. ¡°Is there anything else that could be better?¡± she asks, tightening some screws. ¡°Can you do anything about the heat?¡± asks Tarja. ¡°Sometimes we get really sweaty,¡± she explains. Fresh nods. The small house was sitting right out on the desert beach, it makes sense that it will get hot. Though, maybe it also just gets hot because they all insist on sleeping in the same room. She can¡¯t complain however, it¡¯s the choice that she herself would make too. ¡°I can give you a cooling bead,¡± she says. ¡°Just take it out into the moon once every other day or so to recharge, it should keep the room you leave it in cold,¡± she says, pulling one of the little beads out of a bag full of ready-made ones. By the time they¡¯re finished, the magical-floating-fairy-house is more or less reconstructed the same as it was, with only some slight modifications. Wider interior door-frames, a better hanging of the ¡®ropes¡¯ in the fluff-filled sleeping area and she even plants a hamsa down beneath the floorboards. ¡°This¡¯ll keep any foot-demons away,¡± says Fresh, explaining the purpose of the thing to Tarja. ¡°Is that a real thing?¡± she asks. Fresh nods. ¡°But don¡¯t tell anyone,¡± she says. ¡°They¡¯ll get scared.¡± Tarja nods, understanding. Soon after that, the house is finished. ¡°You guys can stay here until the beach reopens,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you want to be out there right now. There are a lot of crabs,¡± she says, looking off of the roof. Without the adventurers to keep them in check, the dungeon and the beach seem to be overflowing with crabs that scuttle every which way. Hundreds of them. ¡°Thanks!¡± says Tarja. ¡°We¡¯ll make it up to you guys, somehow,¡± she promises. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°Thank you!¡± call the others, waving to her as she leaves. ¡°As long as you guys are safe and happy, then so are we,¡± she says, heading back down the hatch. She sighs, closing it behind herself. But then she smiles, noticing that the fairies had finally learned to say ¡®thank you¡¯. Nodding to herself with a determined nod, she heads out to the open area and starts doing a light workout, in honor of her favorite fairy who is still out there somewhere. She¡¯s sure of it. The next day comes. The beach is still closed. There is no news of any developments in the case. The guards suspect that the saboteur either vanished into the dungeon, where you could hide for weeks, if not months, depending on how strong one is, or that they¡¯ve already left the city by now. Fresh sighs, looking at all of the ice-cream that they have to throw out. Sure, it¡¯s frozen. But without preservatives of any kind, it still got¡­ weird. She doesn¡¯t really know how to describe it, but it just got weird. The texture feels wrong. It doesn¡¯t smell off or taste funky or anything. But it feels wrong to eat. So, they¡¯re chucking it all and she cries all the while. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± consoles Basil, racking the new glasses onto a new shelf that was made especially for them. ¡°I¡¯ll help you make a new batch before we reopen, I promise.¡± The next day comes. It¡¯s the first day that Shamrock could not only be coaxed out of his bed, but also the first day that he actually decides to leave it. The man, who has forgone his household duties these last few days in a very unusual manner for himself, now seems to have returned to his old self. But despite whatever might have been bothering him, he doesn¡¯t want to talk about it. So Fresh leaves it at that. The next day comes. With dead eyes, Fresh opens the sales window. ¡°One milkshake please,¡± says the familiar dark-elf. She blinks, staring at him. ¡°Huh?¡± The man shrugs. ¡°A milkshake,¡± he repeats, making a shaking motion with his hands and sliding a coin over the counter. Fresh stares at it, not really sure what to do with it, until she realizes that he is trying to buy something. ¡°AH!¡± she jumps upright, looking around. People stream down the staircase, heading onto the beach and a great war begins to erupt between dozens of extremely pent up adventurers and the most violent crabs imaginable. It looks like everything is back to normal. ¡°Coming right up!¡± beams Fresh, not sure how she is going to make any ice-cream on such short notice. Razmatazz Looks like we''re back in business! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 277: Flagon It seems that after a long moment of thought, the stranger has finally come to a consideration. ¡°I¡¯d like four scoops, please,¡± says the broad-shouldered man in crusader¡¯s armor. ¡°Coming right up!¡± says Fresh, having already thrown his coins into the change drawer. ¡°Uh¡­¡± she blinks. ¡°What flavors?¡± ¡°Oh, uh¡­¡± the large man looks down, pointing at the coconut and at the sweet-bean. ¡°Two of each.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± Fresh nods and begins scooping everything up. ¡°So how¡¯s the whole crusade thing going?¡± she asks. Basil clears her throat from behind her. ¡°It¡¯s going well,¡± says the man. ¡°You really should change the name of the store though.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh stops, the scoop still in her hand. ¡°Oh. We had one of you guys here the other day. My friend yelled at him,¡± she says, nodding at Basil. ¡°I heard,¡± says the older man, looking around. He seems to be far more senior, not only in age but in experience. His eyes are sharper and trained and while his posture is relaxed, there is a certain readiness to it, as if he were waiting for something to happen. Fresh keeps scooping the ice-cream into a large waffle-cone. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°We can¡¯t change our whole way of life just because of some bad person from somewhere else, right?¡± she asks, lifting a finger with one hand as she hands him the ice-cream with a smile. ¡°That would be what she wants.¡± The old man rubs his beard. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried about your safety?¡± asks the man, taking the cone and staring at her. Fresh blinks, looking at him and then back at Basil, before turning back to him. It didn¡¯t sound like a threat, it sounded more like a genuine question. She recalls this sensation, the feeling of the man¡¯s eyes, the tone of his words. He¡¯s scoping them out. It¡¯s like back with Basil and her orc friend, when they first met. Back when the church had sent the two of them to spy on Jubilee and herself. She needs to play this down. She needs to fake him out and win him over in a natural way. She¡­ Her eyes catch something down to the side. Fresh shakes her head, smiling at him. Reaching down, she grabs the thing that will let her escape. A set of prayer beads that Basil keeps beneath the counter for particularly frustrating moments when she needs to step away from the window for a minute, most often because of a troublesome interaction. ¡°No,¡± she says, rubbing the beads with a finger as she had seen Basil do before. ¡°I keep the faith,¡± says Fresh, reciting the only religious statement that she has ever really heard. Shamrock had told her that. ¡°Besides. Everyone¡¯s been really nice to us!¡± she says. Another man in line clears his throat, signaling his impatience. The older crusader looks back at him with an annoyed look, but then turns back to face her and nods. ¡°Okay. You have a great day miss,¡± he says, walking away and biting into his ice-cream. He looks at it in surprise for a second, apparently liking what he tastes. ¡°Thank you, come again!¡± she waves to him, before moving on to the next customer. Meanwhile, she watches out of the corner of her eye as Basil goes to the dressing room and scuttles away with Shamrock in tow, who had been hiding there behind the curtain. Later that day, after the closing of the store, the four of them find themselves upstairs. Fresh sighs. They hadn¡¯t really had a chance to talk about earlier before, as the store was busy all day. ¡°Fish?¡± asks Fresh, heading towards the kitchen. ¡°Muffins,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Fucking denied,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Let¡¯s eat something real that doesn¡¯t come from the ocean and doesn¡¯t come from a fucking grain.¡± ¡°A stew?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°We haven¡¯t had a proper stew for a while now.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°We¡¯ve been out of dragon¡¯s milk for ages,¡± she says, inadvertently. ¡°Excuse me?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh stops, turning her head around to look at her friends as she realizes that she has exposed her secret ingredient. ¡°Uh, milk,¡± says Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re out of flagons of milk.¡± Jubilee and Basil exchange a look. ¡°A flagon?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Yeah!¡± says Fresh, pretty sure that she¡¯s gotten away with it. ¡°A flagon!¡± she says, holding out her hands to gesture the size of a large object. ¡°It¡¯s like a bottle!¡± ¡°Just fucking say ¡®bottle¡¯, goo-brain,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°And we fucking have milk. You used it this morning, remember?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Fuckings flagons¡­¡± ¡°Oh!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Haha!¡± She reaches into the cooling cabinet, pulling out a bottle of milk that she had indeed, had in her hands this very morning. It¡¯s just normal milk though. She turns her head, looking at Shamrock who is gazing at her. He knows. Slowly, she shakes her head. At his waist, he lifts two fingers and then, seeming to consider for a moment, he raises a third. Fresh frowns, but nods. He nods back. She blinks. That seems a little¡­ extreme. The man sits down at the table and Basil comes to help her make dinner tonight. Fresh sighs, it¡¯s going to be a lot of work. Along with dinner, she¡¯s going to have to make a batch of three giant muffins to pay for Shamrock¡¯s silence. Also, because the fountain thinks that it¡¯s funny apparently, she has to do it or she is literally going to die. ¡°So,¡± starts Basil. ¡°That was a good save before,¡± says the priestess. ¡°With that crusader. You¡¯re a good actor.¡± ¡°You think I should try out at the theater?¡± asks Fresh, smiling as she begins to peel a tuber. ¡°Sorry that I had to lie while holding your beads, Basil,¡± she says. ¡°I hope they aren¡¯t ruined now.¡± Basil laughs quietly, running her fingers through some leafy greens. ¡°That¡¯s not how it works,¡± she says. ¡°Anyways, it was lucky that you two weren¡¯t at the counter,¡± says Basil, looking at Jubilee and Shamrock. ¡°You¡¯re awfully conspicuous.¡± Jubilee and Shamrock exchange a look from across the table and then both of them shrug at the same time. ¡°Not as conspicuous as that face of yours,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I am,¡± is all that Shamrock says, agreeing with Basil. Basil sighs. ¡°Come on guys, this is serious,¡± she says. ¡°Shamrock, if that man saw you, there might have been a huge problem,¡± explains Basil. ¡°The older rank and file take their faith very seriously. It isn¡¯t just a job for them.¡± ¡°Who gives a fuck?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Let¡¯s just put up a big, fat ¡®no zealots¡¯ sign. Problem solved.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll just cause us even more problems,¡± says Basil. ¡°Hiding in plain sight is working so far. But if we start acting shady, they¡¯ll double down.¡± Jubilee waves her off. ¡°Wash some carrots or something. It¡¯s a non-issue.¡± ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± ¡°Because I am,¡± replies Jubilee. They lift a finger, pointing at Shamrock. ¡°You think half the city hasn¡¯t seen this fuck-head already?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Literally everyone knows that he works here,¡± they explain. ¡°There¡¯s no way that your kook-collective doesn¡¯t know about him,¡± they state. ¡°But then¡­¡± Basil thinks for a second. ¡°But then, aren¡¯t we in danger?¡± she asks, looking around. ¡°If they know Shamrock is here, then -¡± Jubilee cuts her off, raising a hand. ¡°They know that a member of the witch¡¯s sect is here. That¡¯s it.¡± Basil fidgets with her sleeve, staining the fabric with some vegetable goo. ¡°But how many of those are there even left?¡± she asks, looking around. ¡°In the last few years, I¡¯ve literally only ever seen Shamrock,¡± says Basil. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°It¡¯s taken care of.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t reassure me at all!¡± exclaims the priestess, sounding increasingly troubled. ¡°It should,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Remember? Our meeting?¡± they ask. Basil stops, looking around the room as she realizes something. She gasps, having come to understand something now. Fresh, holding a tuber, looks at Basil as she tries to process the situation. She had forgotten that Jubilee and Basil had had a shady meeting somewhere a few weeks prior, likely with the thieves¡¯ guild. The priestess sighs, looking unhappy, but at least reassured in some sense. Though Fresh doesn¡¯t really understand what just happened. ¡°So everything is fine?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Everything is fine,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh turns her gaze, looking at Basil. The priestess seems a little unnerved, but feeling her eyes, she looks up at Fresh¡¯s curious expression and thinks for a moment longer. ¡°I think that everything is fine too,¡± she says, putting on a reassuring expression that Fresh isn¡¯t able to decipher the validity of. ¡°Sleepover tonight?¡± asks Basil. Fresh gasps in surprise. ¡°YES!¡± ¡°Eh¡­¡± groans Jubilee, sounding uninterested. ¡°Shamrock?¡± asks Basil. Fresh looks at him, wondering if he is feeling better today. He looks at Basil and then at Fresh, showing her four fingers. She nods. He nods back. ¡°Yes.¡± Fresh recoils from the window. Why is the fountain so insistent on her making muffins, of all things? ¡°Jubilee¡¯s room, or Shamrock¡¯s bed?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Shamrock¡¯s bed is bigger. But Jubilee¡¯s room is cozier.¡± ¡°Hello?¡± asks Jubilee, still not having actually given an answer. ¡°Why don¡¯t you all just sleep in your own beds like normal adults?¡± ¡°The fairies all sleep in one room too!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°They¡¯re adults.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°They sure are,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°How do you think that wall got blasted away?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Things get out of hand fast when you¡¯re young,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Lots of energy. Not enough self control.¡± ¡°Anyways,¡± says Basil, clearing her throat. ¡°Jubilee¡¯s room it is. Except Jubilee''s sleeping on the floor, so we have room for Shamrock.¡± Jubilee leans their head onto the open palm. ¡°Uh, no?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, you can take your teddy with you,¡± says Basil. ¡°So you won¡¯t be alone.¡± ¡°Basil!¡± condemns Fresh. ¡°Jubilee can¡¯t sleep on the floor!¡± she says wagging a finger at the priestess, who is apparently surprised at this. ¡°The foot-demons might come.¡± She turns back to her work, cutting tubers and throwing chunks into a pot. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just move our beds together, Basil?¡± suggests Fresh, nodding. ¡°Then we have room for all of us.¡± Basil thinks for a second and nods, opening her mouth to speak. ¡°- Fucking fine,¡± relents Jubilee, rather abruptly. ¡°We can use my room. You fucks.¡± ¡°Yay!¡± beams Fresh, spinning once on her heels and dropping a fistful of tubers into the pot. It looks like everything really is working itself out somehow. She pours a splash of milk into the pot from the bottle, which is definitely not a flagon. Razmatazz Muffins are serious business. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 278: Like every other It was the best night ever. Sure. Fresh has had a lot of good nights¡¯ sleep here in this world, many of them on her own, but many more during their so-called ¡®sleepovers¡¯. Is it a weird thing for them to be doing? Maybe. It depends, she supposes. In the context of her old life, of her old world-view, it would certainly be odd for several friends of their age to be sharing the same bed like this. It isn¡¯t anything seedy, they¡¯re all just sleeping peacefully. It¡¯s just warmer this way, safer, more comfortable, more reassuring. But, this is a different world, there are different rules that apply here. That being said, it might also just be weird here too. Oh well. Who cares? If it¡¯s good enough for fairies, it¡¯s good enough for her, right? Besides, she¡¯s only going to live this life once and she feels that, when the day finally comes and the curtains draw closed on this chapter of her existence, she will have been happier for having done such weird things. In the end, on that day when she slides into the darkness of eternal sleep, she will go, unable to regret having missed out on the warmth and connection of something so simple, stupid and weird. Fresh opens her eyes, staring at the ceiling as she wiggles herself back down lower, in between the body-warmed, hard armor of Shamrock and the priestess, Basil. She slept great and that¡¯s all that matters. Yawning, Fresh covers her mouth and looks at her friends who also begin to stir from the disturbance of her waking, but they don¡¯t seem to wake up just yet. It¡¯s unusual for her to be the first one up. Maybe she¡¯ll surprise them by getting started early and getting the day ready for them all? Fresh smiles, that¡¯s a great idea. She turns her head, looking at Basil and Jubilee who have clamped onto each other in their sleep. She wishes that she had a camera, just so she could show them the photo every time they fight. But she supposes that that¡¯s pointless. The two of them already know how they feel. Squishing herself flat down against the mattress, she turns herself around onto her stomach and slides down through the blanket, coming out on the foot of the bed. Grabbing a robe from her wardrobe, she adjusts the blanket back over Shamrock and slips around the corner to get changed. So. Breakfast. ¡°Eggs?¡± she mutters to herself. They have eggs basically every day. But there¡¯s always at least one person who wants them, so it always works out. But after the horrible, crushing defeat she suffered during the great egg-debate, she doesn¡¯t think she has the resolve to make fried eggs today. Maybe hard-boiled or scrambled then? She could do less damage that way. Nodding to herself, she goes downstairs to the washroom, crab-checking it, before washing up. The crabs have seemingly kept their end of the bargain and since that odd night, none of them wander into their home anymore. She can¡¯t say the same for the other houses on the beach, but theirs at least, is neutral territory. Coming back upstairs with wet hair, she looks over towards the bed, seeing that the three of them have squished themselves into the center of it, to fill the gap she left behind. Feeling her heart flutter, she clutches her hands together by her face and stares at them. Breakfast is going to have to be really good today, to make up for this free sight that she¡¯s getting. Living in another world is honestly not so bad, really. Sure, there are a lot of things that she misses and there are some inconveniences here and there. Fresh grabs a bowl from down below the shelf, opting to make scrambled eggs today. But all of those things aren¡¯t really as big of a loss as one would think. Things like electricity or anything like that. Because if your days are full of productive, fulfilling moments like this morning is turning out to be for her, then you don¡¯t have time for that nonsense anyways. Plus, there¡¯s the old clich¨¦ about things being more fulfilling if you do them by hand and there¡¯s certainly a deep truth to that. Though, it might be a little hypocritical, since she literally has magical abilities to do a lot of the grimier work for her. But that doesn¡¯t apply for cooking. Fresh has some cooking abilities, similar to her craftsman abilities. But she refuses to use them. Cooking should be done with love and care, not with heartless efficiency. Especially when the food is being made for special people who offer her equally as special feelings. Mixing the cracked eggs into the bowl, she takes a bottle of milk and pours in a splash of it and stirs the mixture together. Then she sets a pan onto the stove, letting it get hot. Meanwhile, she takes their loaf of old bread and slices some thick slices off, putting them onto a rack and then sliding them into the oven to toast. After her defeat, she had watched Shamrock make scrambled eggs a few times. There¡¯s a few things he does differently than Basil or Jubilee, but it seems to make the difference. Copying him, she waits until the pan is hot and then puts in a small pat of butter, smearing it around with a fork and then waits another minute before pouring the contents of the bowl into the pan. It hisses, filling the room with a strong smell, together with that of the toasting bread that she manages to pull out of the oven just in time. Fire really does cook some things much faster than a conventional oven. Humming to herself, she sets the toast to the side and then grabs a spatula, folding the eggs over. After they solidify only a tiny bit, but are still very wet, she grabs a generous pinch of salt and sprinkles it in, together with a dash of pepper and then mixes it all around again, taking the pan off of the heat to scramble it, before putting it back on again a second later. Not much longer after that, the eggs are already done and she sets the pan to the side. ¡°Good morning,¡± says an undead from behind her. ¡°Good morning, Basil!¡± beams Fresh, looking at the ratty-haired priestess who has a fatal case of bed-head. ¡°You look very fluffy today,¡± says Fresh. Basil grumbles, running her fingers through her head as she shuffles away to go downstairs. ¡°Red or green?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Coughee,¡± replies Basil, to her surprise. ¡°Okay!¡± calls Fresh after her. Basil is usually a tea-drinker. Oh well, that¡¯s fine. A little change now and then is good, right? Maybe she herself is going to have tea today then, just to keep things fresh. Soon after that, the others get up too. ¡°Good morning, Jubilee!¡± Without a word, Jubilee drags themselves past to go downstairs too and she can hear them and Basil get into a spat about the washroom. Turning around, she watches as Shamrock sits upright directly out of his sleep and gets up. Without so much as a stretch or a yawn or anything signaling that he had been asleep, he grabs the beds and puts them back into place and then starts making the sheets tidy. ¡°Good morning, Shamrock!¡± beams Fresh as he makes his way towards the kitchen. ¡°You can sit down, I got breakfast today,¡± she says. ¡°What do you want to drink?¡± she asks, pouring the coughee into two cups for Basil and Jubilee. Shamrock takes them from her and sets them down at the table. ¡°Green,¡± he says and Fresh nods. ¡°You like the green one, huh?¡± she asks, grabbing the mix of green tea-leaves. ¡°Green is my favorite,¡± he says, sitting down. ¡°Color or tea?¡± she asks. He turns his head, looking at her. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± smiles Fresh, getting the green tea ready for him. It¡¯s a little sweeter than the red or the yellow or the blues teas, so she supposes it makes sense that he likes it the most. It¡¯s just in Shamrock¡¯s nature to be more sweet-affine. A little while later, the table is set and breakfast is done and the others come upstairs, apparently having sorted out their shower-differences. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan for today?¡± beams Fresh, having the oddest sense of familiarity with this moment as she says the words. ¡°Same plan as every day,¡± sighs Jubilee, pushing Basil¡¯s hand away as she plays with one of their ears. ¡°And every day before that,¡± agrees the priestess, sitting down for breakfast. ¡°Forever,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh beams, this is the best news that she has ever heard. ¡°Mm! That sounds great!¡± she exclaims. ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee, sighing, poking at a piece of egg and looking at it suspiciously. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil, taking a long sip of her coughee. ¡°Yes,¡± is all that Shamrock says as he stares at his dissolving tea. Fresh sits down at the table, nodding her head and looking at the large breakfast set out before them. She did a good job. They don¡¯t have to say it, because she knows that she did a good job. ¡°Mm!¡± is all that she says as their day begins. A day, just like every other day, with no grand adventure, no witchery or debauchery or anything suspicious or malicious or cruel. It¡¯s just a fun, calm, quiet day in this new life of theirs that they have found together and despite the still sleepy expressions on her friends¡¯ faces, she knows that they all wouldn¡¯t trade it for anything grander or more noble than what it already is. Razmatazz Hurray for wholesome slice of life! *-* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 279: Viable A crackling fills the night as a shower of lights blasts out from the balcony. Fresh had thrown a handful of grimpowder up into the air. ¡°It¡¯s very pretty, as always,¡± says the priestess, Basil. ¡°It¡¯s a fucking waste of money, is what it is,¡± sighs Jubilee from the side. Fresh shakes her head, holding the bag out to them. ¡°It¡¯s not. You guys wanna try?¡± she asks. ¡°And lose my fingers? Pass,¡± says Jubilee. Shamrock reaches into the bag, pulling out a pinch of powder and throwing it. It explodes, crackling in mid-air into a vivid shower of colorful sparkles and lights that paint the balcony for only a brief second. ¡°Wow. Great,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°If that¡¯s everything, then I¡¯m going to bed,¡± they say. ¡°Fucking bullshit sparkles.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just sparkles, Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh, setting the bag of grimpowder down onto the table. ¡°Look!¡± she says, pulling out a paper cylinder with a cone on it, glued to a long, thin stick. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°Have you been making mushrooms again?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a mushroom!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a firework! See?¡± she holds it up and points at it, as if that were explanation enough. Jubilee and Basil look at each other and then shrug. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ uh¡­ hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a second, not sure how to explain it. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s easier if I just show you,¡± she says, grabbing an empty bottle and placing the stick into it. Fresh stops for a second, in an odd moment of clarity, considering if this is a wise thing to do in the middle of the night. But it seems fine, the crab beach is always full of explosions and lights anyways that fill the night. Heck, she can see three fireballs in the darkness from where she¡¯s standing right now. ¡°See?¡± she asks, setting the stick into the bottle. ¡°It¡¯s like a projectile, but it¡¯s filled with grimpowder,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°So you can make a bunch of sparkles up in the air too!¡± Jubilee crosses their arms, staring at her. ¡°That¡¯s dumb. You¡¯re dumb.¡± ¡°Nu uh!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a really great idea!¡± Basil tilts her head, watching her, still unsure. Fresh sighs, deciding that she¡¯s just going to have to show them. ¡°Okay, so look,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯ve told us to look three times now,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Are you just gonna give us something to look at, or are you gonna keep wasting our time?¡± Fresh frowns, deciding to skip the explanation as to how she made the thing, let alone the complex process she had to go through to get the grimpowder to explode into a functional direction, rather than just exploding all at once. But it looks like she has to get to the point before the others just leave. Sighing, she presses a finger to the bottom of the rocket, holding the bottle steady with her other, gloved hand. Sparks fly out of the bottom of the firework with a loud, audible hiss as they fall down over her gloved hand and then, a second later, the red-paper cylinder shoots off into the night, leaving a trail of colorful sparks flying behind it as it rises up towards the clouds. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil. ¡°Neat.¡± The rocket explodes in mid-air after flying for a few seconds, creating an array of colorful lights for only a few seconds, as if a thousand fireflies had been born into the night, only to vanish in an instant, as they then return to the darkness. ¡°Was that it?¡± asks Jubilee, still not impressed. ¡°I¡¯ve seen more sky-fireballs than I can count. Plus they¡¯re free to make.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a fireball though, Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s a firework.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°I don¡¯t see the difference, except yours is worse and costs money.¡± ¡°Not everyone can use fireballs, Jubilee,¡± counters Fresh, wiggling her fingers at her friend. ¡°Plus the fireworks are prettier!¡± ¡°That¡¯s up for debate. I dunno¡­¡± says Jubilee, leaning against the door-frame. ¡°Basil?¡± Basil thinks for a second. ¡°I think they¡¯re cute. But what¡¯s the financial viability?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek and processes Basil¡¯s question. ¡°Basil!¡± argues Fresh, wanting to get into a discussion about her friends¡¯ obsessions with profits. ¡°Can you point them at someone?¡± asks Jubilee, interrupting her. Basil thinks for a second. ¡°That might be something?¡± she considers. ¡°Like portable spells for non-casters?¡± she ponders. ¡°We could sell them to swordsmen to use as a long-ranged tool? There doesn¡¯t seem to be much training involved in using one.¡± Jubilee nods, liking this idea more. ¡°It¡¯s practical. Less utility and more set-up than a bow, but¡­¡± ¡°What if we made a crossbow, but with no string?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°That you could just lay a firework in and point it at something?¡± Fresh gasps. She knew this would happen, she¡¯s just surprised that it was literally the first thought that her friends had. ¡°No!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°What if someone points it at someone else?¡± ¡°Oh, they¡¯re definitely going to do that,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s the selling point. We¡¯ll sell the ¡®bows¡¯ for cheap and charge out of the ass for the projectiles. That¡¯s how we¡¯ll hook ¡®em.¡± Fresh frowns. She definitely doesn¡¯t want to do that. ¡°Though¡­¡± says Basil. ¡°Should we really?¡± she asks. ¡°It seems like an idea that will attract a lot of attention.¡± Jubilee rubs their chin as they think. ¡°It probably will, honestly. Imagine if some shit-head commander comes by and asks us to make a giant one to sink ships with?¡± ¡°That¡¯s going to go downhill fast,¡± warns Basil. ¡°Yeah, down a big fucking hill made up out of gold,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± says Basil. Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°How is it any different than any of the other hundreds of weapons we¡¯ve sold?¡± Basil leans against the other door-frame. ¡°I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s¡­¡± she doesn¡¯t seem to find the right word and stares off into the night for a while. ¡°It seems too¡­ accessible?¡± she considers. ¡°What happens if we get an order for a few hundred and we outfit an entire company with them? It would be a devastating weapon.¡± ¡°Counterpoint,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°They already have entire regiments made up out of casters who can already do that, so what¡¯s the issue?¡± Fresh continues to frown, but her frown is ignored by the two of them as they continue their debate. She turns her gaze, looking at Shamrock who still stares up towards where the firework exploded long ago. Feeling her eyes on him, he turns his head to face her and the two of them stare at each other for a while. ¡°What¡¯s up, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. He shakes his head, looking back up to where the explosion happened. Fresh shrugs, not sure what¡¯s up with him lately either. But he seems to be processing things in his own way. Turning back to the other two, she sees that they¡¯ve finished their debate, or at least decided to put it on ice for tonight. It¡¯s late and everyone wants to sleep. The next day comes and business is as busy as always. In fact, it¡¯s a little more than usual as there seems to be a strong resurgence after the reopening of the beach. As for the person of interest, they have yet to be found and the soldiers seem to have given up any hope of being able to do so. Deciding to take her lunch break in the city, Fresh grabs her bag and heads towards the adventurer¡¯s guild. She has been putting it off for a while now, honestly. Because of all of the weird feelings involved in the process, but she decides that it¡¯s time to check in again. Stepping into the guild, she navigates through the crowds and makes her way towards the bar. But the barkeeper isn¡¯t there. Instead, there is someone else. An orc, who she doesn¡¯t recognize. ¡°Excuse me,¡± says Fresh. ¡°What can I get ya?¡± asks the man, sliding an empty glass over to her. To her own surprise, she catches it. But then shakes her head and slides it back to him as he walks towards her. ¡°Nothing, sorry. I was just wondering, uh, is the other barkeeper around? The elf?¡± she asks. It seems odd, but she realizes that she never even asked the barkeeper what her name was. The orc stares at her and then shakes his head. ¡°No, she packed up.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°She left?¡± ¡°Sure did,¡± he replies. ¡°Who are you, again?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Oh, uh¡­¡± She shakes her head. ¡°Sorry. Nobody. I was just curious,¡± she says, lifting a hand to wave and walking back out of the guild. ¡°Just like that, huh?¡± sighs Fresh, looking around the bend towards the stall, where the anqa Thyme is. She doesn¡¯t see him, but it¡¯s probably for the best. He probably still doesn¡¯t like her. Heading back home, she grabs some new tea on the way, wondering where the barkeeper is. She likes to think that the ritual worked and that she¡¯s off somewhere with her betrothed, building a small, comfortable home together in a warm and safe place. *Bakaaaaw* Jumping up in surprise, she turns her head and stares at the fenced in chicken-coop, attached to the side of a small house. A few chickens run around inside of it, pecking and clucking and living their best, little chicken lives, except for the rooster who stands up atop of a little hut. She stares at the rooster and it stares at her and she has the oddest sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Staring at its plumage, she recalls the bloody feather that she had found by the fountain, outside of the northern city. Fresh isn¡¯t sure why this memory is relevant to her train of thought, if it is at all. Shaking her head, she walks back home. She¡¯s sure that everything is just fine. Right? Feeling herself being watched, Fresh spares a glance back over her shoulder. But there is nobody there. Razmatazz *Bakaws menacingly* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 280: Excursion Having walked over the walkway towards the half-submerged dungeon-gate, Fresh stands in front of it and pokes a finger into the blue fog. She doesn¡¯t enter through it, she just kind of leaves her finger there. It doesn¡¯t feel like anything at all really, the fog. It¡¯s a little damp, a little cool to the touch, but that¡¯s about it. It feels like fog. As for the ¡®blueness¡¯ of it, she can¡¯t really say much about that. It¡¯s probably just dungeon-magic. Then again, all of these ¡®cut-off spaces¡¯ have blue fog. Jubilee had explained to her that the magic in a dungeon-gate is essentially the same as the cut-off space from an adventurer¡¯s guild. Though she doesn¡¯t really understand the logistics of it, honestly. A dungeon is an ancient, stone construct, made in aeons past. Basil had told her they were made during a time when the gods still lived on the world, together with the people. Jubilee called Basil a kook, saying that never happened. Fresh likes the idea though, but she doesn¡¯t see how it explains the adventurer¡¯s guilds. They were buildings made up out of wood, out of mortar and human-laid brickwork. So how did they ¡®trap¡¯ the fog there, if a god made it? And more importantly, what gave them the right to charge admission for people to enter into it and use it if that was the case? It would be as if someone set up a toll-booth outside of the dungeon gate. She sighs. Might makes right, she supposes. It¡¯s the same everywhere. The adventurer¡¯s guild controls the ¡®resting area¡¯ cut-off spaces, even if they¡¯re a natural resource, simply because they do. That¡¯s basically the only reason. As for the dungeons, there have certainly been attempts to control them as well, but most have ended in brutally violent insurrections. Plus, closing them down and slowing down traffic hurt the economy more than it helped it. In the end, it really is all about numbers, isn¡¯t it? Fresh continues on with her sighing. ¡°So are we going to go inside?¡± asks Basil, staring over her shoulder from behind. It¡¯s late, after the store had closed again, after another busy, full day. ¡°I thought you wanted to go to the dungeon?¡± she asks. ¡°We¡¯re at the dungeon, Basil,¡± replies Fresh, looking back over her shoulder towards the priestess¡¯ close face. Basil blinks, staring at her. ¡°No, I mean¡­ into the dungeon.¡± Fresh turns her head back and looks at the blue fog. ¡°I dunno. You think we should?¡± she asks. ¡°I figured that¡¯s why we came here,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°Did you just want to look at the fog?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Actually, yeah,¡± she admits. ¡°Dungeon-magic seems really neat, Basil,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°I was wondering if there was anything we could do with it?¡± Basil frowns. ¡°I don¡¯t think this is a wise idea, honestly,¡± states the priestess. ¡°Dungeon-magic isn¡¯t something that people should play around with. It¡¯s godly magic.¡± ¡°Then why does the adventurer¡¯s guild get to?¡± she asks. Basil continues to frown. ¡°Because it¡¯s their job.¡± ¡°Says who?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The adventurer¡¯s guild?¡± ¡°They¡¯re church sanctioned,¡± answers Basil, as if this were obvious. ¡°So was you getting killed, back in the north,¡± says Fresh. She stops, turning her head around as she realizes what she just said again without thinking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Basil. That was mean. I didn¡¯t mean to say it,¡± she apologizes, looking at the priestess who isn¡¯t looking back at her right now. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says again, turning back to the fog. ¡°People aren¡¯t perfect,¡± answers Basil. ¡°We¡¯re weird, gross, messy, confusing things,¡± she explains. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go inside. Maybe we¡¯ll catch up to Shamrock?¡± Basil grabs her hand and the two of them go in. Shamrock had already gone to the dungeon earlier. Jubilee had rejected wanting to go with them, saying that they¡¯ll be glad to finally have some alone time. The fog envelops them, covering them with a cool aura as they step through and into the dungeon. It¡¯s such an odd, spacey sight. The other side of the dungeon gate looks just like the outside of the dungeon, but less cultivated. It¡¯s like a wild-land. But it¡¯s fake. The sky looks fake, the ocean looks fake. It¡¯s like they¡¯re in a big doll-house, that somebody had tried their very best to make look convincing. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, Basil,¡± says Fresh again. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± says Basil. ¡°We all die eventually, right?¡± she jokes. Fresh squeezes her hand. ¡°I still think about sometimes.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Did it hurt?¡± she asks. So far, every death of hers has been pretty quick. ¡°It hurt a lot,¡± says Basil. Fresh frowns. ¡°I still dream about it,¡± admits the priestess. ¡°A lot. That¡¯s why I miss the mountain,¡± she says. ¡°The sheep were really nice, you know?¡± ¡°Basil¡­¡± says Fresh. Honestly, she had never considered that that would be why the priestess is always kicking and flailing at night. She¡¯s a little ashamed of herself that she never figured it out before, seeing as it¡¯s right there to see. Every one of them is different and processes their troubles differently than the others and Basil has had just as many bad-times as any of them. It makes sense that she liked the anti-bad-dream sheep. But they don¡¯t work here without the magic of the mountain. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I never asked you about it,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m a really bad friend.¡± Basil shakes her head, looking around. ¡°We all are, aren¡¯t we?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Ah, look over there!¡± she says, pointing to an oddity. Out on the beach, there are several doors simply standing there, in the middle of the sand. ¡°I bet those are the shortcuts that Shamrock has unlocked.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± says Fresh. She kind of wants to get Basil to stop so that they can really talk about it, but she also kind of wants to change the topic. Deciding not to overwhelm herself and the priestess right now though, she opts to change the conversation. ¡°Can I ask you something dumb, Basil?¡± Basil smiles, pulling her towards the doors. ¡°You can always ask me something dumb.¡± ¡°What does the church actually worship?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Like¡­ what do you believe in?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Basil looks back at her. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°I never really figured it out, honestly.¡± ¡°You all never seem to want to talk about religion,¡± says Basil. ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t interested.¡± She lifts a finger, pointing at the last door in the row. There are five doors, each one being a short-cut for eight floors. Which means Shamrock is down on floor forty, at the very least. ¡°Is it weird if I say that I always feel a little out of place, because of that?¡± she asks. Fresh shakes her head. She supposes that it makes sense. Basil, as an extremely religious person, having grown up and lived her entire life in the context of a priestess who lives in the northern cathedral, must certainly feel like a fish out of water in their group. Especially given the nature of all of their existences. Not for a lack of trying, she recalls Basil having asked her or the others several times if they want to join her in prayer. As far as she knows, nobody has ever actually taken her up on the offer though. ¡°Hold on,¡± says Basil. ¡°Let me look first,¡± she instructs, letting go of her hand and stepping through the shortcut. A few seconds later, she comes back. ¡°Okay, it¡¯s clear, let¡¯s go,¡± she says, pulling Fresh along behind herself again. ¡°Is it dangerous for us to be here, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°For us? Yeah, actually,¡± replies Basil. ¡°Let¡¯s trust in Shamrock though. I¡¯m sure he cleared everything on the way.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± she replies. She supposes Shamrock is religious too, actually. Just in a different way. ¡°Neat,¡± replies Fresh, looking at the ¡®free¡¯ window that has appeared for both of them. Now she just needs to finally level up again. ¡°It sounds a little grim, honestly,¡± laughs Basil. The two of them look around. There is a gate behind them that presumably leads to the boss-arena on the last floor. Fresh has absolutely no idea what the boss here could be, especially on a floor this deep. But maybe it¡¯s best not to look. ¡°Shamrock!¡± calls Basil down the hallway, her voice echoing as it carries along. The floor layout has changed. The open-beach area from the first floors is now entirely gone. Rather, this part of the dungeon looks like some ancient ruin or temple, hewn out of brown, vine covered rock. The walls are covered in fading depictions of monsters and odd glyphs. No response. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s further down?¡± suggests Basil and the two of them carefully begin creeping their way through the floors. Ahead of them lie several chambers that have been, for a lack of better words, destroyed. But ¡®destroyed¡¯ isn¡¯t really strong enough to describe the result of what must have happened here. The chambers are utterly ransacked and desecrated. Walls are shattered, odd creatures that she doesn¡¯t recognize lie strewn about, cut and torn and maimed beyond recognition. The floor is shattered, the roof is shattered. In one room, there is literally a dead monster, some kind of odd, frog-like creature, stuck in the ceiling, its limp legs dangling down from above. It looks like Shamrock had literally thrown it so hard that it not only died, but that it got stuck in the rock of the ceiling. Its skull must have broken into it on impact. ¡°Sheesh¡­¡± sighs Basil. ¡°He really does have a lot of energy, huh?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, looking around at the carnage that even Jubilee would find impressive. She looks at a frog-monster that has been torn in half by what she assumes was the man¡¯s hands alone. ¡°It¡¯s good to have something to believe in, huh?¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Basil uneasily, as she looks at the goo dripping out of the dead frogs. Razmatazz Dungeon arc? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 281: Red A thick, creeping fog surrounds the two of them on all sides as they walk through the chamber. Fresh clambers on to Basil¡¯s arm, looking nervously around the room which is, by all means, objectively speaking, spooky. The odd faces carved into the stone walls are spooky. The broken, shattered masks that cover the floor, having perhaps once belonged to some kind of now-dead monsters, are spooky. The heavy, dense fog that presses down onto them like a smothering blanket is spooky. ¡°Shamrock!¡± calls Basil out into the room. But her words don¡¯t get far. If Fresh didn¡¯t know better, she¡¯d be sure that the fog itself was stopping the sound of the priestess¡¯ voice, keeping it trapped inside of the domain that it had wrapped the two of them into. ¡°Come on,¡± she says. ¡°Let¡¯s keep going.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s pretty creepy here,¡± she notes. ¡°Maybe we should go back, if it¡¯s not safe for us?¡± ¡°And Shamrock?¡± asks the priestess, turning her head back around towards her. Fresh frowns, not because Basil had countered her desire to leave. But because she realizes that she had had one to begin with. If Shamrock is here, in a creepy place like this, she obviously can¡¯t just leave without him. Fresh nods and the two of them keep going, shuffling through the fog. ¡°Have you ever been down deeper into a dungeon, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. Basil shakes her head. ¡°No. This is actually the deepest I¡¯ve ever been,¡± she explains. ¡°I¡¯m a little curious about it, honestly,¡± she says, looking around the room as if there was something she was searching for. ¡°Me too,¡± replies Fresh, nodding her head. ¡°It¡¯s pretty spooky.¡± ¡°It was probably spookier while everything was still alive,¡± says Basil, carefully kicking a broken mask to the side and out of their way. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. ¡°What¡¯s down at the bottom of a dungeon, Basil?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯ve heard lots of stories,¡± starts the priestess, looking around a corner to check if its clear. ¡°But what I¡¯ve heard most is that there¡¯s¡­¡± She stops, considering something for a moment as she pulls Fresh around the corner. The fog of the previous room seems to not be able to come into this hallway, as if there were some artificial barrier stopping it from moving past the doorway. ¡°There¡¯s a passage,¡± she explains, apparently having made a choice. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°A passage?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says the priestess, keeping her eyes locked straight ahead. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s true, but I¡¯ve heard that every dungeon has a passage on the lowest floor, where a tip of a root of the great tree reaches.¡± ¡°Huh? Tree?¡± Fresh thinks for a second. ¡°You mean the central-city?¡± Basil nods. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°So¡­ there¡¯s a way to get into the central-city at the bottom of the dungeons?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve heard,¡± replies Basil. ¡°In fact, it¡¯s the only way that anyone is allowed to go to the central-city. It¡¯s how you prove yourself. It¡¯s a real meritocracy.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± replies Fresh, not sure what to make of this somewhat awkward topic. It had been a point of contention between the four of them for a while and she never really got any straight answers on it or her friends¡¯ behavior, regarding the subject. Wait. Fresh blinks, realizing. ¡°Is that why there aren¡¯t any high-level adventurers anywhere, Basil?¡± she asks. Fresh had been wondering about that forever. She¡¯s always just made low-level gear and despite their broad base of customers from all over the world, she has never really seen many people who are significantly high-leveled or progressed. This could explain it. All of the really high-level people simply had already cleared a dungeon, beaten the final boss and gained access to the central-city that was filled with equally as vetted people, or perhaps the offspring and kin of those who had ¡®made it through¡¯ in generations past, forming a much more tested, proven and competent society than the outside. ¡°It is,¡± replies Basil, turning back to look at her as they keep walking. ¡°That¡¯s why -¡± Something clicks beneath their feet. The two of them look down, seeing the stone pressed down into the floor by Basil¡¯s foot. ¡°Look out!¡± cries Fresh, yanking the priestess back as the wall to their right descends and a thick, wooden beam covered in protruding blades shoots out and smashes into the adjacent wall. The two of them fall down to the ground as Basil lets out a pained and surprised shriek as a protruding blade cuts a deep gash along her, at least uncrushed, thigh. The hallway shakes as the pillar collides with the wall. ¡°Basil! Are you alright?!¡± asks Fresh, getting up and looking at her friend¡¯s leg. The blade cut right through the fabric of her robe and looks like it sliced all the way down to the bone. Blood streams out in all directions over her hands. Despite being untouched herself, Fresh finds herself becoming nauseous and dizzy at the sight of it. Her panic is made worse because of the sound that she¡¯s never heard before and one that she never wants to hear again, Basil¡¯s screaming. They shouldn¡¯t have come down here. That¡¯s all she can think about as she tries to figure out what to do. She isn¡¯t sure if it¡¯s been one second or ten, there¡¯s just too much. There¡¯s just too much. There is too much sound. There is too much color. There is too much racing past her eyes and through her mind and she can¡¯t get a grip on a single thought because of how slippery everything is and she can¡¯t get a grip on Basil¡¯s leg because of all the blood. Her bag drops off of her shoulders and she digs through it, smearing red everywhere as she pulls out a roll of bandages that is already soaked through just from the wet on her own hands. ¡°Hold still, Basil!¡± says Fresh, pulling the sticky robe away from the wound. The second she touches the fabric, Basil pushes her off of herself and Fresh falls back, crawling back towards her. ¡°You have to let me look at it!¡± she cries, making a second attempt. Basil is trying to calm herself down by controlling her breathing, but it doesn¡¯t seem to be working so well. She pulls the fabric away as Basil presses her fists into the wall behind herself. ¡°Ow! DAMN IT!¡± swears the priestess. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯m fine Basil!¡± says Fresh, fighting through her tears as she does her best to wrap the, essentially useless, bandage around the gash on the priestess¡¯ leg. But what else is there to do? She turns her gaze, looking at the menu. Basil is losing health-points fast. ¡°Basil!¡± says Fresh, not sure what to do. The priestess can keep her health up with her healing spells, but that¡¯s only good for her health-points. It won¡¯t help at all if she loses all of her blood. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± says a pale-faced Basil. ¡°I died before already, right?¡± she jokes. ¡°I¡¯ll just do it again.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want you to die, though!¡± argues Fresh, ugly-crying now. Basil shakes her head, wincing. ¡°Go on. Go back upstairs. I¡¯ll meet you back home,¡± says the priestess, managing to smile a meek, but comforting smile. ¡°This was my own fault.¡± ¡°AS IF!¡± yells Fresh, grabbing the priestess by the collar. Her face goes pale with a new pain as Fresh unapologetically moves her. ¡°Don¡¯t say that like it doesn¡¯t mean anything!¡± Fresh gets up, rising to her feet and opens her window. ¡°Jerk!¡± Reaching with her bloodied arm into the black-water, she fishes around and pulls out a wax-sealed can of one of Basil¡¯s own wound-healing salves as well as her flying-broom. ¡°I think it nicked the bone,¡± says Basil, sounding oddly tired. Fresh looks down, dropping into a puddle of blood. She grabs the lid of the can, trying to pry it open but her hands keep slipping because they¡¯re slick with blood. Yelling a frustrated scream, she arcs her arm back and throws the container against the wall. It breaks into several large pieces and she scoops up as much of it as she can, simply throwing handfuls of it onto the open wound and smearing it all into one large, goopy, oily, red mess. Following the instructions on the can, she holds her hands above it and focuses on using her magic. An orange glow surrounds her fingers. The slimy mess begins to harden into a disgusting, but solid crust. Fresh breathes a breath of relief, feeling the world spin before her eyes as she finally gets a full mouth of air in and out herself. ¡°See, Basil?¡± she says, sighing in relief, wiping her face on her forehead. ¡°Don¡¯t give up so easily, next time, okay?¡± asks Fresh, looking at her friend. But Basil doesn¡¯t respond, her eyes are closed, her head is drooped down. Fresh grabs her bag, throwing it over her shoulder as she picks up her broom and gets ready to pull Basil over it, to fly the two of them back to the entrance. A stone gives way beneath her boot. Fresh looks down, staring at the trap, not even having enough time to say a single swear, despite having a good one on the tip of her tongue that she is sure would have made Jubilee proud. The floor slides away, Fresh grabs Basil as her limp body falls over and the two of them fall deeper into darkness. Razmatazz Dungeon arc =( Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 282: The thing that glows Everything is just really slow in that instant, as the three of them plummet. For some reason, she¡¯s counting the broom as one of them and she realizes that she¡¯s doing it and she understands that it¡¯s odd, but that isn¡¯t really the thing to be focusing on right now, is it? Feeling the wind surging through her hair, her heart feeling like it¡¯s about to fly out of her throat, Fresh spirals downward, holding onto Basil and the broom as the three of them crash into the darkness of the hole. Again, she isn¡¯t sure if only a single second has passed or ten. She isn¡¯t sure if the rushing stream of air blowing past her face has been doing so for a while now, or if the current she is hearing is still the very same wind that she started hearing with the first strike of her heart as she fell. Her eyes wander around. In that oddly time-frozen second, she can still see the edge of the pit. They really did just start falling, apparently. Wow. Adrenaline really is a weird thing, huh? She blinks, realizing that she is having all of these odd thoughts, all at the same time, all in this single second and not focusing on the real problem at hand here. Before her eyelids can reach the bottom, her body lurches, time returns to its normal flow and the three of them fall. The fabric of her robe flaps around, she presses the broom against herself and tries to get it to fly and it does manage to hold her up for a second. But Basil is still falling with her and Fresh, still holding onto her, is yanked to the side as the full weight of the priestess¡¯ limp body falls past them. Sure, she had done a lot of push-ups these last few weeks. A lot of sit-ups, a lot of things like that and sure, she had gotten a point of strength here or there, but it obviously isn¡¯t enough. In that single instant as she feels herself separating from the broom and from Basil at the same time, she realizes that she only has the strength to hold on to one of them. Either she holds onto the broom and lets Basil go, or she lets the broom go and falls down together with Basil. This was really a stupid idea. Jubilee is going to get so mad at them. Especially at Basil. She can imagine it now, the scolding to come for not only going into the dungeon this deeply, but also for not even taking her lantern with her. Fresh can¡¯t help but wonder why she is thinking about something so out of place again, at a time like this? Not even really having a choice to make in her heart of hearts, she lets herself fall off of the broom and clutches onto Basil as the two of them fall for some indiscernible amount of time, surrounded by nothing but emptiness. It¡¯s a little sad, but at the same time, she¡¯ll be glad to not have to die alone this time. She just hopes that Basil stays asleep and doesn¡¯t wake up before they land. A thing comes through the darkness, falling along with them. An orb, hardly the width of a flake of snow. Fresh stares at it, perplexed as they sink. Another one appears, then another, then another, as if they were falling into the midst of a blizzard. It¡¯s cold. But the cold is almost unnatural to the underground that they find themselves in. The hole itself, the deep-stone walls radiate a natural warmth that stems from deep, deep below the ground. But at the same time, it is counteracted by this chill that stems from the out of place snow. There is nothing around them but blackness, dotted with glowing particulate and then, still in free-fall, Fresh sees something impossible. A thing walks straight towards them, as if they were stuck at a steady height. But she can hear the wind rushing past her ears, she can feel it on her skin, she can feel the lurching of her body as they descend and yet, there it is, a thing that glows, walking on two feet straight towards them as if it were entirely ignoring the physics of the matter at hand. ¡°Five-hundred and seven,¡± says the entity, holding up a finger to catch one of the snowflakes as it walks towards them. It looks like a silhouette of a child, some long-eared creature, painted with an ethereally glowing white. ¡°This single trap-combination has killed five-hundred and seven things since I made it,¡± says the entity, lifting its finger to blow the snowflake away. ¡°Three-hundred four of those things were humans,¡± it adds. From the tone, it sounds like more of a ¡®fun fact¡¯ than any real, useful information. The entity walks around, admiring the snow. Fresh blinks, realizing now that it¡¯s the very same ¡®thing¡¯ that she had seen on that night, with the crabs. The thing that was standing outside of the dungeon-gate. ¡°It¡¯s a simple one-two, but you¡¯d be surprised how many people just never really get a grasp for the basics.¡± ¡°Who are you?!¡± calls Fresh, hearing the wind rush past her. ¡°Help!¡± ¡°I mean, that¡¯s just one trap combo on floor-forty,¡± says the entity. ¡°Floors ten to thirty though, that¡¯s where the real fun is,¡± it explains, holding its hands out at its sides as it spins around in a circle, like an overjoyed child during the fall of the first winter¡¯s snow. ¡°Floors twenty-five to thirty? Sixteen-thousand eight-hundred eighteen!¡± it says, overjoyed, continuing to spin. ¡°Floor twenty! Twenty-thousand twenty-one!¡± says the thing, more than delighted. Its voice sounds almost ecstatic and it clenches its fists in front of its chest, turning around to face them. ¡°What are you talking about?!¡± asks Fresh. ¡°FLOOR TEN!¡± yells the thing, walking towards the two of them who are still in free-fall. It leans over forward, lifting a finger and touching a snowflake. It flies against her face and flies away, off into the distance. ¡°Thirty-eight thousand three hundred fifty-two!¡± it says, almost shuddering as it speaks in a voice that is neither clearly masculine or feminine, but carries a far higher, ¡®sharper¡¯ tone than Jubilee¡¯s. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if she¡¯s crying or not, she probably is. But the wind of their fall is carrying all of the wet off of her face. ¡°Floor one,¡± says the creature. ¡°Nobody ever dies on floor one,¡± it states, almost disappointed. But then its face turns into a wide, happy smile. ¡°Nobody except the rats, of course! Always hoping to come into my home. They get greedy. I gave them the crabs, but they always want more,¡± says the creature. It presses its finger against her forehead. ¡°You things always want more.¡± ¡°Two thousand eight hundred sixty-seven,¡± hisses the thing. ¡°Little, scurrying rats that I get to take care of before they get old and come back a KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR!¡± it screams. ¡°A plague!¡± Fresh tries to swing her arm out and to knock the creature away, but the moment of their still occurring fall prevents her from lashing out in any meaningfully impactful way. She bends a finger towards the thing, deciding that she¡¯ll just have to curse it instead. ¡°GET AWAY!¡± ¡°YOU CAME INTO MY HOUSE!¡± yells the thing. The falling snow stops, the thousands of flakes hanging suspended in the air. Fresh¡¯s and Basil¡¯s momentum stops. Everything simply hangs as if life itself had just stopped for a moment. ¡°GUESTS DON¡¯T GET TO MAKE DEMANDS!¡± The snowflakes all shatter apart, dissipating into a fine mist that begins to spread apart and to fill the room. ¡°You didn¡¯t keep your end of the deal,¡± says the thing, glaring at her with wide, sickly eyes. ¡°Look at the fucking mess you things made outside!¡± ¡°I took down the weathervane!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I¡¯M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE WEATHERVANE, PERCHTA!¡± it screams, clutching its head. ¡°WE HAD A DEAL!¡± Fresh blinks, staring at the thing for a while. ¡°You and those other two RATS were supposed to clean up the mess! So we could get things back on track!¡± it argues. ¡°Do you know how many days we¡¯ve been waiting?! I do!¡± it exclaims. ¡°I¡¯ve been COUNTING!¡± Fresh obviously has no idea what the thing is talking about. But she feels like if she admits to that, it will accuse her of playing dumb. It¡¯s obviously very on edge. It said the name of the witch, Perchta. That means it knows about the others, right? Maybe those are the ¡®two¡¯ it was just referring to? ¡°The others are gone,¡± she says. ¡°Spillaholle and Gauden went to the south.¡± ¡°THEY WHAT?!¡± ¡°They gave up,¡± affirms Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s just me now.¡± ¡°When?!¡± Fresh looks around. ¡°For a long time now.¡± ¡°RATS!¡± it screams. ¡°RATS!¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with rats?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I think they¡¯re cute.¡± The creature, its hands covering its face, peeps out from between two spread fingers. ¡°How many?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°How far are you?¡± it asks, sounding very impatient and tense. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh considers the question, trying to find out what its meaning is. Clearly, the thing has her mixed up in a sense. ¡°We¡¯ve been to the north and the west,¡± she says, making something up on the spot that she thinks sounds plausible. ¡°We¡¯re working here now.¡± The fog, stemming from the evaporated snowflake begins to spread and thicken, filling the entire space with a nebulous glow. ¡°So you won¡¯t mind if I ask Charcuterie then?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Uh, I mean. I don¡¯t remember who that is, but if you mean from one of the other dungeons, ask for Mr. Mushroom,¡± says Fresh. ¡°He¡¯ll confirm it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to talk to that dick!¡± yells the entity, swiping its hand through the air. ¡°Get back to work and next time you come over, bring a fucking GIFT!¡± it yells, rather perplexingly. Before Fresh can respond, the fog overtakes them all, their descent begins to continue as they fall once more. Fresh and Basil fly out of the dungeon-gate, crashing down onto the wooden walkway that leads towards it. Sighing a breath of relief, Fresh, still clutching onto Basil, looks up at Shamrock who was on his way out. ¡°Hi, Shamrock,¡± says an exhausted Fresh, her head resting back down against the boards. Razmatazz -) Huh? What? Plot movement in my story? Readers, it''s more likely than you think. Warn your children today! -) Also. Dungeon-master is a bit tense... Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 283: Grounded ¡°Ow!¡± yelps Fresh, receiving another flick to the head. This is her sixth. Jubilee, sitting there, keeps their hand where it is and flicks her again. ¡°OW! Jubileeee~!¡± ¡°Oh, please! Stop being such a big fucking baby,¡± they say. ¡°As if that actually hurts.¡± Fresh frowns. Okay. To be fair, maybe it doesn¡¯t really hurt. She might just be saying ¡®ow¡¯ more instinctively than because she actually means it. Jubilee flicks her again. ¡°Ow!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to stop until you learn your lesson,¡± says Jubilee, flicking her again. Fresh, having been confined to her bed, sits upright. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± Jubilee flicks her again. Getting the message, she lays back down, sliding back down beneath her blanket. ¡°Because of you, we¡¯re short one employee!¡± scolds Jubilee, flicking her again. ¡°But I just wanted to go into the dungeon to check on Shamrock!¡± states Fresh, taking her punishment like a champion. ¡°Shamrock doesn¡¯t need you to fucking check on him!¡± lectures Jubilee, pointing at the man who is sitting on the other side of the waist-high stone wall, on the foot of Basil¡¯s bed, cleaning her leg with a damp rag. ¡°Shamrock is the one who does the fucking checking. Look at him!¡± yells Jubilee, pointing at the giant of a man who lifts his gaze for a moment, before looking back down. ¡°But Basil came with me!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I didn¡¯t go alone and you didn¡¯t want to come with us.¡± Jubilee lifts their hand again. ¡°Oh, so now it¡¯s my fault?¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m saying!¡± says Fresh. ¡°OW!¡± Jubilee glares at her. ¡°You two dumb-asses didn¡¯t think that going down to level forty by yourselves was a bad idea?¡± ¡°Of course we thought that!¡± counters Fresh. ¡°And we were on floor forty-one!¡± Jubilee flicks her again. ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you stay at the entrance?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t knoooow~¡± howls Fresh, grabbing Jubilee and hugging them and while this might appear to just be more of her rampant emotionality, it is actually a clever ruse on her part to avoid getting flicked again. Jubilee sighs, placing a hand on her head. ¡°Dumb-ass,¡± they say, shaking their head. ¡°That goes for you too, by the way!¡± barks Jubilee, turning their head around to look at Basil. Fresh only sees a weak hand rise up above the stone-wall, giving them a thumbs-up. ¡°Just you fucking wait till I get over there!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m pissed at her,¡± says Jubilee, pushing Fresh off of themselves. ¡°But you really should have known better. Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± they hiss, getting up. Basil¡¯s arm flops back down to her bedside. If there was any further punishment to be doled out by Jubilee, it never seems to arrive however, as rather than going to Basil¡¯s bed to flick her some too, Jubilee instead makes their way to the kitchen and grabs the frilly apron, cursing all the while. Fresh blinks, sitting upright. ¡°If you fucking leave that bed, I¡¯ll tear your eyes out and shove them into a chicken¡¯s ass!¡± yells Jubilee in what might be the most stern tone she has ever heard them take. Fresh immediately flops back down into her bed, pulling the blanket up. Apparently, she¡¯s been grounded. Is this a reasonable punishment for an adult, let alone one that could be enforced? No, obviously not. But they¡¯re going on the honor-system. She did something dumb, so she sits there in her bed and waits. And waits. And waits. Jubilee throws Shamrock the apron so that he can take care of making dinner ready, which is apparently going to be some kind of crab and coconut soup. They meanwhile go outside to find a physical-healer of some kind. After the two of them, Fresh and Basil, had gotten out of the dungeon, Shamrock had carried them back to the shop. She realizes that they must¡¯ve looked quite the mess. Basil¡¯s leg needs to be professionally tended to and she was covered in the priestess¡¯ blood and gunk from head to toe. Actually - Fresh looks down at herself. - she still is. ¡°Shamrock?¡± she asks, looking up. ¡°Can I take a shower?¡± It¡¯s a good thing the mattress is water-proof. He looks at her from the kitchen and then nods once. ¡°Shower. Then bed.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± relents Fresh, getting up and walking past Basil¡¯s bed. The priestess is asleep right now. Her wound isn¡¯t bleeding anymore, but she¡¯s lost a lot of blood and clearly on the edge of wakefulness the entire time. As she heads down to the shower and throws off her ruined robe and everything else, she can¡¯t help but realize how lucky they were that the trap didn¡¯t cut her deeper. If Basil had lost a leg, she isn¡¯t entirely sure that the fountain would go through the effort of restoring it¡­ Actually, she isn¡¯t even sure if the fountain would even bother to bring her friends¡¯ back to life at all anymore, if they really do die. Just because it happened once doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s going to happen again. She turns on the water, standing there as it rains down over herself. Streams of red wash off of her body, off of her hands, off of her face and hair. Even after a few minutes of rubbing, she still seems to find more and more red spots and drips and even after washing her hair with soap twice, she¡¯s still convinced that there¡¯s red in it. Fresh stares down at the drain, watching the red spiral down it. As long as her friends are useful, is what the fountain said. As long as they¡¯re useful, it will let them stay around. But what does that even mean? Her hand reaches for the handle of the shower, as she has decided from some old instinct to turn it to cold. As cold as it can go. But as she stands there, holding the metal crank, she stops. Not because of a tenseness, born out of a fear of the shock of the icy water or because she is afraid of discomfort; that being exactly what she was hoping to achieve purposefully. The cold has always been the bad-thing¡¯s way to reach her. Ever since her first life, ever since that night she had let it take her away from her old existence. But she doesn¡¯t do that anymore. She doesn¡¯t want to do that anymore. Fresh turns the nozzle the other way. Sure, the hot water might dry her skin and hair out a little more. But it¡¯s comfortable. It¡¯s warm. It gives her a sense of relief in her tense muscles and most importantly, it helps wash away every last drop of red. She really does feel herself coming to strongly dislike the color. Maybe she shouldn¡¯t. But it always seems to be following her, doesn¡¯t it? Fresh can¡¯t help but laugh at this odd thought as she turns off the water and stands there, letting herself drip for a moment. Grabbing a big, fluffy towel, she rubs herself dry and takes the head of the shower, washing her robe as best as she can with it. But honestly, she thinks that the off-white fabric of the once-fluffy robe that her friends¡¯ had gifted her in the west, might just be ruined for good. This isn¡¯t going to wash out with just water. Maybe she could make some of her purification-mixture again? ¡°Ghost-goo¡­¡± mutters Fresh under her breath. She can¡¯t just throw away this item. This is a treasured thing. So she rinses it out as good as she can and then hangs it up, before cleaning out the shower as best as she can too and then, with everything having been done and her obligations to herself and her friends fulfilled, Fresh puts on her pajamas and goes upstairs, walking directly to her bed, which she changes into some clean sheets and then sits down in. She¡¯s not allowed to leave it, after all. Shamrock sets a bowl down next to her on her nightstands. ¡°Eat. Sleep.¡± ¡°Thanks, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh, deciding that she¡¯s going to do exactly that. Jubilee comes back, dragging a familiar person in tow. The ¡®milk-shake¡¯ dark-elf. ¡°This one here,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at Basil¡¯s bed. ¡°Ignore the other one, she¡¯s just mentally unwell.¡± The dark-elf nods, pulling out a set of tools and oddities from his bag. Oddest of all is a set of wooden sewing needles. Fresh can¡¯t really tell, but she thinks that they¡¯re rare-wood. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it,¡± says the man. ¡°Make it good and we¡¯ll give you your fucking milkshakes for life,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Don¡¯t make promises you can¡¯t keep,¡± replies the dark-elf, lifting a pair of scissors and snipping with them. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll fucking pay you too,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°You already had me at the milkshakes,¡± says the man, setting to work. Apparently, he¡¯s some kind of druid from the south. Or, was, at least. Fresh sighs in relief, before quietly eating the rest of her soup and laying down. She doesn¡¯t make a single peep and just listens as the man works under Jubilee¡¯s watchful eyes. Razmatazz Looks like everything is fine. I don''t know if I trust it though. I think that snake of an author is planning something... If only there was somebody who knew for sure??x) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 284: Automat ¡°I dunno,¡± says Jubilee as Fresh fiddles around with the large, metal-sheeted construction. ¡°This seems fucky to me,¡± they say. ¡°Shamrock?¡± Shamrock stares from the side, looking down towards Fresh. The man shrugs. ¡°Less weight is good.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh in agreement. With Basil out of commission for a while, they need all of the help that they can get. Sure, they could hire a new employee to just run the store. Their downstairs area is far less suspicious than it was in some of their previous ventures. But they all voted against it, all of them for their own, arbitrary reasons, some of which were more nonsensical than others. Fresh simply didn¡¯t want Basil to feel like she was being so easily replaced. Jubilee just didn¡¯t want to pay anyone extra, simply telling her that she¡¯s just going to have to cover Basil¡¯s work herself, in addition to her own. Deciding that this wouldn¡¯t be a productive or even enjoyable way to live her life, Fresh has started on her next idea. ¡°Hand me that metal rack there, please,¡± she asks Jubilee, pointing at the little spool she had already made out of some small, iron rods she had fused together. Jubilee picks the odd, spring-like thing up and hands it to her. It is early in the morning of the next day. Basil is still more or less out of it. Breakfast wasn¡¯t really enjoyable today, despite Jubilee being on egg-duty. They didn¡¯t seem to have the same fire to them as they always did. The eggs that is, not Jubilee. Fresh sighs. She supposes Jubilee is just worried about Basil. Taking the spool, she slides it into place, together with the rest of them. The construction is simple, but effective. Or at least it will be, when it¡¯s done. Which she hopes is before they open. If it even keeps one customer out of the door and away from the counter, it will have been worth the effort on her part. She supposes that this is her way of making it up to the others. Latching the little chain in the back in place, she nods, satisfied. ¡°Shamrock, can you help me get this upright, please?¡± she asks and the man obliges, lifting the cabinet upright onto its feet. She smiles, looking at the odd thing. It¡¯s an open-faced cabinet with eight different shelves. ¡°So?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°So, uh¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a second. ¡°I think it¡¯s just about done.¡± ¡°You think it¡¯s just about done?¡± asks Jubilee skeptically. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be the one who knows if it¡¯s done or not?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°Making art is a process, Jubilee.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not art,¡± they sigh, looking at the wooden cabinet, clad in a thin layer of sheet metal. ¡°It¡¯s a monstrosity,¡± states Jubilee, poking around at the inner crystal-drakonium lining. ¡°It¡¯s convenient!¡± she argues, giving Jubilee her coin to hold. ¡°Here, wait.¡± She picks up one of the glass box-containers. It looks like the kind she had made for their food-storage, back in the north. On the front is a simple latch, with a slot in the top. Fresh holds it down to Jubilee. ¡°Just put the coin in here and turn it,¡± she instructs, tapping the lock with her finger. Jubilee raises an eyebrow and slides the coin into the mechanism, turning it. The coin rattles down a little chute, falling to the floor and the door to the container opens up wide. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Jubilee, looking at the thing. ¡°Interesting,¡± they say, but they don¡¯t exactly sound like they mean it. ¡°It is, Jubilee!¡± says Fresh, taking the box back and stacking it inside of the shelf, together with the rest of them. ¡°We can just fill these up with different snacks or lunches,¡± she explains. ¡°Then people can buy them outside without having to stand in line!¡± ¡°But someone still has to restock them,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If each box holds one thing, then there are¡­ what, thirty-two boxes in the cabinet?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s fine. That¡¯s a lot of stuff and restocking the cabinet once is still easier than dealing with thirty-two people at the counter, right?¡± she asks. Grabbing some cooling beads, she sets them into the mechanism, beneath the upper lid of the cabinet. Jubilee rubs their chin, thinking. ¡°And the money?¡± Fresh bends down, pointing at a little drawer. ¡°It all falls down here,¡± she says, pulling it out and sliding it back in. ¡°It needs a lock.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. She thinks that she¡¯s able to do that. ¡°Will it be ready in an hour?¡± asks Jubilee, looking out of the window. Fresh nods, turning her gaze to look at Basil¡¯s bed. ¡°It will!¡± An hour passes and, as fortune would have it, the ¡®automat¡¯ is done. She recalls this principle from her old life, actually. While of course, she would have rather made a classical ¡®vending machine¡¯ type construction, that would require mechanical knowledge that she just doesn¡¯t possess. But this is essentially the same thing, just far older and more crude. But it works and that¡¯s all that matters. A big limiter is that she doesn¡¯t know how to make a coin-counting mechanism. So they opt to make the shelves with different pricing, based on the denominations of single coins. So the eye-level shelves all cost a single one-hundred Obol coin. The lower and higher ones cost fifty and then the lowest ones cost twenty Obols each. Since their snacks are ready-made and packed, putting things into the cabinet is easy enough and they opt for a varied combination of food and drinks. Shamrock has the job of lugging the thing not only downstairs, but out of the door. It stands on the downstairs patio. When one leaves their front door, it¡¯s directly to the left and the ice-cream window to the right. This has the added advantage that people passing down the staircase could also just take a single step to the side and buy something from them with no added hassle. The last step is to make a small sign with the instructions, which she asks Shamrock to do, while she gets the ice-cream ready for today. ¡°So what do you think that thing was?¡± asks Fresh. They still have ten minutes to go before opening. ¡°The thing I saw in the dungeon.¡± ¡°There¡¯s all kinds of fucky things in dungeons,¡± says Jubilee, adjusting their mask. Fresh bends down, tucking in a strand of hair that was sticking out into their hood. ¡°Gods know what kind of freaky shit is down there. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you think we should be worried?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I mean, it knew about me, sort of.¡± Jubilee crosses their arms, leaning back against the counter and thinking. ¡°This might be something Basil can tell you more about,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Dungeon-lore is her territory,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s a whole bunch of religious bullshit there, don¡¯t even get me started.¡± Jubilee looks around the store. ¡°Mm,¡± says Fresh, looking as Shamrock comes back inside. ¡°Done.¡± ¡°Should we open early?¡± asks Jubilee, nodding to the giant. ¡°Should we?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee looks back at her. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like standing here and waiting,¡± they say. ¡°You¡¯re really worried, huh? You wanna go check on Basil before we start, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Do I sound worried? We¡¯ve replaced Basil with a box. Her spirit can move on now for all I care.¡± Fresh nods, understanding as she grabs the shutters. ¡°Don¡¯t worry Jubilee, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be better soon!¡± The day that comes to follow is exactly as horrifically busy as they had feared it would be. It¡¯s as if the universe had been listening in on them and had just been waiting all the while with glee in its eyes, for the tide of people to wash towards their door. The automat is, in principle, a big success. Fresh is stuck on the ice-cream window all day, so she never really has time to check on it. But from what she can see out of the corner of her eyes, through the window, is that it is working well. Shamrock seems to have made a good sign and adventurers, being naturally curious about such things, took an instant liking to it. Not everyone wants to go inside after all and some people are just waiting on their friends to get ice-cream or whatever it is they need, so while they wait outside, more than one person ends up grabbing a bottle from the thing. The same could be said of those who stand in fearful awe of the line outside of the window. They also find some solace in the new thing, simply bypassing the line entirely to grab a simple drink or a quick meal. Shamrock is in charge of restocking the automat, but he only has to make two runs to do so as the shelves seem to be moving at different speeds. The cheapest ones obviously go much faster, but they do also sell two large shelves worth of snacks as well. By the time that the sun runs out of energy for the day, the three of them do the same and fall down to the ground, exhausted. Shamrock¡¯s mood is brightened however by the snack that Fresh offers him and Jubilee¡¯s mood is made better by the full box of clinking coins that Shamrock lays down at their feet, from the automat. Fresh meanwhile, finds renewed joy and energy as she hears Basil calling from upstairs. Razmatazz Automats are cool. The past had a lot of cool stuff. There''s a trivia here somewhere, but it''s hardly worth the effort so I won''t spoiler it. Essentially, the word Automat, as you can guess, stems from the word automaton from ancient Greek mythology. Automatons were essentially statue of people, animals or monsters that were made by the god of metalworking, Hephaestus. Though, a few of them were also made by the famed divine craftsman Daedalus. If you''ve ever seen the name ''Talos'' used in modern pop-culture, he was one of the automatons. He was the bodyguard for Europa. In short, there is no automat mythology that I know of, but a lot of background information. Unless somebody has a good haunted diner story to share. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 285: Dinner table ¡°I don¡¯t know about thi-IE!¡± Basil clambers onto the flying broom, wrapping her arms around it as she spins around upside down, hovering above her bed. Letting go, she plops back down onto her mattress, sounding somewhat pained from the small fall. ¡°Ah¡­ Ouch.¡± Fresh tilts her head, grabbing the broom and pulling it back down to let Basil try again. ¡°It¡¯s just until you get better, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°And only here upstairs while the curtains are closed,¡± she explains. Basil frowns, seemingly not convinced. Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°We can¡¯t waste our time nursing you day and night just because you got a boo-boo, you slacker.¡± They lift their hand, pointing at the broom. ¡°Get back on that broom.¡± ¡°I still feel unwell,¡± says Basil, leaning back down against her pillow. ¡°Yeah, no shit?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°You were gooier than a slime when Shamrock lugged your fat ass up here.¡± They point towards the door to the stairs. ¡°You still smell like one. So take that broom and ride it all the way to the shower.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t pressure Basil!¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Way I see it, Basil needs a little pressure to finally toughen up. Like Shamrock,¡± they say, looking over their shoulder. Shamrock, standing in the kitchen with the frilly-chicken-apron on, looks over their way and nods. ¡°Dinner is almost ready,¡± is all that he says, turning back to the stove. ¡°Okay. Never mind,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Is it safe?¡± asks Basil, sounding a little worried. ¡°Is it safe?¡± replies Fresh in a high tone, as if the answer to this question were obvious. She blinks. ¡°No. No, it isn¡¯t,¡± she explains. ¡°I almost died last time I used it.¡± ¡°Wow. Great,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But!¡± Fresh runs over to the side of Basil¡¯s bed and picks up the enchanted-lantern from the nightstand. ¡°This little guy will help you out, right?¡± she asks, lifting the lantern up to her face. A shutter opens up a few inches, before closing itself back down again, like a sleepy eyelid. Smiling, she hangs it on the broom. ¡°Ta-da!¡± Basil and Jubilee look at each other and then back towards her. ¡°How is putting a light on the broom going to help?¡± asks Basil. ¡°It¡¯s not about the light, Basil,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°The lantern knows how to fly, so it¡¯ll help you out,¡± she says. ¡°But it¡¯s not a big deal. I think the furthest you¡¯ll have to go is downstairs to the washroom.¡± Basil groans, pushing herself up and trying again. The priestess still doesn¡¯t have much strength and seems to be waning on the edge of wakefulness the entire time and without the broom, she isn¡¯t able to get out of her bed. But she manages to get flown downstairs under the supervision of Jubilee and Fresh takes the chance to remake the priestess¡¯ bed with some clean sheets. These old ones are a bit red. Jubilee comes up a little later, apparently needing new, non-bloody clothes for Basil and then vanishes downstairs again. By the time the two of them are back upstairs, everything is cleaned up. ¡°Are you up for dinner, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You should eat.¡± ¡°Of course she¡¯s fucking up for dinner,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°She¡¯s eating with her mouth, not her legs,¡± they say. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Jubilee,¡± consoles Fresh. ¡°She¡¯s going to be fine.¡± ¡°What?¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips. ¡°Does that sound like a point of concern for me?¡± Basil squeezes Jubilee¡¯s shoulder as she floats to her chair. ¡°Thank you for always worrying about me,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Hello?¡± asks Jubilee, looking around the room. ¡°Are you people even listening to me, or do you just always hear what you want to hear?¡± Basil and Fresh exchange a look and then start laughing. All in all, dinner turns out very nice. Basil is still weak and pale in the face. But it doesn¡¯t feel like anything that a lot of good food and good rest can¡¯t heal. And she certainly seems to be hungry, downing twice the amount she would usually eat. Fresh can¡¯t help but watch in astonishment as the priestess wolfs down her bowl. As long as she is awake, she takes the opportunity to tell her about their ¡®escape¡¯ from the dungeon and asks about the odd creature they had encountered. Listening to her tell her story, Basil continues chewing, but slows down as Fresh gets to the encounter and seems to watch her very carefully as she speaks of the odd, glowing entity. ¡°Wow, really?¡± asks Basil, clearing her throat and drinking a glass of water. ¡°You¡¯re sure about what you saw?¡± she asks, leaning in over her bowl. Fresh blinks, scratching her cheek. ¡°Of course I¡¯m sure, Basil,¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I talked to it and everything. It seemed really intense,¡± she explains. ¡°Like Jubilee gets sometimes.¡± ¡°Please leave me out of your conversations from now on,¡± says Jubilee from across the table. Basil looks at her and then down at her bowl. ¡°Wow.¡± ¡°You said that already,¡± sighs Jubilee. The priestess looks back up. ¡°And you¡¯re sure it wasn¡¯t just some weird monster?¡± ¡°Basil, I¡¯m super sure!¡± says Fresh, not sure what Basil is getting at. ¡°I think it was some kind of dungeon-ghost or something.¡± The priestess shakes her head, smiling a smug smile at Jubilee. ¡°What?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°What¡¯s that look for?¡± ¡°It looks like that¡¯s one point for the faith,¡± she says, marking an invisible tally in the air. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. The priestess smiles with a rekindled warmth, as if some tension somewhere in her body that she had been holding onto for a long time now was finally able to release. ¡°In a sense, you saw exactly that,¡± affirms Basil, looking at Fresh and then down at the basket of herb-spiced and buttered bread. Willing to pay the price for this information, Fresh slides the basket her way. ¡°Dungeons are living, breathing things,¡± says Basil. ¡°That¡¯s why they can change and alter themselves as time goes on.¡± ¡°So it was the dungeon?¡± asks Fresh, trying to comprehend the logistics of this. ¡°No. I wish I could see the church¡¯s library again, but what I think you saw is a dungeon-master,¡± explains the priestess, dipping her bread into the sauce on her plate and biting into it. ¡°It¡¯s like, uh¡­¡± Basil looks around the table. ¡°It¡¯s like the Jubilee of the dungeon.¡± ¡°Oooh!¡± says Fresh, realizing. ¡°What the fuck is that supposed to mean?¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Now that I think about it,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I think it had pointy ears like Jubilee too.¡± ¡°Was it about the same size?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Actually¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Hello? I¡¯m sitting right here?¡± asks Jubilee, lifting their hands out to their sides. Shamrock grabs the breadbasket, sliding it their way. Jubilee sighs, giving up and taking a piece of bread. ¡°That¡¯s probably more of a coincidence than anything,¡± says Basil. ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh. For a second she thought that maybe Jubilee was something like that in their past life. ¡°Yes, but the stories of the dungeon-masters always say that they look like featureless children.¡± ¡°Yeah, that sounds about right,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It sure did have an attitude for a kid though.¡± Basil yawns, looking down at her plate and pushing it away from herself. Apparently, she has had enough. ¡°Don¡¯t let that fool you. They¡¯re ancient. That creature is probably older than this city,¡± explains Basil. ¡°They go all the way back to the birth of the faith. I wish I could have talked to it¡­¡± she sighs, rubbing her tired eyes. Seeing that she¡¯s about done. Fresh gets up. ¡°Come on, Basil. I¡¯ll take care of your stuff. Let¡¯s get you to bed.¡± Basil doesn¡¯t seem to have much argumentation left in her. Now that she¡¯s eaten, her body seems to have decided that enough is enough and her eyes and head begin drooping rather abruptly. With help of the broom and the lantern, they manage to get the hobbling priestess back into her now clean bed and Fresh is sure that she can hear her start to fidget in her sleep the moment she turns her back to walk to the kitchen again. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Can I ask you something personal?¡± Jubilee, still nibbling on a piece of bread, looks her way. ¡°Depends.¡± ¡°On what?¡± ¡°What do you want to know?¡± asks Jubilee, raising an eyebrow before biting back into their bread. ¡°Good bread, by the way,¡± they say. ¡°Thanks,¡± is all that Shamrock replies with. Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°What were you before?¡± she asks. ¡°You know? Before-before?¡± ¡°None of your business,¡± replies Jubilee dryly. ¡°Okay. Sorry,¡± replies Fresh, lifting her hands. ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t pry. That¡¯s not what this is,¡± she says, quietly sitting back down. Jubilee sighs. The two of them lift their gaze to stare at Shamrock. Feeling himself being watched, the man stares back at the two of them. ¡°None of your business,¡± is all that the man says, reaching over to take Basil¡¯s unfinished dinner. ¡°Fair enough,¡± shrugs Jubilee and Fresh does the same. Fair enough. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 286: Happy ¡°So,¡± says Fresh, talking to the milkshake-dark-elf. ¡°How did you get here?¡± she asks, mixing today¡¯s bottle. The man certainly seems to have developed an affinity for it. The man shrugs. ¡°Well, you know with the south being what it is,¡± he explains, shrugging. Fresh nods, understanding. ¡°I decided that I had enough of the gloom. Some sunlight is what a lot of people need, you know?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, handing him the bottle. ¡°I think so too. Everyone is always so tense.¡± ¡°Those are just the times we live in,¡± he says, sighing. ¡°I still remember the better days,¡± he says, staring at the bottle. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here now,¡± replies Fresh, waving goodbye to him as he turns to leave too. It really is lucky for them that a physical healer like this man was present here in this city. Someone who could do more than just heal lost health-points. Even more so is that he seems to have a relationship with the crusaders in some sense, she recalls the awkward human soldier who Basil had talked to, who had implied that the druid was his brother and that he was coming to them as a favor. Sometimes, convenient people are really just always there at the right place and time, aren¡¯t they? There are a lot of different classes that can heal. In the north, it was mostly priests from the church, whereas in the west the role seemed to have been overtaken by more pragmatic things such as battle-alchemists. Here in the east, it just seems to be a big hodge-podge. Everyone from everywhere seems to collect here, in the harbor city. It sounds odd, but sometimes she still thinks about that old daydream of hers of becoming a healer, someone who can really help people in their times of need. Sure, her initial motivations for that desire were purely selfish, as she had hoped that her doing so would bring people to like her and to enjoy her presence. But now, she finds that she just likes helping people. Seeing someone walk around, protected from the raging sun with one of her umbrellas makes her happy. Seeing someone bite into one of her cookies, only for their eyes to light up, seeing some sweaty, exhausted person down a bottle of fizzy-tea and let out a subsequent sigh of relief so loud, that she can hear it all the way on the other side of the counter, these things make her happy. Maybe it¡¯s a little like Shamrock¡¯s attitude towards the world. She can¡¯t do much, really. But she¡¯s here now and the things she can do have tangible results, if only minor ones. But those results are enough to make someone¡¯s day brighter and in turn make her happy and in the final, consequent turn, make the world only a tiny bit lighter, even if only for a moment. Fresh smiles, placing her hands on her hips as she stares out of the window, out towards the water. Turning around, she looks at Jubilee. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± says Fresh. ¡°Huh? What?¡± asks Jubilee, turning around with their head. ¡°I¡¯m happy,¡± states Fresh, plain as day, nodding once as if to affirm that statement to her friend. Jubilee stares at her and then lifts their arms, shrugging and shaking their head. ¡°Okay? So? What am I supposed to do with this information?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I just wanted you to know,¡± she explains, grabbing a bottle of coconut-water and looking back out towards the ocean, as she waits for the next customer to come. Today seems to be slower, for whatever reason the universe might have conjured up, so she spends a great deal of it simply looking out of the window, staring at someone who she assumes is a brand new adventurer. There¡¯s a young man, hardly past being a boy, but clearly having entered into what this world considers adulthood. Without a party and with only the dinkiest of weapons, he seems to have found a quiet spot off to the right side of their house and is very intensely fighting the single crab there that keeps respawning, by himself. It seems odd, but somehow, seeing a brand new adventurer is oddly exciting for her. ¡°Hey!¡± she calls out of the window, waving him over. ¡°Stop pestering the world,¡± barks Jubilee from behind her. Fresh sticks out her tongue at them. Looking somewhat worried, the newcomer makes his way over to the window, taking somewhat nervous steps, as if he were about to be yelled at. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± asks Fresh. He stares at her and tilts his head, rubbing the back of it. ¡°Uh, fine. Thank you.¡± His gaze shifts around the sand. ¡°Should I go somewhere else? Am I bothering you? Sorry,¡± he apologizes right away. ¡°I¡¯ll go somewhere else.¡± ¡°No, no!¡± says Fresh, stopping him. ¡°You¡¯re doing us a huge favor by keeping the crabs away,¡± she lies. In truth, the crabs don¡¯t come into their house anymore. But he doesn¡¯t know that. She¡¯s just trying to be encouraging. She lifts a finger, pointing at his objectively terrible weapon. ¡°You interested in a quest?¡± ¡°A quest?¡± he asks, staring at her somewhat perplexed. He¡¯s obviously from an unaffluent origin. His street-clothes, covered in ripped fabric and tatters, are bound back closed with strips of fabric and shawls wrapped all around his legs and arms where the crabs have clearly gotten to him more than once. ¡°How many crabs have you got today?¡± she asks. ¡°Uh¡­ eight, so far, miss,¡± says the stranger, awkwardly putting his knife away as he seems to suddenly realize that he was still holding it while talking to her. She lifts a finger, pointing at his kitchen-knife. ¡°I¡¯ll make you a new weapon, if you kill sixteen more by this time tomorrow. Bring me their claws.¡± He looks at her and then down at the rusty, crab-blood covered kitchen-knife that he¡¯s been using. ¡°I accept!¡± he says, straightening his posture right away, his eyes going wide. Fresh nods. ¡°Okay! Good luck!¡± she says, smiling and waving to him. He hurries back to his spot, just as the crab respawns, burrowing itself out of the sand. ¡°What was that?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s like you said, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Back in the west. We¡¯re shopkeepers, it¡¯s normal for us to give quests to adventurers.¡± Jubilee stares at her. ¡°Sure, when we get something out of it,¡± they say. ¡°You¡¯re just giving merchandise away now again.¡± Fresh shakes her head, staring back out at the stranger who is giving his all now to fight the new crab. ¡°No. I¡¯m getting something out of it,¡± she says, watching as the adventurer seems to fight with a new vigor, and, despite the loose fabric covering the area below his nose, she is sure that she can see a hopeful smile in his eyes that wasn¡¯t there before. The day comes to an end, essentially like that. The boy or man or whatever stage of life he finds himself in managed to get up to twelve crabs today, before he packed up and decided to go home, his hands full of crab meat. She figures that he¡¯s clearly going to make it. So tonight, she decides to make a new weapon for him in advance, so that she can pay right away when he hands in the quest. Explaining as much to her friends, she weasels her way out of cooking dinner tonight. Though, in exchange for Shamrock covering her shift tonight, she has to do the next one of his. Fair is fair, after all. Basil feels a little better today than last night. A full day of rest and real food really does do wonders, but she will clearly need a while longer until she is back in fighting shape. Staring out of the open door of her workshop, Fresh can¡¯t help but hide a bright smile as she watches Jubilee run around Basil¡¯s bed, fretting about every little thing. She really does have great friends. So. A dagger? The man is clearly a lanky, agile type and he seems to be practiced in fighting with a knife. Though, that might just be because it¡¯s the only weapon he has access to. Oh well. It¡¯s a start. With this, he¡¯ll be able to work his way up easier towards whatever goal he holds as desirable for himself. ¡°Just something simple,¡± she says, pulling a copper-bar and iron-bar towards herself. Deciding to play around a little, she combines the two bars into a single, conjoined ingot. So far, so good. ¡°Keep it simple,¡± she reminds herself, her brain already going to very extravagant places. He¡¯s a beginner adventurer, so she doesn¡¯t want to overload him with some mystical moon-powered weapon. She just wants to give him a stepping stone, some encouragement to foster his hard-work in the future, so that he might go on and make the world lighter in the places he himself goes. ¡°Oh¡­¡± says Fresh. It does elemental damage. Is this too much? Hmm. No. It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s not that much. Honestly, it could maybe be a little better. Maybe since the metal is so conductive, a better grip would help? Deciding that that makes sense, she takes a bit of the liquefied crystal-drakonium and paints it over the grip of the weapon. There! That seems to have spruced up the elemental damage a tiny bit. Now it¡¯s a great weapon for some beginner. She¡¯ll skip the step of blessing it with moonwater, that would be too much. Smiling to herself, she sets the dagger down, feeling excited about tomorrow and the new smiles and faces it will bring. Well, not to the crabs. But you can¡¯t make everyone happy. Razmatazz =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 287: Eastwind Sand. Sand always gets everywhere here and it¡¯s been driving her crazy for a while, honestly. Sure, it¡¯s to be expected while living on the beach. But there is sand on the floor downstairs, despite their constant sweeping and mopping. There¡¯s sand on the lower shelves. There¡¯s sand on the upper shelves. Perplexingly, there is sand in their jar of flour, upstairs in the kitchen. Somehow, there is just sand everywhere. Fresh feels her eyes twitching as she steps out of the shower, rubbing her hair dry as her foot steps onto a mound of sand that is at the bottom of the staircase. She hasn¡¯t really minded the sand at all, until now. It just seemed to be part and parcel of living on the beach. But for whatever reason, as of today, it¡¯s starting to get to her. Just a little. Maybe she¡¯s still on edge because Basil is still unwell, or maybe she¡¯s on edge because of the crusade that is in town, still not having set sail for distant shores for whatever reason, or maybe she just woke up an hour too early and is grumpy because of that. But, for whatever reason, Fresh decides that the sand has to go. Enough is enough. Heading upstairs, she looks around. Shamrock is off on a dungeon run, before they open for the day and the others are sitting around the table. Basil is still pale in the face, but she seems to be awake at least. ¡°You think it¡¯s going to scar?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Are you stupid?¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Of course it¡¯s going to fucking scar. You¡¯re lucky you still have a leg, shit-head.¡± Basil frowns, looking down at her leg and touching it tenderly, before wincing and lifting her hand back up to her cup of tea. ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine,¡± says Jubilee, sighing. ¡°A few scars never hurt anybody. Smear some cream on it and it¡¯ll be just as normally ugly as the rest of you.¡± ¡°Is it vain of me?¡± asks Basil, ignoring Jubilee¡¯s quip. ¡°Sorry.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes, perhaps having hoped to incite some kind of reaction from the priestess who is still a little out of it. Fresh, still not having stepped into the room, smiles from the staircase as she watches the two of them. ¡°You only get one body,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with wanting it to be good,¡± they explain, in an odd and unusually consoling fashion. Jubilee sure has gotten soft, since she met them back in the north. Basil smiles, sipping her tea. ¡°You¡¯re right. Thank you.¡± ¡°Finally someone fucking listens to me,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Can you help me with it later?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Degenerate,¡± says Jubilee dryly, lifting an eyebrow. Basil lifts her nose. ¡°It¡¯s just my leg, you gremlin. And it hurts. I can¡¯t get myself to touch the area.¡± ¡°Yeah, years of religious indoctrination will do that to you,¡± says Jubilee. Basil takes her turn to glare at them this time. ¡°Hey guys,¡± says Fresh, walking into the room. ¡°We have sand everywhere,¡± she says, sitting down at the table and pulling the canister of tea over to herself, pouring some into an empty cup. ¡°We live on the beach,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Be glad we aren¡¯t on the other side of the city. By the desert. Fucking red dust gets everywhere.¡± ¡°Red dust?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Desert sand,¡± explains Basil. ¡°It¡¯s much finer and smoother than the beach sand. The wind carries it all around.¡± ¡°Ooooh,¡± says Fresh. ¡°They say it has healing properties, actually,¡± says the priestess. ¡°It¡¯s dirt,¡± sighs an exasperated Jubilee. ¡°¡¯They¡¯ say a lot of stupid shit.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, taking a sip of her tea after. ¡°The sand?¡± she asks. ¡°Mhm,¡± replies Basil. ¡°A long, long time ago, the east used to be a very fertile area, actually.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Basil nods. ¡°Sure was. But that was ages and ages ago. Back when the gods were still down on the world.¡± ¡°That never happened,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It did!¡± argues Basil. She points at Fresh. ¡°She saw a dungeon-master! She literally has a patron god! Isn¡¯t that proof enough for you?¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow, looking at Basil and then at Fresh. ¡°She talks to crabs.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with talking to crabs?¡± asks Fresh, setting her cup down and crossing her arms. ¡°I was trying to resolve our problems without violence!¡± ¡°I¡¯m saying that you¡¯re as much of a kook as she is,¡± says Jubilee, pointing back at Basil. ¡°Both of you are nutcases, as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± ¡°Have you ever considered that you might be the one who¡¯s wrong?¡± asks Basil, taking a long sip of her tea, her eyes tightly closed. ¡°I have and I dismissed the idea, actually,¡± states Jubilee. Fresh laughs, but Basil just sighs again. ¡°I really wish you¡¯d be more open to my beliefs,¡± says Basil. Jubilee takes a sip of their tea, pointing at her with a finger from their tea-cup. ¡°I wish you¡¯d be more open to my disbelief of your beliefs.¡± Fresh tilts her head. The two of them sure are odd friends. But she¡¯s still happy that the two of them get along, despite their differences. Basil sets her cup down, grabbing the canister and refills Jubilee¡¯s cup, before pouring the rest into Fresh¡¯s and then her own. ¡°Anyways guys,¡± says Fresh. ¡°The sand?¡± The two of them look at her and then at each other, before looking back at her. ¡°What about it?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Should we do something about it?¡± asks Fresh, looking around the room. There¡¯s sand up here too. ¡°You¡¯re starting a war you can¡¯t win,¡± states Jubilee, leaning back on their chair. ¡°I say we embrace the desert life-style. Let¡¯s just let the sand take us. We belong to it now.¡± ¡°The desert sand or the beach sand?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Does it matter?¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°You said it¡¯s different.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t do this every morning,¡± says Jubilee, sounding very exhausted. ¡°I¡¯m going to lose my will to live.¡± ¡°Want to pray together?¡± asks Basil. ¡°There. There it is,¡± states Jubilee. ¡°The last resolve I had to stay here, on this mortal coil, just left me. Blown away like the fucking sand,¡± they say, blowing over the table and wiping a smear of sand off of it. ¡°Actually. Why the fuck is it so sandy?¡± they ask, looking around. ¡°It wasn¡¯t this bad a few days ago, was it?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s the wind,¡± says Basil, looking out to the open balcony. ¡°It¡¯s been picking up for a few weeks now. Ever since that big storm a little while back.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Jubilee turns their head. ¡°Weird weather. But sure, whatever. I guess we¡¯ll just sweep?¡± they suggest. ¡°Maybe we can just close the windows?¡± ¡°But then we won¡¯t have any fresh air,¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee shrugs, gesturing all around them to the sand. ¡°Pick your poison.¡± Fresh follows their gesture with her eyes, looking around the room at all the sand, following a trail of it that leads towards Shamrock¡¯s bed. Towards the wooden chicken. The wooden chicken? Chickens are birds. Birds fly. They fly in the air. The air? Moving air is wind. Wind? Wind¡­ Fresh blinks, looking up from the table as she suddenly realizes something that may or may not be very bad. ¡°Uh, I¡¯m gonna go to the roof for a second,¡± she says, getting up and scooting her chair back. ¡°Don¡¯t fucking drag more sand in on your way back,¡± says Jubilee and Basil nods, looking down at her tea-cup. It seems to have some sand in it. Hurrying into the workshop, Fresh climbs up the ladder, closing the hatch behind herself as she rushes past their table and chairs, towards the little storage box that Basil has up on the roof. Her plants are all doing very well and the roof is turning into a little oasis, but that isn¡¯t important right now. Fresh tears open the trunk, digging through the different gardening tools and things until she pulls out the crab-repelling weathervane she had made several weeks ago. Quality Effect: -) The metal of the weathervane is resistant to rusting -) Attracts [Wind]-type monsters Fresh gulps, realizing something. She realizes that the crab-repelling effect is fairly limited and easy to dampen. The latter effect however, the wind-monster attraction, is entirely independent of not only any line of sight restrictions, but also of any distance whatsoever¡­ The wind blows over the house, a powerful surge of it coming from over the east-ward ocean, carrying with it a smell that she can¡¯t quite describe. It reminds her of the smell of the burning ship, that one night. It reminds her of the smells of destruction, of wind and fire, carried over the endless waters from some distant shoreline. Fresh turns her head, looking out over the ocean. She sees nothing there. But she can¡¯t help but shake the feeling that somewhere, on the far side of the world, something very bad has happened. Grabbing the weathervane, she rushes down to her workshop and then breaks it as fast as she can with a hammer, before running out to the others, to explain that she might have done something dumb. ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± cries Fresh, running out of the workshop, before suddenly stopping, Fresh sticks her tongue out. ¡°Pftbtht~¡± she blows. She had some sand in her mouth. Razmatazz Have I ever told you guys how much fun I have writing the four of them? They work so well off of each other +-+ Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 288: Worrysome ¡°Oh my fuck,¡± says Jubilee, looking out over the ocean. There isn¡¯t anything to see, but the storm is clearly still picking up once again, the waves out on the distant waters crash and churn with violent intensity. ¡°Should we be worried?¡± asks Basil, sitting down on a chair at the balcony table, her leg stretched out. ¡°I feel like we should be worried.¡± ¡°Good fucking instincts,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We all knew this day would come,¡± they state. ¡°When you¡¯d do something fucky and we¡¯d have to leave again.¡± ¡°But Jubilee,¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Nothing¡¯s happened yet. Uh¡­ I think,¡± she says, looking around. Though, in truth, she isn¡¯t sure if that¡¯s entirely true. Nothing has happened yet, here. But if this item was really capable of drawing in wind monsters from literally anywhere in the world, then where did they have to travel through on their way to her beacon? Homes? Villages? Cities? ¡°Do you think it¡¯s already that time of the year?¡± asks Basil, sighing. ¡°I was just starting to get used to the heat.¡± ¡°No!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Everything is fine, guys. Besides, I don¡¯t think that we¡¯re¡­¡± she looks around, rubbing her arm. ¡°You know? Allowed.¡± Jubilee takes in a deep breath, staring out over the ocean, as if waiting to get some response from it rather than from her or from Basil. ¡°Where are wind-monsters from anyways?¡± she asks. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen an elemental monster?¡± she ponders. ¡°Ice-golem,¡± says Jubilee, looking over their shoulder. ¡°Oh, yeah.¡± Fresh blinks, looking back at them. ¡°I forgot about that.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes and beckons for them to come inside. Fresh helps Basil up and they walk back in, closing the door behind themselves. ¡°So?¡± asks Basil, limping next to Fresh as they wobble to a chair by the inside-table. ¡°So,¡± starts Jubilee. ¡°Wind monsters are either high up as fuck on the western mountain. Or¡­¡± they say, closing the curtain. ¡°Or?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Or they¡¯re coming from the top of the central-tree,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°They fucking like it up there. Or¡­¡± ¡°Or?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee sits down at the table, moving to a different chair as Basil is sitting on their usual one, closest to the balcony. ¡°Or, from the other side,¡± they say, nodding their head back to the balcony. Basil stares for a second. ¡°You mean¡­?¡± ¡°I do.¡± Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°Can you guys not speak in secrets?¡± she asks. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± she pouts, puffing out her cheek. Basil lifts a finger, poking it and deflating her face. ¡°It¡¯s not a secret that you¡¯re dumb as fuck -¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°- Hey!¡± Jubilee lifts a finger. ¡°Which is why we¡¯re in this mess to begin with.¡± Fresh frowns. She can¡¯t argue against that, she supposes. The door opens, Shamrock comes inside, looking at them, carrying a bag of loot over his shoulder. ¡°Windy,¡± is all that he says, as he closes the door behind himself and heads to the table. ¡°Oh boy, do I have news for you,¡± says Jubilee. Wanting to cut them off and spare herself the shame, Fresh lifts a hand. ¡°It was me. It¡¯s windy because of me. I messed up,¡± she admits. Basil rubs her back consolingly. Shamrock stares at her and then shrugs and nods at the same time as he comes to the table, setting his haul down on the floor. ¡°Acceptable.¡± ¡°No it fucking isn¡¯t!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°Do you have any idea what a storm would do to us? We live right on the ocean!¡± they argue, tapping against the table. ¡°If a big one comes from out over the water, it¡¯s going to take the fucking ocean here with it!¡± they explain. ¡°Do you think that could happen, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. They sigh, crossing their arms and leaning back on their chair. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± they say, their shoulders dropping. ¡°I¡¯m worried.¡± Fresh blinks, staring at Jubilee for a second, not sure if she heard right. She turns her gaze down to Basil and then to Shamrock, seeing if they feel the same, but they seem to be thinking too. ¡°Wind monsters are one thing,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Fucking wyverns and some odd dragons and shit like that is fine and dandy, but wind-elementals could be a big fucking problem.¡± ¡°How come?¡± asks Fresh, finally sitting down on her chair. ¡°Because, they only live in one place in the world and guess where that is?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Across the ocean?¡± guesses Fresh. ¡°Across the ocean,¡± nods Jubilee, raising an eyebrow, perhaps feeling surprised that she got the question right for a change. ¡°And guess where they¡¯re going?¡± ¡°¡­across the ocean?¡± guesses Fresh again. ¡°To us?¡± Jubilee nods, lowering their head and thinking. She looks around the room. She feels like this is bad in and of itself, but she also feels like it is bad in a way that she doesn¡¯t really understand yet too. Deciding to let her friends think for a while, she gets up and steps over to the kitchen, making them a pot of tea and four cups ready. ¡°Yellow or red?¡± she asks, looking over her shoulder. But nobody responds. She stares at them for an awkward moment, before turning her gaze back to the tea-kettle. Maybe she should learn to read the room better. Blue it is. Boiling some water, she gets it ready and sets everyone a cup down a few minutes later. By the time it¡¯s done seeping and everyone has their cup poured and she sits back down in her spot, it¡¯s still as quiet as before. Nobody has yet to say a word, as they are pondering some deeper implication. Or maybe they¡¯re just ignoring her? Fresh sits upright. Are they ignoring her? Are her friends pretending she doesn¡¯t exist now? She looks around the table. Are they that mad at her? There is a clinking of glassware, as Basil lifts her tea-cup and takes a tender sip. Somehow, this seems to break the spell and the others, having come to their own conclusions, look up again. ¡°Pretend we don¡¯t know anything about it?¡± asks Basil. ¡°That¡¯s the tradition,¡± replies Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to keep that tradition alive when we start walking past the graves.¡± Shamrock shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± is all that he says and the other two look at him, nodding. ¡°Yes,¡± says Basil, rather glum. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do now. Here we are.¡± ¡°Here we are,¡± says Jubilee, taking a sip of their tea. ¡°Here we are,¡± nods Shamrock, affirmingly. Fresh blinks, wanting to say the line too, but she still has no clue about the situation. ¡°Here we are,¡± she says, sounding unsure. ¡°But, uh¡­ I don¡¯t get it. What¡¯s the problem, guys?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± starts Basil. ¡°- The problem is, that you might have just started an international incident,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°A war.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, her posture tightening very quickly. ¡°Aren¡¯t we already at war?¡± she asks. ¡°The crusaders?¡± ¡°The crusaders still haven¡¯t left the fucking harbor, in case you haven¡¯t noticed,¡± says Jubilee, glaring at her. Basil nods. ¡°They¡¯ve been here too long. Something happened. Maybe their orders to embark were canceled?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Do you think that¡­¡± She shakes her head, stopping herself. ¡°No, never mind. It¡¯s dumb.¡± ¡°Actually,¡± says Jubilee, seeing where her thought was going. ¡°I do think that.¡± She lifts her head. ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee points at her. ¡°Remember when you cursed the hero?¡± they ask. ¡°That priestess you talked to?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°From his party?¡± They nod. ¡°She was the big-boss,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The mother-hen herself.¡± Basil fidgets, clearly being uncomfortable. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you why. But I think she listened to your ¡®suggestion¡¯.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°Wait! Jubilee!¡± she leans in, clearly excited. ¡°Did I stop the crusade?!¡± ¡°You sure fucking did. Well, at least until now,¡± they say. ¡°Though, a ¡®crusade¡¯ doesn¡¯t really capture the scope of it anymore.¡± ¡°When the wind-elementals cross the ocean,¡± says Basil, seeing that Jubilee¡¯s explanation isn¡¯t helping. ¡°They¡¯re going to land right on the shoreline. On the harbor.¡± Jubilee takes a sip of their tea, then going on. ¡°Right in the middle of an idle army in waiting, full of unsuspecting young men and women, bright eyed and ready to pack their bags and go back home so that they can worship their cult-gods in peace.¡± ¡°A pre-emptive strike,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°That¡¯s what they¡¯ll assume,¡± says Basil, agreeing. ¡°With the crusade canceled, there were likely peace talks that have already happened. Treaties have already been signed. Those are of course going to be invalidated and the church, as well as the central-authority will feel like it has been betrayed.¡± ¡°Welp,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we started making weapons again,¡± they state. ¡°Come a month from now. There¡¯s going to be a war. A real one. On both sides of the ocean.¡± Basil gets up, grabbing a hold of the flying-broom to get to the workshop. ¡°I¡¯ll start making medicine.¡± ¡°I guess I¡¯m fucking learning to make robes for battle,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I really liked the whole swim-suit and dresses thing too,¡± they say, sounding almost disappointed. Fresh turns her head, looking at Shamrock who is getting back up again, heading to the door. ¡°Dungeon.¡± She sits there, looking as they disperse. To say that she feels unsure about herself in this instant is the minimum. ¡°Hey,¡± says Jubilee. She turns her head, looking at them with worried eyes. ¡°We don¡¯t blame you,¡± they say, surprisingly consolingly. ¡°But you need to get ready. Because this is going to get ugly. People are going to die.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°A lot of them.¡± Jubilee puts on their mask and lifts their hood. ¡°I know you don¡¯t like it. But I¡¯m going to the thieves¡¯ guild. We need them.¡± Fresh scoots her chair back, slowly getting up. ¡°I¡¯m going with you this time, Jubilee.¡± Razmatazz We did an oopsie =( And by ''we'' I mean ''you'' This is your fault, reader. YOURS! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 289: Nebulous She doesn¡¯t like it. Despite their best protests, Fresh still holds Jubilee¡¯s hand, clambering onto it with both of hers as they walk through the city in this dark hour. She had, of course, insisted on going with them this time, determined to be as useful as she can be, considering that once again, a giant mess has been created by no-one other than herself. ¡°You stay next to me the entire time, got it?¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Got it,¡± says Fresh, looking around at the street they find themselves in. She¡¯s never really wandered around the city at night, but despite it being the case, the air is aglow here with vivid lights and auras. Most of them are red. ¡°Why are we going to them anyways, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, constantly looking over their shoulders as if there might be someone pursuing them. But all of the people here are clearly too busy with themselves and each other to bother them. Oddly enough, she notices that this is the first time in any city that she sees guards standing around the area, keeping everything in check. But if she had to say, judging by their more subdued outfits and mismatched pieces of armor, they weren¡¯t city-guards, rather, a troop of private mercenaries hired as peacekeepers for the entire quarter. She assumes this was paid for by the businesses here themselves, rather than by the city. Times of violence are a great time to sell your wares, but being inside of a violent area is bad for business. Shady alleys covered in fabric overhangs branch off in all directions, her view of their end points obscured by the many open doors and full tables that line the streets. Turning her head, she looks at a large window, full of people bathed in a red light, wearing what she can¡¯t help but realize are Jubilee¡¯s own bathing suits. A dark-elf in the window, who she is pretty sure she recognizes as one of their customers, waves to her with a playful rolling of her fingers. Fresh waves back, not wanting to be rude. Jubilee pulls her along. This entire area is like this. Seedy, shady and just a little bit, oddly and uncomfortably damp. Eventually, coming down the street, they reach what Fresh can¡¯t help but notice is an optically stunning building, in all honesty. It looks a lot like a church, or a cathedral, actually. A priestess, garbed like one from the north, stands outside the door, her hands held together in her sleeves. Fresh blinks. ¡°Jubilee, is this a real church?¡± she asks. ¡°Or is it a¡­ uh¡­ you know?¡± ¡°A fetish thing?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Degenerate,¡± they quip. ¡°Of course it¡¯s a real church.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I bet,¡± they reply, walking up the small staircase. ¡°Hey, we¡¯re here to pray to the fish god or whatever the fuck,¡± says Jubilee, waving the priestess away. The woman lifts her eyes, staring at them. ¡°Actually, this temple is dedicated to the worship of -¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± replies Jubilee, walking past them. ¡°Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Sorry!¡± she calls back to the priestess. ¡°Jubilee, I think it would be interesting to learn more about the church!¡± she says. ¡°Nah.¡± ¡°¡¯Nah¡¯?¡± she asks, tilting her head. ¡°Nah,¡± repeats Jubilee, as the two of them step into the church and look around. ¡°Hey!¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers towards a priest. ¡°Where¡¯s the spooky fucking murder-basement?¡± The priest stares at them. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± they sigh, shaking their head. ¡°As if you don¡¯t fucking know about it.¡± Jubilee waves them off and walks towards the left, dragging Fresh behind them. ¡°I¡¯m taking this!¡± they bark, picking up a glass-bottle from the ground. ¡°Sorry!¡± she calls to the confused priest. ¡°Jubilee! You¡¯re being rude to them. They seem nice.¡± ¡°Fuck them and fuck this place,¡± says Jubilee, clearly on edge. Fresh frowns, but squeezes their hand. She supposes she understands that Jubilee doesn¡¯t want to be here either. Heading to the side, they reach what looks like a washroom and step inside. ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh, surprised as she looks at the ornate washroom. It reminds her a little of the one in the western adventurer¡¯s guild, actually. And right in front of them is an ornate fountain, in the middle of it is a large statue of a fish, staring their way with curious eyes and an open mouth. ¡°It¡¯s just like in the west.¡± A very tired looking woman is mopping the floor. Jubilee arcs their arm back and then ungraciously hurls the glass bottle straight at the fish statue, into its mouth. The glass shatters, droplets of what was presumably once red-wine drip everywhere, together with the fragments of glass that fall into and around the fountain. ¡°JUBILEE!¡± shouts Fresh, horrified. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± she consoles the woman who is looking around at the new mess, too tired and beaten down by life to say anything about it. ¡°Wait. I¡¯ll help you,¡± she says, stepping forward. Jubilee drags her back. The statue rumbles, the fish lowers itself down into the podium, the waters of the fountain surge into the base, running down the staircase that reveals itself. Jubilee drags her after them. ¡°Sorry!¡± she calls back up to the woman who she hears sighing, before a wet mop slaps loudly against the stones of the washroom. The two of them head down the staircase. ¡°Jubilee!¡± hisses Fresh. ¡°I know you don¡¯t want to be here either. But please don¡¯t be mean to normal people,¡± she requests. ¡°It would really mean a lot to me,¡± she says, looking around as they head down the tight, spiral staircase. ¡°They¡¯re not,¡± says Jubilee, dragging her behind themselves with a stiff hand. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°They¡¯re not,¡± repeats Jubilee, stopping as they reach the bottom of the staircase, standing before a door. ¡°- ¡®normal people¡¯.¡± They say. ¡°We need to be clear on this,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Us and them, we¡¯re not friends, do you hear me?¡± Fresh tilts her head. Jubilee seems really intense. ¡°We need them and they need us,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But the second there¡¯s an upper-hand to be had here on either side,¡± states Jubilee, jabbing her with a finger with each word to come. ¡°Throats. Are. Going. To. Be. Cut.¡± ¡°What do they want with me, Jubilee?¡± ¡°Uh? Duh? The fuck do you think?¡± asks her friend. ¡°It isn¡¯t your shining personality, I¡¯ll tell you that much.¡± Fresh frowns. But then nods and forces herself to smile. ¡°Everything is going to be alright, Jubilee.¡± They roll their eyes and turn to the door, exhaling for a second and then pushing it open with both hands. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± hisses a whispering voice on the other side of it immediately, before the door has even finished swinging open. ¡°Go fuck yourself,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re being rude again to the¡­¡± She turns her head. ¡°Jubileeeeee~¡± hisses the voice again and a vague fog leaks out through the door. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to the fog-monster. Don¡¯t let go of my hand.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, as Jubilee pulls her in after them, gripping her tightly. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to the fog-monster. Don¡¯t let go of my hand,¡± they repeat, sternly. ¡°Stupid fucking, cryptic, thieves¡¯ guild bullshit¡­¡± mutters Jubilee. Fresh nods, understanding and holds on to Jubilee. The two of them walk into a large room, but she can¡¯t see any of it. She can only tell that it¡¯s big because of the way their steps echo around it. The entire place is filled with fog, filled with whispers. And the whispers always seem to be focused on one thing, on one person. ¡°Jubileeeee~¡± But Jubilee just walks on straight ahead, ignoring the whispers coming from a source in the fog that she can¡¯t identify. Sometimes, she¡¯ll feel like she sees a silhouette standing on the edge of the fog. But as her eyes turn that way to check, the cloudy vapors always dissipate just as her eyes land there, leaving nothing to see at all. A minute later, they reach a door. Jubilee pulls it open and drags her inside, pulling her after them. ¡°Go fuck yourself!¡± they bark back at the fog. The voice from the fog whispers. ¡°Jubi -¡± The door slams shut, the metal fastenings rattling from the violent shove. Jubilee sighs and shakes their head. ¡°What was that?¡± asks Fresh, feeling a little unnerved, but mostly confused. ¡°Fog monster,¡± is all that Jubilee says, dragging her after them. ¡°Fog monster?¡± asks Fresh. What an odd thing. ¡°It sure did like you, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°We have a history,¡± they reply, opening the next door. They look inside at a lavish, underground room. Stacks of gold coins and jewels line the walls, adorned with snake statues and in the center of it all, lies a man, his feet kicked up on a pile of coins, his arms back behind his head. The man turns his shadowy gaze towards them. Patala. The man who had approached her in the west, at the fair. The jewel in his hood glimmers as it catches the torchlight of the room. ¡°Jubilee. Fresh,¡± says the man. ¡°Go fuck yourself you warped, snaky fuck!¡± says Jubilee, pointing at him. ¡°There¡¯s a problem.¡± ¡°I know,¡± says the man, his voice hissing as he rises to his feet in an oddly fluid, unnatural motion, maintaining his balance on the heap of coins. ¡°Isn¡¯t it wonderful?¡± Razmatazz Don''t talk to the fog-monster, reader. You might end up making them make a reboot of Lost. *Shudders* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 290: Acquisition Firelight shines around the room, reflecting off of the many lustrous surfaces scattered all around from wall to wall. Obols of all sizes, shapes and colors, gems and precious stones and odd metals that Fresh has never seen before, all of them capturing the radiant shine of the fire. Yet, through the cast reflections of the glow, the light does somehow seem to lose some of its warmth, as if the glow itself carried the tinge of the bad-thing that all of these precious things had been stained with during their acquisition. This is just a small room, a small, underground safe beneath one building, but Fresh is sure that there are many, many more just like this, scattered all over the place in every city. She is sure that there are larger ones, far grander ones in wherever the thieves¡¯ guild resides. But all of it, every coin, every bit of metal and every precious stone was likely paid for with dire prices that she doesn¡¯t want to know anything about. And all of that, for what? So that it could all sit and accumulate down underground? Never to be used to buy a single smile? It¡¯s a waste of money. A waste of life. ¡°We¡¯re living in interesting times, no?¡± asks the man, bending down and picking up an oddly pink tinged bar of silver metal. ¡°Orihalcum,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, I think,¡± says the man, holding the bar up into the air to watch the light reflect off of its smooth, highly reflective surface. ¡°It only grows near the roots of the great-tree,¡± explains Patala, his voice hissing. ¡°Very rare. Very expensive,¡± he says, his head tilting as he looks at the thing that he holds above his head. His body sways a little to the side as he holds some odd posture. But as before, there is something wrong with the way he moves. It doesn¡¯t matter if he¡¯s walking around the room, standing still, turning his head to look their way or whatever else, there¡¯s always something wrong with each and every pose and position he takes. A shoulder too low, an elbow bent outward, a foot twisted at a somewhat odd angle. It¡¯s like he hasn¡¯t quite learned how to ¡®be¡¯ yet, as a human. Though, Fresh still isn¡¯t sold on that either. She has never seen his face, as it is hidden beneath an obscuring hood that seems to work just like her own witch¡¯s hat. There is an impossibly veiling shadow there that never seems to leave, even under the direct glow of the reflective metal in his hands. He tilts his leaned back head, looking at her. With his body still bent somewhat backwards, he holds his arm out sideways and holds the bar out towards her. ¡°A welcoming gift, for this special occasion!¡± he says in delight, the jewel on his hood glimmering in the orange light. A snap fills the room, crystal light shines out all around them as a spire of glass shoots up from the floor, separating them as it rushes towards the ceiling, smashing the bar against it with violent force. Through the transparent glass, through the eyes of her own warped reflection in the surface of it, she sees a wide, toothy smile, distorted by the refractions of the surface. Her reflection shakes its head. The glass shatters, crumbling apart like a heap of ash and as it falls, like the dropping of a curtain, there is nothing left behind it except for mounds of gold and treasure. The bar of metal clanks down to the stones, together with a single glove that it lays on top of. ¡°We don¡¯t take hand-outs,¡± snaps Jubilee, looking around the room. ¡°And we¡¯re not here for your fucking games, Patala,¡± they say. ¡°This is serious.¡± Fresh looks around the room, trying to find the man. ¡°Is that so?¡± hisses a voice from behind them. Fresh turns her head, looking, but there is nobody there. By the time she turns her head back forward, the man is standing there, adjusting his glove back onto his hand. ¡°I recall that you¡¯ve taken them before.¡± Jubilee points at him. ¡°Those weren¡¯t handouts, those were you people being manipulative, shady fucks!¡± Patala bends down straight forward and leans in with his head towards Jubilee¡¯s hand. ¡°Funny of you to say that,¡± hisses the man, tilting his head as Jubilee¡¯s glove vanishes into the shadow where his forehead should be. ¡°What an odd creature you are.¡± ¡°Are we going to talk, or are you just going to be theatrical all fucking night?¡± asks Jubilee, leaning in closer towards him and then pushing his head away. As the man rises back up, Jubilee shakes off their glove a second later, as if it were dirty. ¡°What is there to talk about?¡± he asks coyly. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t fucking know,¡± replies Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°How about the fucking war on our doorstep?¡± ¡°I suggest buying a lock,¡± replies Patala. ¡°Oh, haha, very funny.¡± Jubilee bends down and picks up some dirt, getting ready to snap their fingers again. ¡°Now, now, don¡¯t be a rude guest,¡± says Patala, sitting atop a pile of coins. Jubilee snaps their fingers. A spire of glass shoots out of the ground towards him, but by the time it gets to where he was sitting, the man is simply gone. As if he had vanished in the instant that the pillar had obscured her vision. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with a little war?¡± asks the man, his voice coming from next to them. Fresh turns her head, looking at the figure who is now laying, stretched out over a stack of various metal bars. ¡°That¡¯s when business is best. You¡¯re merchants, aren¡¯t you?¡± he asks, digging through a pile of coins. Picking one, he flicks it over with his thumb. It lands down on the ground at their feet, rattling loudly. ¡°Make a little money.¡± ¡°Oh, I bet you fucking love this,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I love every season there is,¡± replies Patala. ¡°Spring, summer, autumn, war. They¡¯re all enjoyable in their own way, no?¡± he hisses. ¡°When the virgin snow starts to fall and the first ships start to land, think of all the happy faces!¡± he exclaims, rolling his head sideways to face them, a tiny trinket of some kind held in his hand, aloft in the air. Fresh narrows her eyes, staring at the thing as she realizes what it is. A heartstone-necklace, one of the ones she had made to let the fairies leave the mountain. Something shifts in his expression. ¡°- and how they¡¯ll be smashed down onto the rocks.¡± He squeezes his fist. ¡°HEY!¡± yells Fresh, wanting to make a rush at him herself now. Jubilee¡¯s hand stops her, holding her back. In that instant, the fire dies out all around the room. Every torch extinguishes, every glimmer and glow and shine that had filled the space turns to void. In a single moment, it becomes dark and before the last shadow falls, Fresh grabs Jubilee¡¯s hand. ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s great?¡± asks the hissing voice in her ear. Something blood-red glimmers across the room. Some single crimson jewel that has been chosen to be illuminated. ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s great too?¡± asks Patala. Glass shatters as Jubilee tries to keep the odd man away. ¡°Patala, I swear to fuck if you don¡¯t cut the shit -¡± The man laughs, his voice echoing around the darkness. ¡°You can¡¯t hit what you can¡¯t see, Ju~ bi~¡± She feels his breath next to her ear. ¡°- lee~¡± Fresh swings out with her free-arm, this time hitting nothing but air herself. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s great?¡± he asks. ¡°That they will all finally reap what they¡¯ve sown?¡± His voice travels around the room, together with the shattering of fresh glass that trails after him. ¡°If the world wasn¡¯t a bad place, this wouldn¡¯t be happening, right?¡± he asks. ¡°Don¡¯t you want it to just be¡­¡± he takes in a sharp breath and there is the strained sound that she recognizes as the creaking of leather gloves being squeezed beneath tight fists. ¡°- squeezed clean?¡± he asks. ¡°Just to get rid of all the gunk and the muck?¡± Fresh can¡¯t see him, but she also knows better than to talk to him and so, instead, she just continues to squeeze Jubilee¡¯s hand and they squeeze hers. ¡°You¡¯ve seen it, the center,¡± he whispers. ¡°You know what it is. It¡¯s nice, right?¡± says the man who she can¡¯t see. ¡°It was all like that once and it could all be like that again,¡± he promises. ¡°Sooner than you think. With just a little elbow-grease,¡± says Patala. The red light of the glowing gem across the room begins to die down as the silhouettes of several fingers begin to wrap themselves around it, like hands ringing a throat, gasping for air. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like that?¡± he asks. ¡°To share that better, clean world, with your friends?¡± The red light dies out, as it is suffocated. ¡°That light world? Don¡¯t you hunger for it too?¡± Fresh stares out at the darkness, as the man finishes his monologue. ¡°Of course I want that,¡± she says. ¡°But if you do it like that, you won¡¯t be able to be a part of it, because you¡¯ll be too weighed down by all the bad stuff you did.¡± ¡°And that -¡± hisses the man¡¯s voice as the torches begin to relight. ¡°Is why you are a selfish, horrible creature, Perchta,¡± says Patala. ¡°Because you want to be a part of it. Even if you don¡¯t belong.¡± Fresh opens her eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t belong. Not here. Not to this world. Not to these people. You¡¯re a drop of oil in a glass of water.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter!¡± argues Fresh, looking around the room for the man. But this time, he¡¯s nowhere to be seen. ¡°And if that¡¯s true, then why have you been helping us?!¡± ¡°Because,¡± says the man as the last shadow vanishes in the room, leaving nothing but glimmering gold and treasure. ¡°Oil is flammable.¡± And with that, his presence vanishes, leaving only Fresh and Jubilee standing there. ¡°Well this was a fucking waste of time,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head. They look around the room, letting go of her hand. They climb up the pile of coins and pick up the pieces of the broken necklace, bringing them back to her. ¡°Here. Sorry,¡± they say. Fresh smiles, taking it and tucking it into her pocket. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have done this. This was a bad idea.¡± Fresh shakes her head, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s hand so they can leave. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think it was,¡± she says, happy to finally have some context on the thieves¡¯ guilds¡¯ relationship with herself. ¡°Let¡¯s go home, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Yeah. Fuck this,¡± sighs her best friend. ¡°Fucking creepy, cryptic fucking bullshit.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± nods Fresh in agreement. Just like that, the two of them go home. Razmatazz sus Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 291: Troubled sleep ¡°Why is it raining again?!¡± protests Fresh, pressing her face against the window. ¡°I thought deserts are supposed to be dry?¡± she asks, turning her head around to look at the others who are walking around, getting ready to call it a night. It¡¯s shortly after Jubilee and herself had gotten back from their excursion. They had told the others about it, just to keep them on their toes. But there really wasn¡¯t a large surprise here, today. Sure, the thieves¡¯ guild is suspicious and obviously untrustworthy. But that¡¯s not exactly a secret and it never has been. The same goes for the shadowy entity known as Patala, who, as Fresh has come to understand from Jubilee¡¯s explanation, isn¡¯t even the leader of the thieves¡¯ guild, or even a higher up. He¡¯s just an entity that exists within its ranks and nobody has quite ever really known why, who he is or how he got there and so, over the years, his presence has simply become a fact of life. In meetings of the powerful, he simply makes his way inside and takes a seat. In the gatherings of the lowest ranked newcomers, he slides through the shadows, picking and choosing those he finds particularly promising for whatever prospects he might have in mind. Any attempts to kill or subdue him have been met with failure, given his quite literally shadowy nature. But at the same time, he¡¯s never caused any real harm to the guild and has even brought in considerable profits with his schemes, so he has simply been given free-rein to do what he does. Though, more aptly said, the guild just kind of ignores him and he does his own thing. Well. That¡¯s how it used to be, anyways. But now, times have been changing. Patala has taken a more prominent role in the guild as the other, more senior members seem to have simply vanished. Of course, being the thieves¡¯ guild, ¡®fuckery¡¯ is at play. But nobody could ever prove it and nobody can kill Patala, so it just goes on like this. ¡°It¡¯s all fucked,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Used to be a lot of fun, actually,¡± they say. ¡°Back in the day. Honor among thieves, you know? But now? Now it¡¯s all fucked,¡± they repeat, shaking their head. ¡°Just like everywhere else.¡± ¡°They do say that nothing is sacred anymore,¡± sighs Basil. She wasn¡¯t thrilled about the church in the red-light district, but she said it made sense for the church to go where the people needed the most spiritual help. This seemed to ease her mind a bit, at least until Jubilee told her about the literal den of evil beneath it. After that, she just kind of frowned and has been doing so the entire time. ¡°Everything is going to be alright, Basil,¡± consoles Fresh, hugging her from behind. ¡°Sometimes, I wonder about that,¡± says Basil, looking out at the rain. Fresh gasps. ¡°You sound like Jubilee!¡± she exclaims, pointing at Jubilee who stands there, raising an eyebrow at the statement. ¡°Have I really fallen this low?¡± asks Basil, lowering her gaze. ¡°Now you really sound like Jubilee, Basil,¡± says Fresh, worried. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go to bed. You¡¯ll feel better tomorrow.¡± ¡°No, no,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I think this is the end for old creaky-bones,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Let¡¯s let her sleep her final sleep.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. Basil just sighs and walks away to her bed, not saying anything. The two of them watch her leave. Fresh tilts her head, scratching her cheek. Basil really wasn¡¯t happy about today¡¯s news. She looks back at Jubilee, who was always watching Basil go, perhaps having expected her to partake in their usual banter. ¡°Basil?¡± calls Fresh around the corner of Jubilee¡¯s room. ¡°Do you wanna do a sleepover tonight?¡± ¡°Not tonight, thank you,¡± replies the priestess, setting off her glasses as she then vanishes down into her blankets, burying herself beneath the heavy fabric, turning sideways away from them. ¡°Okay,¡± says Fresh, a bit let down as she and Jubilee exchange another look and shrug. Heading to bed, she lies down, covering herself with her big, fluffy, blue blanket, holding it to her face as she breathes in the smell of it. It still smells like it did the day Jubilee made it. That being said, it also smells like adventure, to say it kindly. The blanket has a few leagues behind it as well, just like the rest of them and honestly, she hasn¡¯t exactly washed it yet either. But then again, if she did, that would get rid of the smell of her friends from the fabric. Fresh opens her eyes, sitting upright in her bed just as the light goes out. ¡°I am a creep¡­¡± she mutters to herself, looking around the dark room. Her eyes land on the wooden chicken and she quietly yelps to herself, ducking back down into her bed. Most of the night is rather peaceful, apart from Basil¡¯s tossing and turning which seems to have taken a more severe turn. The priestess is practically spinning around in her bed half of the night and the one time Fresh wakes up to go to the washroom, she sees that Basil is laying upside down. With her feet uncovered, of course. Frowning, she covers her back up, knowing that it won¡¯t last and goes downstairs. By the time she comes back up a minute later, Basil is already rolled around sideways, the blanket thrown off of the bed entirely now. She scratches her cheek, before covering her back up. Grabbing the lantern from Basil¡¯s nightstand, she bends down and looks beneath her bed, fumbling around to make sure that the foot-demon warding hamsa is still in place where she had hidden it. Sure, her friends had been messing with her, when they said that they were real things. But the system clearly allowed her to make an item that repelled such creatures, so surely they exist, right? And if they do, they surely have a right to exist like any other living being. But they don¡¯t have a right to exist in her family¡¯s house. Touching the hamsa, she feels that it is still there and then sets the lantern back onto Basil¡¯s bed, patting it once before dropping back into her own. The next time she wakes, the morning has come. Fresh lays there, opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling as she hears a quiet mumbling coming from next to her bed. Basil is awake and praying. She does this regularly, but Fresh finds that she is often still asleep while the priestess does so and on the rare occasions that she wakes up before Basil, or at the same time, she just kind of lays here quietly and pretends to be asleep, to give the troubled priestess some quiet time to find her peace. She supposes that all of this must always be particularly hard for Basil, who has always been a deeply spiritual and a ¡®proper¡¯ person by society¡¯s standards. Their new life that she has chosen to spend together with them is literally the antithesis of everything she has believed for her entire existence and now, she has been trying to allow both of those stages of her life coincide with another, but there is clearly a schism here that needs to be mended. But this seems to be becoming harder and harder every day to reconcile. A quiet sigh comes from the other side of the stone wall, the beads rattling as Basil sets them back down and gets up, making her bed. Fresh closes her eyes, pretending to be asleep again. A minute later, the priestess seems to be making her way to the kitchen, but then stops. Her feet walk her way and Fresh feels her blanket being tugged on, before being tucked properly back into place. And then, she turns to walk away and continue with her morning. Fresh frowns, obviously, now she was trapped here. Despite wanting to, she can¡¯t get up now without destroying the warm seal that Basil had made for her. So she does her best to lay perfectly still and pretend to sleep a while longer. It¡¯s very warm beneath the blanket, especially now that there are no open ends. It¡¯s like being trapped in a warm, tight hug. She can¡¯t move. It¡¯s like being stuck. Fresh opens her eyes, staring at the ceiling. It¡¯s like being stuck in a chimney. She sits upright, the blanket falling off of herself as she stares across the room with wide, deer-like eyes, as she realizes something. As she realizes, through some random insight given to her by the universe now in this early hour, after a night of sleep. Back in the west, on the mountain, when they had first inspected their new home from the inside, she and Jubilee had gone into the basement. Jubilee had looked up the chimney. She blinks, staring around at the room. There was no way that Jubilee couldn¡¯t have seen the body of the man stuffed in there. There was no way. That means Jubilee saw the body and didn¡¯t say anything. That means they had known that something would happen. Did they know about the ghost? Did they set it up? Fresh would trust Jubilee with her life and then some. If this was true, then surely there¡¯s a good reason for it? Basil walks back in from downstairs, fumbling with her necklace. The piece of scrap-metal, from her old companion¡¯s armor, that she had tied to a simple string. Seeing her awake, Basil smiles. ¡°Good morning, sleepyhead,¡± says the priestess, tucking the piece of metal tenderly back beneath her robe. The only reason that Basil is with them is because she was brought to a low-point in life by a very unfortunate circumstance and had needed a new source of income. One that they so very conveniently had just for her¡­ Did Jubilee¡­ No¡­ Fresh blinks, looking up back at Basil. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°You look a bit pale,¡± she asks, walking over and checking her temperature with her wrist. ¡°Hmm¡­ you feel fine. Maybe you just need a few more minutes?¡± She tilts her head and then nods upwards once. ¡°Scoot.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Scoot,¡± repeats Basil sternly and Fresh obliges, not wanting to be yelled at. She lays back down and Basil sits down next to her, pulling the blanket back up over her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lays her head down on top of her chest, closing her eyes as she lets out a long yawn. ¡°You really should wash this thing. It kind of smells,¡± says the tired priestess. Fresh lets out a nervous laugh. She doesn¡¯t know what to do. She supposes that she should confront Jubilee, but¡­ Her fingers grip the blanket. Things have been going so well. They¡¯ve all become so happy. As she lays there, thinking about her life, she realizes something else. Thinking back to before her arrival in this world, she had bargained with the fountain for happiness. She hadn¡¯t bargained for ever-lasting happiness. There¡¯s a big difference there. She was happy for a long time now and maybe¡­ maybe her quota has just about been met? Razmatazz -) Or maybe Fresh is just becoming paranoid. Who knows, who knows =) -) The blanket really does smell like adventure though =( Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 292: Squeaky Given the stressfulness of the entire situation, Fresh finds her mind distracted most of the day. Should she pull Jubilee to the side and ask them about it? What if she¡¯s misreading the situation entirely? Maybe the body was just higher up in the chimney, where it was dark? Maybe Jubilee just saw blackness and assumed that it was just what it was supposed to look like? Fresh blinks, staring at the thing that she¡¯s working on downstairs in the shower, in order to keep her mind and hands busy. It¡¯s a water-filter, meant to pump out the salt from the ocean water. She sighs. And what if her asking them about it, expressing her concerns and thoughts offends them because of what she might be implying? It¡¯s certainly a very serious matter. And even if the worst is true, which she still isn¡¯t certain of, even if Jubilee had a hand in the death of Basil¡¯s companion, if they had a hand in the body stuffed in the chimney of their home in the west, what would that mean? Would she stop being their friend? Could she, even if she wanted to? She¡¯d die for Jubilee, even if it was true. She¡¯s sure. She¡¯d do the same for Basil, for Shamrock. But how can she allow these feelings to coincide with what might have happened? Fresh finds her fingers tinkering with the metal box before herself, lined with crystal-drakonium. The inside is a complicated mess, filled with several filters, like for her coughee production, as well some extremely hot heating beads to evaporate the water and to let it rise without the salt, which then sickers down a sideways slant into an opening, that she is going to attach a pipe to, to let it flow back down into the ocean. It¡¯s possible that Basil would hate Jubilee more than anything else in the world if it¡¯s true. But even if that ends up happening, what is she, herself going to do? Honestly, as horrible as it sounds, she doesn¡¯t think she has it in her to be able to hate Jubilee, or to stop being their friend, even if they did something so horrible, so heavy. Even if it hurts Basil in an incomprehensible way. Or maybe she¡¯s just afraid to confront them and just wants to pretend that nothing happened, that everything is fine. And isn¡¯t it all still fine? This is all just ¡®what ifs¡¯ and ¡®maybes¡¯. There¡¯s no proof either way for anything. What if she¡¯s just being overly imaginative and letting her wild thoughts allow her to be a bad friend again? Fresh slaps the lid closed on the metal box, connecting it to the pipes and seals it tightly shut with some liquefied crystal-drakonium. Giving the shower nozzle a turn, she steps to the side and waits a moment for the water to run through. Letting some fall onto her hand, she sticks out the tip of her tongue to test it. It mostly works. The water is definitely a lot less salty than before. There¡¯s still a hint of ¡®ocean¡¯ to it. But it¡¯s not salty. That¡¯s a big improvement. Turning it off again, she sets her hands on her hips and nods proudly at the construction. Despite having completed the first task on her to-do list without so much as a single setback, she still feels unfulfilled, however. Fresh sighs again and heads upstairs. The others are running the store, so she is running around in the meanwhile, crafting and getting their home into shape. Maybe it¡¯s just a coping mechanism of some kind, but¡­ She stands upstairs, looking around their room. The next thing on the list is a light for the fridge, er, the ¡®cooling cabinet¡¯. It¡¯s honestly a bit of a clunky phrase, but the others seem to have adopted it as well now and it doesn¡¯t seem like something that she¡¯s going to be able to change soon. So it¡¯s best to just stick with it. The idea is already present in her mind¡¯s eye though. Just a simple enchanted-lantern, affixed to the inside of the thing. She could attach a little string to its shutter and then tie the other end to the door, so that when the door opens, the shutter is pulled open with it and when the door closes, the light does too. Though¡­ Why? Why not just leave the light on, when the door is closed? Does it make a difference? Fresh stands there, scratching her cheek as she thinks about it. Practically, no. No it doesn¡¯t. Pragmatically however, she feels like she has to. That¡¯s just what it is. That¡¯s how it has to work. The door opens, the light goes on. The door closes, the light goes off. It¡¯s the law of the universe. It is what it is. So, with it being what it is, she heads into the workshop and gets all of the materials that she needs, before setting to work with the mundane, but for herself, in this instant, important, task. About an hour later she¡¯s finished and steps back, staring at the open door of the cooling cabinet, dusting her hands. Grabbing it, she slowly closes the door, watching as the shutter lowers on the little lantern mounted inside of the cabinet. ¡°Perfect,¡± she mutters to herself, closing it entirely now. Fresh stands there, upstairs in the kitchen, listening to the crash of the ocean waves and the many happy voices coming from outside, from down below the balcony. People are having a happy time, people are laughing and playing and shouting, talking noisily about their days and their snacks, enjoying the sunshine present on the beach and in the worlds that they each inhabit as individuals. From the sounds of their joy, Fresh can only interpret that their worlds are colorful, lively, happy. ¡°Perfect¡­¡± she mutters to herself again, staring sadly over her shoulder, towards the empty upstairs area. Everything was perfect, even if it was only for a little while, for that little while, everything was perfect. She takes in a deep breath, her chest heaving as she inhales, feeling the emptiness in her hands and the reflection of this lack of doing present in her mind. She¡¯s just standing here, alone with her thoughts, alone with herself. Herself and that damn chicken. Fresh narrows her eyes, staring at the wooden chicken by Shamrock¡¯s bed. She doesn¡¯t know what it is exactly about it, but she doesn¡¯t like it. She doesn¡¯t trust it. Is that a weird thing to be thinking? Yes. Does she realize that? Yes. Is that going to stop her from doing so? Yes, actually. Fresh shakes her head, rolling her shoulders as she gets back into a productive state of mind. There has to be something else that she can do to keep herself busy today. At least long enough until her thoughts can settle, together with her uneasy heart. It¡¯s all just a misunderstanding. Jubilee would never. Even ¡®old Jubilee¡¯, as far as she had gotten to know them. They were a grump and a jerk sometimes, but Jubilee would never go that far¡­ right? Then again, Basil was a real, credible threat to them back in the north. A threat that was ¡®taken care of¡¯ very effectively. Too effectively, perhaps. As Basil, in her desperation and solitude, was able to be recruited into their lives, giving them an inside person¡­ This sounds exactly like something the thieves¡¯ guild would do, right? They¡¯re trying to help her to achieve some nefarious goal, even though she¡¯s just trying to live a life of peaceful contentment. They would most certainly kill a simple low-ranking nobody, most likely without thinking twice about it, right? But then again, wasn¡¯t there a murderer in the north? Could it just be an unrelated, unfortunate coincidence? Like the drowned sheep in the west? Like the two corpses found here in the east? It¡¯s a violent world, after all. It could just be happenstance. Fresh feels her fingers running through her hair as she scratches herself in frustration. It¡¯s all too confusing. The girl claps her hands together. ¡°No time for silly thoughts,¡± she tells herself. ¡°Busy, busy, busy~¡± she hums, walking to the staircase and down into the store. There¡¯s always something to do down there. Sure enough, she finds the work that she¡¯s looking for to keep herself busy. ¡°You good?¡± asks Jubilee as she spins the wheels on an overturned cart. ¡°Just oiling the wheels, Jubilee!¡± she says, beaming as she smears a little more grease into the grooves of the wheel. Jubilee turns their head, looking at Basil and then back towards her. ¡°This one cart has been squeaky for a week now!¡± ¡°You seem a little¡­ frantic?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Did you drink too much coughee?¡± she asks, tilting her head. Fresh laughs, her body tensing up. ¡°You¡¯re acting sketchy as fuck, is what Basil is trying to say,¡± states Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips and leaning in towards her. Beneath their mask, she can clearly see an eyebrow being raised. ¡°Are you hiding something?¡± ¡°You know me, Jubilee!¡± she laughs, looking back at the cart. ¡°Just oiling the wheels! Just oiling¡­¡± She looks down at the rag in her hand, seeing the red smear on it. At first, she thinks that it¡¯s blood. But then she lowers her gaze, staring at it from close up as she sees the little crumbles. This is grimpowder. The highly explosive kind. How did this get in the wheels of the cart? ¡°¡­Just oiling the wheels¡­¡± she says, as it slowly all starts to come together. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 293: Fading autumn ¡°I really like the new shower,¡± says Basil first thing as she comes upstairs, still ringing out her long hair as she wraps it up in a cloth to dry. ¡°Fuck off, Basil!¡± yells Jubilee, pointing at her with the broom they have in their hands. ¡°You¡¯re making everything wet! Dry off downstairs!¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be such a grump,¡± replies Basil, turning her head the other way. ¡°Go take a shower too. Maybe washing all of that salt off of you will finally make you less crusty.¡± ¡°The only crusty thing here is your face,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°What are you even doing?¡± they ask, pointing at Basil¡¯s head with the broom. ¡°I¡¯m wrapping my hair up.¡± ¡°I see that. Why?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Dry off down in the washroom like a normal person.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°I was talking to Sauli this morning,¡± says Basil. ¡°Is he the one with the curly hair?¡± asks Jubilee. The priestess nods. ¡°I asked him what his trick is. I just figured all fairies have very bouncy hair naturally,¡± she says, walking past Jubilee and pulling on a strand of their straight, heavy hair. Jubilee swipes her hand away, shooing her off with the pointy end of the broom. ¡°But he said that he wraps his head in a cloth after he showers and lets it dry like that. So I figured I¡¯d try it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think making your hair bouncier is going to help you any, with that weird face of yours,¡± replies Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Anyways,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Why are you touching me?¡± they ask, trying and failing to get the still damp Basil off of themselves, the priestess having clamped them tightly in a moist hug. ¡°You¡¯re always meanest when something¡¯s bothering you,¡± says Basil. ¡°Want me to help you with your hair too?¡± she asks. ¡°We could get some oil and make a whole thing out of it,¡± she suggests. ¡°The only thing that¡¯s bothering me is the fact that nobody in this house respects my private space and the fact that she¡¯s been sitting there all day like a zombie,¡± complains Jubilee, pointing at Fresh, who is sitting at the table upstairs, having watched this latest scene unfold. The hair-cloth thing is a really good idea, actually, realizes Fresh. She was always jealous of the fairies¡¯ objectively great hair. It always seemed to be oddly naturally perfect. Maybe with some of Basil¡¯s oils, with unsalted water and with a hair-wrap like Basil has on, she could get close to something akin to it too? But is that really a priority right now? Nice hair? No. Not really. Fresh lifts her eyes to her friends, looking at their puzzled expressions as they stare her way. ¡°Will you let go of me? You¡¯re getting me all wet, you slime,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Just trying to scrub some of the grime off of that personality of yours,¡± replies Basil, rubbing her head sideways against the top of Jubilee¡¯s. They sigh. ¡°And what the hell is your problem?¡± they ask, looking at Fresh who has been sitting there ever since they got upstairs. She blinks, continuing to stare at them. In truth, her problem is a complicated one. At least as far as she herself sees it. She feels like she has unraveled the mystery of the murderer, of the trail of bodies that seems to follow them. But this might be one of those moments, one of those ¡®friends keep secrets¡¯ moments. Jubilee is a tough nut and Fresh is sure that they wouldn¡¯t blink twice if she told them what she now knows. But Basil isn¡¯t that hard-shelled yet and she doesn¡¯t want her to become so either. As for Shamrock¡­ Fresh turns her head, staring at the man who is sitting on the floor, cross legged, carving a statue that resembles some monster he had encountered down deep in the dungeon. He¡¯s gotten a lot better at it and they¡¯re really starting to become intricate little things. Anyways, back on topic. He can handle it too. But¡­ Fresh sighs. ¡°Hello?¡± barks Jubilee, snapping their fingers. ¡°Wake the fuck up.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Fresh realizes she was ignoring Jubilee and their question. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Jubilee,¡± she says, shaking her head. Turning her gaze, she looks down at the untouched cup of cold, red tea resting between her hands. ¡°I¡¯m just feeling a little, uh¡­ I dunno.¡± She looks up towards the ceiling. ¡°- distracted?¡± ¡°Yeah, we can see that,¡± they reply, waddling over with Basil in tow. ¡°You good?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Look, all of this war bullshit is going to kick off one way or another soon. It¡¯s going to get ugly,¡± they say, lowering the broom and poking her in the gut with it from afar. ¡°But we need you to be here, okay?¡± they ask. Fresh lowers her gaze, not having expected Jubilee to say something vaguely open and emotional. Especially in front of the others who are both staring her way too. She¡¯s so busy being lost in her thoughts about how to keep her friends safe from worrying, that she¡¯s actually, ironically, making them worry with her moping, she realizes. ¡°You¡¯re right, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, smiling as she gets up. ¡°I¡¯m just a bit gooey today in the head. I¡¯ll be better by tomorrow,¡± she reassures them, putting her tea-cup down on the kitchen-counter and grabbing a rag to help Jubilee clean the rest of the upstairs area. ¡°Let¡¯s have a big hair day together, okay?¡± she asks, looking over her shoulder at Basil. ¡°I wanna try too!¡± ¡°Sounds like fun,¡± nods Basil. ¡°Let¡¯s do it before we go to the theater!¡± she suggests. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°But I want to wash Jubilee¡¯s hair!¡± ¡°Uh, what did I just say about respecting my personal space?¡± asks Jubilee, still not having managed to get away from Basil. ¡°What about you, Shamrock?¡± asks Basil. The man lifts his head, looking at her for a moment. ¡°Oh. Right. Uh, sorry,¡± says Basil, staring at his metal helmet. ¡°But you¡¯re still invited.¡± ¡°Sounds fun,¡± is all that Shamrock says, before looking back down at his carving and continuing with it. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Let¡¯s not stress so much about it, okay?¡± they ask. ¡°What¡¯s going to happen is going to happen.¡± ¡°As long as we stick together, we¡¯ll be fine,¡± says Basil. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Ugh.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± reassures Basil. ¡°We¡¯re all that we need.¡± ¡°What I need is a noose,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Please,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Fresh, deciding that it¡¯s best to keep it to herself just this one time. The bad times are going to be coming now, one way or another. So she wants everyone to enjoy the happy days, while they¡¯re still plentiful and abundant. She opens the cooling cabinet. ¡°Look! I made a light for the inside of the cabinet!¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil. ¡°Neat,¡± nods Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Right?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I spent an hour working on it!¡± she exclaims proudly. ¡°Great. What a productive use of your time, while we were working our asses off downstairs,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that busy,¡± says Basil. ¡°Plus I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be useful for when you rummage through the cabinet in the middle of the night.¡± ¡°I get thirsty, okay?¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Can you please let go of me? You¡¯re soaking through my clothes.¡± ¡°Oh! Sorry,¡± says Basil, letting go of Jubilee finally. Seeing them raise an eyebrow at her sudden release, she explains. ¡°You said ¡®please¡¯.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°I wish the ocean would just rise up and wash me away.¡± ¡°Oooh!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Can we go with you too?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯d love to see more of the world!¡± ¡°Taking you all with me would defeat the point,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh frowns, deciding to get started with tonight¡¯s dinner, whatever that¡¯s going to be. She still isn¡¯t sure just yet. Basil sighs. ¡°You¡¯re such a snarky creature, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Shamrooock~?¡± calls Fresh. ¡°Wanna help me with dinner?¡± she asks, wagging with the knife in her hand. ¡°Please?¡± The man nods, setting down his work to help her. ¡°So you¡¯re just going to leave a bunch of wood-shavings and a knife right in front of my door, huh?¡± asks Jubilee. Shamrock stops looking down at them and then at the mess. ¡°Yes,¡± is all that he says, heading over to the kitchen. It¡¯s a bit unlike him. Fresh scratches her cheek, happy nonetheless that he¡¯s coming to help her. Feeling his questioning gaze on her, Fresh realizes that he doesn¡¯t know what to help with. There isn¡¯t exactly an identifiable dinner being prepared here yet. ¡°Uh¡­ hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°While it¡¯s still autumn, let¡¯s have some autumn food, guys!¡± she suggests. ¡°Like what?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Pies are nice?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°I know a good recipe that uses a lot of nuts. It¡¯s a little sweet, but I think it would be nice.¡± Fresh looks at the others. ¡°I dunno,¡± states Jubilee. ¡°Pie for dinner?¡± ¡°We can have it as desert,¡± suggests Basil. ¡°Why don¡¯t we make it together?¡± she asks Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll let the two of them handle the food-food then in the meantime.¡± Jubilee seems to be considering their options. ¡°Do we have to go into town to get anything?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Pass.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t pass!¡± argues Basil. ¡°Please?¡± Jubilee groans, rolling their eyes. ¡°Fine!¡± they relent, surprisingly easily. Fresh watches from the kitchen with the oddest sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, as the two of them get ready to go into town. ¡°But you have to take off that damn thing,¡± sighs Jubilee, pointing at the wet cloth around the priestess¡¯ hair. Basil lifts her nose. ¡°Well obviously, I¡¯m not going to go into town with this around my head. I¡¯d look like you.¡± ¡°This is the part where I¡¯m changing my mind about going with you,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh laughs, watching the two of them getting into their usual spat, before turning back to Shamrock who seems to have started chopping vegetables, apparently having come up with an idea for dinner without her help. ¡°What¡¯re we making, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh, grabbing his arm and holding her head against it as she watches him work. ¡°Vegetables.¡± She frowns. ¡°I guess it makes sense. If the others want to make something sweet. I don¡¯t know if it feels very autumny though.¡± ¡°Soup?¡± he asks, continuing to chop a bunch of tubers. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh considers her options, smearing her face against his armor to help herself think. ¡°Did you try out the new shower yet, Shamrock?¡± she asks, changing the topic. He shakes his head. ¡°You should!¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s mostly just normal water now, so it¡¯s probably better for you too.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± is all that he says, continuing his work. She frowns. ¡°Have you been feeling gooey too lately?¡± she asks. ¡°In the head?¡± The man continues his work, not answering her. ¡°Hmm¡­ wanna make a stew?¡± He turns his head to stare at her for a moment, before nodding. ¡°But without any flagons of milk,¡± reassures Fresh. He nods. This seems to be an acceptable compromise and the two of them set to work doing just that. The others come back after a while, having had to be outside longer since they couldn¡¯t find a merchant who had any nuts left on this side of the city and as for Basil¡¯s hair, it is indeed, exceptionally bouncy. Razmatazz All of our problems can be ignored now because Basil has bouncy hair. So stop worrying about it, okay? I don''t know what else you want from me. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 294: Guests ¡°So do you think the flowers are too much?¡± asks Fresh, looking down at the pot of flowers in her hand that she was allowed to take from Basil¡¯s garden, replanted in one of Shamrock¡¯s vases. It has the shape of a human skull, morbidly enough. She lifts them up, smelling them. They smell sweet and pleasant. ¡°I don¡¯t want to give the wrong impression.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± she reassures, pulling on the collar of Fresh¡¯s robe to straighten it out. ¡°If what you saw is what you saw, then I think this is the way to go,¡± she says. ¡°Maybe throw in a box of cookies. We¡¯ll just snatch them on our way down.¡± ¡°Are you sure you wanna go, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, tilting her head. ¡°I bet your leg still hurts a lot and we could just go to the theater instead?¡± ¡°It does,¡± says Basil, dusting her sleeves off. ¡°But I¡¯m fine on my own two feet now and I really don¡¯t want to miss this opportunity. We¡¯ll go to the theater next time, okay? Promise.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, getting some flower pollen on it. ¡°Is it really that big of a deal?¡± ¡°No,¡± says a bored Jubilee from the kitchen table, leaning back on their chair with their hands behind their head. ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± ¡°It is for me,¡± argues Basil, turning her head around to look at them. ¡°Please try to respect my beliefs.¡± ¡°I respect you less because of your beliefs,¡± replies Jubilee dryly. Basil sighs, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯re really exhausting sometimes, you know?¡± ¡°How long are you two going to be gone?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh smiles. Sure, Jubilee is being a jerk, but they¡¯re just worried after what happened last time. ¡°I don¡¯t think very long,¡± says Basil. ¡°We¡¯re just going in and then out. You sure you don¡¯t want to come with us?¡± she asks. ¡°Very sure,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Shamrock and I are going to be having the time of our lives here without you two,¡± they state. Shamrock, sitting at the table looks at Jubilee and then back to them and then nods. ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± nods the giant man. Fresh laughs. She would pay money to see what a ¡®Jubilee-Shamrock day¡¯ looks like. ¡°Well. Okay. Then we¡¯ll be right back,¡± affirms Basil. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°If you aren¡¯t back in a few hours, I¡¯ll start looking for new employees.¡± ¡°As if anyone other than us would have the patience to work with you,¡± quips the priestess, grabbing her bag. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± says Jubilee, lifting their hand to point at Shamrock with their thumb. ¡°I¡¯ll just drum up some more zealots like him. Real hard workers, those sect-cultists,¡± says Jubilee. Basil sighs. ¡°See you later.¡± ¡°Bye guys!¡± waves Fresh, holding the potted plant against herself with one hand as they leave to go down the stairs and head across the beach towards the dungeon. ¡°Your leg is really better Basil, right?¡± she asks as they walk towards the giant, stone gate. The wooden planks of the walkway groan as they move towards it, the calm waves crashing beneath their feet against the wood. ¡°It really is,¡± affirms Basil as she hobbles on ahead. ¡°There¡¯s a little scar. But I feel much better now, so don¡¯t worry, okay?¡± ¡°I always worry, Basil,¡± sighs Fresh, looking at the ominous aura of the entrance to the dungeon. ¡°There¡¯s so much to worry about these days.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that the truth?¡± laughs the priestess and the two of them step inside of the dungeon. ¡°But we¡¯re staying on floor one today, okay?¡± ¡°Okay,¡± agrees Fresh. The two of them step into the mist. In truth, she doesn¡¯t think she¡¯s brave enough to go down deeper this time anyways, after what happened last time. The dungeons can get really grim deeper down, apparently. Fresh and Basil appear on the other side of the gate, staring out around the fake beach found on floor one of the eastern dungeon. Honestly, she isn¡¯t sure if this will work, but she wants to try at least. Fresh cups her hand by her mouth, calling out. ¡°Hello!¡± She looks around the beach. ¡°Sorry for coming unannounced,¡± she apologizes to the room, holding out the flower-pot. ¡°We brought you something.¡± No response comes from the room, apart from the listless trickling of the water of the fake-ocean and the rustling of the oddly placed palm-trees. The two of them look at each other. ¡°Maybe they¡¯re not home?¡± suggests Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t think that that¡¯s possible,¡± replies Basil, shaking her head. The two of them keep staring around the room, watching the shifting sands. The dungeon has reset, so the crabs present on floor one have respawned and are hiding beneath the ground now, waiting to spring their trap. ¡°Well¡­ I guess we¡¯ll go,¡± she says, sounding a little disappointed. ¡°Let¡¯s not be rude.¡± Fresh sighs, a bit let down too. She had hoped that the entity would maybe speak to them if she brought it a gift, like it had told her to last time. She bends down, setting the flower pot and the box of coconut-cookies down in the sands and gets up. ¡°We¡¯ll just leave these here for you, okay?¡± she tells the room. Getting up, she goes back to Basil and the two of them turn around to go back through the fog. ¡°We¡¯ll try again some other time, okay, Basil?¡± says Fresh. The priestess had hoped to see the entity too. Something so spiritually powerful is clearly an important thing for Basil to witness. Fresh realizes that the priestess has certainly had many crises of faith and is likely looking for something solid to grasp onto. ¡°Sure,¡± replies Basil and the two of them step back into the fog. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, looking over at her friend. ¡°Yeah?¡± asks the priestess, turning her head to look at her. ¡°Stick it out, okay?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°If it was easy to believe in, you wouldn¡¯t need faith,¡± says Fresh, smiling as she looks at the blue fog that they¡¯re walking through. It¡¯s a rather direct thing for her to say, to confront Basil and her spiritual problems like that. But she feels like the priestess needs to hear something, so that she doesn¡¯t leave with empty hands. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty wise thing for you to say,¡± says Basil, sounding a bit confused. Fresh sticks out her tongue. ¡°I told you. I¡¯m going to get smarter and ruin all of your embarrassing secrets.¡± ¡°I sure hope not,¡± laughs Basil. ¡°Yeah,¡± replies Fresh, looking up at the fog that begins to crystallize. Usually it would just take a step to get through it and out to the other side. But for some reason, they have been walking for a little while longer now and the fog doesn¡¯t swirl and spin anymore. It ceases all of its flowing movements, compressing and coming together into tight, squeezed orbs. ¡°Rats! RATS!¡± yells a voice from around the fog. ¡°STEP TO THE LEFT! JUST TAKE THE DAMN STEP!¡± it screams. Fresh grabs Basil¡¯s hand, pulling her to herself as they stand there in the white void, listening to the very tense voice shouting. Is it shouting at them? ¡°What was that?¡± asks Basil. ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± Fresh leans in, whispering into her ear. ¡°I think this is the dungeon-master¡­¡± she says quietly. Basil¡¯s eyes open wide and she stiffens up. ¡°No! NO! DON¡¯T LEAVE!¡± it screams. ¡°You were supposed to be two thousand eight hundred sixty-nine! AAAH!¡± There is a slamming sound, like a door being violently shut as a frustrated individual walks through it, stomping all the way down a hall that neither of them can see, until eventually, an odd silhouette appears on the edge of their vision. ¡°I hate them so much,¡± it mutters, rubbing its head. ¡°They got away this time, but I¡¯ll get them next time,¡± it says, placing a hand to its chin and thinking. ¡°I¡¯ll move the trap a step to the left, then I¡¯ll nab them! They¡¯ll never see it coming! RATS!¡± Basil and Fresh exchange a nervous look, before turning to face the entity approaching them. ¡°Hi!¡± waves Fresh. ¡°A plague! PERCHTA!¡± yells the creature, walking towards them. It lifts a white glowing finger, pointing at her as its eyes glare from its featureless face. ¡°A plague upon my house!¡± it says, reaching into its pocket and grabbing a cookie that is clearly from the box they had just left behind on the other floor. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, having expected something like this. ¡°Sorry about that. I¡¯m sure it will be better soon,¡± she reassures. ¡°Why are you here again?!¡± it asks, turning its gaze towards Basil. ¡°And why is it here?¡± ¡°Huh? Oh, that¡¯s Basil,¡± says Fresh, grabbing the priestess. ¡°She¡¯s my friend.¡± ¡°Five hundred and nine!¡± it yells, leaning in towards them as crumbles fall out of its mouth. It glares at Basil. ¡°You were supposed to be five hundred and nine!¡± ¡°Uh¡­ sorry,¡± apologizes Basil. Fresh had warned her in advance that the entity was very tightly strung about humans. ¡°It was a really good trap though. Maybe next time?¡± ¡°AAAAH-!¡± it screams, clutching its head. The rest of the cookie in its hands crumbles as it inadvertently presses it against its own skull. Crystal snowflakes manifest themselves all around the room, falling from the condensed orbs that hang in the air. ¡°Are we bothering you?¡± asks Fresh as the entity still continues to scream. ¡°Sorry. We just wanted to stop by and visit.¡± The dungeon-master stops screaming, its fingers still digging into its skull. It lifts its gaze, looking at them, crumbles of broken cookie falling from its closed lips. ¡°A guest?¡± it asks, eyeing them warily. ¡°You¡¯re here as guests?¡± it asks, somewhat perplexingly. Basil lowers her head, grabbing the sides of her robe as she lowers herself into a curtsy, which Fresh has never seen her do before, ever. ¡°If you¡¯ll have us.¡± ¡°TEA!¡± yells the dungeon-master, spinning around in an instant. ¡°I HAVE TO MAKE TEA!¡± it screams frantically, running away back to the direction that it came from. Stopping half-way, it turns around. ¡°STAY THERE!¡± it commands, before running off into some room that neither of them can see. From the other side of the odd expanse, there is a clinking of glassware and a splashing of water to be heard. Fresh blinks. ¡°Basil? What was that?¡± she asks, noticing that Basil is smiling in a way that she hasn¡¯t seen her do in a long time. ¡°Hospitality for guests is a core tenant of the faith,¡± beams the priestess. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, staring back towards the distance. Razmatazz rats! RATS! AAAAAAAAAH! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 295: Milk-party ¡°Tea¡­ tea¡­¡± mutters the entity, running around the small room that they now find themselves in. Fresh and Basil hadn¡¯t moved from the spot they were told to stay in, rather, a few moments later, the room simply appeared all around them in the white void. Simply fading into existence as if they were inside of it all along and just couldn¡¯t see any of the furnishings. It¡¯s simple, plain. There¡¯s a small table that they sit at on two small chairs that had to be fetched from some far off room that neither of them could see. Apparently, they haven¡¯t been used in a long time and the same could be said of the tea, as the entity, the dungeon-master, is turning its own home upside down as it searches for it, apparently not having needed it in just as long a time. Fresh turns to Basil, looking at her for a moment, before turning her gaze back to the dungeon-master that Basil is unable to take her eyes off of as well. The entity, much like the entire room that they find themselves in, is colorless and white like the void. The furnishings, the walls, the entity, all of these things are distinct parts of the environment, having contrast and shape. But color is entirely missing from everything except the two of themselves and a few crumbs of sand that they dragged in. While the thing is busy rummaging through a cabinet and swearing, she bends down and quickly wipes away the sand with her hand, putting the crumbles into her own pocket. ¡°The rats¡­ the rats¡­¡± it mutters. ¡°I bet they stole my tea¡­ I bet they¡­ RATS!¡± it screams, pulling its head out of the low shelf and clutching its skull. ¡°It was in this box! I¡¯m sure of it¡­ I¡¯m¡­¡± The entity breathes frantically, as if it were about to have a crisis. It looks at the little box that it¡¯s holding. It¡¯s a small, wooden thing. It looks to be hand-carved and there is a cute engraving on the lid of some birds, drawn by a childish hand. ¡°If I may ask,¡± says Basil. ¡°When was the last time you used it?¡± asks the priestess, pointing at the empty tea-box. ¡°It may have just¡­ turned to dust,¡± she explains, watching as the dungeon-master shakes the empty box out. Only vague crumbles and grit fall out. ¡°AAAAAAAAH!¡± The entity falls to the floor, clutching its face and screams. The box falls down at its feet, clambering apart as it lands. From the small chairs that they sit on, Fresh and Basil look at each other for a confused moment, before turning back towards it. The creature falls silent, staring down at its dust covered hands, crumbles falling from their shaking fingers. ¡°Three thousand, nine-hundred days,¡± it says. ¡°That might do it,¡± says Basil, thinking. Fresh stares up at the ceiling, trying to calculate what that is in people-time. ¡°How about we gather some coconuts?¡± ¡°COCONUTS!¡± yells the entity, jumping to its feet, kicking the box inadvertently as it runs away to some other room, vanishing through a door that neither of them can see. Fresh tilts her head, watching it vanish. ¡°Sure is jumpy.¡± ¡°It must be a stressful life,¡± says Basil. ¡°Imagine if our home was a dungeon,¡± says Basil. ¡°People coming in all day long and taking our stuff.¡± ¡°But isn¡¯t that what the dungeons are there for?¡± asks Fresh, scratching her cheek. ¡°I thought you told me that¡¯s why the gods made them?¡± Basil nods. ¡°Yeah. But somebody has to keep things running in the dungeons. And that somebody lives here,¡± she says. The dungeon-master runs out, carrying an armful of coconuts. It¡¯s an odd contrast to their body, as they have color. The entity drops them all onto a counter, picking up a tea-cup and dusting it out. It spares them a quick glance. Fresh smiles and waves, together with Basil. ¡°We hope we¡¯re not keeping you from your work,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Can we help?¡± ¡°STAY THERE!¡± it yells, spinning back around to the coconuts. Lifting a hand, it holds its fingers over a coconut and just like that, the coconut splits apart above the tea-cup. There¡¯s no magical aura to be seen, no status-window. It just happens. While it works, Fresh bends down and picks up the wooden box that it had dropped, placing the lid back on and setting the thing onto the table. She looks down at it, staring at the feathered depictions. ¡°Bakaw¡­¡± she mutters under her breath, staring at the odd birds depicted there. They look like chickens. ¡°Are you still saying that?¡± asks the entity, turning back around as it pours a second cup full of coconut-milk. ¡°Some things never change, huh?¡± Fresh blinks, lifting her gaze up towards the thing. ¡°Bakaw?¡± ¡°You really do get stuck in the brain-mud, Perchta,¡± it says, carrying the cups over on two nervous hands. ¡°First the rats, then the chickens. What¡¯s next?¡± Fresh doesn¡¯t really know what it¡¯s talking about. But as in their last conversation, she just kind of decides to play along. ¡°I think I like crabs now too.¡± ¡°AHA!¡± it yells very abruptly, spilling some of their coconut-milk as it sets the cups down. ¡°I TOLD YOU!¡± It seems triumphantly proud for a moment, before it sees the spilled milk. ¡°AAAAAAAH!¡± it shrieks, grabbing its head again as it runs away to grab a rag from the kitchen, to dry off the table. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil, pulling the cup towards herself. ¡°Please don¡¯t fuss on our account.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± says Fresh, taking the other cup away as the entity runs back, furiously rubbing the table dry. ¡°Yeah, sorry for giving you more work.¡± The dungeon-master runs back to the kitchen, throwing the wet rag into the basin before coming back to the table and scooting a chair of its own in. ¡°So -¡± it starts, looking at the two of them. But then it doesn¡¯t say anything, staring at them both for a while as it seems to realize something else now. ¡°Yes?¡± asks Basil. Wood screeches across the stones as the dungeon-master jumps up and runs away without another coherent word, but a lot of loud, panicked shrieks of terror. Fresh looks back at Basil. ¡°Basil? Are all dungeon-masters so¡­ twitchy?¡± she asks. ¡°Hmm¡­ well¡­¡± Basil shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. But I bet they¡¯re a bit socially isolated, you know? We might be the first visitors in uh, about ten years, I suppose?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh. That makes sense. She used to be a very isolated creature too. But then when she encountered people, she felt more of a quiet terror in her own chest. Perhaps this entity feels the same feeling of anxiety, but in a more overt way. It isn¡¯t really shy about its emotions, or perhaps it has simply lost track of any and all social mannerisms, apart from being a good host? Fresh sips her coconut-milk. A moment later, the dungeon-master comes back out. Its silhouette has changed and for a moment, Fresh is confused, until she realizes that it is now wearing a very frilly, fluffy bottomed dress with a lace-up front. It is of course, like everything else in the room, entirely white. ¡°That¡¯s a beautiful dress,¡± says Fresh, admiring it. Apparently, the dungeon-master had a mild panic attack because they noticed that they were literally naked in polite company. Perhaps it had been isolated for so long, that it didn¡¯t even think about things like clothes anymore. Not that its body had anything to hide, from what she saw before. Though, despite the dress, she still isn¡¯t confident in saying that the dungeon-master is a girl. It doesn¡¯t seem clearly defined in any way. The dungeon-master grabs the frills and does a small spin, before walking over to the table under Basil¡¯s applause. ¡°I haven¡¯t had guests in a long time,¡± it says, finally sitting down at the table. Reaching behind itself, it grabs the flowerpot they had brought, pulling it out of seemingly nowhere. It sets it down in the middle of the table, turning it a smidge to the side to adjust it to the right angle. Fresh tilts her head, looking at it. The dungeon-master stares at the skull flower-pot, intently, still not having let go of it. Narrowing their eyes, they turn it an inch to the left. Then a half inch to the right. Still displeased, they continue evaluating it, pulling back to rub their chin for a moment, before turning it another tick to the left. This seems to do the trick. ¡°Perfect,¡± they say, nodding contently. ¡°We hope you like them,¡± says Basil, sipping her coconut-milk. ¡°We grew them ourselves.¡± ¡°They¡¯re beautiful. I really like the vase,¡± it says, touching the inside of the wooden skull¡¯s eye with a finger. Fresh smiles. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Shamrock you like it,¡± she beams. ¡°Sham¡­rock¡­¡± it says, staring down at the skull. ¡°Aaaah~,¡± it coos, but this time it¡¯s an odd sound. It¡¯s not a scream and it¡¯s not a sigh. It¡¯s more of a hopeful, longing groan. ¡°I want him.¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± asks Basil, clearing her throat. ¡°Floor fifty-seven!¡± says the dungeon-master. ¡°Floor fifty-seven!¡± it says. ¡°TWO THOUSAND, ONE-HUNDRED AND FOUR!¡± it screams, jumping up from its chair, its palms on the table. The room is quiet. Feeling the two of them watching it, the dungeon-master sits back down and clears its throat. ¡°Excuse me.¡± ¡°No worries,¡± replies Basil. ¡°What do you mean with floor fifty-seven?¡± ¡°He¡¯s the only one I¡¯ve ever seen get that far alone!¡± exclaims the dungeon-master. ¡°Most groups I see get there are coordinated and experienced.¡± Fresh gasps. She had no idea Shamrock could go that deep down into the dungeon by himself. ¡°But he just¡­ he just¡­¡± It pulls out a cookie, jamming it into its mouth and chewing in frustration for a moment. ¡°He just tears through it all! Every trap. Every monster. Every trick. He JUST BREAKS IT!¡± it clutches its face, crumbles falling from its lips. ¡°I WANT TO GET HIM!¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Basil clears her throat. ¡°Business is business, I suppose.¡± ¡°I had no idea he was so strong,¡± says Fresh, crossing her arms and thinking. ¡°Man. I¡¯m a little jealous,¡± she says, looking at her soft arms. ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re always slacking off!¡± yells the dungeon-master. ¡°Hey!¡± argues Fresh, not sure what it means. ¡°I¡¯ve been working really hard, right Basil?¡± Basil nods. ¡°It¡¯s true. She has,¡± affirms the priestess, sipping her coconut-milk. ¡°I¡¯ll believe it when I see it,¡± says the dungeon-master. It slides the tea-box towards itself, running over the lid with its thumb. ¡°You¡¯re a true creature of habit, Perchta.¡± ¡°I made new habits,¡± replies Fresh. The dungeon-master looks up towards her and then down at the box. ¡°At least you didn¡¯t leave,¡± it says, staring at the lid of the box. ¡°Like those other two¡­¡± ¡°Where else is there to be?¡± asks Fresh, sipping her coconut-milk. Is the creature referring to the other witches? Probably. ¡°Listen. Uh, things are going to get really bad here soon,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Outside that is. So I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re going to get a lot more visitors or a lot less in the near future.¡± The thumb stops moving over the box. ¡°Is it starting?¡± asks the dungeon-master. Fresh scratches her cheek, looking to Basil for guidance, but she has no answer either. ¡°There might be a war, so maybe?¡± ¡°The rats eat their own,¡± it says, lifting up the lid of the box, it pulls a bunch of cookies outside from somewhere that they can¡¯t see and neatly places them into the tea-box, closing the lid down lovingly on top of it. ¡°You sure don¡¯t like humans, huh?¡± asks Fresh, scratching her cheek. The glassware rattles as the entity slams its fists onto the table. But this time, it doesn¡¯t scream, it doesn¡¯t yell and it doesn¡¯t do anything except glare with the most venom that Fresh has ever seen present in a living face. ¡°I¡¯ll never forgive them,¡± it says calmly, but in a hissing voice. It doesn¡¯t glare at her, but rather it turns to Basil. ¡°I¡¯ll never forgive them for what they did to you, Perchta, to the south, to... Yo¡­ Yo¡­¡± it stammers, not able to finish its sentence as whatever this last word is, appears to be too painful for it to say. ¡°- Every last one.¡± It points at Basil. ¡°Every last one of you RATS who comes into my home. I¡¯ll kill you. I¡¯ll cut off your legs and pluck out your eyes AND THROW YOU INTO THE BLACK-WATER!¡± it screams. ¡°Hey!¡± says Fresh sternly. ¡°Don¡¯t yell at Basil,¡± she warns. The dungeon-master turns its gaze to her. It gets up and scoots its chair back. ¡°Thank you for visiting. Excuse me. I need to get back to work.¡± Before Fresh can say anything. The room vanishes. The chair beneath her vanishes and she only just manages to catch herself and stand upright, Basil apparently has the same difficulty and then, a moment later, both of them are thrown back out of the dungeon. Razmatazz It was a really cute dress though, wish you could have seen it =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 296: With humour The morning after that is pretty calm by their standards. Though, to be fair, most mornings are calm these days. Fresh stretches, rising up to the tips of her toes as she lifts her hands towards the ceiling. After their meeting with the dungeon-master yesterday, Fresh and Basil had simply gone home and told the others about it, before getting ready for bed. Jubilee didn¡¯t seem that impressed or interested and Shamrock only responded with a nod after they warned him that the dungeon-master had a bone to pick with him personally. Fresh yelps as her lower back pops and she lurches forward, bracing herself against the table, her face turning pale from the sudden, sharp pain. ¡°Take it easy, granny,¡± says Jubilee, sitting at the table across from her and reading. ¡°Don¡¯t over-do it. You wouldn¡¯t want to overwork yourself before we open,¡± they joke. ¡°But Jubilee~,¡± groans Fresh, pretty sure she¡¯s going to cry before breakfast today. She doesn¡¯t say anything else. Jubilee looks up at her, raising an eyebrow. ¡°What? ¡®But Jubilee~¡¯ what?¡± they ask. Fresh slowly pushes herself back upright, trying to be brave enough to stand up straight. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just wanted to say it,¡± she admits. Jubilee sighs, looking back at their book. ¡°Shamrock,¡± they say. ¡°Shake her out.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, quickly turning her head around. Two large metal hands grip her under her arms and lift her up off of her feet. ¡°Wait, no, don¡¯t shake me out SHIAAMROIAAGHRH-¡± In that instant, the world shakes together with her soul. Her back pops into place and as it does so, she¡¯s pretty sure that her mortal essence has found this moment in time to finally leave her fleshy shell behind and to depart from this plane of being. A white flash shoots through her entire body, together with a sudden nausea. Shamrock sets her down again. Fresh stands there, exactly on the spot she has been placed in. Not moving, not breathing, not blinking. Like a statue, she remains entirely frozen. ¡°Did you kill her?¡± asks Jubilee. Shamrock shakes his head. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Stop bullying her, you two,¡± scolds Basil from the kitchen. She¡¯s making today¡¯s breakfast. There aren¡¯t any eggs, which Jubilee had a few complaints about. Apparently today¡¯s breakfast is going to be a sweet porridge, made with many rich grains and sour berries. Shamrock grabs Fresh again, spinning her around and setting her down onto her chair. She just sits there, staring across the table towards Jubilee with dead eyes. ¡°Hello?¡± asks Jubilee, snapping their fingers. ¡°Ow,¡± is all that Fresh says, saying it only very quietly, placing her hands down onto the table. ¡°Sorry,¡± says Shamrock, putting a hand on her shoulder as he walks to the kitchen to help Basil. Jubilee just shrugs. ¡°Get over it you baby. Sometimes things just need to be janked back into place to work right again.¡± ¡°I think I died, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh without emotion, staring vacantly at the same spot as before. Basil looks over her shoulder. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it your rule that nobody is allowed to die in the house?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Fresh and that¡¯s it. The room is quiet. The others look at each other, before returning to their work. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Moving on from this latest scene of the tragedy of my life, we should make preparations.¡± ¡°You think?¡± asks Basil, clanking against the pot with a spoon a few times. The priestess sighs, not even waiting for an answer. ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re right.¡± ¡°No rest for the wicked,¡± says Shamrock, starting to set the table. Having managed to reconnect her soul with her body, Fresh looks up at Jubilee, not crying despite the wet coming from her eyes. Those are only pain-tears. It¡¯s not real crying. ¡°Preparations?¡± ¡°To leave.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°We just got here.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s the way the fucking wind blows,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°With a war coming to the coast, we might have a problem considering that, well, you know. We fucking live on the beach.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°We can¡¯t. Even if we wanted to, you know that we can¡¯t,¡± she says. There¡¯s no way that the fountain would let any of them leave before their work here was done, whatever it might be. ¡°I¡¯m not worried about that,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The day is going to come sooner or later no matter what, so we might as well be fucking prepared.¡± ¡°Jubileeeeee~¡± complains Fresh, leaning over the table. ¡°We¡¯re just starting to make a home here!¡± she argues. ¡°Fuck off,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re the home. This here is a house,¡± they say, tapping against the table. Fresh blinks, looking at Jubilee and then over to Basil, who doesn¡¯t seem as shocked by Jubilee¡¯s direct statement as she herself is. The priestess is just continuing to stir the porridge, before starting to scoop it into bowls. ¡°Anyways. Nobody said we¡¯re leaving yet. I just want us to get ready in case a frigate blows our fucking walls away.¡± ¡°Where is there even left for us to go?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Across the ocean?¡± ¡°Fuck that,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m not putting up with those cat-eared freaks.¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°There¡¯s one place left,¡± says Basil, carrying their bowls over to them. ¡°Not happening,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡± Basil sighs, fidgeting with her sleeves before bringing the other bowls. ¡°Where else is there to go?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure the great and mystical, evil, fucking god is going to let us know,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Way I see it, it¡¯s not our problem to think about. Just pack some emergency underwear.¡± Shamrock sits down on his chair. ¡°Don¡¯t have any.¡± ¡°Shut up, Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You and your fucking shitty jokes.¡± Shamrock looks at Jubilee and the two of them stare at each other for a tense moment. His breastplate heaves as he lets out a long breath. ¡°A monster waits on his late friend,¡± says Shamrock, picking up a small bowl of seasonings. ¡°He arrives,¡± says the man, staring at his food through the slits of his metal helmet. ¡°What does the first one say?¡± Jubilee blinks. ¡°¡­What?¡± Shamrock sprinkles the powder over his porridge, before handing the bowl over to Basil. ¡°It¡¯s about slime.¡± Fresh cracks up, crying as she shakes the table with her fist. Basil lets out a sensible, perhaps polite chuckle and Jubilee meanwhile just stares, entirely lost. ¡°And to think, I used to respect you,¡± they say, shaking their head. ¡°Slimes change,¡± replies the man. Fresh howls. ¡°It¡¯s not even funny!¡± argues Jubilee, gesturing at the man with both of their arms. ¡°He¡¯s just replacing the word ¡®time¡¯ with ¡®slime¡¯! How is that a joke?!¡± Jubilee getting angry about it just makes Fresh laugh more however. ¡°Stop shaking the fucking table!¡± ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± gasps Fresh, trying to get some Fresh air. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t knooow~¡± cries Fresh, holding her stomach as she keeps laughing. ¡°Well,¡± says Basil. ¡°At least everyone is in a good mood today.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Sure. Why the hell not? It¡¯s a day like any other.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± replies Basil, sipping her morning tea. ¡°I¡¯m quite fond of these.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes, digging their spoon into their food. ¡°Could be worse, I guess.¡± Fresh meanwhile, does her best to compose herself so that she can join in on breakfast too. But it takes a little while and by the time she manages, her porridge is colder than she would have liked it to be. But, all in all, it¡¯s pretty good. Looking down at her bowl, she stares for a moment, staring past it and into her tea-cup, watching the leaves swirl around and for an instant, she¡¯s convinced that they form the shape of a skull, before floating apart again. She blinks, tilting her head, wondering if that was just her imagination. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s probably slime,¡± she says to herself and starts laughing again, much to Jubilee¡¯s annoyance. Razmatazz Yeah, there are ''animal-people'' across the ocean. But we don''t talk about them. Though actually, we saw one already a little while back as a customer, but you probably didn''t notice, because I didn''t want you too. *Checks watch* Anyways, chapter 296, huh? It''s almost about that slime Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 297: The colors ¡°We¡¯re not taking the fucking cart,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh, laying on her back on the floor beneath the sales-cart that she had made together with Basil a while ago, turns her head to look at Jubilee. ¡°But Jubilee~¡± she argues. ¡°Basil and I worked really hard on it and I think there¡¯s something we could do with it.¡± ¡°Yeah, you can run around the city with it a few times to lose some weight,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I lost a lot of weight since we left the west!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°Especially after I realized how muscly you are, Jubilee. I¡¯ve been trying super hard to not eat so much candy!¡± she explains. ¡°Again. Weird thing to say. Besides that, I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯ve been going hard on the ice-cream,¡± says Jubilee, leaning back against the counter. ¡°Ice-cream isn¡¯t candy!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s ice-cream.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°This is the hill you¡¯re willing to die on? That ice-cream isn¡¯t candy?¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°Okay. So. Maybe it is sort of, kind of related to being candy.¡± ¡°It¡¯s candy.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t!¡± ¡°Basil!¡± calls Jubilee around the shelves. Basil, who was stocking up the shelves together with Shamrock, looks around the corner. ¡°Is ice-cream candy?¡± asks Jubilee. Basil tilts her head, her hair dangling down loosely at her side. It¡¯s gotten very long and ever since Fresh had built the salt-water filter into the shower, it¡¯s gotten a lot softer. ¡°Hmm¡­ I¡¯m going to say that ice-cream is as much candy as the crab-chips are.¡± ¡°Chips aren¡¯t candy,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°You¡¯re hopeless. Get back to work.¡± ¡°They¡¯re all junk food though,¡± notes Basil. ¡°Anyways. What about you? You¡¯re just standing there. Why don¡¯t you do something productive?¡± she asks Jubilee. Jubilee points at Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m the supervisor. I¡¯m supervising.¡± ¡°It looks like you¡¯re just standing there,¡± notes Basil, somewhat dryly. ¡°Perks of the job. What can I say?¡± asks Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Work hard and one day, you¡¯ll be able to live the dream like I am.¡± Fresh laughs. Jubilee is in a good mood today, for whatever reason. ¡°Anyways. I¡¯ll miss the ice-cream when we¡¯re gone,¡± says Jubilee. Basil sets a bottle down onto the shelf. ¡°I never saw you eat much of it?¡± she asks. ¡°What? Eat it?¡± asks Jubilee, sounding a little confused. ¡°I try to avoid eating slop.¡± Fresh gasps, deeply offended. ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°I¡¯m saying that I¡¯m going to miss selling it. The profit-margins are the best we¡¯ve ever had. Better than the potions or the coughee.¡± Jubilee crosses their arms. Basil rolls her eyes and ducks back behind the shelf. Fresh sighs, continuing her work on the cart. She¡¯s trying to refit it with some springs below the axle, to make it easier to move up and down staircases and bumps in the road. Her hope is that whenever they¡¯re ready to leave, that they can take the cart and just attach it to the back of their wagon. Though, wherever they¡¯re meant to go after they leave the east, is still uncertain. She supposes the fountain will let her know when it¡¯s time. For a moment, she stops her work, holding her hands where they are on the bottom of the cart, as she stares blankly at its lower side, thinking about that phrase she had just thought. ¡®When it¡¯s time¡¯. When it¡¯s time, they¡¯re going to have to leave their home once again. When it¡¯s time, they¡¯re going to have to pack up, likely leaving some form of disaster in their wake. When it¡¯s time, they¡¯ll have to go to a place unknown and start all over again from scratch. A whole new store. A whole new house. A whole new everything. Days, weeks, months of work and for what? For it to be that ¡®time¡¯ again afterwards. They¡¯ll have to pack up again then, perhaps after the end of the winter that is soon to break the dying autumn and then? And then, after a full year of being in this world, after the most fulfilling year of her entire existence, what is going to happen? More of the same? Will there just always be more places for them to go to? Or are they already reaching the end of the road? Is the fountain¡¯s will, whatever it might be, already almost achieved? And then what? If everything goes perfectly, if everything goes well, according to her patron deity¡¯s wishes, it will have no more need of her and especially not of her friends. Will the fountain just¡­ let her go? Will it just let them go? Will - ¡°Psst,¡± hisses a voice from next to her. Fresh blinks, turning her head to look at Jubilee and Basil who are both crouched down, looking at her. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, getting some black grease on her face from the wheels. ¡°See?¡± asks Jubilee, still holding onto the fabric of Basil¡¯s robe. ¡°This is why I¡¯m the supervisor,¡± they explain. ¡°Because otherwise she¡¯s going to get lost in her empty head and lay there for an hour like a fucking corpse.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°Let her daydream. What¡¯s the rush?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t help it, Jubilee!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°I always have a lot to think about!¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s true!¡± Suddenly, Jubilee vanishes, letting out an annoyed snarl and a swear. So does Basil, letting out a surprised yelp instead. From down below the cart, Fresh can only see a pair of large boots walking away, carrying the two of them off to the shelves. ¡°Work,¡± is all that Shamrock says, as he drags both of them around to the aisle that needs to be stocked for the day. Fresh laughs to herself, before she continues to fiddle around with the cart. Sure, the bad days are going to come eventually, no matter what she does. Every adventure has an end. But for now, they¡¯re still in the kind season of life and so it would perhaps be best not to waste it by thinking too much. Later that day, after the store is up and running, Fresh spends her lunch-break making some small sandwiches for the others to eat on their breaks. Usually Basil and herself trade this task between themselves. Deciding to add something to the side, Fresh grabs some apples and a knife and begins cutting. The blade slices through the red apple in her hand, pushing down to the cutting board beneath, clacking loudly as it strikes the wood. In that second, even if she does her best not to think, the sound, the action, the color nonetheless make her do so. Red. For the briefest flash of a second, Fresh could swear that she¡¯s still up on the broom, that she¡¯s still flying away from the tower in which the girl, Peridot, was locked away inside of. With large eyes, she lifts her gaze and stares at the wall in front of her face as she expects to wake up any second now, as if this, as if every one of these last few weeks had all belonged to one singular, long dream. As if she were still there, as if it were still happening. But she isn¡¯t dreaming and that was a while ago now. Peridot is missing as far as she knows and she hopes that whatever fate befell her, that it was a kind one. Because if it wasn¡¯t, then it¡¯s Fresh¡¯s fault, as far as she herself sees it. Sure, the girl in the tower had made her own choice. But the only reason that she had a choice to make was because Fresh went there. Though¡­ did she herself have a choice in that? Fresh sighs, shaking her head. Maybe. Maybe not. She looks down at the red apple she had cut a piece off of and slides it to the side, grabbing a new green one from the basket instead. She¡¯d rather use this one. The day goes on. The store closes. The sandwiches were appreciated, though she does get scolded by Basil for wasting food. Later that night, Fresh lays in her bed, clutching her blue blanket as she stares at the ceiling. Colors. There are always colors everywhere. Is that a weird thing to think? It seems like an obvious thought. Of course there are colors. Things have colors. Colors are a part of the world. Fresh closes her eyes, trying to force herself to sleep, but all she can think about is the vivid red of the apple. The sky-blue of her cherished blanket, which still needs a good washing. The gray of the grease she had smeared on her own face earlier that day. Everything has a color. Why is she thinking about this? Fresh opens her eyes again. She doesn¡¯t know. She can¡¯t sleep. Tonight is just one of those nights. Sighing, she sits upright and plants her feet on the cold stone of the floor, getting up and rubbing her face as she walks to the kitchen. Basil¡¯s lantern flies off of the nightstand, nudging her from the side and she looks at it, a little perplexed. ¡°What¡¯s up, little guy?¡± she whispers to it, rubbing her tired eyes. The lantern of many colors opens its shutter just a smidge, just enough to show her the color inside of it. White, with a soft glow like warm starlight. Fresh smiles, petting its top as she turns to look at the balcony, at the taupe curtains that Jubilee had made when they moved in here. The chickens. She turns her gaze to look at the wooden chicken, brown. Tonight, it holds no contempt or judgment for her presence, because tonight, she hasn¡¯t yet done anything wrong. But, she has the feeling that before the morning comes, that she will have done so. Not because she wants to. But because as she stands there in the kitchen, she finds that she is no longer standing there in the kitchen. Her feet move on their own towards the closet as her arm opens her menu and pulls out the hat and the broom. Oh no. ¡°Uh, guys!¡± says Fresh as she puts on her robe and boots. ¡°Guys!¡± she calls to Shamrock and Basil who start to stir. Basil mumbles. ¡°¡­Hmm?¡± says the groggy priestess, pulling her head up off of the pillow, hair matted to her face. ¡°I think, uh -¡± Fresh gets up. ¡°I think I¡¯m doing a thing.¡± Seeing her levitate up off of the ground on the flying broom, Basil lets out a surprised yelp and jolts upright, scrambling out of her bed and jumping over the stone wall between their beds as she tries to grab her and stop the broom from leaving. Fresh bolts off and Basil flops down over the wall. ¡°IAAAH!¡± yelps Fresh as the broom shoots through their house, towards the balcony door where it thankfully stops, if only for a second, so she can open the door. ¡°What the fuck is that ruckus?!¡± barks Jubilee, opening their door just as she opens the balcony with Shamrock and Basil scrambling after her. ¡°Uh, I gotta go! Be right back!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°I hope!¡± And before any of them can grab her or the broom, Fresh and the enchanted-lantern fly off into the black, starless night. Razmatazz *Peeks into Chekov''s closet* *Shrugs and closes the door* I wouldn''t worry about it Book 3 is chapters 206-302! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 298: Counter-clockwise Fresh flies off into the night, holding onto the broom for dear life as she zooms across the ocean. The wind howls, pressing past her ears as the broom twists around in a spiral, brushing over the crashing waves of the ocean that she shoots out over, just above the surface of the water. As she cruises past the burnt wreck of the ship that had been set alight a few weeks ago, she assumes that she¡¯s going to be blasting off across the sea, which terrifies her even more than any concepts of dizzying heights or frightening speeds. The ocean is deep. It¡¯s dark. It¡¯s cold. She¡¯d rather get lost at the bottom of the deepest, loneliest dungeon in the entire world than to fall into the ocean. Thankfully however, the back of the broom sweeps sharply to the right, the bristles of its tail pressing against the headwind coming from distant shores, carrying with it a smell of destruction that is different from that of the shipwreck. In that instant, as she herself makes a sharp turn towards the left and she hangs on for dear life, her eyes gaze the distant, dark horizon from which the powerful winds emerge and if she didn¡¯t know better, she¡¯d say that the thousands of clouds covering the night sky were twisting and churning, coming together like a pool of thousands of contorted and twisted faces, lost in the skies above the black waters of the ocean, like souls, trying to rip themselves free from an underworld current. The broom shoots off together with her and they, having made a bend to get out of the line of sight of the city, shoot off northward-bound. Why is this happening? What¡¯s going on? She didn¡¯t get a warning or a message or anything, she¡¯s just been kidnapped, more or less. Fresh howls, clambering around the broom as they zoom over the coast, over the inward facing crescent of the eastern bay and off over the stretch of desert leading off towards the north. Or, the north-east, more aptly said. Did she do something wrong? Is she being punished? Or did something happen in the world, something unexpected that the fountain is hoping to take advantage of? She has no idea. She wants to go home, she wants to go to bed, she wants to crawl into her bed and then drag Jubilee kicking and screaming into it with her, like a predator pulling its prey into its den to be devoured. But home is further away than ever now. The world rushes past her face as she shoots over the sands, shoots past a ring of carts set out in the desert for the night to make camp. The lantern, having latched onto its hook on the broom, guides their flight as she mutters beneath her breath, trying to recite some prayer that she heard Basil say once. But she can¡¯t remember the words. After a while, the world changes. The desert begins to fade and a grassland comes to her sight, the lush, dewy fields and rolling hills reflecting the moonlight that has now come to be seen back up into the sky, painting the world below herself as if it were the ocean she had just left behind. Even now, in this late autumn, the meadow is covered in flowers and she can even see a few sleeping animals or wild monsters of some kind in that split second as she flies past. The broom rises higher. Lights come into sight. They look like villages and towns. Nothing like the grand cities that they had always resided in, rather, these are just little places. Though, ¡®little¡¯ is relative. There are of course some homesteads or farms here and there with only one or two houses. But some other clusters of lights and silhouettes are far larger. Not quite cities, but large towns with easily a few thousand people each. She flies further and the further she flies, the more of these hamlets begin to appear and the more of them appear, the higher she rises into the air. It all looks oddly beautiful from up here. If only it wasn¡¯t so cold. It takes what feels like an hour, flying over a landscape that she can¡¯t even begin to identify, some fields covered in rocky outcrops and crystal-clusters that stretches on for ages, until the broom takes another sharp turn towards the left. Fresh blinks. She¡¯s leaving the north-east and heading to the northern-city? If she hasn¡¯t lost track of herself, that seems to be what¡¯s happening. Another hour passes and sure enough, a familiar sight comes to her eyes. The towering spire of the cathedral. The broom shoots up higher and she flies up and over the city, staring down at it from above. This is where it all began. Fresh stares down, from below the clouds, down at the little clearing outside of the northern-city, down at the long, winding road which she had decided to take towards the left, down at the entry-way plaza and then further still, down at the dungeon-plaza, to where Jubilee¡¯s house once stood. Now the spot is empty, with only a statue of some kind sitting where their home once was. Why is she here? Why is she back in the north? The broom starts to lower itself downward, floating towards the city. Fresh gulps as she, the broom and the lantern descend down back to the world below. They fly down through the empty streets and right into the gate of the northern-dungeon. The blue fog envelops her and Fresh flies down the staircase, still not getting off of her broom, until she arrives on floor one, in front of a small hole in the root covered wall. Fresh blinks. ¡°Mr¡­ Mr. Mushroom?¡± she asks, bending down to look into the hole. ¡°Nyah~?¡± asks a sleepy voice, coming from the darkness. Sounding a bit confused, the mushroom monster begins to pull itself out of the hole. Seeing her, it blinks. ¡°Nyah?¡± asks Mr. Mushroom, sounding annoyed at her unexpected disturbance. ¡°Nyah, nyah,¡± explains Fresh, shrugging. She just realized why she¡¯s here. ¡°Nyah, nyah?¡± she asks, clasping her hands together. ¡°Nyah¡­¡± Mr. Mushroom shakes his head. Fresh frowns. She¡¯s going to get into trouble if she doesn¡¯t get through. She looks around, before reaching into the pockets of her robe. There, she has a single coconut cookie stashed. It¡¯s her emergency cookie, she had placed it there for a midnight snack, where Basil wouldn¡¯t find it. The priestess had cleared out her nightstand and closet, after finding some crumbs the other day. She waves it at him. ¡°Nyah?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Nyah, nyah nyah?¡± asks Mr. Mushroom. Fresh nods, giving him the cookie. Yes, she is trying to bribe him. ¡°Nyah.¡± Mr. Mushroom does the mush-mush equivalent of a shrug and bites down on the cookie, crawling back into his den. Fresh gets off of her broom, lays down on her stomach and crawls in after him. The lantern illuminates the tunnel and they reach the end after only a moment. Mr. Mushroom sets down the cookie and bites down onto a long root, pulling on it. The ground shifts, pulling away, revealing a secret-staircase that leads downward. ¡°Nyah nyah,¡± nods Fresh. Mr. Mushroom rolls his eyes, gesturing with his head to the hole to tell her to get in so he can go back to sleep. Fresh nods, holding out her arms for a sideways hug. Mr. Mushroom does not oblige. She narrows her eyes, gesturing inwardly with her hands. He shakes his head. ¡°Pleeeease?!¡± she begs. Mr. Mushroom sighs and moves in, allowing her to bestow the gift of her friendship upon him. Mr. Mushroom is not only very delicious, but he¡¯s also extremely huggable. Having fulfilled one of her life¡¯s goals, Fresh lets go of the annoyed mushroom monster and heads down the staircase, listening to the crunching of a cookie and the closing of the secret passage behind herself. She should have taken some root-flowers¡­ dang. Oh well, it¡¯s probably not important and it would have been rude to plunder Mr. Mushroom¡¯s home, especially while he¡¯s still alive. Getting back on the broom, she flies down the staircase. Down. Down and then, after she feels like she¡¯s reached the bottom, she finds more stairs to go down. Even on the broom, it takes half an hour at full speed to blast down the staircases, until, eventually, she reaches the bottom. The lighting shifts from a dingy, dungeon firelight to a pale, otherworldly white as she enters a void, similar to the dungeon-master¡¯s home from the eastern-dungeon. Fresh clears her throat, getting off her broom and standing at the precipice. Best to mind her manners this time. ¡°Excuse me?¡± she calls out. ¡°Good evening,¡± says a calm, collected voice from next to her. There is the sound of a wooden shutter sliding open and Fresh looks to her right, seeing only the top half of an entity, as if it were looking through a window at her. Fresh blinks, she straightens upright, taking after Basil, she grabs the sides of her robes and does her best to curtsy. She feels like she did it wrong, mostly because she stumbles as she does so and falls down. ¡°Sorry to visit you so unexpectedly,¡± says Fresh, dusting herself off as she gets back up. The entity tilts its head, looking at her for a moment. It looks exactly like the other one, except for its build and color. This one is more blueish and a little taller and lankier. Its color is an off-white blue, rather than blue-blue. ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh realizes that it¡¯s expecting something. She gets up, dusting herself off. ¡°Uh.¡± Fumbling around, she reaches up to take off her hat to be polite. She¡¯s indoors, after all. Seeing the spot of color on it, she pulls out the flower that was tucked into the ribbon there. ¡°Here, for you,¡± she says, handing it to the creature. ¡°Thank you very much,¡± says the dungeon-master, taking the flower from her and smelling it. ¡°Please, wait there,¡± it says. ¡°I¡¯ll be out in a moment.¡± Fresh nods. The unseen window slides shut and the entity vanishes. Despite not seeing anything, she can hear it walking around the house. But rather than trampling and swearing angrily like the other one, the steps that she hears are measured and collected. A moment later, the door that she couldn¡¯t see opens and the entity steps out, the dried-flower tucked beneath its ear. ¡°Thank you for visiting, Perchta,¡± says the dungeon-master, lowering itself with a formal bow with a spinning of its right hand. ¡°It¡¯s been a while.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± replies Fresh. She¡¯s never met the creature before, but it doesn¡¯t seem to know that either. ¡°Uh, so¡­¡± ¡°Is it time?¡± asks the entity, lifting itself back upright. Fresh tilts her head. She doesn¡¯t know what that means, but if she¡¯s here, then she supposes so? Otherwise, why would the fountain have brought her here? ¡°It is,¡± she nods. The creature lets out a sigh of relief. ¡°Ah¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure if it would ever happen. I¡¯m looking forward to getting this weight off of my shoulders, you know?¡± ¡°I bet,¡± nods Fresh, trying to stay polite. Her legs shift. ¡°Sorry to leave as quickly as I came, but I gotta go now, uh¡­¡± she thinks. ¡°To the west.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll wait for the sign then,¡± says the dungeon-master,¡± bowing again. ¡°Say ¡®hello¡¯ to Charcuterie for me, yes?¡± It points to the side. ¡°Take that door, it¡¯s faster.¡± ¡°Thank you. I will!¡± promises Fresh, not sure who that is, as she heads back up onto the broom. She flies towards a door that sits next to the staircase. It opens up and there is a blue-fog behind it. It¡¯s a shortcut. She waves goodbye to the entity. Fresh sets on her hat again and flies through the fog, blasting out of the dungeon-gate a second later, past a very surprised adventurer who falls down, back into his group as she shoots off into the night and heads west, back towards the mountain. Razmatazz Looks like we''re bringing things around full-circle =) Nyah~ Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 299: A forgotten friend Now, in a sense that she knows what she¡¯s doing, her midnight ride is a lot less terrifying and she finds herself able to enjoy the beauty of the landscape, even if only for a brief moment now and then between the beats of her heart, which strikes frantically because of a different terror. Sure. She¡¯s flying to let the dungeon-masters know that it¡¯s time. But what is it time for? She has no idea and the fountain clearly isn¡¯t letting her in on the game, which is of course, worrying. Then again, she¡¯s always worrying about something or another, so what¡¯s one more thing on the ¡®keeps her awake at night¡¯ list, right? Fresh wishes that were true as she soars westward, towards the rising peak of the mountain that she sees. In a sense, it makes her oddly nostalgic, seeing it come up over the horizon. Sure, it was only a month or so ago since they had left it and they had spent about three¡¯ish months there in total. But they were long, rich months full of strong feelings both good and bad. She feels like that past memory is so close, that she could just reach out and touch it with her bare hands. In a way, it feels like a lifetime ago. But relatively speaking, it was essentially, metaphorically, yesterday. Swooping down, she picks out a flower from a field, one that looks particularly beautiful, before rising back up and into the air. Fresh draws closer, flying over the city, flying over the glint of glass pointed up towards the sky and even if she knows she shouldn¡¯t, Fresh waves, hoping that the kind magistrate is doing well and that his own quest to lighten the world is moving along. The broomstick flies down lower, down and over past the craftsman¡¯s plaza that she had mostly neglected to ever visit, down through the tunnel in the rock that is empty at this time of night and straight into the dungeon-gate. Now what? Fresh floats there, inside of the western-dungeon, looking at the familiar small river and crystalline passage that makes up the entrance. There¡¯s no Mr. Mushroom here and she feels like the kobolds won¡¯t be too accommodating to her. Actually¡­ Fresh blinks, looking down at her broom. With her broom, she could just fly above the monsters in the dungeon and curse them, staying safely out of their reach until they die, unable to do anything about it. She won¡¯t have to run around in circles anymore. She won¡¯t need Jubilee or Shamrock or Basil, she can power-level herself. If she were so inclined. Fresh lifts her eyes, looking around again. ¡°Hello? Excuse me?¡± she calls out into the dungeon, hoping that the entity can hear her like the one in the east could, when Basil and herself visited it. ¡°Uh¡­ Charcuterie?¡± she guesses. ¡°Is anyone ho-IAH!¡± Fresh yelps in terror as a face pops out of the ground, simply floating through it as if it were swimming to the surface of the ocean. ¡°PERCHTA!¡± yells a deep, booming voice and seemingly overjoyed voice. A hand shoots through the ground, snapping its fingers. A second later, the floor beneath her vanishes, leaving only a giant hole. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Hold on, uh, agh!¡± The thing grunts and swears to itself as it pulls itself out of the ground it had phased through like a ghost, before reaching the top and dusting itself off. It looks like the other dungeon-masters, but this one carries a ruby red tinge. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± asks the thing, it grabs onto her broom and pulls itself up onto it in front of her. Fresh lets out a surprised sound, trying to keep the broom steady as it clambers up, as if they were on a rowboat threatening to tip over. Fearfully, she looks down at the hole beneath them. Sitting itself down, the entity, Charcuterie, she supposes, points down at the pit. ¡°Let¡¯s go! I got food on the stove!¡± it says. ¡°Oh, uh, sure,¡± says Fresh, flying down into the dark hole. The lantern begins to glow, illuminating the way through the solid rock and ice of the mountain. ¡°Here, this is for you,¡± she says, reaching forward with a hand and giving it the flower she had plucked on the way. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re as thoughtful as always,¡± it says, taking the flower from her. Fresh beams, seeing it accept her gift. Though she finds her smile becoming a little less intense as the creature opens its mouth, which seems to grow far too wide and has far too many sharp, dagger-like teeth. It eats the flower, shoving it inside of itself. ¡°Uh¡­ I was told to say ¡®hi¡¯ from uh¡­ from the north,¡± says Fresh, not knowing the name of the northern dungeon-master. ¡°That blue snoozer? Ah, I bet he wants me to send him another gift-basket. Well, it has been a hot minute since we last met up.¡± ¡°Anyways, I uh, I didn¡¯t mean to stay long,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I just wanted to let you know that it¡¯s about time.¡± ¡°Ah! Don¡¯t be like that!¡± it says, looking over its shoulder towards her. ¡°You¡¯re the first visitor I¡¯ve had in ten years!¡± it argues. Fresh nods. She supposes she has a little time to stay. She doesn¡¯t want to be rude, after all. The two of them reach the bottom of the dungeon after a time of flying and then get off of the broom, stepping into a familiar white-void, that all of the dungeon-masters seem to have one of. ¡°Come in, come in!¡± it says. Fresh yelps as it grabs her hand and drags her after it. ¡°Still got that curse, huh?¡± it asks her, dragging her through an invisible door. It¡¯s apparently far less interested in the usual social decorum. ¡°Must be rough.¡± ¡°Yeah, uh¡­¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°I¡¯m used to it.¡± ¡°Sit!¡± it insists, pulling a chair out of seemingly nowhere. It¡¯s entirely white and colorless, like in the home of the eastern dungeon-master. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Fresh, sitting down. ¡°So,¡± she starts, looking around the room. It¡¯s time for some small-talk before going home, she supposes. ¡°How¡¯s it been going?¡± ¡°Oh, you know,¡± says the thing, pulling out a box and shaking it. Fresh narrows her eyes, looking at it. It¡¯s a wooden box, like the eastern dungeon-master had its tea in. ¡°Just keeping the world running,¡± it explains. ¡°It¡¯s such a pain in the ass though,¡± sighs Charcuterie. ¡°I wish they¡¯d all just be a little more considerate, you know?¡± it asks. Fresh nods, assuming it means the people of the city above. ¡°Anyways, you look good for someone who died,¡± it says, pulling out a tea-cup. ¡°I die a lot, actually,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Oh, sure, sure. Don¡¯t we all?¡± it asks. ¡°I had two people beat my dungeon this year,¡± it explains. ¡°Though, maybe I did go a little easy on them,¡± it sighs, looking at the chicken-engraved tea-box and stroking it with its thumb. It shakes its head, looking at her. ¡°You¡¯ve always been a bad influence on me, you know?¡± it asks. ¡°I can¡¯t help but feel like you made me soft.¡± The entity shrugs, taking a pot off of the stove, before getting the tea ready. Fresh scratches her cheek, having the oddest sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you still want to go through with it, honestly. I heard the others left?¡± it asks. ¡°Yeah,¡± replies Fresh, looking around the kitchen. ¡°Gauden and Spillaholle went south.¡± ¡°Those two never had the heart for it, tell you what,¡± notes the entity. ¡°One little set-back and they gave up the ghost. Maybe your curse isn¡¯t so bad, honestly,¡± it suggests. ¡°Being too smart, knowing too much can be bad for you in a lot of ways,¡± explains Charcuterie, tapping its head. ¡°I like it here,¡± says Fresh. ¡°The world isn¡¯t perfect, but I¡¯m still happy with what I¡¯ve found and made, you know?¡± she asks, taking the tea-cup that it sets down for her. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a dreamer. That¡¯s probably why Yovel liked you,¡± replies Charcuterie. Fresh tilts her head, sipping her hot tea. It¡¯s some kind of root blend. Another name that she doesn¡¯t know. She¡¯s certainly landed in the middle of some odd conspiracy here. ¡°Anyways. Ten years, huh? Has it really been that long?¡± it asks, almost melancholically as it stares up to the ceiling. ¡°I suppose so,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Time flies, huh?¡± ¡°Time flies. I¡¯m surprised you took it so personally, honestly,¡± says Charcuterie. ¡°It¡¯s not like you to hold a grudge for so long, Perchta. The Yovel thing must¡¯ve really got you too, huh?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°I mean. I get it. I¡¯m still mad about that too,¡± replies Charcuterie, emptying its teacup with its second gulp. The entity gets up and pours itself another. ¡°But that you¡¯d go after the hero, after ten years? It¡¯s really not like you and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s what Yovel would have wanted.¡± Fresh blinks. The hero? Ten years ago? ¡°It seems a little heavy?¡± it asks. ¡°He did kill you, but the new guy doesn¡¯t have anything to do with that,¡± says Charcuterie, looking down at the tea-box on the table. Fresh looks down at the child-like engravings on the box. Chickens, drawn by an unskilled artist. But the entity runs its hands over it, as if it were a precious thing, while waiting for her answer. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do that,¡± she says. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening anymore,¡± admits Fresh. ¡°But things are getting really complicated and I¡¯m just trying to stay above water.¡± ¡°Poor choice of words,¡± says Charcuterie, dryly. Fresh blinks, not sure what it is that she said. ¡°Sorry,¡± she apologizes, just to be safe. She empties her tea-cup, setting it down. ¡°Anyways. I have to go. The night is going to end soon and I still have a stop to make,¡± she sighs, hoping that her friends aren¡¯t worrying about her. ¡°Thank you for having me,¡± says Fresh, getting up and grabbing her broom, looking at the entity. It almost seems sad about her leaving. ¡°Uh, let¡¯s do this again soon, okay?¡± she asks, trying to do something about that glum expression. ¡°I¡¯ll bring something to eat and we can make an evening out of it.¡± That seems to do the trick. ¡°Just like old times, huh?¡± it laughs. ¡°Sure, we can do that.¡± Fresh nods and the dungeon-master of the western-dungeon, Charcuterie, nods back. There isn¡¯t any pact or anything like that. It had already been sealed long ago, during the forming of an older friendship that Fresh knows nothing about. ¡°Thank you for having me,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Goodbye!¡± She waves to the entity as she flies towards the shortcut and then out of the dungeon. Taking the other tunnel through the mountain, she looks at a very familiar house from outside, staring at the warm light that shines from the windows and the small, but growing silhouettes that run around behind it, bathed in the glow. There¡¯s a small sign by the door. ¡®Dungeon Coughee Inc. Open from sun-rise to sun-down¡¯. Fresh beams, feeling a combined sense of relief and pride as she shoots out of the tunnel, heading to the last dungeon left on her list, before she can finally go home. At the very least, she¡¯s interested in seeing what it looks like. Even if she would much rather be at home. Thankfully, this ordeal, whatever it is, is almost over. Razmatazz Man, look at all of those secret plot points coming together that none of you can see because you have eyes that aren''t real Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 300: The bad times. Fresh flies through the night, sparing a glance towards the south as she heads in the direction of the last dungeon that she assumes is on her list, the central-dungeon. It¡¯s a good thing she doesn¡¯t have to visit the southern-dungeon. Actually, she¡¯s a little curious about it. But not curious enough to literally want to wander into the realm of the dead. Best to just leave it be. She turns her gaze back forward, seeing the central-city coming into sight, the boughs of the giant tree breaking the horizon. The leaves are painted in an autumn orange, the verdant green she had once seen having now faded and left during the fall. Getting ready, she steels herself for whatever might await her there. Getting into the dungeon unseen is going to be hard. She¡¯ll have to think about something for that. Are her friends watching her? Fresh blinks. Last time she was outside like this, Jubilee had used the mirror. They¡¯re probably all sitting around, doing that now, actually. She looks up at the sky, not sure where they¡¯d be looking from if they are. So she picks a random direction and waves, hoping that they see her. ¡°Hi, guys!¡± she beams, waving to the night. ¡°I¡¯ll be home soon!¡± she calls, as the broom continues to shoot ahead. The glow of the lights of the central-city come up to touch her and the broom rises higher, higher and higher still. High enough that she ends up flying through the giant branches of the tree. Something screeches, Fresh yelps, the broom shooting to the side as some odd bird-woman, a harpy, she assumes, flies past her, its long-talons scratching the bark of the wood. ¡°Sorry!¡± calls Fresh out to the monster she must have startled, hoping it understands her. The broom keeps on flying. Apparently, she isn¡¯t going to be stopping here after all? Oh. Well, that¡¯s nice. Fresh turns her head around, looking at the central-city she has flown over, now being on her way to return to the east. She lets out a long sigh of relief, looking back ahead of herself. Whatever it was time for, apparently, the central-dungeon isn¡¯t involved. In a way, too bad. She was getting kind of curious and at least she isn¡¯t doing anything evil this time. But in another, more reasonable way, she¡¯s excited to go home and to hug her friends and maybe cry a little, before going to bed. They¡¯re opening tomorrow morning, after all. Adjusting her hat, the terrible witch of the north, or the west, or the east, she¡¯s lost track, honestly, leans in and flies faster, ready to go home and to call it a night. Fresh smiles. The world ahead of her erupts into light. Fresh yelps, covering her face as the distant horizon vibrates with a cascading energy, as if the glow of a thousand bolts of lightning, pulled and thrown from some godly quiver, had all impacted the world at once. Flailing, disoriented, she grabs onto the broom, swirling through the midnight sky that is so bright, it is as if the sun itself had come to rise anew, just past the break of the witching hour. And then, something screams. The world falls entirely silent, except for the loud, rumbling sound that crashes over the ground and as the dying light begins to leave the world once more, allowing the curtain of midnight darkness to fall back over and to recover the horizon. She sees the ground shaking, the great stretch of forest between here and the east shakes and moves as the ground rises upwards in waves, as if pushed away by a burrowing, titanic worm. As some calamitous ripple shoots through the ground, destroying the entire stretch of land that she can see from where she is, all the way until the edge of her vision. The forest rips apart, trees fall over as a great scar tears through the world, losing its energy only just before where she is now. Darkness falls. Terrified, entirely unsure of what just happened, Fresh hovers there for a second, staring out eastward, towards the source of the destruction, towards home. Following her desire, the broom moves. However, against her will, it doesn¡¯t go eastward. Instead, it goes up. Up. Further, higher, until she reaches a height that is beyond dizzying, until she feels the air become difficult to breathe and her head becomes light. The clouds part, moving away as if leaving only by her grace alone and as they depart, the wicked smile of the witch¡¯s moon comes down to greet her, grinning at her from a distance so close, that she feels like the dew she can feel touching her eyes is its damp breath. What¡¯s happening? Worried, Fresh looks back towards the east, turning her head. She yells a second time as once more, the world erupts into light. A new explosion. She shields her eyes, holding on to the broom this time with her tightly clamped legs. The world shakes again, moved by the tremendous roar of whatever energy is being released there. Squinting as the light begins to fade, Fresh stares at the thing to her left, at the red glow that comes from some distant, large city. The north. It¡¯s fog. She can barely see it from here, from this far away. But she recognizes that cloud. It¡¯s red. It¡¯s the fog of a dungeon break, but it¡¯s far more than that. It¡¯s covering the entire city, like a poisonous cloud blasting out of an exposed cavern beneath the deepest recesses of the world. It grows, enveloping the entire silhouette. ¡°STOP!¡± yells Fresh, knowing that the fountain can hear her. Terrified, Fresh turns around, looking over the boughs of the great tree, back towards the distant peak of the mountain. From it, she sees a red ooze trickling down, flowing along the rock like water from a blood-filled fountain. ¡°STOP!¡± yells Fresh. The fog continues to trickle. She turns her gaze back eastward and then speeds towards it, now being allowed to move, now that the fountain had shown her what it wanted her to see. What is this?! Fresh flies as fast as she can, heading east, shooting over the destroyed forest, shooting over the destroyed desert that a giant, glassed scar runs through, shimmering in the red moonlight. The sands of the desert are literally melted by some streak of incredible energy that had torn through it. As the eastern-city comes closer and closer into her tear-filled vision, Fresh now sees the red-fog, creeping out over the world here too. But there isn¡¯t much of a world left for it to creep over. Fresh flies into the mist, expecting to hear screams, expecting to see fire and smoke and bodies littering the streets. But all she sees is a scar. The eastern-city, most of what she can see of it, is gone. Blasted away by something, some deistic level of energy. It¡¯s just¡­ gone. Her hands grip the broom in terror as she breathes in the red fog. It¡¯s gone. Her eyes wander down to where the adventurer¡¯s guild should be. It¡¯s gone. She looks over at the harbor, once full of ships and life. It¡¯s gone. She flies, going as fast as she can to their home. It¡¯s gone. However many hundreds of thousands of people were here. They¡¯re¡­ She lands, digging through the rubble of where she thinks their house should be. There¡¯s nothing here. It¡¯s all just broken and scorched rock and bricks. Screaming, Fresh falls down and begins throwing things left and right, trying to find something, anything, anyone. Her hands find something out of place amongst the debris. Digging it out, she stares at a broken statue of a wooden chicken. Its head is missing. What happened? How could this have happened? Where is everyone¡­ where¡­ where¡­ Heavy steps ring out from the ruby fog. Boots. Metal. Fresh turns her head, relieved. ¡°Sham-!¡± She stops, staring at the large silhouette that isn¡¯t Shamrock¡¯s. A suit of metal armor stands there, coming slowly through the mist. Large, proudly ornate boots step over the rubble that was once their front door. A fabric mantle blows behind him in some unseen, untouchable wind that she doesn¡¯t feel on her skin, as the armor belonging to the hero, Garnett, walks towards her. His gauntlets rattle as he lifts his sword, holding it far more competently than he had done on that night in the central-city. ¡°WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!¡± yells Fresh at him. The man, whose face she can¡¯t see because of the helmet he is wearing, lifts his hands, energy beginning to glow around his sword as he stares at her with haunted, obsessed eyes. The hero, Garnett, if he has anything to say, says nothing. His posture says nothing, his gaze says nothing. He is entirely silent, entirely emotionless, entirely¡­ lifeless. Magic collects around his blade, the same magic that had caused this destruction, that had caused both of those flashes of light. Hero-magic. A bell rings from a source that she can¡¯t define, the sound coming as if from the heavens themselves, as with each strike of the chiming metal, comes a pulse of energy around the hero¡¯s blade. This. This hero-magic. This isn¡¯t just something that kills. This isn¡¯t like a fireball or a zap of lightning. This is¡­ It¡¯s cleansing. Fresh looks down at her body, looks at the wet stains that cover her hands from touching her face that black-water streaks down out of, falling down out of her crying eyes, out of her nose. It¡¯s permanent. The bell strikes twelve. The hero swings. But nothing happens. Opening an eye, Fresh looks at the thing. At the monstrous hand that has shot out of the red fog that surrounds them, that has grasped the hero, wrapping its fingers around him. ¡°Five hundred eighty-nine thousand twenty-three,¡± says a voice. ¡°PERCHTA!¡± it yells. Fresh looks at the silhouette of the dungeon-master of the eastern dungeon as it approaches her. The red-fog surrounds them, the dungeon-break is complete here as it is in the other cities. The things, the monsters, are no longer contained. ¡°FIVE HUNDRED EIGHTY-NINE THOUSAND TWENTY-THREE!¡± it screams. The hero presses his arms outward. The fleshy, giant hand that holds him ruptures, a wave shooting up the massive forearm, ripping the muscle and sinew from the bone as blood and red fly everywhere all around them. The hero falls down to the ground again and then, lifts his blade anew, as if he were entirely, single-mindedly focused on this and this alone. The odd, frog-like, masked monsters that she had seen down on floor forty of the dungeon leap out of the mist and swarm the hero now as the dungeon-master excitedly walks towards her. ¡°You old ding-bat!¡± it yells, smiling a giant, toothy smile. ¡°You actually pulled through!¡± exclaims the dungeon-master, grabbing both of her hands like a wide-eyed child, filled with wonder as it stares up towards a person who it cherishes. Shaking, terrified, Fresh looks at it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I ever doubted you! Ah! AH~!¡± it shakes, its entire body quivering. Lights and explosions flash out from behind them as the hero fights the onslaught of dungeon-monsters. ¡°I¡¯m so happy! FIVE HUNDRED EIGHTY-NINE THOUSAND TWENTY-THREE! PERCHTA!¡± it shouts, letting go of her hands and spinning in a circle with its arms outstretched, as if it were overjoyed by the red fog, as if it were the first falling of crisp, new winters¡¯ snow. ¡°I finally have my home back! Thank you! Thank you!¡± Fresh stutters. ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± The dungeon-master of the eastern dungeon spins around. ¡°The wild hunt begins!¡± it cries ecstatically, stomping its feet on the ground and clenching its fists in front of itself like an overjoyed child. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best for you, Perchta! I¡¯ll do my best for Yovel! I¡¯ll never be able to repay you for this!¡± Fresh, not able to say anything, grabs her broom. ¡°When it¡¯s done¡± she says. But it isn¡¯t her saying it. It¡¯s the fountain making her. She can taste the black-water on her tongue. ¡°Make sure it¡¯s quiet up here next time, okay?¡± asks the fountain. ¡°You won¡¯t hear a whisper!¡± promises the dungeon-master. Fresh sits down on her broom and flies away, sparing a glance towards the hero, Garnett, who is tracking her with obsessed, unblinking eyes that shine under the glow of the witch¡¯s moon as he throws the last frog-creature down onto the ground, crushing its skull with his boot. The broom flies through the fog, flies over the destruction of her home. She spares a glance down at the glassy sands, seeing the destroyed remnants of a giant bow that is cracked in half, lying broken on the beach. The archer of the hero¡¯s party is nowhere to be seen. The same applies for the rest of his party. The witch, Perchta, flies into the source of the red mist, the eastern dungeon, and vanishes from the surface of the world. Only after she is inside, only after she falls off of her broom and starts vomiting does the fountain give her control over her own body back, having used her for what it needed. Fresh retches. ¡°Fucking gross,¡± says a familiar voice. Fresh lurches forward again, her stomach pressing itself in all by itself as she purges. Crying, covered in gunk, vomit and tears, Fresh looks up at Jubilee who hasn¡¯t bothered getting up from the drift-wood log that they¡¯re sitting on, Basil who is fervently praying and a big, green hominid slime who is looking out a destroyed suit of dark-cobalt armor. ¡°Hi,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh vomits again. Not because of that, but because of the other thing. Razmatazz -) And then they all lived happily ever after~ Oh =( -) Thanks for reading 300 daily chapters of DIS! You want more chapters? Then please consider rating if you haven''t already bothered. It fuels me to keep going, because I crave the validation that my father never gave me. -) Slimerock! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 301: The things we do If she should be feeling something right now, Fresh isn¡¯t really too sure what exactly that¡¯s supposed to be. Is she supposed to be horrified? If so, her heart isn¡¯t racing, her body, while shaking, is only doing so at a minor level, as if she has a slight chill. Is she supposed to be sick? If so, she hasn¡¯t felt nauseous or dizzy even once since having gotten up after her arrival and initial purge. Is she supposed to be angry and furious about the horror that has befallen the world, likely because of herself? If so¡­ She doesn¡¯t. Fresh lays on her back on the sand of the fake beach of the dungeon and stares up at the fake sky, listening to the fake crashing of the fake waves hitting the fake shoreline. It¡¯s all fake. She doesn¡¯t really feel anything right now. She¡¯s just kind of¡­ staring. Nobody has said much of anything this entire time. Fresh finished vomiting and then crawled over to her friends and flopped over. But her friends are all just as still and lifeless as she herself is. Jubilee sits on a piece of driftwood, just kind of playing with their mask. Basil, having been locked in prayer for at least the last twenty minutes now seems to be all prayed out and just sits there, staring at the sand down between her crossed legs. Shamrock meanwhile, has retreated back down into his armor, bubbling around inside of it, trying to get it back together, like a hermit-crab trying to fix its broken shell. But he seems to be having little success. Whatever happened here in her absence, well¡­ It must have been bad, obviously. But that seems like a dumb thing to say, to think. Of course it was bad. As for Shamrock, she had known about his ¡®condition¡¯ since the west. His affinity for sweets, his reaction to her puffing out her cheek in a display of dominance, his ability to withstand temperatures and to always keep his armor unsticky and clean. The little toy slimes in the west. The final proof however, was given to her when she learned about Jubilee. Monsters don¡¯t get combat-menus when fighting other monsters. The battle in the north, against the ice-golem. There was no menu. Despite it being the most intense fight she has ever witnessed, there was nothing there except for plain, brutal, physical violence. The others don¡¯t really seem that shocked or interested either. She supposes that in their own way, everybody already knew. Basil at least since they had made camp after leaving the west. Jubilee¡­ well, Jubilee is sharp. She¡¯s sure they picked it up somewhere. In a way, she kind of wants to get up and say something. But she isn¡¯t really sure what. Should she say something honest and blunt, to confront the issue at hand? Or should she try to say something motivating and cheerful, to try to lift her friends¡¯ spirits? If such a thing could even be done anymore. Or should she just say nothing? Would any of them explode or lash out at her if she broke the tense silence of their circle? She¡¯d deserve it. If they could still leave her now, having seen what the price of her friendship is, would they? She¡¯d deserve it. Fresh blinks, continuing to stare at the fake sky. Five hundred eighty-nine thousand twenty-three. That¡¯s¡­ Everyone. Everyone in the east. The fairies, Tarja and all the others. Their customers. Thyme, the anqa. Everyone¡­ they¡¯re gone, erased from the surface of the world because she came here. They¡¯re dead because she, in her insistence and selfishness to experience her own personal joy, had come to this world, come to the east. She cursed the hero. She¡­ Fresh sits upright and crawls forward, towards the crashing waves of the ocean and she looks down at the girl in her reflection, her fingers digging into the damp sand as the ocean froth wets her knees and sleeves. The bad-thing. The thing that makes all things worse in the world, it¡¯s her. Fresh stares down at the reflection beneath herself that through the twisting of the light from above seems to have no eyes. It¡¯s always been her. Where has she gone and made things better? Nowhere. There isn¡¯t a single place in this entire world that is now better for her having passed through it. Not a home, not a doorway, not a forest grove. Nothing. It¡¯s all worse. It¡¯s all befouled and stained and tainted. Because she was there. Because she¡¯s here. It¡¯s her fault. The girl in the reflection nods in agreement. Fresh turns her head around, looking at her friends. They too have been made worse by her being. Jubilee might have been sad, but they were living a quiet life. Basil, while conflicted, found purpose in her work as a priestess and Shamrock, stalwart in his convictions, would have lived exactly as he had lived before without her. Why isn¡¯t the fountain making her forget it? Why isn¡¯t it forcing her to get up and to get on with her life, preventing her from dwelling on it like it did with the man from the merchant¡¯s guild, from the north? The one who died because of her contract curse? She wants it to make her forget it. She wants it to erase her memories of any of this. To erase the memories of her friends. To just¡­ bring them somewhere else as fresh people, unaware of what they have done. That would be her selfish, true wish. Does she feel terrible about it? Yes. But these are the people who she loves, the only people in any existence that she has ever truly, unconditionally loved as family in the truest sense of the word. Like Basil, she would choose them over the world. And now, she has and it hurts a lot more than she thought it would. ¡°Well,¡± says Jubilee. Basil turns her head and Shamrock pops out of his armor. ¡°Fuck.¡± Basil sighs, lowering her gaze again. Shamrock turns towards her and Fresh and him stare at each other for a while. Letting out a long breath, Fresh clenches her fists, gets up onto her two feet, walking over towards her friends. She has to keep the faith. Somebody has to. She stands in front of them. They all know what she¡¯s thinking, they all know that it¡¯s the same thing that they¡¯re thinking. They¡¯re the worst. They¡¯re all horrible, awful, disgusting things. Jubilee gets up, adjusting their mask onto their face. ¡°Well. I said I¡¯d fucking kill every last orphan and cripple in the city if it came down to it.¡± Basil gets up, lifting her prayer beads to her lips before tucking them away, continuing to stare at her hand in her pocket for a while. ¡°I choose us.¡± Shamrock wobbles upright, apparently not used to moving without his armor as he seems to have some trouble holding his ¡®human¡¯ form. ¡°The wild hunt has begun,¡± says the man. Watching him talk is really an oddity. His gruff voice seems very ill-fitted to his body as a slime and she has no idea how he does it. ¡°But the moon still flies.¡± ¡°Five hundred eighty-nine thousand twenty-three,¡± says Fresh, looking around the circle. ¡°In this city. I don¡¯t know about the others.¡± ¡°Fuck ¡®em,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll say a prayer together with Basil tonight and call it even.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think it works like that,¡± says Basil. ¡°But it would mean a lot to me if you joined me,¡± says the priestess, her tone still very flat and numb. ¡°We will meet again,¡± says Shamrock, bending down, he grabs his helmet. ¡°The well of souls awaits us all,¡± he says, holding the forehead of his helmet against his own. The armor is cracked and broken. But Fresh feels like she could fix it with her cauldron. Seeing her expression, Shamrock shakes his head. ¡°We must bury the dead,¡± says the man, setting down his helmet onto the pile of armor and wobbling their way. ¡°Now what?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Now we fucking get out of here.¡± ¡°There¡¯s nowhere left to go,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°There¡¯s exactly one fucking place left to go,¡± says Jubilee, waving after themselves as they head to a dungeon shortcut. ¡°It¡¯s this or you stay here. I¡¯m fucking sick of coconuts though,¡± says Jubilee, stepping into the shortcut without them. Fresh is sure they¡¯re waiting on the other side though, watching the door for one of them to come through. This is just Jubilee¡¯s way of forcing their hands. Now that they have made the choice, the rest of them obviously have to go after them. ¡°Let¡¯s go home, guys,¡± says Fresh, as she steps into the shortcut and the others follow after her. Is it moral? No. Is it right? No. Is it just? No. But Fresh doesn¡¯t care about that. She cares about these people, these creatures that belong to her heart and soul and she would trade the entire world and then another on top of it, if only it meant to stay with them just a little longer. That is the selfishness of the horrible witch of whatever place might remain on the surface of the world. Razmatazz *Stabs orphans menacingly* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 302: A red string Fresh isn¡¯t really sure what it is that she¡¯s feeling right now. Not because of the world-ending crisis brought on by herself, but rather because of¡­ this. She ¡®blinks¡¯ looking around herself at the white void that they find themselves inside of. Well¡­ also that isn¡¯t exactly it either. After the four of them had gone down the shortcut that the dungeon-master had left, a shortcut that leads all the way down to the entity¡¯s home in the void, they had found another thing. A gate, like the one marking the entrance of every dungeon. But this one was smaller, less grand. It was a simple stone archway, carved into the wall of the dungeon and inside of it was a white, ghostly fog. But it was a warm, thick, rich white. Like the fluff of a fat cloud on a sunny day, like the wool of a healthy sheep. This was assumed to be the exit, the way out of the dungeon from the bottom. Sure, there was a sliver of temptation on Fresh¡¯s part to go back up the stairs, just one floor, just to take a peek at what is on level ninety-nine. But Jubilee had grabbed her hand and yanked her in after them into the fog. And now. Here they are. Well. ¡®Here¡¯ - ¡®they¡¯ - ¡®are¡¯. Each of those words is loaded, really. ¡®Here¡¯ is¡­ well. Fresh blinks, looking around themselves. It¡¯s like a current, like a stream of soft particulate. It¡¯s like they¡¯re underwater in a calm river that pushes westward, carrying the four of them along with it beneath its surface. Prismatic, pastel colored bubbles and lights, coming from sources that she can¡¯t identify, float all around their odd gestalts. As for they ¡®they¡¯; after entering the portal, some odd transition seemed to happen. That being that for, whatever dungeon-magicky reason, the four of them seem to have lost their real, physical bodies. ¡®Are¡¯, finally can be summed up as they are floating along the current together as oddly stringy blobs that have vaguely person-like shapes. They look like dolls made out of yarn, but it¡¯s all goo. Except for one thick, red string that connects them to each other. Like an artery from a heart. So they ¡®are¡¯, but she isn¡¯t exactly sure what it is that they are. Fresh looks down at her weird, wibbly-wobbly hands, wondering if this is what life is like for Shamrock all of the time? ¡°Are we dead?¡± asks Fresh, floating upwards above her friends as the odd, white-water current carries them away from everything. ¡°Did we run into a trap or something, guys?¡± she asks, feeling the warmth of the stream. It reminds her of their bath in the west. It¡¯s so comfortable and soothing. It¡¯s easing and warm and calming. The blobby thing that is Basil looks up at her, grabbing the red string and pulling her back down before she floats away. Fresh tilts her head, looking at the priestess. The threads that make up her body are all tangly and mixed up. Some go left and some go right, all of them twisting in and out in complicated knots and bends as they connect to their origin somewhere deep inside of her, where she can¡¯t see it. ¡°We¡¯re in the spirit world,¡± says Basil. ¡°Fuck off, Basil,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing.¡± ¡°Look at yourself!¡± argues Basil, yanking Fresh down towards herself. Jubilee looks down at their body. It¡¯s tightly compacted, the strings all run out into singular, unified directions in tight bundles. They all are frayed and broken and cut, but it looks as if they had been tied back together by intricate handiwork, coming to reform the things that should be. A repatched, repaired and resewn entity. ¡°It¡¯s probably just some poison fog or something,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re just hallucinating.¡± ¡°Please!¡± argues Basil, gesturing to all around them, her arms wobbling as she holds them out to her sides. The current continues to carry the four of them to some other place. ¡°I kind of like it,¡± says Fresh. ¡°What about you, Shamrock?¡± she asks, looking at the man. In a strange twist, he is perhaps the most human-like of them all. Despite his ebbing and flowing form, like the sinew of muscles, his strings come together as clean, solid, thick lines that make up the shape of a large man. ¡°I feel light,¡± he says, drifting upside down. ¡°Wait,¡± says Fresh, just having realized something. ¡°If this is the spirit world -¡± ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± interrupts Jubilee. ¡°- then how are we going to get out? I thought if you went to the south, it was one way?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee and Basil exchange a worried look, before looking over towards Shamrock. Seeing their confusion, the man shrugs and lets the current carry him further. ¡°Mires trap,¡± explains the man. ¡°Currents flow.¡± ¡°The current?¡± asks Basil. Shamrock nods. ¡°Wow¡­¡± she bubbles, her body becoming a little looser as she looks around them. Fresh isn¡¯t sure, but she feels like some of the knots become undone and here there on Basil¡¯s form. ¡°Fuck it,¡± says Jubilee, swimming up and leaning backwards against Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re technically not in the dungeon. So I guess we¡¯re allowed to die here.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not dying,¡± says Basil. ¡°We¡¯re moving.¡± Jubilee groans. ¡°I¡¯d rather die. I¡¯m sick of moving.¡± ¡°Good thing we don¡¯t have any boxes this time,¡± jokes Fresh. The others look at her and she realizes what she just said. In light of what happened only half an hour ago at most, maybe that was tasteless. ¡°Sorry.¡± Basil seems somewhat bothered, but Jubilee starts laughing. Fresh looks down at the red string that ties them together and tilts her head. She touches it and it wobbles and quivers. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she asks. She feels like she¡¯s seen this before somewhere? She tilts her head, trying to remember as she looks at the odd thing. It¡¯s looped around them, running over one of their arms and through the other''s waist and around one of their knees and so on and so on. In some fashion or another, they¡¯re all literally connected to another. ¡°Ah!¡± The tailor¡¯s shop in the north. The mannequins had a string like this too. ¡°It¡¯s fate,¡± says Basil. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°It¡¯s a fucking string. It¡¯s just more weird, cryptic, cosmic bullshit.¡± ¡°Bonds,¡± replies Shamrock. Fresh likes all of those ideas in different ways, but she has a favorite one. ¡°I think it¡¯s love,¡± she says. The three of them look at her, each with different expressions. ¡°Hey, Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Grab me and throw me off that way, will you?¡± they ask. Shamrock nods and picks them up. Fresh yelps, jumping forward and stopping the man before he can go through with it. Basil lets out a surprised sound as the red string pulls her along and the four of them crash into each other. ¡°Agh!¡± Jubilee lets out an annoyed sound as they¡¯re squished between the three of them. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee!¡± says Fresh as the four of them begin to tumble together down the river. All of them are kind of tangled up now, the string and their own ¡®bodies¡¯ having become caught here and there into one big mess. ¡°I¡¯m stuck, guys,¡± she says, pulling herself away a little while the others try to as well. But they¡¯re literally entangled in each other. Jubilee seems to be taking this well. Maybe the water has a calming effect of some kind? They lean to the side, resting their elbow on Shamrock¡¯s shoulder. ¡°On the plus side, I guess Basil finally lost her virginity now.¡± ¡°WILL YOU SHUT UP?!¡± yells the priestess, lunging at Jubilee. The two of them hit each other and the ball spins around over and over, becoming even more mixed up. ¡°I kind of like this, actually,¡± says Fresh. She fought her way to the middle of the mess, so she¡¯s kind of just stuck in the middle of it all. It¡¯s very warm. ¡°That¡¯s very like you,¡± says Basil. Though Fresh isn¡¯t sure from where her voice is coming from. ¡°Being dead is really abstract, huh?¡± says Fresh, looking at the inside of her friends. Shamrock¡¯s head pops up next to her. ¡°Life is meant to be light,¡± he explains and Fresh nods, agreeing with that. Free from the shackles of the world, free from the shackles of their mortal bodies and the laws that govern them and their existences, there is something to be said for existing as an abstract concept as¡­ a soul? Fresh thinks that that¡¯s what they are right now. These are their souls and they¡¯re all gooey and sticky and warm and stuck together and she couldn¡¯t be happier with her life. Honestly, she doesn¡¯t even know what she was so sad about anymore? ¡°Hey, guys?¡± asks Fresh, interrupting the bickering happening between Basil and Jubilee. ¡°Yeah?¡± they ask, turning her way. Fresh lets out a smug smirk as they look away from each other, because she can see the little strings coming from their bodies and creeping towards each other in secret to connect while nobody is looking. ¡°Did we die?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Basil. ¡°No, why would you think that?¡± ¡°Where are we?¡± asks Fresh, looking around. ¡°How did we get here?¡± ¡°Huh? This?¡± asks Basil, she and Jubilee look at each other. ¡°We¡¯re heading to the central-city, we cleared the dungeon, remember?¡± Fresh blinks, gasping. ¡°Oh yeah!¡± she says, starting to laugh. ¡°I completely forgot!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°You idiot. It was like¡­ ten minutes ago? Remember? The big dragon?¡± ¡°He fought well,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Sure as fuck did,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Fucking lizard. I can¡¯t believe we didn¡¯t just give him Basil and call it a day.¡± ¡°Please! As if we wouldn¡¯t have given him you. You have the perfect face for a lizard, a dragon couldn¡¯t help but love you,¡± counters the priestess. ¡°Fuck you, you kook!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°No, fuck you, you gremlin!¡± replies Basil. All the while, the strings of their bodies continue to grow into another. Fresh smiles. Life is good. She has good friends, she has a good life, she has purpose and meaning and warmth more and more days just like this one, bright, happy, adventurous days, to look forward to. The current shifts and she closes her eyes as they float towards a light, towards what seems to be the ¡®other side¡¯, the exit and she says a quiet thanks to her patron deity, for allowing her to live such a blessed life. Basil and Jubilee stop bickering and they all move together, holding onto the red string as they are thrown back out of the spirit-world and arrive in the central-city. Razmatazz -) This has been our mandatory LSD episode of the story. We will now return to our scheduled broadcast. -) Watch out for those dragons, reader. They cause a lot of trouble. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 303: Something… something… First thing after flopping out of the fog filled gate like a fish washed up onto the bank of a river, Fresh rises up to the tips of her toes, stretching as she reaches up for the ceiling of the large room. Not having a body was fun. But having one now again, after not having one for a little bit, makes her aware of how¡­ odd it feels. There is a tension in her upper back, behind her shoulders that she had never even realized that she had. It feels as if she had just been in a constant state of stress for so long that she didn¡¯t even notice it anymore and had accepted it as her normal state of being. It feels like someone took a hose, plugged it into her brain and just gave it a good washing out. Her mind is clear and focused and she¡¯s aware of every sensation in her toes, hands and heart. ¡°Wow¡­ I feel great, guys,¡± says Fresh, lowering herself down to touch her toes. ¡°Me too, what a weird feeling,¡± says Basil, looking at her hands, as if she wasn¡¯t sure if they¡¯re real or not. They¡¯re in a large, square, stone chamber. There are no furnishings of any kind, except the gate and a single desk with a few shelves behind it, where a woman sits. Jubilee walks on ahead, clearly having trouble walking correctly as they seem to wobble a little to the left and to the right. It¡¯s like they forgot what being in their own body was like. ¡°Feels fucked,¡± they say, looking around the room. ¡°Having bones is fucking gross.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± is all that Shamrock says, his gruff voice echoing around the room. Fresh blinks, looking at him and then around at the space they¡¯re in. Is it safe for him to be here, like this? ¡°Hello!¡± says a chipper voice from across the room. A woman is sitting behind a desk in the middle of the room, waving them over to her. The four of them exchange a nervous look, before turning back her way. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. You¡¯ll readjust in a few minutes. It¡¯s normal.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± says Fresh, wobbling over her way. Jubilee places a hand in front of her, stopping her from moving to the stranger. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± says the woman, lifting her hands, but not getting up from her desk. ¡°You¡¯re in the central-city. Congratulations!¡± she cheers, clasping her hands together once. ¡°Everyone who beats a dungeon is welcome to stay here, if you¡¯d like. Otherwise, we¡¯ll arrange transportation back to your home. Where are you coming from?¡± she asks. Jubilee and Basil exchange a look for a moment, deciding on some unspoken plan. ¡°The east,¡± says Basil very plainly. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s great. I¡¯m an eastern girl myself,¡± replies the woman, scribbling some notes down into her book. She sighs, smiling a nostalgic smile as she writes in her book. The woman looks back up, tilting her head as she looks past Basil and Jubilee at Shamrock. The woman blinks. ¡°Hi,¡± says Shamrock, nodding to the receptionist. ¡°Uh, hello,¡± she replies. ¡°Is he with you?¡± she asks, pointing at Shamrock. ¡°Obviously,¡± replies Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. The receptionist taps her chin with her pen. ¡°Hmm¡­ we¡¯ve never had a slime before.¡± ¡°Shamrock¡¯s a man,¡± says Fresh, pointing at him. ¡°Miss, he¡¯s clearly a slime,¡± argues the woman, continuing to think. ¡°Is that a problem?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Well¡­ no, maybe?¡± She gets up from her desk, digging through a bookshelf next to her as she looks for something. Pulling out a scroll, she reads through it. ¡°We get things like anqas or some druids with some wolves or things like that now and then. But I think you might be our first slime.¡± ¡°Man,¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee nudges her. ¡°Hominid slime,¡± concedes the woman. ¡°Is he safe around people?¡± The three of them look at Shamrock. ¡°He¡¯s safer around people than she is,¡± replies Jubilee, pointing at Fresh who can only reply with a hurt laugh and a scratching of her cheek. ¡°Hmm¡­ well, he¡¯s an unusual pet -¡± ¡°He¡¯s our party-member,¡± interrupts Fresh. Jubilee nudges her again. ¡°- but I suppose that you have him under control at this stage,¡± says the woman, apparently not too bothered. She shrugs and sits back down, making a note. ¡°So, two humans, a slime and¡­¡± ¡°Demon,¡± replies Jubilee, as if this weren¡¯t meant to be some great secret. ¡°Oh, fun,¡± says the woman, making a note. ¡°Every day a little more,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Classes?¡± Basil and Jubilee look at each other. ¡°Priestess,¡± says Basil. ¡°Demon,¡± shrugs Jubilee. ¡°Craftsman,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°None,¡± is all that Shamrock says. The woman looks down at her ledger and then back at them. ¡°That¡¯s an odd composition¡­ you beat the dungeon with that?¡± ¡°Hey, if it works, it works, okay?¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°The dungeons are fucky these days, always shifting shit around, so you gotta play the same game.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She thinks for a moment, tapping her chin with her pen before nodding and making another note. ¡°That about does it then. So will you be staying?¡± ¡°Yeah, for a short vacation. We¡¯re sick of that shit-hole,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I do miss it sometimes,¡± she sighs, smiling. ¡°But things really are better here. It¡¯s hard to go back once you stay for a while.¡± She gets up, dusting her hands off. ¡°Great! You¡¯re free to go. The adventurer¡¯s guild is by the dungeon. Otherwise you can find lodging at just about any of the taverns in the city,¡± she explains. ¡°When you want to go back home, let me know and I¡¯ll arrange a carriage.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± beams Fresh, excited to go on and see this new city. She feels really tired though, for some reason. So finding a bed also sounds like a really great idea. Jubilee just waves the woman off and walks past her as she sits back down. Basil and Shamrock say a quick ¡®thanks¡¯ each and then the four of them head out of the entry area. ¡°That was rather anticlimactic,¡± says Basil. ¡°They just want some information for their statistics,¡± replies Jubilee as they go through a passage. ¡°They didn¡¯t want our names?¡± asks Fresh, a little surprised about that. Jubilee shakes their head, gesturing for them to follow as they head towards a large archway. ¡°Turns out that a lot of the people who clear the dungeon are serious characters who like their privacy.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, that makes sense. She looks around, stopping in her tracks. She feels like they¡¯ve forgotten something. But she can¡¯t put her finger on what it is. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Is Thyme taken care of?¡± ¡°Thyme?¡± asks Basil, seemingly lost in her thoughts for a moment. ¡°Ah! Yes. Thyme is living out on the farm, remember?¡± asks the priestess, laughing and waving her off. ¡°The one west of the mountain.¡± ¡°Oooh!¡± replies Fresh, bonking herself on the head. ¡°I completely forgot. Man. I wish we could have become better friends.¡± ¡°There, there,¡± consoles the priestess. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get your chance one day. For now, I hope we¡¯re good enough,¡± she smiles. ¡°I dunno,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I think I could trade you guys up for a few anqas.¡± ¡°Yes, yes,¡± says Basil, making a show out of yawning as she keeps walking forward. The four of them reach the archway and look out into the city. A man, a guard, apparently very nervous looking, terrified, in fact, sprints past them in full speed down the passage, towards the passage they had just come through. ¡°What¡¯s his problem?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head, as they look back forward to where the others are already looking, awestruck. Sure, they have been to many cities before but each of them, while having their own distinct features, were essentially still just cities. But here, there is something different in the dew-tinged air. The warm, yellow glow of thousands of safe, strong, warm houses fills the darkness. The leaking of the soft radiances coming together into one perpetual night-shine that might keep even the darkest of entities at bay. Voices fill the air as people walk around in close groups, even in this early, early, early morning hour of the day. But there is an openness and a connectivity between each and every one of them that Fresh can see just from the way that they walk next to each other. If there are red strings here to see, they are tightly pulled between the clusters of people. Strong, competent, happy people who share equally strong feelings about their own companions and perhaps even this place as a whole. She can feel it. The lightness present in them as they walk over the clean, brick streets of the curvy road that bends around a large root of the giant tree. That lightness carries in their postures, in the tone of their voices. They don¡¯t feel like they¡¯re just walking through a city at night. They feel like they¡¯re walking through their own home. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± says Basil, sounding more than wowed. Jubilee doesn¡¯t make a snarky comment this time, simply sighing and looking around. But it isn¡¯t a tired or an annoyed sigh, rather it¡¯s like the sigh after coming home from a long day of work. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Fresh smiles, looking at Shamrock who seems to have nothing to say. But he¡¯s busy watching the world move around him with curious eyes. But he seems more intent on seeing if the world is watching him, than the other way around. Fresh leans down. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Shamrock,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll make you some new armor, I promise, I¡­ uh¡­¡± She blinks. ¡°Hey, what happened to your armor anyways?¡± she asks, scratching her cheek. ¡°Dragon ate it,¡± replies Shamrock. ¡°Ooooh!¡± she replies, hitting her fist into her hand. ¡°We¡¯ll make your new armor together, okay? It¡¯ll be an ¡®us¡¯ project,¡± she promises. The man nods, before turning back to the city. ¡°Honestly, how can you keep forgetting the whole fucking dragon thing?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°It was fucking huge.¡± ¡°Gigantic even,¡± nods Basil. ¡°It was big,¡± agrees Shamrock. Fresh shrugs. ¡°I think I¡¯m just tired, guys,¡± she says. ¡°Let¡¯s find a place to sleep.¡± ¡°Adventurer¡¯s guild?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh digs around in her pocket and pulls out a key that she always keeps with herself. She smiles, looking at it. ¡°This was really a great investment,¡± she says. ¡°I wish you didn¡¯t scare me so much back then about it, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Please. You need to be kicked in the ass regularly, or you wouldn¡¯t stay alive,¡± replies Jubilee, motioning for them to follow. ¡°Can we do a sleepover tonight?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Well, considering that the guild only has one fucking bed, we¡¯ll probably have to.¡± Fresh pumps her fist, letting out a quiet cheer. ¡°Anyways, you know what? Fuck it. After one-hundred floors of a dungeon, we¡¯re doing a sleepover.¡± Basil agrees. ¡°Sounds good to me. Uh, no offense, but are you safe to touch, Shamrock?¡± ¡°Yes. Sometimes,¡± says the man. ¡°Oh.¡± Basil seems to think for a moment. ¡°But won¡¯t we and the mattress get all wet?¡± ¡°Yes. Sometimes,¡± says the man again. Basil sighs. Jubilee waves them off. ¡°We¡¯ll put him in a bucket, it¡¯ll be fine.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s okay, guys. Slimes hold their moisture inside of themselves. Otherwise they¡¯d dry out. Right, Shamrock?¡± He looks at her. ¡°Yes. Sometimes.¡± ¡°See?¡± Jubilee plants their hands on their hips. ¡°¡¯Sometimes¡¯ isn¡¯t good enough to get me into a bed with a literal acid-monster.¡± ¡°He¡¯s not an acid-monster, he¡¯s Shamrock!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Anyways, he can sleep next to me,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Then you don¡¯t have to worry, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Do I sound worried?¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Worst case, I¡¯ll die in my sleep and this will all be over.¡± ¡°Please. Nobody is allowed to die inside of the house, remember?¡± quips Basil. The four of them continue their walk along the street, admiring the odd beauty of this tranquil city, as they make their way to the central-adventurer¡¯s guild. Razmatazz The dragon was huge reader, you wouldn''t believe me if I told you about it. *waves pendulum back and forth* Ginormous! Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 304: Central heating ¡°Wow, I haven¡¯t seen a slime in years¡­¡± mutters a surprised elf, bending down to look at Shamrock. ¡°What a cute guy.¡± ¡°Hello,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°IT TALKS!¡± yells the elf in surprise, covering her mouth as she pulls back. Fresh sighs, crossing her arms. ¡°His name is Shamrock and he¡¯s a man.¡± The elf blinks, looking at her and then at Shamrock. ¡°Oh. That¡¯s a really cute name for a slime.¡± Fresh obviously agrees with her. Shamrock has the perfect color to suit his name, which is perhaps why he has it. But that being said, she doesn¡¯t like people getting too close to her friends. People seem to want to touch Shamrock and it¡¯s making her feel oddly protective. Plus she doesn¡¯t like that people are calling him what he is rather than what he is, if that makes sense. Though Shamrock doesn¡¯t seem to mind, taking life as quietly as always. ¡°Can I pet him?¡± asks a caster from next to them. Fresh frowns. ¡°You can¡¯t just pet random people.¡± The caster blinks, looking at her before lifting a hand and petting the elf, who she clearly doesn¡¯t know. The elf doesn¡¯t seem bothered in the least and just smiles, leaning her head in towards the stranger. ¡°Ten Obols per session,¡± says Jubilee, holding out their hand and waving with their fingers. ¡°Jubilee~!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t let strangers pay money to touch Shamrock! It¡¯s immoral!¡± ¡°Oh, please. You¡¯re just jealous,¡± says Jubilee, pocketing the coins that the elf handed over with absolutely zero hesitation. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for your holy ways. Besides, I recall you trying to buy hugs.¡± ¡°I think we can charge more than ten,¡± mutters Basil, standing off to the side and thinking. Her golden bracelet jangles on her wrist. Fresh gasps. ¡°Are you okay with this, Shamrock?¡± she asks. The man shrugs. ¡°Dinner¡¯s on me,¡± he says. ¡°Damn right it is,¡± says Jubilee, taking another ten coins from someone else. ¡°With the way you fucking eat, it¡¯s about time you finally put in some work.¡± Fresh sighs. They had just gotten to the central adventurer¡¯s guild, walking through what is objectively a very beautiful city and market-place to get there. The roads of the city all wind their ways around and over and beneath the roots of the great tree, offering many shady nooks and crannies that one might pass through to find shelter from the moonlight for a moment. There is a loud clambering of metal as many boots run down the way, a few guardsmen on anqas riding after the soldiers. ¡°Why is everyone in such a fucking hurry tonight?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯d think the world was ending.¡± They sigh, looking back at the many people circling around them. ¡°Okay. Show¡¯s fucking over. We¡¯re going to bed,¡± they say. ¡°Goodbye,¡± says Shamrock, wobbling his way after them as they head to the bar. Fresh makes a mental note to buy or make the man some armor as soon as possible. She blinks, is she jealous? No. No, that isn¡¯t it. Right? She¡¯s just worried about Shamrock. He might be overwhelmed with all of this sudden attention. Right¡­? Fresh scratches her cheek. Oh no. She really is jealous. But still, armor. She could just buy him¡­ Uh¡­ She looks around the room. Where¡¯s their money? ¡°Hey, Basil,¡± she asks, leaning in to the priestess and whispering. ¡°Did we take our money with us?¡± she quietly asks. ¡°Huh? Our money?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Don¡¯t you have it?¡± she mutters. ¡°In your, uh¡­ ¡®bag¡¯.¡± ¡°Oooooh, yeah, that could be,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Man, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s up with me today, Basil. I feel funny.¡± Basil rubs her arm. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll get a good night¡¯s sleep tonight and by this time tomorrow, you¡¯ll feel normal again,¡± she promises. ¡°It was a hard day today, after all.¡± ¡°But rewarding,¡± agrees Shamrock. ¡°Yeah,¡± Fresh nods, knowing that Basil wouldn¡¯t lie to her. She looks down at the key in her hand as she thinks. Her memory really does feel fuzzy. But she supposes that she¡¯s just exhausted. Clearing an entire dungeon was an achievement in and of itself, especially for their party where Shamrock and Jubilee were carrying most of the combat-weight. She shakes her head, feeling bad about feeling so slack and weak now. Her friends had worked impossibly hard to get them here and here she is, moping around because she feels a little sleepy. Fresh smiles, looking at the key in her hand. She decides that tomorrow she¡¯s going to take them all on an adventure through this city. They¡¯re going to have a fantastic day and she¡¯s going to work her butt off to let them take it easy for a little while too. ¡°Did we lock our door?¡± she asks, suddenly. ¡°If you ask one more weird fucking question,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re sleeping in the dungeon. Of course we fucking locked the door, goo-brain.¡± They shake their head. ¡°You think we just left our home, just like that? After all of the work we put into it? Honestly.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No. You¡¯re right. I¡¯m weird today,¡± she says. ¡°Today?¡± asks Jubilee, turning their head to look at the barkeeper. ¡°We¡¯re checking in. Indefinite stay. Probably just a few days though.¡± The man, a tall, lanky, odd man that reminds Fresh of the tailor, back in the north, looks at them and at the key and nods. ¡°Breakfast is an hour before sunrise,¡± says the man. ¡°The other meals cost extra.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± says Jubilee, waving the others after themselves. ¡°Wow¡­¡± says Fresh, looking around at the guild. ¡°We¡¯ve never gotten free breakfast before.¡± ¡°Talk about a luxury,¡± laughs Basil. The central adventurer¡¯s guild is perfect. Fresh doesn¡¯t know how else to describe it. It¡¯s the perfect image of an adventurer¡¯s guild, the kind she might have once had in her mind, after arriving into this world. The orange-glow of the hearth radiates warm light over the large, reddish floorboards that sit beneath the boots of easily a hundred people of all types and origins. There is laughter in the air and food on every table. Adventurers are walking around, making banter and small-talk and having a good time. It isn¡¯t cold and somber like the northern guild, or loud and rowdy like the western one and it isn¡¯t militant and salty like the eastern one. The central adventurer¡¯s guild is¡­ homey. There¡¯s something about the ¡®feeling¡¯ in the air. The vibe. The look on every face. There isn¡¯t any stress or worry about money or fear of death present in every eye. There isn¡¯t a survival driven hunger, looking for any opportunity to take advantage of someone or something. The people here live in abundance, but not in abundance of wealth or power. But rather, abundance of purpose, of joy and hope. Every eye carries the twinkle in it of someone excited to give someone a gift on the coming day, eager to see what the reaction is going to be. The guild itself is a simple tavern in design. The entrance is already an open area, right after coming in, filled with tables and laughter. Straight ahead is the bar. To the left is a staircase, leading up towards an open upstairs area with some more tables and a railing. There are several doors up there. One of which is the portal door. Someone steps out of the room, just before they get there. ¡°Oh, pardon me,¡± says the man, stepping to the side as he makes his way downstairs. Jubilee grabs the door before it swings closed and steps inside and the rest of them follow. ¡°What a nice city,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It really is as nice as I thought it was,¡± she concedes as they enter their room. The room is as expected, though a little smaller than the others, actually. While the other rooms clearly had free space to create a base of operations out of, this one is simply¡­ cozy. There is a bed and a window, that¡¯s about it. But the floor-space is much smaller. It takes about five steps to get to the bed and four from wall to wall. ¡°Take off your boots, you fucking animal,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh looks down. ¡°Oh, sorry!¡± she says, scooting back to the door and taking off her boots there, before she tracks in more gunk. She looks at her boots. They really are messy. Lots of ash. Man, that dragon sure put up one heck of a fight. Smiling, she wiggles her feet as she frees them and looks up at the room that her friends all find themselves inside of. ¡°Hey, guys?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee groans. ¡°Will you stop?¡± they ask, planting their hands on their hips. ¡°We locked the door. We have our money. Thyme is fine. What¡¯s your problem?¡± they bark, glaring at her with an annoyed expression. Fresh blinks, lowering her hand, she rubs her arm. ¡°I just wanted to say that I¡¯m happy you¡¯re here¡­¡± ¡°Aw¡­¡± Basil kneels down and hugs her from the side. ¡°You jerk,¡± mutters the priestess to Jubilee. ¡°We all had a hard day, okay?¡± Jubilee softens up, letting out a long sigh and taking off their mask. ¡°We¡¯re just taking a little vacation. We¡¯ll be home again soon, okay?¡± ¡°We¡¯re already home,¡± says Shamrock, scooting past Jubilee to lay first claim on the bed. ¡°Fuck off, Shamrock!¡± barks Jubilee after him. ¡°You¡¯re gonna get the bed all fucking wet!¡± ¡°I will not,¡± says Shamrock, glibbering down onto the mattress. Jubilee groans. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake. We¡¯re getting you some armor, first thing tomorrow.¡± ¡°So, uh¡­¡± Fresh looks at Basil and Jubilee, wanting to ask another question. Though, this time, she just wants to ask if they aren¡¯t weirded out by Shamrock. Nobody seems to really be talking about it. But maybe there¡¯s just nothing to say on the matter. ¡°Shh,¡± says Basil, rubbing her head. ¡°Let¡¯s call it a day, okay? I promise if you have any more questions tomorrow, I¡¯ll answer them,¡± says the priestess and Fresh nods. ¡°Okay.¡± All in all, Fresh isn¡¯t really sure what awaits them here in this new city. But from what she¡¯s seen so far, it feels like it¡¯s going to be a very warm and kind place to stay in. Even if only for a little while. As she lays in bed, pressing herself against Shamrock who she has decided to squish and squash tonight, with Jubilee moving in after her, Fresh smiles. A little trip away from home is nice. But she¡¯s also excited about going back to the beach too, to see all of the warm faces she has become accustomed to. To see all of the fun expressions and acts of emotion acted out on the warm, sunny beach of the eastern desert. She¡¯s excited to tell Tarja and the fairies about this place and she wants to look out of the window and watch that young adventurer fight crabs with his new dagger. Also, she still has to go to the theater with Basil. There¡¯s still so much left to do. There¡¯s always more work. Fresh yawns. But maybe for now, just for a little while, they can take a little vacation. They¡¯ve been working so hard for so long now. What¡¯s a few days off, in the grand scheme of things? In this night to come, the autumn is now to reach its end, the last leaf falling off from the highest branch of the tallest tree in the world and as it begins to descend down towards the ground, carried back and forth by a gentle wind, so too comes the bite of another colder gust, coming from a far off source, carrying with it, the first chill of the winter. But she can¡¯t feel that here, beneath these warm sheets, between her warm friends. Wiggling herself into a perfect position, Fresh falls asleep. Razmatazz We''re gonna have some snug as a bug in rug slice of life for a little bit now, before the inevitable shop reopening arc =) Starting as of last chapter, we''re in DIS [Book {4}] now! (You can buy books 1-3 on my amazon. Audible coming next year!) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 305: The bad news ¡°I¡¯m telling you, Basil!¡± exclaims Fresh as she sits on the foot on the bed, having just come back from the bathing area, together with the priestess. They had one-hundred floors of dungeon guck and one full night¡¯s sleep to wash off of themselves. She feels like a new person now, after returning to their room. Her hair is wrapped in a cloth like the priestess¡¯ is too, so that she can get bouncy hair today. ¡°The dragon was red,¡± she argues. ¡°I remember it!¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°I think you¡¯re getting reality mixed up with your dreams,¡± says the priestess, laughing. ¡°It was clearly orange. But I can see why you¡¯d get it confused. It¡¯s almost the same color.¡± ¡°Basiiiiil~¡± protests Fresh, crossing her arms. She turns her head, looking at Shamrock who wobbles in after them towards the bed, drooping over it halfway. He really didn¡¯t make it or anyone wet in the night. His slime seems to be mostly self-contained within itself. From what she knows about slime-science, otherwise known as slience, this is because he ate before bed. That meant the acidity of his body was very low and that he had a lot of control over his fluidity. That being said, she just made all of that up on the spot. But it sounds plausible in her head. ¡°The dragon was red, right Shamrock?¡± she asks the man. He looks up at them, staring for a quiet moment. ¡°Green.¡± Basil shakes her head, sighing. ¡°Huh?!¡± Fresh crosses her arms. They¡¯re clearly messing with her. They probably planned this in some attempt to tease her while she wasn¡¯t listening. She sighs too, deciding to let the topic drop. It¡¯s too early in the day. The door opens and Jubilee walks back inside with empty hands, having been gone for the last half hour to get breakfast. They close the door behind themselves, holding onto the handle for a moment. Fresh tilts her head. ¡°What¡¯s up, Jubilee? Do you need help carrying the food?¡± she asks. Jubilee shakes their head and turns around, leaning against the door. ¡°Give me a minute.¡± ¡°Are you alright?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Give me a minute,¡± repeats Jubilee in a sharper tone, lifting a hand. Fresh and Basil look at each other, confused. Something is wrong with Jubilee¡¯s posture as they lean back against the door. Their shoulders are too stiff, their arms too tense. Fresh wants to ask what¡¯s wrong again, because something clearly is. She wants to console her friend for whatever might be ailing them this early in the day, telling them that they¡¯re going to have a lot of fun together today. She had promised that, after all. But Jubilee stands there, their hand still raised and so Fresh stands where she is. It must be something serious. Fresh rubs her arm, feeling bad. Did she mess something up somewhere? Maybe Jubilee heard some story about the last time she was here? Some story that makes her look really bad? No¡­ no¡­ Jubilee wouldn¡¯t believe any fake stories like that about her. She¡¯s sure of it. Then wh- ¡°We¡¯re not going home,¡± says Jubilee, finally lowering their hand and looking at the three of them. ¡°¡­What?¡± asks Fresh, blinking. She looks around the room, not sure if she heard right. ¡°Do you like it here that much, Jubilee?¡± ¡°Did we get found out?¡± asks Basil, stepping forward, her posture stiffening up now as well. ¡°Are you alright?¡± asks the priestess, looking Jubilee over. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°No. It¡¯s just that we¡¯re not going home.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee sighs, taking their mask off as they step into the room. ¡°They sealed off the city.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s closed. Nobody in or out,¡± explains Jubilee, pointing up towards the ceiling. ¡°They capped the whole fucking city off with a giant barrier.¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°They haven¡¯t done that since ten years ago.¡± ¡°Fuck me, I know!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°I was fucking here last time too!¡± they yell at Basil, throwing their mask down to the ground in frustration. It rattles as it rolls over the floor and strikes the wall. Basil crosses her arms and frowns. Jubilee continues to glare at the priestess for a moment and then stops, lowering their arms and their shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m just¡­ tense,¡± apologizes Jubilee in a rare moment. Things must really be bad. Basil bends down and picks up the mask, dusting it off. ¡°Why did they do it this time?¡± ¡°Same reason as last time, if I had to guess,¡± sighs Jubilee, walking over towards them, to the bed. They sit down on the floor and lean against it. ¡°I couldn¡¯t get a straight answer from anyone.¡± Basil lowers herself down, sitting next to them and Fresh takes the opportunity to do the same. She has no idea what¡¯s going on. Deciding to take the open route in honor of Jubilee¡¯s openness, she lifts her hand. ¡°Sorry, guys, I don¡¯t understand,¡± says Fresh. ¡°They put a big fucking magical bubble around the city,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Nobody in or out.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°I got that. But what happened ten years ago?¡± ¡°The south,¡± says Jubilee, pointing down to the ground with their thumb. ¡°It sunk like a fucking coffin.¡± Basil nods. ¡°Ten years ago is about the time when the last hero-party was here,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°Something¡­ something went wrong.¡± ¡°That hero of yours fucked it up! That¡¯s what went wrong!¡± says Jubilee. ¡°All of that for a fucking witch,¡± they say, shaking their head. ¡°You zealots brain-washed him and it ended up killing half the fucking continent,¡± says Jubilee dryly. Everyone is quiet for a while. Fresh looks around the room, meeting eyes with Shamrock. He lifts a gooey finger, pointing it at her. ¡°Perchta,¡± says the man, nodding to her once. ¡°Wait. Perchta died?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Everyone fucking died!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°The witch. The hero and everyone else who just so happened to live down in the area.¡± Not quite grasping it, Fresh rubs her forehead with her wrist in a vague agitation. It¡¯s like her brain is itching, there¡¯s something there, but she can¡¯t quite get it. ¡°So why do people call me Perchta all the time?¡± Shamrock glibbers down off of the bed, forming a human form. ¡°Light souls float,¡± says the man. ¡°You¡¯ve returned to us.¡± ¡°So do you think something¡­¡± Basil starts, not finishing right away. ¡°Do you think something happened? Again?¡± Jubilee gets up. ¡°Well. We have a hero. We have a witch. We have at least four unexploded dungeons left. The pieces are all there.¡± ¡°What does that mean, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, getting up too. Jubilee turns to look at her, to look at all of them. ¡°Listen. Until we know why they put that dumb shit up, you need to prepare for the worst.¡± ¡°The worst?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee nods. ¡°The worst.¡± The four of them look at each other, all of them sizing the others up, to see how they are handling the news. Whether this news is bad or disastrous, none of them can tell. ¡°How much money do we have?¡± asks Jubilee, looking at Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re going to be staying here indefinitely.¡± Basil sighs, rubbing Shamrock. ¡°Ow!¡± she yelps, surprised. ¡°Sorry,¡± says the man, looking down at her as she shakes out her slightly burnt finger. ¡°Not before breakfast.¡± Basil frowns. ¡°I was just about to say, it¡¯s a good thing we kept all of our money in your window,¡± says the priestess, blowing on her finger. ¡°Imagine if we kept it at the guild. We¡¯d be in big trouble now.¡± Having already opened her window, Fresh shakes her head, throwing out stack after stack of Obols. ¡°We¡¯ll always be able to make money together,¡± she says. ¡°As long as we have each other.¡± ¡°I would have just said ¡®a dungeon and people¡¯, says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. Wanting to change the topic to something lighter, Fresh moves the conversation along. ¡°So can we go to the dungeon here?¡± she asks. ¡°I really wanna see it!¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to visit the temples,¡± says Basil. ¡°There are supposed to be some very lovely shrines here.¡± ¡°Market,¡± says Shamrock. The three of them look at Jubilee, seeing what their wish for the day is. Jubilee blinks, lifting their arms to shrug. ¡°What?¡± they ask. ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck.¡± ¡°Jubilee~!¡± ¡°Ugh, fine!¡± relents Jubilee. ¡°There are a few bookstores here. I guess.¡± Fresh nods, satisfied, as she throws another lump of money out onto the bed. Who knows how long they¡¯re going to need to stay here and live off of their funds? It¡¯s a good thing that they had collected so many little things for the long winter to come. Fresh lets out another sigh of relief as she throws another handful of large coins out onto the stack. Every single Obol is another piece of a day bought for each of them. Another day of food, of water, of opportunity. The year has been long, but they have worked hard through spring, through summer and through autumn and now, they finally have the chance to make use of some of their spoils. Fresh throws even more coins out onto the towering pile of glistening, wet metal, listening to the loud jangling that almost sounds like trickling water. Razmatazz Happy new years! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 306: The central dungeon Fresh lets out an extremely delighted scream, clutching her face as she looks at the odd thing. ¡°JUBILEEEEEE~!¡± she howls, her fingers digging into her cheeks. ¡°Look at it! LOOK!¡± exclaims Fresh, spinning around in a circle and stomping her feet like an excited child. She literally can¡¯t handle it. ¡°I¡¯m going to die!¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the odd thing. ¡°I sure fucking hope so,¡± sighs Jubilee, rubbing their ear that was facing her way. Basil lets out a quiet laugh and the four of them look back at the monster. After drumming up a cute little breakfast, the four of them had gone into the cute little dungeon and the first monster here is a very cute little thing. It¡¯s a round, woody bulb with two tiny, stubby protrusions as legs and two very useless, just as stubby arms at its sides. Adorning its head is a giant sprouting leaf. It essentially looks like a living, sprouting acorn or seed of some kind. Waving its arms up and down, its two large eyes narrowed in furious indignation, it runs towards them. ¡°PAKEW!¡± it yells, now for the third time. Jubilee just sighs, holding their hand out against its forehead and blocking it as it tries in vain to reach them. ¡°Fucking spriggans,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Useless little shits.¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± yells the monster, which clearly classifies as a forest-monster. Fresh is sure she could understand it, if it was actually saying something. But it isn¡¯t really communicating, it¡¯s literally just shouting ¡®pakew¡¯ at them. It doesn¡¯t mean anything. It¡¯s just a sound. ¡°Pakew!¡± yells Fresh in delight. She loves it. It¡¯s adorable. The little onion-bulb is furiously flapping its stubby, branch arms, its eyes clenched down tightly as it still continues to charge at them, still held back by Jubilee¡¯s effortlessly extended hand. Basil leans down and pokes the large, green leaf adorning the monster¡¯s head. ¡°It really does have a charm to it, doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Can we keep it?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Huh?! Jubilee! Jubilee! Pleeeease?¡± ¡°No,¡± says Jubilee. Basil shakes her head too. ¡°We have enough mouths to feed as is.¡± ¡°The natural order mustn¡¯t be disturbed,¡± says Shamrock, reaching for his back to grab his sword. But it isn¡¯t there. Fresh blinks, watching as his fingers grasp the air for a moment until he realizes that it¡¯s gone. Fresh frowns. ¡°Don¡¯t worry Shamrock. I¡¯ll make you a new sword.¡± ¡°Fucking dragon,¡± sighs Jubilee. She turns back to the monster. ¡°Can we just skip it and go to the next floor, please?¡± she asks. ¡°It¡¯s so cute.¡± ¡°Did you forget how dungeons work?¡± asks Jubilee, nodding to the red-fog that blocks the passage onward. Fresh stares at it for a moment, watching the swirling mist spin around and around. It¡¯s almost mesmerizing. It reminds her of something. Of something red. But she can¡¯t quite figure out what. Must be the dragon. ¡°PA-¡± ¡°AH!¡± Fresh yelps, looking back down at the dead spriggan, watching as it flops lifelessly to the ground, a piece of glass sticking out of its side. The fog vanishes. ¡°Five is a lot,¡± remarks Basil. ¡°Especially for the very first monster in the dungeon.¡± ¡°Told you the central-dungeon is the best dungeon,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The best monsters are here.¡± ¡°The rich get richer, huh?¡± asks Basil. She looks down at the spriggan. ¡°What do we loot from it? The bark, right?¡± she asks. ¡°Yup,¡± nods Jubilee. Basil nods back, reaching instinctively around for her bag to grab her knife. But her bag isn¡¯t there. The priestess blinks. ¡°Oh¡­ right.¡± ¡°Dragon?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Dragon,¡± nods Basil. ¡°We need to buy new bags. New tools.¡± ¡°Can I get some glass please, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ll make us some glass knives for now.¡± Jubilee nods, forming a block of glass. Following a familiar design-pattern, Fresh splits that into two chunks. Then, out of those two chunks, she simply uses her old glass-dagger recipe from the west. Two pristine, shiny daggers fall to the dirt. Holding her hands above them, she sands them down, so that the glass isn¡¯t clearly reflective anymore. Carefully picking them up and shaking them off, Fresh hands one to Basil. ¡°We can use these for now. We¡¯ll just buy real ones later. Careful.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± replies the priestess. The two of them bend down and start removing the bark from the little spriggan. ¡°Pakew¡­¡± mutters Fresh beneath her breath. ¡°Pakew,¡± nods Basil. By the time they finish and make their way down to the next floor, the next monsters, more spriggans, are already essentially dead. ¡°It¡¯s kind of fucked, honestly,¡± says Jubilee, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. Shamrock shrugs, the three dead spriggans dissolving inside of him, right before their eyes. ¡°Death comes for us all.¡± [ You got {10/500} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {15/500} Experience ! ] (Party) [ You got {20/500} Experience ! ] (Party) Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°If we want to make you some new armor, we¡¯re going to have to find something pretty resilient,¡± notes Basil. ¡°I think there are some good metals here that we can buy.¡± ¡°Floor nine,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll find some there.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yeah,¡± nods Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s where the orichalcum veins start to run. It¡¯s slime-proof.¡± And so, the four of them set to work. The first few floors of the dungeon are pretty unintense, all things considered. It feels like a very easy dungeon, especially compared to the west or the north. The spriggans are essentially entirely harmless. Even when a large group of seven of them make a run at them all at once, they¡¯re just cut down on the spot and that¡¯s that. They don¡¯t have any attacks, they don¡¯t have any sharp teeth or long claws or any incredible strength. They¡¯re just kind of useless and like to shout ¡®pakew¡¯ a lot. Fresh loves them, obviously and is heartbroken with every death of theirs to come. On the plus side, spriggan bark is apparently useful for an extremely large variety of things. By the time they reach floor five, the spriggans finally start defending themselves properly, being armed with nature magic, using their long stems and leafy crowns as staves to cast spells their way. But these are still really low level spells. Considering that this dungeon was technically only accessible to the highest of leveled adventurers, it seems odd that it feels like the easiest one of them all. But maybe that exactly is the point. The big slime eats the little slime. And as for slimes, Shamrock might not have his armor or his sword right now, but he¡¯s still extremely deadly as a fighter, making use of his natural abilities as a large slime, rather than simply chopping or tearing the monsters apart. Honestly, for a slime, he¡¯s massive. His size and stature aren¡¯t diminished by his lack of armor, the only difference is that he seems less rigged. But he¡¯s as destructive a force as ever. That being said, Fresh can see that he misses his armor, so she works extra hard to skin the spriggans, so that they can get to floor nine today and find some metal for him. Floor six has a harpy. Fresh looks at the familiar bird-woman. She had seen one of them up in the air when¡­ when she¡­ Fresh blinks, rubbing her forehead. Wait. Did she ever see a harpy? She doesn¡¯t think that she did. The girl shakes her head. Must¡¯ve been some odd dream. Lifting her gaze, she stares at the bird woman, perched on a large, gnarled root. ¡°Harpy feathers are good for writing with,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Plus they make great blanket filler.¡± ¡°That feels a little grim,¡± notes Basil. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Eh. It is what it is.¡± The harpy doesn¡¯t stand much of a chance, honestly. It is indeed, a little grim. Floor eight has a giant snake as a boss. A single fang of its is the size of her whole body. The serpent winds around and around a large root that pushes through the ground, lifting its head to gaze at them with massive, haunting, yellow eyes. Fresh screams. Jubilee rolls their eyes and snaps their fingers, making a show out of yawning as they keep on walking. The boss dies in an instant. A shortcut opens up. But the four of them, having been down here for a few hours now, go down one more floor. The room layout changes into what looks almost like a mineshaft of some sort and lining the walls are small clumps of a shining, pink metal. Razmatazz -) Huh? What? Yeah, her current max-exp required per level is higher than last time we saw it. She got a lot of passive experience from all those crabs that kept trying to come into the house, you know? Er, I mean, from the dragon. Yeah. Haha -) Spriggan bark, Rare-wood, Orichalcum, Harpy feathers, lots of interesting items we know about so far in this zone Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 307: Hard work doesn’t pay They are back in their small room in the adventurer¡¯s guild, having returned from the dungeon. After a small excursion through the city to visit the shrines that Basil had wanted to see and the shops that Jubilee and Shamrock had been interested in, they grabbed some lunch and then made their way back ¡®home¡¯. As for the bubble, the magical force-field that has surrounded the entire city, pressing itself all the way up to the crown of the tree, as if it were a veil, falling down from its high branches, nobody could give them any straight answers. Not the shopkeepers, not the guards they spoke to, not the casters or adventurers or anyone from any guild anywhere. It seems that nobody seems to know why exactly the barrier has been put in place again after all of these years. But the general mood is that nobody was really worried. So, Fresh decides to carry that feeling along with herself as well. If it was really serious, then surely the people of the city would be worried, right? Surely somebody would know about it? Currently, it¡¯s just been attributed to the central-authority, whoever resides at the highest echelons of society, having decided to do so. Perhaps there is a hard winter ahead and they wanted to block out the snow? Fresh puffs out her cheeks, sweat dripping down her forehead from her fourth attempt now at trying to cast the crafting spell onto the heap of orichalcum ore that they had collected down in the dungeon. She exhales, letting out a strained breath. Sure, she might not have soul-points to spend while casting, but it¡¯s still exhausting. ¡°I think it¡¯s about time we tell her,¡± says Basil, playing with a little knick-knack she had bought outside of one of the shrines. It¡¯s a small stone talisman without a chain. ¡°No. Let her do it one more time,¡± says Jubilee, sitting on the floor and watching her while nibbling on a dried fruit bar, a new book laying on the floorboards next to them. Fresh, realizing that they know something that she doesn¡¯t, turns around to look at her friends. ¡°What¡¯s up, guys?¡± she asks. ¡°Nothing,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Keep going. I think you¡¯re almost there!¡± they affirm, nodding once. Fresh smiles, nodding back and lifting her hands to try again. Jubilee is such a supportive friend. Sure, it¡¯s hard work, but if it means that she can make something nice for Shamrock, then it will be worth it. ¡°No, I¡¯m stopping this now,¡± says Basil, getting up. ¡°You won¡¯t manage like that,¡± says the priestess, grabbing her arm and pushing it back down before she casts the spell again. ¡°It¡¯s orichalcum.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Yeah?¡± she says, not sure what Basil is implying. ¡°You did read the description, right?¡± asks the priestess, nodding her head to the chunks of pink metal. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Basil smiles, sighing at the same time as she lets go and runs her fingers over her new talisman. ¡°It¡¯s magic resistant. Orihalcum isn¡¯t affected by magic.¡± ¡°So¡­¡± ¡°So that applies to crafting magic too,¡± explains the priestess. Fresh stares at her for a moment, before looking back down at the metal she had been trying to work on for the last twenty minutes now. ¡°Oh.¡± Fresh sighs too, scratching her cheek. ¡°Wait! You could have told me that before!¡± she argues. ¡°It was funny,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at her with the fruit bar in their hands. ¡°Anyways, if it was that easy to use, don¡¯t you think literally everyone would be wearing orichalcum everywhere all day, every day?¡± they ask. Fresh considers this point for a moment, it¡¯s a good one, to be fair. ¡°You need a real dry-crafter with a special forge if you want to turn that into anything.¡± ¡°But I want to do it,¡± argues Fresh, frowning. ¡°Do you know how to melt orichalcum and how to smith plate-armor?¡± asks Jubilee, shrugging and shaking their head. ¡°With your hands?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°I thought so,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Orichalcum is weird shit. It¡¯s pretty much worthless as ore until it¡¯s processed. But you need a huge fucking forge to melt it. There¡¯s only one place in town that does it,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°The processed bars are worth a fortune though.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just go there, then?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We probably have the money.¡± ¡°We might. But there¡¯s a waiting time. If we go today, we¡¯ll probably be up to melt our shit by new-years -¡± ¡°That¡¯s not so bad,¡± ponders Fresh. It¡¯s winter now, so a few more months and the new year will be here. That sounds manageable. They¡¯ll just have to find some provisional armor for Shamrock until then. ¡°- New-years NEXT year,¡± finishes Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. Fresh¡¯s shoulders fall slack. ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± nods Jubilee in affirmation, picking up their book and reading it. Fresh is happy that they finally found something lighter to read than that creepy demon book. Jubilee had probably read that thing inside and out a hundred times over. She sighs, rubbing the back of her head. ¡°What was your old armor made from, Shamrock?¡± she asks, looking at the man. He sits quietly on the side of the bed, just staring across the room. ¡°Cobalt.¡± ¡°Good luck,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head, seeing her eyes light up. ¡°Cobalt only comes from two mines. One is in the south and one is across the ocean.¡± Fresh sighs again. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± says Basil. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out. Should we just buy some random armor for now?¡± ¡°Acceptable,¡± says Shamrock. Jubilee flips a page of their book. ¡°It¡¯s for the best. We don¡¯t need that kind of attention here anyways. That¡¯s ignoring the fact that you¡¯re just feeding her ego all day by wearing that spooky shit.¡± ¡°Speaking of attention,¡± says Basil. ¡°How come you let the woman at the entrance of the city know about¡­ well, you know, you?¡± asks the priestess, pinching the tip of Jubilee¡¯s right ear between her thumb and index-finger and rubbing it. ¡°The central-authority doesn¡¯t care about demons being here,¡± says Jubilee plainly. ¡°The church doesn¡¯t run this show.¡± Fresh sits down on the floor. It¡¯s kind of a small space for all four of them, especially considering the luxury that she feels they have become accustomed to. She tilts her head, thinking. ¡®The central-authority¡¯, she¡¯s heard that phrase before somewhere. Though she isn¡¯t quite sure where. Are they the people who run the central-city? It certainly sounds like it, at least. She shrugs and decides not to stress about it. Things are troublesome enough as is already. It is later in the evening and the four of them walk through the city again, having decided to grab dinner today and to buy some equipment. Fresh and Basil have new bags again, having decided to buy proper adventuring backpacks this time, instead of the old pocketless sacks that they had always been using. ¡°I¡¯m kind of sad, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, frowning as she looks at her new bag that she had excitedly picked out. ¡°So am I, with you two wasting our money,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No. I mean¡­ you bought me my other bag,¡± she explains. ¡°I¡¯ve always only had that bag. It was my favorite,¡± says Fresh, rubbing the material of the new bag with her thumb. It¡¯s nice, but it isn¡¯t the same. ¡°Look, for what I paid for it, we got our money¡¯s worth out of it,¡± shrugs Jubilee. Fresh sighs, she supposes that¡¯s true. She¡­ She blinks. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°Yeah?¡± Fresh looks at her friend. ¡°What happened to my bag? Did I leave it at home?¡± ¡°Huh? Are you fucked in the head?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°The fucking dragon ate it, remember?¡± ¡°Ooooh!¡± says Fresh, looking back at the new bag. ¡°Man. That dragon sure caused us a lot of trouble.¡± ¡°Dragons tend to do that,¡± replies Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Come on. We still need to get some real tools and we need to have a talk tonight.¡± ¡°About what?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Oh! Look!¡± she says, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s shoulder and pointing at a large sign. An armorsmith¡¯s shop is just across the road from them. Jubilee pulls the priestess¡¯ hand off of themselves and motions for them to follow, as the four of them head to the store¡¯s window to look inside. ¡°If we¡¯re staying here, we need to make money,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Real money. Not that dungeon bullshit,¡± they say, looking into the window. ¡°That means we need a location. At least a fucking cart or something.¡± ¡°Man,¡± says Fresh, shaking her head. ¡°I wish we brought the cart with us,¡± she says. ¡°Next time, then.¡± ¡°Next time,¡± nods Jubilee. The four of them watch the man inside of the window at work and then head inside, making an odd request for a cheap, large suit of armor that a slime could comfortably fit inside of. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 308: Simple and clean Fresh stands outside in the street, staring up at the oddly dancing lights that make up the sky above their heads. It is late at night, several days later. She¡¯s outside right now, having been sent out to bring back today¡¯s dinner. The others, after a long, exhausting day down in the dungeon, had just wanted to have a quiet meal at home tonight. The last few nights, they had been living it up a little, eating out in warm taverns and enjoyable restaurants. She exhales, seeing the vapors of her breath leave her body. It¡¯s cold. The winter is here and it isn¡¯t as clearly evidenced by the chill in the air, or the more quickly darkening days as much as it is by the falling of fresh snow. Snow that never quite seems to reach her. She can see it down here, from down on the street. She can see the white tufts falling down against the odd, egg-like dome that sits around the entire city. It¡¯s like they¡¯ve been trapped inside of a snow-globe. But for some reason, the snow is on the other side. Fresh shivers, holding her arms together as she rubs herself, trying to stay warm. She needs a coat, she only has on this robe that they had bought the other day. After Shamrock got his new armor, which she likes, but not as much as his old set, she had been ¡®next in line¡¯ because her black robe was suspicious and so the others dragged her into a store where she picked out a new one. Basil did too, they got matching ones. The material is a plain, but thick, cotton-like fabric that is apparently made out of strips of processed and woven spriggans¡¯ bark. It¡¯s a common material used here in this city. It¡¯s very light and durable, but that¡¯s about it. It doesn¡¯t have any extravagant magical properties or defensive values as a fabric. It¡¯s just a well made, strongly threaded robe. It¡¯s not the prettiest thing ever, but it doesn¡¯t look bad either. It¡¯s just a little plain, is all. It isn¡¯t particularly warm, however. This was poor planning on their part. Fresh looks down and away from the flakes of snow, striking against the shield and melting, as she returns her focus to the winding, blue-tinged road ahead of herself, covered in streaks of the warm, orange light escaping from many cozy windows, lit aglow from the insides of the homes that they hide. It really is a nice city. Fresh keeps on walking. Because it¡¯s so cold, maybe she could find something hearty for them to eat? Hearty food is easier to just make yourself than it is to buy, but that¡¯s just what it is. It might be a little while until they have a kitchen again though. Who knows when this odd circumstance will finally come to an end and when they¡¯ll be allowed to leave the central-city again? She hopes that Basil¡¯s plants are going to make it that long. Some of them need to be watered regularly, especially under the hot, desert sun. She hopes that their customers aren¡¯t standing in front of their door in the morning, waiting in vain for them to open. Did they put up a sign? Fresh stops, staring at the ground for a moment. She doesn¡¯t remember. But there¡¯s no way that Jubilee wouldn¡¯t have put up a sign if they left their home. She herself is a bit of a ¡®goo-brain¡¯, as they always say. But she¡¯ll trust in their sense of responsibility, if she can¡¯t do so for her own. For a while, she wanders, marveling at the kind city until she eventually finds something. A street vendor, selling large portions of a stew-like dish with tubers and root vegetables and a thick, brown gravy. It¡¯s a cute, little, open-faced stall with a few seats in front of it that are mostly empty. But the man behind the counter is busy at work nonetheless. Fresh approaches and looks down at his creation. Steam rises from it, bringing an enjoyable warmth and wholeness to her face and sense of smell. She smiles, having found what she¡¯s looking for. (Fresh) bought [Red-tuber hot-bowl](High) x4 for [{60} Obols ] ! Waving goodbye to the man who she had to give a few extra Obols to, so that she could take the lidded bowls back with herself in her bag, Fresh makes her way ¡®home¡¯. She likes that word. She still remembers the first time she had thought it, the first time she had called anything that. It was back in the north, she was coming back from an errand, similar to this one. It¡¯s funny, how the universe will sync little things like that up now and then, isn¡¯t it? For all the talk of the horribleness of what she is perceived to be, Fresh wishes that people would just let her exist like this. She wishes that the fountain would just¡­ drop everything and let her be here, like this. Just let her be a simple person, doing simple things during simple days and nights and in return for doing these simple tasks, for running these easy errands and chores, she might then receive a simple reward. ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± calls Fresh as she steps into their room in the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°You don¡¯t have to yell,¡± snaps Jubilee from the bed, about five steps away. ¡°Welcome home,¡± says Shamrock, his dark-silver armor rattling as he¡¯s still having a little trouble getting adjusted to the different shell. Wait. One¡­ two¡­ Fresh yelps, realizing that ¡®three¡¯ is behind her, having been standing in the corner behind the doorway. Basil¡¯s hands grab her and ten poky, prodding fingers run their way over her sides and then stomach from behind as the priestess grabs her in a violent hug. ¡°IAH!¡± yelps Fresh as she is viciously attacked. ¡°I GOT YOU NOW!¡± exclaims Basil, tickling her. ¡°Noooo~!¡± howls Fresh, trying to waddle away and to fight down her pained laughter at the same time. But there is no escape. ¡°Pipe down,¡± sighs Jubilee. Fresh laughs, trying and failing to fight Basil off. She had tickled the priestess in a similar fashion the other day and now the comeuppance has finally arrived. This was her own fault, she got caught unaware, she wasn¡¯t paying attention. ¡°Mercy!¡± she howls. ¡°I brought food!¡± Basil stops. ¡°Is it good?¡± she asks, her fingers still staying on the sides of Fresh¡¯s ribs, but not moving as she waits for an answer. Fresh lifts her nose. ¡°As if I would get bad food!¡± she protests. Jubilee flips a page of their book. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s true,¡± they say. Fresh smiles, glad to have some rare back-up from Jubilee. ¡°You just make it.¡± Fresh clutches her heart, letting out a dramatic cry as she falls to her knees and dies, taking Basil down with her to the ground. ¡°No dying in the house,¡± says Shamrock, looking over their way. Fresh lifts her face from the floorboards, looking at him. ¡°It¡¯s our room, it¡¯s not a house. There¡¯s no rule about dying here,¡± she argues, before putting her face back down onto the floor. ¡°Well. It¡¯s okay,¡± says Basil. Fresh can feel her on her back. The priestess is sitting on her, rummaging around in her bag. ¡°That¡¯s just one more portion for the three of us then.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± Fresh tries to push herself up, but Basil is too heavy for her to move. ¡°Should¡¯ve done those push-ups, huh?¡± quips Jubilee, taking a bowl from Basil and passing it to Shamrock. ¡°Thank you,¡± says the giant man. Jubilee takes the next bowl, pulling the lid off and setting it to the side. ¡°Oh, this stuff is good.¡± ¡°It smells great,¡± says Basil, taking another bowl out and setting it to the side, on the floor. Fresh reaches for it, but Basil leans over and scoots it away, just out of reach of her fingertips. ¡°Baaaasil~!¡± complains Fresh, reaching for her dinner in vain. ¡°Don¡¯t bully meeee~!¡± she cries. ¡°I can¡¯t be bullying you if you¡¯re dead,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Okay!¡± relents Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m not dead! I was just pretending!¡± The priestess makes a show out of thinking, tapping her chin with her finger. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± ¡°Really!¡± argues Fresh, trying to squirm away from the priestess still sitting on her back. Seeing her move an inch closer, Jubilee bends over and scoots her bowl an inch further away from her hands. ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± Basil laughs. ¡°Well. Okay. I suppose you do sound rather lively for someone who¡¯s dead.¡± ¡°Right?!¡± asks Fresh. Basil gets up and then helps Fresh get up, dusting her off. ¡°Thanks for sweeping the floor,¡± sighs the priestess, dusting off Fresh¡¯s new robe and then laughing again. Her laugh infects Fresh, who feels like she has suffered a great deal already as is. The two of them sit down next to each other on the floor next to Shamrock, who is leaning against the wall and Jubilee, who is leaning against the bed and together all four of them share a warm, heartfelt dinner that brings many different feelings of comfort and safety with it, many different smells and sensations of taste and texture and all of these things are born from elements that are, in and off themselves, simple. Razmatazz -) God they''re all so adorable together. It makes me sick. -) New litRPG story coming up today or tomorrow, depending on when RR approves it. It''s just a fun, shorter side-story I''m making for the RR magazine contest =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 309: A fresh coat of white ¡°Basil! Basil! Look!¡± Fresh runs down the street, staring in wide-eyed wonder as flakes of white snow find their way down to the roads, landing and collecting on the roofs of the many warm houses, on the bark of the giant tree that sits in the center of the city, as if coating it with streaks of white paint. She isn¡¯t the only excited person running around. Other adventurers run along the street as well, one of them slipping and sliding, flailing with his arms as he spins haphazardly in a circle over a patch of ice, colliding into his friends. All of them tumble over at once, falling down onto the street. But they seem to take it lightly and laugh in the same childish enjoyment that Fresh has of the situation. Bending down, she picks up a handful of cold powder in her cupped hands and then blows on it, sending puffs of it flying away like dandelion-fluff on a spring breeze. ¡°Snow!¡± she exclaims, turning back towards Basil, just in time to see the snowball flying her way. Fresh yelps, having been betrayed in broad daylight. The snowball strikes her right on the nose and breaks apart and by the time she wipes it off of herself, all she can see and hear is Jubilee laughing at her. She wipes the snow off of her face and looks just in time as Jubilee is then buried beneath a mountain of it. Shamrock might have overdone it with his attack. Jubilee pops out of the heap of snow. ¡°Shamrock! You fuck!¡± they swear. ¡°Just you fucking wait until I-¡± Jubilee grumbles, trying to pull themselves out of the snow. This time Fresh laughs, even if she feels a little mean for doing so and Basil does so too, at least until she gets her well-deserved snowball to the side of the head. ¡°Aaah! That¡¯s what you get!¡± laughs Jubilee smugly, seeing the priestess wipe her face and hair off to get rid of the marks of Fresh¡¯s revenge attack. ¡°Why is it snowing, guys?¡± asks Fresh, walking back to her friends. People run around all around them. It seems that most of the adventurers here had managed to keep a childlike, light spirit and they find great, shameless enjoyment in something as simple and clean as fresh winter¡¯s snow. ¡°Because it¡¯s winter, goo-brain. It fucking snows everywhere,¡± sighs Jubilee, letting out an annoyed bark as Shamrock lifts them up out of the snow that they¡¯re still buried in. With a rough hand, he wipes the remaining powder off of them. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake, Shamrock!¡± snaps Jubilee, coughing after Shamrock brushed a little too hard against them. ¡°I¡¯m not an old rug.¡± ¡°Be gentle, Shamrock,¡± says Basil, sounding rather smug. ¡°You know how delicate Jubilee is.¡± ¡°Fuck off, Basil,¡± sighs Jubilee, crossing their arms as Shamrock sets them back down. ¡°If anyone is sensitive here, it¡¯s you. Crying and flailing in your sleep every fucking night, like some kind of banshee.¡± ¡°I have bad dreams,¡± replies Basil, crossing her arms and lifting her nose. ¡°Toughen up, buttercup,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°I¡¯m going to cuddle with you tonight then,¡± says Basil. ¡°Being next to your weird, pointy face for hours will toughen anyone up,¡± she quips. Fresh laughs, glad to see them back to bantering as always. She looks up towards the sky, wondering where the snow is coming from. The shield is still in place and there¡¯s nothing coming through it. She narrows her eyes, staring upwards. ¡°AH!¡± she exclaims, grabbing Shamrock¡¯s arm as she points upward. ¡°Look!¡± The others look up towards the towering mountain of a tree. High, high up on the lowest rung of branches, tiny silhouettes can be seen, walking around. People. Casters. Magical glows release from their hands and then, moments later, a new wave of snow and ice falls down from above. ¡°They¡¯re making snow!¡± she exclaims excitedly. ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°This is where the ice-casters all go in summer, when it gets hot as fuck,¡± they explain. ¡°Remember?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, thinking back to the brutal summer they had undergone, back in the north. ¡°They usually tend to stay afterwards.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t they have to do a dungeon too?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Turns out that being useful will open a lot of doors for you. Ice-magic is pretty rare, so they get taken in quickly. Hell, most of them have a full-time job by the time they¡¯re ten,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Huh¡­¡± Fresh leans her head against Shamrock¡¯s arm, as she stares up at the casters above the city, showering them with a little inkling of winter. In an odd way, she¡¯s kind of jealous for no real reason. It¡¯s just that in some fleeting thought, she imagines that they must have very fun and exciting lives. But then she remembers that she does too and that note of jealousy subsides. She rubs her cheek against Shamrock. ¡°They¡¯re probably trying to lighten the mood,¡± says Basil, catching a flake of snow with her hand. ¡°It¡¯s working,¡± beams Fresh, looking around at the many excited faces all around them. A child, some young elf squishes its face against a window and looks at them and waves excitedly. She waves back. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan for today, guys?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Well¡­¡± Jubilee starts. ¡°I wish I could say ¡®the same thing as every day¡¯, but I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to be opening today,¡± they say. ¡°Not until we find a place to set-up shop,¡± agrees Basil. ¡°Is it even worth it?¡± asks Fresh, looking at her friends. ¡°Finding a home seems like a big investment, if we¡¯re just staying here until the shield goes away,¡± she ponders. ¡°What¡¯re we going to do with it when we go back?¡± Basil and Jubilee look at each other for a moment and then nod. ¡°Ah!¡± exclaims Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re doing the thing again! Don¡¯t do that!¡± she protests. ¡°Don¡¯t do what?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Don¡¯t make up agreements in front of me without telling me about it!¡± demands Fresh. ¡°I get confused easily and then you guys do that kind of stuff and I get double-confused and then I end up lying awake at night because of how confused I am!¡± Jubilee plants their hands on their hips, raising an eyebrow behind their mask. ¡°Sometimes I wonder how hard it is to be you,¡± they say. Fresh exhales, letting her shoulders drop. ¡°It depends on the phase of the moon.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means and I don¡¯t want to,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Look¡­¡± they start, before sighing again, rubbing the forehead of their mask. They shake their head. ¡°Basil, you tell her.¡± ¡°Me?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Tell me what?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You tell her,¡± says Basil. ¡°I don¡¯t always want to be the bad guy.¡± ¡°We had a deal,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You handle the chicken-questions and I handle the day-to-day stuff,¡± they say. ¡°Helloooo?¡± asks Fresh, still waiting on an answer. A strong, gruff voice moves through their discussion. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving,¡± says Shamrock. The others look at him, as he seems to have ripped the bandage off. ¡°What?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He shakes his head, pointing at the sky. ¡°We live here now,¡± he explains, pointing at the barrier. ¡°Months or years,¡± he says, lowering his arm again. ¡°Last time the shield was up,¡± says Basil. ¡°It was up for a full year, before the central-authority decided it was okay to drop again,¡± she explains somberly, looking off towards some falling snow. But perhaps also, so that she has somewhere else to look, rather than at Fresh¡¯s face. ¡°It could be a week, it could be a month, it could be a year or hell, maybe we¡¯re just going to be living here forever,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But we have to assume the worst. We¡¯re not going back anytime soon,¡± they say. ¡°Huh?!¡± Fresh looks around, shocked. ¡°But what about our house? What about the ice-cream? Your plants, Basil! The lantern! Jubilee! Your bear!¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do about any of that,¡± says Basil. ¡°We¡¯re used to moving overnight. Just pretend we did it again, okay?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Please?¡± asks the priestess, grabbing her shoulder. ¡°The bear can find us again and if he can, so can the lantern. It¡¯s the best we can hope for.¡± Fresh wants to have a fit, obviously, at this most unfortunate turn of events that her friends had known about, but were only letting her in on now. But as she scans the circle, listening to the happy voices all around them, enjoying the snow, enjoying the world, enjoying life, Fresh realizes that she has to make a choice now as the party-leader and as a friend. Her friends are counting on her to be an adult, to not have to be dragged along kicking and crying like a spoiled child. The winter is here and they have done a lot to prepare, giving them strong footing during its very sudden arrival, together with this overnight shift in their lives. They have stuck together through spring, summer and autumn and she isn¡¯t about to let the bad-thing take her once again, now that the cold that she had always tried to punish herself with surrounds her on all sides. She isn¡¯t phased by the cold anymore, she doesn¡¯t use it as a tool of self-harm, rather, she wants to look at the snow and the ice with the same child-like wonder as the faces all around them and she wants her cherished friends to carry the same expressions on their faces and in their hearts. But that requires her example. She¡¯s setting the tone, the mood. Fresh smiles and nods, placing her hand on top of Basil¡¯s on her shoulder. ¡°Okay, guys!¡± she says. ¡°I understand. We need a plan. Let¡¯s get breakfast and then sit down and make one together,¡± she instructs. The others nod, agreeing with her. Shamrock rattles, a strong shiver running down his metal armor, as Jubilee slips a handful of snow into a slit in his waist and starts laughing. ¡°That¡¯s what you get, shit-head!¡± barks Jubilee, watching the man try to compose himself as the ice touches his slimy body. A snowball flies Jubilee¡¯s way and they duck, avoiding it as it flies over their head. ¡°Aaah! Fuck you, Basil!¡± taunts Jubilee, having dodged the priestess¡¯ attack. ¡°I¡¯m gonna get you!¡± threatens Basil, picking up another handful of snow. ¡°Like hell!¡± Shamrock bends down and scoops up a large armful of snow. ¡°Fuck off, Shamrock!¡± snaps Jubilee, sounding very worried. Basil yelps in terror, trying to run away. Fresh meanwhile stands there and laughs. Today, she has chosen a lighter path to walk and the only price she has to pay is this one to come. Her laugh nervously continues, as the haphazardly thrown pile of snow leaves Shamrock¡¯s arms and flies towards the three of them, its shadow coming to loom over their heads. ¡®It could be worse¡¯ is the last thing that Fresh thinks, before it hits them. Razmatazz -) NEW STORY! is online, in-case you missed the memo yesterday! This is just a fun side-experiment, don''t expect it to be some huge thing that lasts forever haha Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 310: Do you know? ¡°Muffins!¡± yells a loud, jovial sounding man out into the market-square, outside of the dungeon. ¡°Get your muffins!¡± He doesn¡¯t seem to have any takers though. People are just walking right past him to and from the dungeon. ¡°I want a muffin!¡± exclaims Fresh, running over excitedly towards him as if his call had been meant for her personally. ¡°Stop wasting our money,¡± sighs Jubilee, walking up after her. ¡°It¡¯s not a waste, Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh, putting down some coins and pointing at a big, blue-speckled muffin that she likes the look of. ¡°It¡¯s breakfast!¡± (Fresh) bought [Blueberry-Muffin]{Masterwork} for [{20} Obols] ! Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Sounds like someone didn¡¯t have breakfast!¡± says the man jokingly behind the stall, handing Fresh her muffin. Jubilee turns their head, glaring at the baker through the slits of their mask. ¡°Oh!¡± says the man, lifting his hands. ¡°I know that look!¡± he says playfully. Fresh bites into her muffin, turning her gaze back and forth between the two of them. ¡°Come on, we¡¯re leaving,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Not without a muffin you aren¡¯t!¡± says the man. ¡°No grumps allowed in my part of the city!¡± Fresh nods. She likes this guy. Jubilee waves them off, shaking their head. ¡°Fuck off, muffin-man.¡± Fresh chews on her muffin, staring at the large muffin that the vendor is holding out over his counter to Jubilee. ¡°On the house!¡± he sings. Jubilee stands there, their arms crossed, looking at him and at the muffin. ¡°You¡¯re in a stall. Can you even afford a house?¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t be rude to the muffin-man!¡± she protests, looking back at the stranger. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Jubilee¡¯s just cranky without breakfast.¡± She nudges Jubilee¡¯s boot with hers, nodding towards the muffin. ¡°That¡¯s what you get for skipping breakfaaaaast~!¡± says the man in a sing-song voice, turning the muffin from left to right. ¡°You know you want it.¡± Jubilee sighs, taking the muffin. ¡°Thank you!¡± says Fresh to the fun salesman. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to have breakfast every day!¡± says the man, waving to them as they leave. Fresh smiles, biting into her muffin again. It¡¯s very good. She chews, staring at it for a moment. She could eat it all now¡­ before they meet up with Basil and Shamrock. Fresh slowly continues chewing, looking down at Jubilee who has still been wearing their mask, despite not needing to in the central-city. ¡°Fucking muffin-man¡­¡± mutters Jubilee. ¡°What¡¯s his fucking game?¡± they ask, looking at the muffin. ¡°It¡¯s just a muffin, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°You really do get cranky when you don¡¯t eat.¡± Jubilee sighs, lifting up their mask to take a bite of their muffin. Despite the blue of the muffin contrasting the red of their face, despite their unusual stature and appearance in the middle of the city, during this early morning hour, nobody really cares. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, still not having eaten any more of her muffin. She wants to share it with the others. ¡°What?¡± asks her friend, chewing on their mouthful. Fresh thinks for a moment, trying to find her words as she squishes the muffin in her hands with her fingers. It helps her think. ¡°How come you guys lied to me about this place?¡± she asks as they walk down a long, curvy street to go back home. ¡°I¡¯m not mad. I just¡­ I dunno, I wanna know,¡± she explains, feeling Jubilee¡¯s questioning look. Jubilee keeps walking, taking another bite of their breakfast, perhaps to buy themselves some time. But those few precious seconds of silence-bought come to an end quickly and then there is nothing left for them but to answer her. ¡°Do we have to talk about it here? This early in the morning?¡± they ask. Fresh frowns, realizing that Jubilee had found a way out after all. She could force them, of course, by pushing the topic more. But¡­ she looks down at the muffin in her own hands. That would go against the muffin-codex. No grumps allowed in this part of the city. She shakes her head. ¡°No. It¡¯s okay,¡± she says. She shouldn¡¯t pry anyways. She had decided back then to let her friends come to her at their own pace. Jubilee nods and bites into their muffin again and the two of them go back towards the adventurer¡¯s guild. ¡°Remember what we talked about, back in the west?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Down in the basement?¡± ¡°We talked about a lot of stuff there, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, surprised that they¡¯ve kept on talking. But she supposes that they¡¯re referring to back when she made the flying sheep and they had been worried about her applying such a property to a human-sized object. Jubilee sighs. ¡°We¡¯re dead weight,¡± they say. ¡°You don¡¯t need any of us.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh, surprised at her friend saying something like that. ¡°That¡¯s not true and you know it!¡± she argues. ¡°Pragmatically speaking,¡± replies Jubilee, shrugging as they walk. ¡°You¡¯re basically the store. Any of us three could be replaced with some other schmuck and the day by day would run just fine,¡± they explain. ¡°You¡¯re the only thing that ¡®needs¡¯ to stay for the store to work.¡± ¡°The only reason I want to do a store is so that we can all live together,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t care if we have a store. We could also go to the dungeon or we could learn to make muffins too!¡± she argues. ¡°The point is that we¡¯re doing it together.¡± She picks at the unbitten side of her muffin. ¡°I thought you¡¯d know that by now.¡± ¡°Things like that -¡± they start, ignoring her stated feelings. ¡°Things like that are a one-way ticket to this place, even if you can¡¯t beat a dungeon,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°There are talent scouts everywhere outside, picking out the best to bring them here.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s so nice here,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°Because people like us, like Basil, Shamrock and myself, we¡¯re not welcome,¡± they finish, looking down at their muffin, as if considering throwing it away. Jubilee shrugs and keeps walking, biting into it again instead. Feeling a little confused, Fresh watches her friend walk on ahead for a few steps. So it was similar to what she thought. They had been afraid that if she knew how nice this place was, that if she knew that every dream of hers for the world could be found here, that she would leave them with packed bags to come here and to start over without them. Is the core of their friendship really so fragile? That they¡¯d lack this kind of trust in her, to stay true to her deepest promises of staying together with them for as long as she can live in this world? That she¡¯d leave them behind? Fresh stands there, half-way left behind, as she realizes that that is exactly what they feared. To be left behind again. Jubilee had been left behind by their old party and family after whatever fate might have once befallen them. Basil had been left behind by her dearest companion and friend, after his grisly murder. Shamrock had been left behind by the people who gave him both origin and meaning after the witches and their followers all but left to the south. Only she herself has never really been left behind and perhaps that is exactly why she was unable to really foresee this clear core of her friends¡¯ feelings. ¡°Hey!¡± barks Jubilee, snapping their free fingers. ¡°Stop dozing off in the middle of the street,¡± they say. Fresh blinks, waking up from her train of thought as she stares at her friend who, despite having only been five or six steps ahead of her, had come back to get her. She starts crying in public and grabs an annoyed Jubilee, who is unable to get her off of themself, despite the many curious eyes and expressions looking at them from all around. ¡°Fuck off! You¡¯re getting my muffin wet!¡± barks Jubilee. It takes a little while until they finally get back home. Fresh breaks her muffin apart, giving the remaining halves to Basil and Shamrock and, much to her delight and to that of her empty stomach, Jubilee gives her the remaining half of their own. By the time their meager breakfast is done, Fresh isn¡¯t able to say much about any such topics as heavy as the ones before. But what she can say for sure, is that at the very least, in this part of the city, in this adventurer¡¯s guild, in this room, there isn¡¯t a single grump left. And as the days would come to pass, they would walk to the market-place every now and then, hungry for another muffin like the one from that odd, emotional morning. But no matter when they decide to go, if it¡¯s in the morning or in the afternoon or at night, there is no trace of the stranger who had sold them to them. The stall sits empty and it looks oddly dusty, honestly. The woman running the one next to it shakes her head, telling Fresh that she must be confused. The friendly baker who had once run that stall has long since passed and his booth has sat empty since that day. The wind blows down through the streets, tousling her hair and sending a soft chill up her spine. Fresh clutches herself and looks at the lonely stand, feeling sure that she, if only for a few minutes, knew the muffin-man. Razmatazz Trivia''ish - The muffin man The nursery rhyme ''The muffin man'' doesn''t have much of an occult background, unlike many other nursery rhymes. They can get spooky fast. This one is just kind of dumb though, honestly. The song originated in England somewhere around 1800. The muffins in question aren''t referring to sweet muffins, such as a blueberry muffin for example. Rather, they''re referring to ''English muffins'', a flat, often toasted piece of round bread. Though, in our story, we''re using muffins as they are referred to in American english and more importantly for our context, German. In a sense, a muffin man was a similar concept to a milkman. On a weirder note, the Dutch version of the song doesn''t speak about muffins, but mussels. So... gross. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 311: All bark Fresh blows the air out of her mouth, watching the vapors leave through the cracks of her cupped hands. Breathing in through her nose, she waits a moment for the air to warm up in her lungs, before exhaling again and watching the next trail of vapors leave to rise up towards the ceiling of the bubble over the city that she suspects is likely very dewy. ¡°What are you doing?¡± asks Basil curiously, looking at her from the side. The priestess has her hair bundled in a loose tail, since it¡¯s getting very long and she was starting to get caught with it in places. Fresh turns to look at Basil, lifting a finger to blow out another breath of air her way. Basil blinks as the mist of Fresh¡¯s breath fogs up her face. The priestess blinks again and rubs her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m the dragon, Basil!¡± says Fresh joyfully. Basil squints. ¡°Huh?¡± she tilts her head, shaking it. ¡°The dragon wasn¡¯t like that. It was like this!¡± she says, putting her hands by her mouth too and blowing out through them. Fresh narrows her eyes, blowing a puff of warmed air out back at Basil and, the priestess, accepting her challenge, blows a breath back her way. ¡°I hate you people,¡± sighs Jubilee. Fresh turns her head to look at them. ¡°We¡¯re dragons, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°Not people.¡± Basil nods. ¡°We¡¯re having a territorial dispute,¡± agrees the priestess, before blowing back another breath towards Fresh who lets out a surprised yelp at having been attacked while she was unguarded. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°At least Shamrock is fucking normal,¡± they say, shaking their head. The three of them look up at Shamrock who also has his hands by his helmet. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Anyways,¡± they start. ¡°Are we gonna go or not?¡± ¡°Sure, I mean, isn¡¯t that why we¡¯re out here?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee points at her. ¡°I thought it was too, until you two started playing make-believe.¡± ¡°Oh, try to have some fun once in a while, you grump,¡± says Basil, lifting her nose. ¡°It¡¯s fucking cold,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh gasps. ¡°I forgot that you get cold easily, Jubilee,¡± she says, grabbing her friends¡¯ gloved hand and holding it in both of hers. ¡°Let¡¯s get some coats while we¡¯re here,¡± suggests Basil. ¡°I want Jubilee to make us coats!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Ones that match for all four of us.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not doing that,¡± states Jubilee. ¡°But Jubileeeee~!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°You said we should save money and it¡¯s cheaper if you make some coats than if we buy them,¡± she counters. Jubilee stares at her for a moment, pulling their hand away. ¡°It disgusts me that you¡¯re using logic against me.¡± ¡°Maybe that¡¯s just some wobbliness because you haven¡¯t had breakfast yet,¡± suggests Fresh. ¡°Fuck off,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Come on, we¡¯re going.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± nods Fresh excitedly. Today another outing in the dungeon is planned and then tomorrow they¡¯re going to look around for a place to stay. The adventurer¡¯s guild is cozy and she feels her heart becoming warm every night when they all get to share the little room and the little bed. But they do need a base of operations so that they can start churning out products and selling them, in order to keep up with their costs of living. Spriggans¡¯ bark, Fresh has found out, can be woven into a fiber that makes strong, durable, if not plain clothes like the dresses she and Basil have on. Plus it¡¯s used in a lot of different remedies that Basil wants to make. They need to stop off at a bookstore again too though, to buy a recipe book, since the priestess has never really worked with the material before and is going simply off of her gut instincts. As for the orichalcum, Fresh still wants to get some bars of it somehow, but even then, it will do her little good as she is unable to manipulate the metal at all. Maybe she can find a way to bypass the magic-resisting properties? Surely a magic-resistant metal could be used for thousands of powerful applications. Harpy feathers are being split between Jubilee and Shamrock. Shamrock wants to use them to make quills with and Jubilee wants to use them for their tailoring. As for the boss-drops from the giant snake, they¡¯re saving up their boss-cores again, until they find a useful application. Fresh meanwhile spends her free-time wondering about what it is exactly that she is going to make. She¡¯s identified things that are eaten as what she likes crafting the most. But she isn¡¯t sure what kind of things like that to make here. In the north, she had her potions. In the west they had their coughee and snacks. In the east, they had ice-cream and refreshments. So here, in the center, beneath the boughs of the giant tree, she is still uncertain. What could she make that is profitable, delicious and most importantly, able to bring a smile to many tired faces in these harsh winter months to come? She isn¡¯t sure. They spend the better part of the day in the dungeon, fighting their way down to floor thirty-something. The little chubby spriggans seem to evolve the deeper they go down, their sprouting heads growing until eventually, they seem to become oddly human-like ¡®tree-people¡¯ who are far more competent and deadly than their younger counterparts. But this just means they have more bark to harvest. Though, some of them drop a lot of seeds too when they¡¯re killed. Fresh likes them. They¡¯re cute little seeds. Apparently, if you plant them, more spriggans grow from the dirt. So of course, it¡¯s highly frowned upon to plant any up in the city. But maybe there¡¯s something that can be done with them as well? To her delight, mush-mushes make their reappearance into her life too. These ones have spiked, dark-gray caps and a pretty sour attitude, honestly. But she¡¯s happy to have mushroom-caps again. There¡¯s always something to make from them. Plus, alongside of them are other mush-mushes of the usual sort. That means that coughee is still on the table. Though, she is surprised that mush-mushes appear here in this dungeon around floor fourteen. That¡¯s pretty late, compared to Mr. Mushroom who was on floor one of the northern dungeon. The central dungeon really is the ¡®easy¡¯ dungeon, apparently. As much is evidenced by the bosses they massacre. Even Shamrock seems to be a little bored by the lack of a fight that any of the creatures here put up, in comparison with themselves. After a while, they go home for the night, taking their overloaded bags of loot and some easy to-go dinner with them on the way. The four of them eat and then decide to call it a day. Jubilee makes some fabric from their spriggans¡¯ bark, for their coats still to come. But all in all, it¡¯s a quiet, if not eventful day. Fresh yawns, wiggling herself into bed. Today, she¡¯s on the outside with Basil next to herself. She squishes her head down onto the pillow, wrapping her arm over her and pressing her nose into the back of the priestess¡¯ head so that she can sleep better, like the creep that she is. Tomorrow they¡¯re going to start looking at properties to buy. It¡¯s been a fun arrival here, but life is still going on and they can¡¯t afford to just sit around and have fun forever. There¡¯s work to do. Razmatazz *Opens door* Hello. It''s me again. Please give me a review. Thanks, bye *Shuts door* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 312: A choice to make Fresh hums, sitting on the floor of their room as she works. The others are out getting breakfast and she¡¯s sitting here by herself, pulling a little ribbon around a small box. It isn¡¯t much, but it¡¯s a token of her affection. This one is for Shamrock. Jubilee¡¯s and Basil¡¯s are already done and hidden under the bed, which is honestly the only hiding spot in the entire room. Smiling, she ties the ribbon and then shoves the little box under the bed, with the other two. It¡¯s the winter-time and she wants to give her friends some small gifts. Not that she doesn¡¯t always want to give them stuff, since she¡¯s always excited to see their expressions and reactions, but now she wants to give them something for a different reason. Fresh blinks, staring blankly at the wall across from herself. It¡¯s odd, she realizes; how mesmerizing it is for her, the expressions of her friends. She could just sit there and stare at their faces for hours. The twitching of their lips when she does something that they find funny, but that she is still going to get scolded for. The theatrical rolling of eyes when she or Shamrock make a joke. The effect that a person has on another. Fresh lowers her gaze, looking down at her hands. She has an effect on people. It¡¯s an odd thing to think about. But her actions, her choices, the things she does and doesn¡¯t do and even just the way how she does or doesn¡¯t do these things affect the faces of the people she cares about. It¡¯s as if she were a painter and could decide that today, her friends are going to have a smile or a frown. She¡¯s never considered it before, but it¡¯s a very large responsibility, having friends, having a family. They¡¯re all counting on each other for so much, for so many large, life-defining things. But also just for the little stuff. Breakfast. A smile. Who gets to sleep in the middle two spots of the bed, which are objectively the best. All of these things fall under the burden of being a friend, of being a member of this family that they have made. Pressing her fingers together, Fresh closes her eyes and says a quiet thanks to the fountain, for bringing her to such a warm and happy stage of her life. Sure, it isn¡¯t perfect everywhere, but it¡¯s perfect in the places that matter. The door opens. ¡°We¡¯re back!¡± says Basil. The other two walk in after her. ¡°Welcome back!¡± says Fresh, beaming at her favorite priestess. It looks like today they¡¯re going to have a real, warm breakfast, judging by the bags of hot bread and toppings that they¡¯ve brought with them. Okay, so, well, a ¡®warm¡¯ breakfast. It counts if the bread is warm. Basil shivers, taking off her boots and heading over her way. ¡°It¡¯s so cold out there,¡± she says, sitting down across from Fresh on the floor. Basil stretches out her leg, touching Fresh¡¯s foot with her icy toes. Fresh lets out a shocked yelp, but sits there and bears the chill, for the sake of her friend who needs to warm up. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯ll have a jacket done tonight, you baby,¡± they sigh, kicking off their boots. ¡°Let¡¯s eat,¡± they say. ¡°We¡¯re going on a walk after this to look for a place to set up shop.¡± Shamrock sets down a large, foggy container of hot tea. He¡¯s gotten the hang of his new armor and seems to be having much less difficulty moving in it now. It¡¯s certainly an odd sight for her. She¡¯s still used to the cobalt of his armor that she had always only known him to be inside of. He looks rather dashing in the dark-silver armor though. It¡¯s very¡­ heroic, almost. ¡°We will find something,¡± he says. Fresh nods. She¡¯s sure that they will too. The smile that she has had on her face continues to stay there all through their breakfast, much to Jubilee¡¯s annoyance. Then, after breakfast, as they get ready to go and look at a few houses, she still has it on too. Because she¡¯s excited about what¡¯s to come. Because she¡¯s excited about giving her friends their gifts later. They¡¯re just little things, little tokens of affection. They need to be a little frugal now, even if they have saved up a lot. Every Obol saved counts though, if they want to buy a whole house. ¡°Do we get to choose again?¡± asks Fresh as they walk down through the street, towards the dungeon-plaza. ¡°There¡¯s more on the market than I expected there to be,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Apparently, a lot of people aren¡¯t coming back to the center anymore.¡± ¡°Because of the bubble?¡± asks Fresh. That¡¯s kind of sad. ¡°Is it okay for the city to just sell their houses?¡± she asks. ¡°What if it drops in a week and they come back inside?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Not our problem.¡± Fresh frowns. This doesn¡¯t sound very happy. But, maybe this is just the universe opening a door for her again, just a smidge, just enough to let her get a foot inside so that she can take another step forward in life. It¡¯s just another one of those convenient circumstances that always seem to follow her wherever she goes. The dungeon gate itself is a little different than the others they had seen so far. Sure, it still has a stone exterior of sorts. But really, it¡¯s mostly contained inside of a series of overlapping roots of the giant tree, that almost look as if they had grown over the old stone construction and flattened it a little, into a rounder, shorter archway. Outside of that is the market-plaza, covered in many stalls and vendors. Though now with the winter¡¯s chill being here, many of them only ever seem to be open for a few hours during midday, as most of the people didn¡¯t seem interested in staying outside in the cold all day every day to hawk their wares. Only the ¡®house businesses¡¯ stay open all day. Despite that, the plaza has a very cozy, homey atmosphere. The many stalls are tightly packed and adorned with many colorful, soft things and all around the plaza is a tight ring of timber-framed houses with warm, orange glows behind the window, as if building a wall around this entire plaza, as if they were all huddled together to keep the warmth present here trapped in their midst. ¡°So we have one over there,¡± says Jubilee, pointing to the left side of the dungeon-gate. ¡°And one over there,¡± they say, pointing towards the right. ¡°Only two? I thought there were more?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°There are only two by the dungeon, which is a lot already, goo-brain,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°The others are in the city. Good to live in, but bad for business. They¡¯re too far off.¡± ¡°Ooooh,¡± replies Fresh. That makes sense. The four of them head around the plaza, the snow crunching under their boots as they stand outside of a house. They stare at it for a moment, before looking at each other. ¡°It¡¯s certainly¡­ cozy,¡± says Basil, looking back at the structure. Pressed between two larger houses, is a thin, tall construction. The sturdy, dark-wooded front door is up two small steps. Hanging over the front door is a small nook from the second floor, with a large veranda window that looks out over the plaza and then there¡¯s a third floor on top of that. The roof is steeply slanted. ¡°Can we go inside?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°After we pay you can,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh frowns. ¡°I kind of like it, honestly,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s super cute!¡± Shamrock nods, agreeing with her. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s good for a store though?¡± asks Basil. ¡°We won¡¯t be able to fit in many shelves.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll just make a super cute, tiny store!¡± explains Fresh. ¡°We can sell super cute, cozy things that match the winter-time, you know?¡± she asks, framing the house with her fingers. She could see it working. It¡¯s basically an exact contrast to their last, giant ¡®supermarket¡¯ of a store. This one could be tight and cozy, like a small, comfy book-shop or a tea-store. ¡°I¡¯m not convinced,¡± says Jubilee, rubbing their chin. ¡°This one is cheaper though by about fifteen thousand.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot of money,¡± notes Basil. ¡°Let¡¯s look at the other one.¡± They make their way across the plaza, past the dungeon-gate towards the other house. Fresh points at it. ¡°It¡¯s crooked!¡± she exclaims, pointing at the objectively, very witchy house. It¡¯s the last house on the right side and one half of it is nested against the roots of the giant tree. However, during some phase of their growth, they seem to have pushed against the stone and the house has been modified to ¡®fit¡¯ together with the giant tree. The structure has a solid base, but then the second floor is crooked, literally leaning towards the city and then the third floor pushes back out again, allowing the large root to rest on the lower stones, as if the house were cupping the tree. Despite that, it¡¯s wider than the other one, having a ¡®normal¡¯ width for a home in this part of the city. The strong, ornate front door looks just as secure as the other. ¡°This one could be easier for the business,¡± says Basil. ¡°There¡¯s certainly more room.¡± Fresh isn¡¯t convinced that that¡¯s a positive, honestly, given her previous idea of a ¡®cozy shop¡¯. A loud exhalation leaves Shamrock, who is standing next to her. ¡°It¡¯s connected with nature,¡± he says, running a hand along the base of a piece of root, sticking out of the ground. This ¡®witchy¡¯ house certainly offers interesting possibilities as well. It isn¡¯t as cozy as the other one, but there is a certain charm to it that she can¡¯t quite place. She feels like it would be particularly well suited to naturey things. An alchemist¡¯s or a herbalist¡¯s shop, maybe? A plant store? Medicine? Hmm¡­ Her eyes rise up to the crooked roof. It¡¯s an odd house, but it doesn¡¯t look like a bad one. ¡°These are our options,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll sleep on it for a while and then we need to make a choice.¡± ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± says Basil. She pulls on her sleeves, leaning over to Jubilee. ¡°Can we afford these?¡± she asks quietly. ¡°Just about, with what we saved over the year,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But we should go into the dungeon and make some loose change, or we¡¯re going to be eating spriggans for a long time.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to eat spriggans,¡± argues Fresh. ¡°They¡¯re cute.¡± ¡°I do,¡± says Shamrock plainly. Fresh blinks, turning to look at him. Feeling her gaze, he turns to look at her. ¡°They¡¯re good.¡± ¡°Pakew¡­¡± says Fresh in memory of the many spriggans that are going to leave their lives so that they might live for another day. ¡°Let¡¯s go, people,¡± says Jubilee, waving for them to follow as they head towards the dungeon. ¡°Our house isn¡¯t going to buy itself.¡± Razmatazz It''s a shame that you aren''t on Patreon, dear reader. You could''ve helped make this choice. It''s already decided now though =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 313: Burrow It¡¯s the afternoon of the next day. Fresh hums to herself as she walks in a circle around the snowman that she had built. It¡¯s an odd looking thing, being a little lumpy in all sorts of different places. Its gangly arms are made from two sticks and since she didn¡¯t have anything better for eyes, she used two rocks from the ground and then another smaller stub of a stick with a leaf on it for a nose. Reaching the front side of it again, she nods, satisfied and rubs her own arms to warm them up, running her fingers over the fabric of the single jacket that Jubilee had made. ¡°What a monstrosity,¡± sighs Jubilee, coming back from their grocery run. Fresh had opted to wait here together with Basil. Shamrock is dungeoning. Fresh frowns. ¡°I worked super hard on it!¡± she protests. ¡°Right, Basil?¡± she asks. Basil shivers, holding herself. ¡°I- it¡¯s true,¡± stutters the priestess. Fresh gasps, quickly taking off the jacket that the two of them had been swapping back and forth between themselves. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Basil!¡± she apologizes. She had it for longer than five minutes now. ¡°I was completely lost in my work.¡± ¡°¡¯Work¡¯,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head. Basil shakes her head but allows Fresh to put the jacket over her, pulling it tight around herself and closing it right away. ¡°It¡¯s still warm,¡± she sighs in relief, rubbing her arms again. Fresh holds her arms in front of herself, feeling her cold, snow-touched fingers grasping her own skin. ¡°Did you get everything, Jubilee?¡± she asks. Jubilee shrugs, lifting the straps of the bag up to show that it¡¯s full. It''s unusual for Jubilee to wear a backpack. Fresh has always assumed that it hurts their scars. Maybe Basil''s cream has been helping? ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re set,¡± they say. Basil sighs. ¡°Grim times.¡± ¡°Life is hard, buttercup,¡± says Jubilee, walking homeward. ¡°Toughen up,¡± they say. Basil frowns, sighing and grabbing them before they can escape. ¡°You¡¯re ice-cold!¡± argues the priestess, but Jubilee just waves her off. ¡°What if you get sick?¡± ¡°Fuck off, Basil,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m fine. It¡¯s just a little chill,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. But as they walk, Fresh can see that Jubilee¡¯s hands still haven¡¯t let go of the straps of the bag, as if they were trying to find a way of keeping them warm, without giving up the appearance of toughness by warming them against their own body. ¡°L-let¡¯s go home, B-Basil,¡± stutters Fresh, walking after Jubilee. The priestess tags after her and they leave, leaving the snowman behind to live his own life, whatever existence may find him after their departure. Given that their savings are about a little bit less than what they needed to buy a full house, they¡¯ve decided to earn the last of the money they need by tearing through the dungeon and in order to keep costs down, their daily bread has been reduced to what is, quite literally, daily bread. Some nuts, some dry bread, some tubers. No seasonings, no fruits, no spreads and no jams and no hot-food from the overpriced street vendors and restaurants or from the bar of the adventurer¡¯s guild. No. Now they have to be frugal. No juices, no milk, no tea and no coughee. Nothing but water from the free fountains. ¡°Maybe we really should try eating the spriggans too,¡± sighs Basil, biting into her slice of bread for the day. She has long since stopped fighting against Fresh, who, halfway home, had gotten too cold and stuck her hands under the jacket and onto Basil¡¯s stomach to warm her icy fingers. She¡¯s still stuck there. ¡°You can try it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But you may as well try to eat a fucking tree.¡± ¡°What about the seeds?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°They¡¯re supposed to be really nutritious!¡± ¡°We¡¯re not eating those. We need them to craft items with,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If you want to eat something, go eat a harpy.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not eating a harpy!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s weird. They¡¯re like¡­ almost people¡¯ish.¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips, staring at her. ¡°Since when are you allowed to decide what¡¯s weird and what isn¡¯t?¡± they ask, rolling their eyes. ¡°Anyways. It was a joke. We¡¯re not eating anything from a dungeon.¡± ¡°I bet a lot of the crab-meat we bought in the east before was from the dungeon there,¡± considers Basil. ¡°And the coconuts.¡± Fresh lifts a hand. ¡°I ate a mush-mush once.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°And look how the two of you turned out. No thanks,¡± they sigh, sitting down and pulling over some spriggans¡¯ bark towards themselves, to make more fiber out of, for a second jacket. ¡°Shamrock eats stuff in the dungeon all the time,¡± notes Fresh. Jubilee twists the bark in their hands, trying to loosen it up a little. ¡°I¡¯m not going to dignify that with a response.¡± Fresh narrows her eyes. She¡¯s stolen and then created enough warmth from and with Basil now. She bets Jubilee is still cold, so she pulls herself free and flops onto the bed, holding herself down off of its side and presses her palms against Jubilee¡¯s cold ears. ¡°You¡¯re touching me,¡± states Jubilee, sounding annoyed. Fresh nods once. ¡°Touch,¡± is all that she says as she touches Jubilee. Basil sits down on the floor of their unfurnished room as well with her back to them and then lays down, putting her head on Jubilee¡¯s lap. ¡°Touch.¡± ¡°You know¡­¡± says Jubilee, looking down at Basil who has lifted her hand and is holding it against their face. ¡°What?¡± asks the priestess. Jubilee seems to consider their options for a moment and then just shakes their head, continuing their work as Fresh continues to touch their cold ears, as Basil keeps lifting her hands up to touch their cold cheeks, despite their annoyed twitches. The door opens, Shamrock comes back inside, covered in frost. The man dusts himself off. ¡°Hi, Shamrock!¡± says Fresh, looking up from the bed. ¡°We¡¯re touching Jubilee!¡± she explains. ¡°Wanna join us?¡± ¡°You better fucking not!¡± barks Jubilee at him, turning their head his way and turning the four hands glued to their face with them. ¡°You look like an ice-golem.¡± ¡°It¡¯s cold,¡± is all that Shamrock says, some crystallized flakes falling off of his chest as his breastplate heaves from his breathing. Fresh has realized now that the man literally inflates himself inside of the armor as he draws air into himself, that¡¯s what causes the strong movements of his chest when he breathes. Though, thinking about it, isn¡¯t that how all breathing works? ¡°Are you managing?¡± asks Basil. Shamrock nods, setting down his bag. They had bought him a sword, but it broke after a few hours in the dungeon and Jubilee had refused to buy him a new one, telling him to just use his hands. Fresh hasn¡¯t found any material to make one with herself yet. So far, Shamrock has been pretty resilient against the weather. Slimes are generally sturdy and can handle extreme temperatures. Though, only to an extent. The desert he could do well in because of his ample access to water and ready-made snacks and drinks. So the liquid of his body that got evaporated could be restored pretty easily. The extreme cold of the winter is a little trickier however. He¡¯s resistant to freezing to an extent, since he produces warmth in his body, but that point is slowly being reached, especially with the metal armor holding the cold inside of itself. Fresh watches as the man sits down and a large mass of goo starts leaking out of the icy metal, draining through a slit in the knee. ¡°That looks fucking gross,¡± sighs Jubilee, watching Shamrock leave his armor. The man makes his way over, bending down and pressing a slimy finger against Jubilee¡¯s head. ¡°Touch,¡± says Fresh, squeezing Jubilee¡¯s ears. Basil nods in agreement, squishing Jubilee¡¯s cheeks with her hands. ¡°Touch.¡± Shamrock¡¯s slimy finger presses itself against the top of their head. ¡°Touch,¡± is all that the man says. ¡°FUCK OFF!¡± barks Jubilee at the three of them swiping their arms around themselves to remove all of their poking and prodding and touching fingers and hands. ¡°I¡¯m trying to work here,¡± they say in annoyance. ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking dare!¡± snaps Jubilee, turning around to look at Fresh who was getting ready to bite their long ear. Basil lifts herself up and takes her opportunity instead, getting their other ear as she sits up. ¡°I want to die,¡± says Jubilee as Basil sits there, gnawing on their ear. Now that they¡¯re trapped, Fresh strikes and gets the other one. ¡°I will literally murder both of you,¡± they say, looking up at Shamrock. ¡°That goes for you too.¡± ¡°I already ate,¡± says the man, glibbering down into a puddle of goo. Well, even if they do have to ration their food and their money right now, it¡¯s not all bad. In fact¡­ Fresh gasps, pulling Jubilee¡¯s slightly-nibbled ear out of her mouth as she realizes something. Flopping down head-first, her legs still on the bed, she worms around beneath it and then scoots around, popping her head out the other way. ¡°I don¡¯t want to know,¡± says Jubilee, trying and failing to get up and walk away. Something is clutching their leg. They look down, staring at Fresh¡¯s hand that is clasped around it. ¡°What?¡± Fresh holds out her hand, offering them the little gift she had wrapped the other day. ¡°I made this for you, Jubilee!¡± They turn their head, looking at her with suspicion in their eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a present!¡± ¡°No thanks,¡± says Jubilee, trying to walk away. ¡°Ow!¡± Jubilee looks back down, staring at Fresh who has sunk her teeth into their leg. She lifts her hand up higher, extending the box out to them. ¡°Always the fucking biting with you people. It¡¯s like living with animals.¡± They take the box. ¡°Fine,¡± they sigh. Fresh nods in approval, scooting out the other two little boxes for Shamrock and Basil. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil, taking hers. Shamrock takes his, nodding to her once. Giddily, Fresh watches as they pull open the little ribbons. Laying on her stomach now fully beneath the bed, she tries to lift her legs and swing her feet, but the bed-frame above her blocks her from doing so. ¡°¡­A string?¡± asks Jubilee, staring at the braided, red cord that they¡¯re letting dangle from their fingers. There¡¯s a small ornament attached to it, a little glass chicken. ¡°It¡¯s a friendship-bracelet!¡± beams Fresh. She sticks out her arm, showing them hers. ¡°Now we all have matching ones!¡± she exclaims. ¡°That¡¯s very cute,¡± says Basil, putting hers on above her golden bangle. ¡°Thank you.¡± Shamrock stares at the string and then sticks it inside of his arm, letting it float around there. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t wear it when you¡¯re hungry, Shamrock, okay?¡± she asks. The man nods. Jubilee narrows their eyes. ¡°Is this spriggan bark?¡± they ask suspiciously, staring at the bracelet from up close. ¡°You¡¯re wasting our crafting materials for this?¡± they ask, jangling the bracelet and looking down at Fresh who is still lurking beneath the bed, her hand still on their leg. The two of them stare at each other for a moment. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± warns Jubilee sternly, reading her face. It¡¯s quiet. ¡°I swear. I will literally kill YOOOIAGH!¡± Fresh retreats into the darkness beneath the bed, tugging on Jubilee¡¯s leg. They fall down to the floor and she drags them into her den, their fingers grasping for the floorboards are unable to stop her from taking them into the space beneath the bed. Basil and Shamrock look at each other and shrug, lowering themselves down and crawl beneath the bed too. Some might say that it¡¯s weird or odd, but really, it just is what it is. To escape the winter¡¯s bite that has hounded them for most of the day, the four creatures find themselves nested in a dark, warm burrow where they spend the rest of the afternoon, taking a very long, if not somewhat cramped nap. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 314: A new stage The little glass-chicken dangles on her wrist as Fresh hums, walking through the city. She pulls the jacket that she has on a little more tightly closed, relieved to feel how warm it is. Jubilee really did a good job with these, considering they were nothing but some spriggans¡¯ bark and a bit of fluff that they had bought for next to nothing. These clothes are a little plain, but she kind of likes that honestly. The simplicity of her outfit, of her dress and jacket and old boots helps her feel exactly how she wants to feel, perfectly normal. Right now, she¡¯s just a normal person, living a normal, quiet, little life. ¡°You¡¯re in a good mood today,¡± notes Basil, adjusting the straps of her bag. It¡¯s full of coins. ¡°It¡¯s a great day, today, Basil!¡± remarks Fresh, spinning around as she walks to look at the priestess. She yelps, slipping on a patch of ice on the street and falls down onto her bottom, just barely catching herself on Shamrock who¡¯s next to her. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ask the priestess. Shamrock bends down and hoists Fresh back up to her feet. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, dusting herself off. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock,¡± she beams. The man nods and keeps walking. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going, goo-brain,¡± scolds Jubilee. ¡°If we need to pay for medical treatment, we¡¯re just going to cut off whatever¡¯s broken instead,¡± they threaten. Fresh laughs, fairly, but not entirely sure that Jubilee doesn¡¯t really mean that. She supposes the uncertainty of it adds to the humor in an oddly morbid way. The four of them are on their way to city-hall, to buy the house that they¡¯ve chosen; the crooked, witchy house, nestled against the roots of the great tree, just outside of the dungeon. Honestly, Fresh had wanted the cozy, thin one, since it would offer her friends nowhere to escape to and it felt like it would be particularly warm in this hard winter to come. But Basil had said that she liked the crooked house because of its connection to the world-tree. Jubilee had voted originally for the cozy house, because it was cheaper. But after Fresh made her case, agreeing that it was the right choice, so that they could always reach each other, they had changed their mind and voted for the more expensive property. Shamrock too, voted on the crooked house because of its connection to the natural world. So, outvoted and outmatched, Fresh switched her vote around too, in order to not only keep the peace, but in order to help make the choice that her friends wanted, even if it isn¡¯t what she herself wanted. Often, when she hasn¡¯t gotten what she wanted, Fresh would cry and pout and fall into a fit of emotionality, like back with the teddy-bear in the east. However, Fresh had decided back then, after apologizing to Basil, that this isn¡¯t a productive way to be. By throwing a tantrum, by demanding that her own desires be fulfilled, but not those of her friends, she was only allowing the bad-thing to enter into their lives and for what? One house is as good as the other. It¡¯s as Jubilee had said before, right? ¡®They¡¯re the home¡¯. The building is just a structure, just a house. Fresh nods, Jubilee is really smart. Wasn¡¯t there something she wanted to ask Jubilee about? Back in the east, before their vacation? She feels like there was some big issue or something¡­ ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh mutters to herself, scratching her cheek. Basil grabs her wrist, gently pulling it down. ¡°Don¡¯t pick at your face,¡± lectures the priestess. ¡°Sorry, Basil,¡± apologies Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s just a habit.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a bad one,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°Be kind to your skin while it¡¯s still pretty, okay?¡± Fresh blinks and then nods. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°- Or you¡¯re going to have to start wearing a mask like Jubilee,¡± quips the priestess. ¡°Fuck you, Basil,¡± snaps Jubilee, turning around to glare her way. The priestess stops where she is, thinking for a moment. She frowns. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that was mean,¡± she apologizes. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have said that.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes and turns back forward, keeping on walking. ¡°Fuck you, Basil,¡± they say again, but with a different tone this time. They sigh. Fresh looks at her odd friends, happy as ever that they¡¯re figuring out not only who they are, but who they are in relation to one another. Smiling, they head to the city-hall, to officially purchase their now fourth house. The man looks at their bags as they set them down. ¡°That one,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at the ¡®witchy¡¯ house on the open map that is spread out over the table. ¡°Is it still available? We want that one.¡± The man nods, going over to a bookshelf and checking a ledger for a moment. He looks back their way, nodding again. ¡°It¡¯s available. One-hundred and fifty thousand. Payment in full.¡± Jubilee knocks on the bags. ¡°That¡¯s what we got here.¡± The man nods, heading back over to them. ¡°Let¡¯s see then,¡± he says and they start unloading a literal mountain of Obols. Not only from Basil¡¯s bag, but from Fresh¡¯s, from Shamrock¡¯s. Jubilee still doesn¡¯t have a bag, same as ever. They tend to not like wearing them when they can, except to get light things like groceries, because the straps hurt the scars on their body. Fresh wonders if they shouldn¡¯t have tried exchanging all of these for the larger ten-thousand Obol coins, just to make it easier? But maybe Jubilee didn¡¯t want to do that, not trusting the money exchanges. Knowing them, there¡¯s probably a good reason. ¡°You¡¯re three-hundred short,¡± says the man after about fifteen minutes. ¡°What? Fuck off,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s all here. One fifty.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°You¡¯re three-hundred short. I need the exact amount or I can¡¯t sell it to you.¡± ¡°Really? Three-fucking hundred?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°There¡¯s one hundred forty-nine thousand seven hundred right there and you¡¯re gonna be a hard-ass about three-hundred?¡± The man shakes his head. ¡°There¡¯s nothing I can do. Come back tomorrow with the other three-hundred.¡± ¡°Is it still going to be available then?¡± asks Jubilee. The man gets up. ¡°There aren¡¯t any other interested parties right now. But it¡¯s first come, first serve, so I can¡¯t promise that nobody will show up overnight.¡± Jubilee groans, looking back at them. ¡°We¡¯re going to the dungeon. Let¡¯s go people. Fucking hair-splitting bullshit¡­¡± they mutter. ¡°Wait,¡± says Basil. ¡°Can we use this?¡± she asks, taking off her old golden bracelet and holding it out to the man. ¡°It¡¯s worth three-hundred,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s gold.¡± The man looks at her and then takes it, examining it and the status window of the item. ¡°Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°You¡¯ve had that since forever. It¡¯s okay, we¡¯ll just come back tomorrow,¡± she says. Basil shakes her head, lifting her arm. ¡°I have a new one now,¡± she says, showing off the red-string with the little glass ornament on it. ¡°Besides. The gold is a little gaudy, right?¡± Fresh frowns. Basil had bought that bracelet back in the north, with some of the very first money that she earned at the store. She¡¯s basically always had the little bangle on since then. ¡°I thought it looked good on you,¡± says Fresh, looking back at the man from the city who nods, apparently satisfied. ¡°We can make this work,¡± he says. He opens a drawer, handing them back their empty bags and then a key. ¡°You can enter the property now. I just need a signature and then we¡¯ll have the paperwork ready by tomorrow.¡± Jubilee handles all of that stuff. Fresh meanwhile, finds herself oddly excited by the prospect of a new house for them to nest themselves inside of and also oddly touched at Basil¡¯s sacrifice for their cause. Sure, it was just a bracelet. But it¡¯s also the meaning of the gesture. A few minutes later, their bags being much, much lighter, the four of them leave the city-hall with one-hundred fifty-thousand Obols less and one small key more than before. ¡°I hope it¡¯s nice!¡± says Fresh as they make their way around the city. She¡¯s bouncing as they walk, unable to keep herself contained. She¡¯s always walking faster than the rest of them and then has to slow down and wait for them to catch up with her. ¡°I¡¯m sure it has four walls,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Probably a shit-heap.¡± ¡°It¡¯s our shit-heap,¡± says Basil. ¡°If it isn¡¯t nice, we¡¯ll just make it nice. I hope it has a bath,¡± she says. ¡°The shower was nice. But I miss having a warm bath.¡± Fresh nods. She shares that sentiment as well. They make their way across the plaza, ducking and weaving through the crowds of bustling adventurers. Fresh spares a glance to the stall that the muffin-man had once resided in. It still sits empty. She wonders if maybe they should have bought a stall instead of a store? It would have been cheaper. But then again, where would they sleep? It¡¯s cold in a stall. Maybe in the guild, and then they¡¯d just work at the stall? She shakes her head. Nah. They have a house now and that¡¯s better in her eyes. Real walls that belong to them and them alone. This is theirs. ¡°Well?¡± asks Jubilee, annoyed. ¡°Well what?¡± asks Fresh, turning back their way. Jubilee stares at her for a moment, before lifting both of their arms and gesturing to the locked door they¡¯re standing outside of. ¡°Oh!¡± Fresh laughs and hurries over, sticking the key into the lock and turning it. Whatever this new house of theirs is going to be, she¡¯s sure of a few different things that are a given. It will be warm, it will be safe and she¡¯s going to do everything that she has in her power to make sure it is and stays that way, so that she and her family might have shelter from the winter that has only just begun. Fresh opens the door. Razmatazz Time to explore and then start setting up shop =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 315: An odd house ¡°Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°There¡¯s a mushroom here,¡± she explains rather emotionlessly, pointing at the left-hand wall, just past the door. ¡°Pull it out and throw it away,¡± sighs Jubilee, stepping in after her. ¡°Well. I guess we can add replacing the floor to the list of renovations already,¡± they say, looking around the entrance area. For whatever reason, the stones of the floor have been broken and shattered in several places. Grasses and mushrooms have started to sprout up through the cracks, inside of the house. ¡°Look at this,¡± says Basil, bending over and looking at a large crack in the floor. Fresh turns her head and stares from where she is. There¡¯s a segment of one of the giant roots running below the house and it looks like something caused it to shift. That¡¯s likely what broke the floor here, as the roots lifted the brickwork up. Fresh lifts her gaze, looking around the ground-floor area right by the front door. The house downstairs has an odd shape. With the inward set front-door, the room here is shaped like an upside-down ¡®u¡¯ with a prong on either side of the door. The room itself is, well, it¡¯s not as gigantic and massive as their house in the east. It¡¯s also not quite as cozy and compact as their ramshackle shop floor back in Jubilee¡¯s old house in the north, being a smidge bigger. Fresh shakes her head, correcting herself. Their old house, back in the north. It¡¯s certainly an interesting design though. The blueish gray bricks of the floor are uneven because of the disturbance below the house, running along to meet the timber-framed and white-plaster walls and stonework that make up the exterior. The overgrowth gives it a vibe that she can¡¯t quite explain. It¡¯s¡­ secluding. It feels like being in a secure forest grove. It¡¯s not safe in the same context as four walls would be, but it¡¯s safe in a different way. She holds up her hands, framing the area with her fingers, trying to get an eye for how the store here is going to look. It¡¯s going to be tricky, with the unusual shape of the room to set up the shelves and counter in a good way. The frame she makes with her fingers hovers over each of her friends as they examine the area, until she lands on a spiral staircase in the back. ¡°It¡¯s quaint,¡± says Basil. ¡°I think we can make it nice,¡± she states, looking around the room, watching a little dusty particulate drift in the air, caught in a sun-beam that shines in through the little window above the door. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve seen worse shitholes,¡± sighs Jubilee, following Fresh to the spiral staircase. It¡¯s made out of strong wood and goes in both directions. ¡°Up or down?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Let¡¯s look up first,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Is this thing safe enough to hold you people?¡± they ask, wiggling the staircase. It doesn¡¯t budge. ¡°One way to find out,¡± says Basil, taking the first step and heading upstairs. Fresh and Jubilee look at each other and then hurry after her, not wanting to be the last one up. Shamrock slips out of his armor through his helmet and slides up the pole of the staircase, moving past all of them. ¡°No fair!¡± argues Fresh. She¡¯s the last one upstairs on the first floor. ¡°Oh, wow!¡± says Basil, clearly excited. Fresh sticks her head up, looking over her shoulder as Jubilee pushes past the two of them. ¡°Stop blocking the staircase with your fat ass, Basil,¡± sighs Jubilee. The four of them look at the upstairs. There¡¯s a room here with one large table in the middle. All around the room, lining the walls are old, dusty bookshelves, filled to the brim with all sorts of paperworks and manuals. But, also with the same overgrowth as on the ground floor. Roots and plants seem to have found their way into the walls and stick out through the cracks in the stone, into the room, dotting the shelves with just as many colorful flowers and sprouts as with books. ¡°This is going to be a problem,¡± says Jubilee, rubbing their forehead. Fresh shakes her head, having a tradition to fulfill. She plucks a flower from the wall and hands it to Jubilee. ¡°Here you go, Jubilee. This is for you!¡± she beams. Jubilee sighs and takes the flower from her. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Look at all of these books,¡± says Basil, picking one up that a vine seems to have gotten hold of. She pulls it free, setting the vine back down onto the shelf and flips through some pages. ¡°Are we allowed to keep these?¡± she asks. ¡°For the money we spent, we¡¯re allowed to fucking burn them,¡± replies Jubilee, looking around the room. Fresh looks around the room, seeing something oddly familiar. She gasps in surprise, running across to the shelf and picking up a colorful book that she had seen once before. ¡°Shamrock! Shamrock!¡± she calls. ¡°Look!¡± says Fresh, holding the book open to the man. It¡¯s a copy of the same book she had seen in the north, upstairs in their old house. The picture story about a little slime who undergoes various adventures with his friends. ¡°Wanna read it together later?¡± she asks. ¡°There are no words,¡± replies Shamrock, looking at the book. ¡°Yeah, that sounds like her reading level alright,¡± quips Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s a picture book!¡± explains Fresh, flipping a page to the next one. The adventurous, heroic slime is fighting the deadly butterfly-king on this one. It¡¯s a good story. ¡°Sounds like a lot of fun,¡± says Basil. ¡°You wanna join us too, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. The priestess nods with a smile and then looks around the room. There¡¯s a window that looks out over the plaza and from here, they can see the world covered in snow, reflecting sunlight into their home. ¡°Where are the beds?¡± asks Basil, looking around. ¡°This is just a library. It¡¯s nice, but there¡¯s nothing really ¡®homey¡¯ here.¡± ¡°One more floor to go,¡± says Jubilee, pointing up to the second floor that they make their way towards, heading up the spiral staircase one more time. Though, reaching the second floor is a little harder, because of all of the foliage overgrowing on the staircase. ¡°We need to do something about this,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Imagine how many bugs there are.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t seen any bugs yet,¡± says Basil, looking around and lifting a leaf. ¡°Shamrock?¡± ¡°No,¡± replies the man, sliding up the banister behind them. They clear the foliage and head upstairs to the last floor. The roof comes to a high angle above their heads, connected together with several beams and breaking through the center of the construction, is a hole. There¡¯s a giant hole in the roof. ¡°Wow,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°We bought a shit-heap alright,¡± they sigh, looking around. Upstairs-upstairs is apparently where the living area is. This room which carries the same shape as the others, has a divided segment to the left, where a few cabinets stand. A kitchen. It¡¯s a bit run down and old, but it¡¯s a kitchen. Jubilee points up at the hole, looking at Fresh. ¡°We need to fix that as soon as we can, before the snow causes any water damage,¡± they say, looking around. ¡°Though, it might be too late for this place either way.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s so bad,¡± says Basil. ¡°Sure, it¡¯s a little¡­ wild,¡± she says, having found the word she was looking for. ¡°But I¡¯m positive there¡¯s something to be done here with a little work. It has good bones.¡± ¡°Yeah, it has good bones like a fucking necromancer,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°¡¯Work¡¯ is the right word,¡± they say. ¡°Because we¡¯re going to be doing it, since we spent our last coin to buy this place.¡± Straight ahead, beneath the hole in the roof, is a single bed. Which Fresh doesn¡¯t really like, honestly. That seems like a great way to get a cold. Whoever used to live here must have been a real, literal moonbather. Though¡­ did they really destroy their own roof? Looking back up towards it, it really does look like it was broken, rather than being simple decay or a deconstruction. ¡°Well. I¡¯m sleeping in the creepy-library,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Bit too drafty up here.¡± ¡°There¡¯s always the guild?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°Fuck that.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°We paid for this place and we¡¯re damn well sleeping here. It¡¯s fine, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a good corner downstairs.¡± ¡°We still have to find the washroom,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Let¡¯s go all the way downstairs now,¡± she suggests. The others nod and head back down the staircase. Fresh turns her head, looking at the empty bed, sitting square in the middle of the room, bathed in sunglow. The four of them head down the staircase, past the first floor and the ground floor as they head into the basement, in hopes of finding a hint of civilization in their new house. ¡°PAKEW!¡± yells a strange voice from the darkness of the basement. It only takes a second before Jubilee spins and sends a shard of glass flying straight into the shadows. ¡°P-PAKEW!¡± yells the voice again, clearly not dead. ¡°What the fuck?¡± ¡°Wait, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It sounds like a spriggan.¡± ¡°I know it fucking sounds like a spriggan, what¡¯s it doing in our fucking basement?¡± they ask. Fresh tugs on their arm, pointing across the room at the pile of rubble. One of the walls looks like it collapsed. Beneath a heap of rocks sticks out a chubby, little, stubby arm, waving. ¡°Oh no! The poor guy¡¯s trapped,¡± says Basil. ¡°Hello?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s about to be the least of its problems,¡± they say, rolling their eyes and getting another piece of glass ready. ¡°I wanted a fucking washroom, not a damned spriggan. What the fuck kind of shithole is this place?¡± ¡°Shamrock!¡± calls Fresh, trying to pull on a rock. ¡°Help!¡± ¡°What? Shamrock, fuck off,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re killing it.¡± ¡°I vote we don¡¯t!¡± yells Fresh at Jubilee, trying to pull a rock up a bit higher. Shamrock comes over and lifts the rock up with no trouble at all, simply setting it out of the way before grabbing another one. ¡°I don¡¯t want our house to be a murder-house, Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Have you looked around?¡± replies Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°People have clearly been murdered here already.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that bad,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°Oh. Look,¡± she says, pointing to the side. ¡°I think I found the washroom,¡± she says, opening the door and peeking inside. Her face lights up and she quickly closes the door again, having seen something exciting apparently. ¡°Basil!¡± calls Fresh. ¡°Huh? Oh! Sorry!¡± apologizes Basil, rushing over as Fresh pulls the spriggan out of the rubble. ¡°Hold it right there,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee! No!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°PAKEW!¡± ¡°We¡¯re not doing this,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°What the fuck are we supposed to do with a monster? We can¡¯t keep it.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s bring it back to the dungeon?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°We can just drop the little guy off there,¡± she says, bending down and healing the creature. ¡°But what if he lives here?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the struggling, confused creature in her hands. Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches. ¡°That¡¯s not a thing. It¡¯s a spriggan. They don¡¯t live in houses, they live in dirt.¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± Fresh nods in agreement. Pakew. She looks around the room, trying to figure out where the odd creature could have come from? Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 316: Naturally occurring The basement itself, now that they¡¯ve come back with a looted torch from the dungeon, looks to be a normal, standard fare basement. There are some old, dusty shelves and the walls are made up of rock and brickwork, same as the floors. Though here too, things are dilapidated. Rocks have fallen from the sides, down to the just as broken floor. Still, it¡¯s going to be nice to have a basement again. The workshop in the east was fine, but it was always a little cramped and there just wasn¡¯t enough room for all of the things she wanted to do. Fresh holds the struggling spriggan against herself, walking towards Basil, who is presenting the door that she found. The little creature kicks and squirms in her arms, trying to escape. But Fresh holds on tight, Jubilee had threatened to kill it the second she loses it from her grasp. They¡¯re going to bring it back to the dungeon in a minute. As for how it got here, well, that¡¯s still a mystery. Their current assumption is that the previous owner of the house had simply taken it with them, or ¡®looted¡¯ it and left it down here by itself. ¡°Ta-da!¡± says Basil, pulling open the door. Dampness and heat pushes out from it right away, coming to push against them as the hot draft escapes the underground, rising up past them and up the spiral staircase as the air flows to somewhere else. ¡°Pakew!¡± Fresh nods, looking inside of the room to see what Basil is so unusually excited about. ¡°Pakew,¡± she consoles the little spriggan as she takes a peek. It¡¯s not just the heat that comes to meet her, or the dampness of the air, or vapors of hot, mineral-tinged steam. There¡¯s also a glow; soft, but persistent. Fresh lets out a wowed gasp as she steps inside of what is clearly, undeniably, a cave. Sort of. It¡¯s essentially the same size as the basement, just a large room. But there isn¡¯t a floor here that is hand-made and there aren¡¯t any walls either, made of brickwork or such things. Rather, it¡¯s all natural stone and from the thick, cavern walls shoot out a few giant, glassy crystals of solid colors, pointing in all directions together with tips of some giant roots. A glow of their shine escapes each of the crystals, painting the correlating sections of the room with whatever color they might represent. In the center of it all is a pool of extremely bright blue, transparent, hot water, catching the light of the many glowing bodies. ¡°Careful,¡± says Basil as they step inside. ¡°Natural water can be dangerously hot,¡± she warns. Jubilee nods. ¡°Throw the spriggan in,¡± they say. ¡°Let¡¯s see if it survives.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± gasps Fresh, horrified. ¡°We¡¯re not going to do that!¡± Shamrock bubbles his way past them, carrying some rocks and sediment in his goo as he slides over towards the water¡¯s edge. He pokes a gooey tendril inside. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he says, before dropping himself inside entirely. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Well now it fucking isn¡¯t,¡± they say. ¡°Don¡¯t be mean to Shamrock,¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°Shamrock¡¯s a fucking gross, slimy mess,¡± they reply, rolling their eyes. ¡°No. You,¡± is all that the man replies himself as he sticks his gooey head out of the hot water a moment later. Fresh bends down and examines the water. ¡°What a blessing,¡± says Basil, dipping her fingers into the water. ¡°We finally have a real bath again,¡± says the priestess, looking at the large pool and soundly deeply relieved. It¡¯s easily three or four times the size of their old bath in the west. It¡¯s basically a very small pool. Fresh walks around the basin, looking at it from all sides. It¡¯s about three to four Shamrocks in length and width, or about three times as many Jubilees, if one wanted to measure with them. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful too,¡± she says, looking around the small cavern. ¡°It¡¯s a fucking gold-mine is what it is,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Looks like those fucks at the city didn¡¯t even bother to look at this place before putting it on sale,¡± they say. ¡°Underground springs are great for water, but¡­¡± ¡°With properties of the soil beneath the tree,¡± finishes Basil. ¡°It¡¯s powerful.¡± ¡°Fifty Obols?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Per bottle?¡± considers Basil. Fresh rolls her eyes, they¡¯re doing it again. ¡°We¡¯re not selling our bath-water, guys,¡± she says. ¡°That¡¯s gross.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Technically speaking, only Shamrock¡¯s bathed in it so far.¡± They look at a large, red crystal that is down lower to the ground and tap against it. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± They look around the room. ¡°You know, maybe this shit-heap is going to work out after all.¡± ¡°Stop calling it that,¡± says Basil, splashing around in the water with her hand. ¡°It¡¯s our house.¡± ¡°It¡¯s both things,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Okay people, let¡¯s make a plan.¡± Fresh lifts her hand, holding the spriggan against herself that seems to have given up the ghost, having accepted its fate of inevitably being eaten. ¡°Can we take a bath as the first step of our plan?¡± ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. They point a finger at her. ¡°The first step of our plan is to throw that little runt into the dungeon, so that this chapter of my life can end.¡± Fresh and the spriggan look at each other for a moment, before turning back towards Jubilee. ¡°Then we¡¯re going to start doing what we can to make this place salvageable.¡± A large slime pulls itself out of the water, having inflated itself with the nutrient rich liquid. ¡°Agreed,¡± says Shamrock. Basil nods too, getting up and shaking off her wet hand. Fresh nods and holds the spriggan against herself as the four of them head back out, closing the door behind themselves as they make their way to the dungeon. ¡°Here you go, little guy,¡± she says, setting the spriggan down after the five of them had stepped into the blue fog of the dungeon. It stumbles off a few steps in terror, like a prey animal escaping the clutches of an inattentive predator. Confused, it looks back at them as it stands half-way down the hallway towards the first room of the dungeon. Fresh waves to it. ¡°Stay safe! Try not to get lost again!¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± yells the little spriggan as it runs off into the depths of the dungeon. Jubilee sighs, not having anything left to say. They shake their head and head back out. The four of them walk back home. ¡°So?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°So what?¡± asks Fresh. The three of them turn her way as they walk, looking at her expectantly. ¡°Oh!¡± Fresh realizes what they want and appreciates them for doing so, entrusting themselves in her judgment once again. They¡¯re looking for guidance from the party-leader. ¡°Uh¡­ Basil, Shamrock, we need to get the roof fixed first thing. So that more snow doesn¡¯t get inside,¡± she explains. ¡°I¡¯ll do the work, but I need some materials and a way to get up there,¡± says Fresh. Shamrock and Basil nod. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out.¡± ¡°Thanks, guys. Jubilee, can you clear out an area for us to sleep in and then get it ready? Somewhere that feels safe.¡± ¡°Sure. Whatever.¡± Fresh smiles. In a way, it¡¯s a little daunting to have such a mess of a structure standing before them. They¡¯ve never had to do this kind of work on a building before. But at the same time, it¡¯s oddly exciting. She¡¯s looking forward to this new challenge and to all of the excitement that it might bring, both good and bad and she¡¯s looking forward to finally seeing the expressions on her friends¡¯ faces, after the four of them have finished transforming this construction site of a building into their warmest, safest and snuggest home yet. Perhaps even one that they might be able to stay in for not only the winter, but for the four seasons to come after that and then perhaps even, in her greediest, most hopeful desires, another four after that. Fresh feels her friends looking at her, somewhat perplexed and she realizes that she¡¯s been smiling and humming excitedly as they walk. Feeling their gazes however, she doesn¡¯t let that stop her and shamelessly lets them know with both the odd tune from a source that she doesn¡¯t remember and with the bright smile that is painted solely for them, how she truly feels. She pulls open the front door to their home. There¡¯s so much work to do and she¡¯s so excited, she can hardly wait. ¡°Let¡¯s work hard guys!¡± she exclaims. Jubilee sighs, walking past her. ¡°As if I ever get to do anything else.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll do our best,¡± says Basil, running a hand over Fresh¡¯s shoulder as she passes by. ¡°Always,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°PAKEW!¡± shouts the spriggan, standing at the foot of the spiral staircase, as it angrily waves its stubby arms at the four of them. They stop and stare. Jubilee tilts their head, ¡°What the fuck?¡± Basil leans in, squinting. Fresh realizes she doesn¡¯t have her glasses on. The dragon must have gotten them. ¡°Is that the same one?¡± ¡°It appears so,¡± says Shamrock, his armor rattling as he walks towards the little monster. He picks it up, grabbing it. The little creature squirms and kicks. ¡°I will return,¡± says the man, walking back towards the dungeon by himself. The three of them look at each and shrug, waiting for him to come back. A minute later, he comes back, dusting his hands. ¡°Done.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t hurt it, did you, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. The man shakes his head. ¡°Okay, whatever,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Weird, but we¡¯re wasting daylight. Let¡¯s get to work, I want to sleep at a normal time tonight.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯d really like to take a bath too, if you guys want to join me?¡± ¡°Weirdo.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just a bath!¡± argues Basil. ¡°We took communal baths together all the time at the cathedral.¡± ¡°Yeah, I bet you kooks did,¡± says Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?!¡± asks the priestess in a huff. ¡°PAKEW!¡± interjects the spriggan. The four of them turn their heads, looking at the staircase, where the little creature has appeared once again. Razmatazz Hello, reader. You can buy Sin-Eater, the fully edited and proofread version, on amazon now. For money. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 317: Adrift Fresh sighs, sitting up on the roof of the house. It¡¯s not exactly a safe place to be, given the height and also the sleekness of it, because of all of the winter snow and ice. But she¡¯s securely fastened with a rope that Shamrock is holding onto down below. She looks around at the destruction. It¡¯s torn apart, it looks like someone literally blasted this section of the roof away from the inside with a spell. Though, she really couldn¡¯t say why the previous owner would have done that? ¡°Here¡¯s another one coming up,¡± calls Basil from down below. Fresh turns her head, looking down at the hole. They¡¯ve set up a little system, similar to the bucket and pulley system they had on the roof in the east in order to get wood and supplies up here for her to work with. Fresh leans over, carefully pulling up the board from the harness. They¡¯re broke. Not the boards. But them. Their purchase of this house had essentially cost them every last coin that they had. Even dinner is off the table, in every sense of the phrase. These materials that they¡¯re patching up the roof with now, they had been able to buy by selling some crafting materials that she had still had stored inside of her inventory. But that really only covered the cost of the wood and some nails. Her plan is to board the hole back closed and then to lay some crystal-drakonium from her inventory over it, to keep the rain and snow from dripping down through the fresh wood. A real, extensive repair is going to have to wait until they¡¯ve secured some funds again. But right now, the priority is to stop their new home from falling any further apart than it already has. Fresh holds onto the rope for her life as Shamrock and Basil slowly lower her back down to the second floor. ¡°Good work,¡± says Basil, grabbing her as she comes down, starting to untie the rope from around her waist. ¡°Thanks,¡± sighs Fresh, rubbing her face with the inside of her elbow. She¡¯s cold, her fingers and face are icy from working up on the roof for hours and she¡¯s hungry and tired. All in all, it¡¯s not a great time right now. Fresh lifts her eyes, looking up at the patched and closed ceiling and lets out a satisfied, quick sigh, seeing that it¡¯s now tightly sealed and that neither a single flake of snow or drop of icy water finds its way down through the cracks anymore. There¡¯s a loud scraping sound that catches her attention. Fresh looks at Shamrock who is rubbing his gauntlets together very quickly for a moment. He extends his hands out to her. Fresh beams, placing her icy digits into his warmed palms. ¡°Thanks, guys,¡± she says, letting out a loud yawn as she feels a warmth return to her hands and body. ¡°FUCK OFF!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°PAKEW!¡± replies the spriggan, furiously waving its stubby arms at Jubilee, the giant leaf sprouting out of its head bouncing from side to side as Jubilee shoves the little creature away again. They haven¡¯t been able to get rid of it, despite every attempt. It always just reappears every time, a few minutes later when they aren¡¯t looking. Even the one time Jubilee had killed it, seeming deeply pleased with themselves, despite Fresh¡¯s ugly crying over the dead spriggan. It simply popped back up out of the basement a few minutes later. Fresh steps down into the library on the second floor. ¡°Roof¡¯s done, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°Good. Build a cage next,¡± they say, pushing the spriggan away again as it keeps trying to get into the corner that Jubilee has made ¡®bed-ready¡¯. In the back section of the library, there¡¯s a little nook free from plants and overgrowth, behind many shelves. It kind of reminds Fresh of a mattress-cave, but it¡¯s made out of bookshelves. Thankfully, they still have a few of her crystal-drakonium mattresses in her inventory, so at least they won¡¯t be sleeping on the floor. The spriggan seems to have taken a liking to this new cozy corner however and seems insistent on claiming it for itself. ¡°Even the fucking ghost-house was better than this,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°That was a one and done deal. But this little shit won¡¯t-¡± They grab the spriggan, throwing it out again. ¡°- FUCK OFF!¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers and a shard of glass shoots out, impaling the spriggan and killing it right away. ¡°JUBILEE!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°Stop killing things in our house!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll kill as many fucking things in our house as I deem necessary!¡± they snap back her way. ¡°When I find out where that little shit keeps coming from¡­¡± they stop for a second, thinking. ¡°Hey, did you get experience points for that one?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh looks around for a menu. But there isn¡¯t one. ¡°No. I think the dragon ate them.¡± ¡°Very funny,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Great. I was gonna say that we should find out where it keeps coming from and then just build some kind of non-stop murder-chamber.¡± Basil shakes her head, walking past Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s pretty dark, even for you,¡± remarks the priestess. ¡°You kidding?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Imagine. A machine that produces infinite experience points at home.¡± ¡°It would be life-changing,¡± laughs Basil. ¡°But I think we¡¯re doing fine as is. Though, we really could afford to level-up more.¡± She covers her stomach with her hand, as if feeling that Jubilee was about to poke it as she walked past them to inspect the book-cave. Fresh nods. They¡¯ve certainly neglected dungeoneering and leveling-up to an extent for a long time now. Their focus has been their business and honestly, for all intents and purposes in that regard, they¡¯re well-suited enough already. Though, then again, they did kill a dragon and clear a whole dungeon, so do they really need to get any stronger? ¡°We¡¯ll just build a cage then,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If we lock it up, it won¡¯t keep coming back.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see the harm in it being here,¡± remarks Basil. ¡°You don¡¯t see the harm in having a monster in our house?¡± asks Jubilee skeptically. The three of them turn to look at Shamrock, who is also coming down the stairs, having been moving away the old bed upstairs that nobody wanted to use. Jubilee looks back towards Basil. ¡°He doesn¡¯t count.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just a spriggan,¡± says Basil. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s clearly some magical force keeping it here,¡± notes the priestess. ¡°Maybe it isn¡¯t something we should be playing with? There¡¯s a higher power at work here.¡± ¡°We paid one-hundred and fifty thousand Obols for this place. Not one of those was for a spriggan,¡± replies Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°The only higher power I¡¯m seeing is mercantilism gone wrong.¡± ¡°Just consider it a¡­¡± Basil thinks for a moment. ¡°- a quirk.¡± ¡°A quirk?¡± asks Jubilee incredulously. ¡°A quirk,¡± replies Basil, crawling into the book-cave. ¡°Like the house in the north and how it was always drafty. Or how in the west there was a ghost. Or how in the east we had the crabs.¡± ¡°One of those things is not like the others,¡± notes Jubilee. Basil shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s just what it is.¡± ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°PAKEW!¡± protests the spriggan angrily as it comes back up the spiral staircase from downstairs, running past Fresh on its stubby legs towards their sleeping area. Jubilee¡¯s eye twitches and they step back, grabbing a small shelf and sliding it to the side, closing the ¡®cave¡¯ off from the outside world. Fresh and Shamrock, both locked out, stare at each other for a moment and then look back at the spriggan that is running back and forth around the wall of shelves, trying to find a way inside to Jubilee and Basil. Fresh sits down in the bath, floating on her back. It turns out that whoever had lived here installed another door in this room, off to the side, behind a crystal-cluster, that led to the facilities of the building. The water is really something though. It¡¯s hot, just on the cusp of being too hot. So floating in it brings a deep sense of relaxation to her cold and tense muscles. As she floats there on her back, noticing how soft the mineral water makes her skin feel, Fresh is sure that she can feel something pop in her back simply through the loosening of her body. She lets out a long sigh, closing her eyes, as she feels the water all around herself. She isn¡¯t sure if she falls asleep exactly, but she finds herself floating in a dark place. A loud yawn reverberates out through the water that she finds herself floating inside of. Fresh looks around, recognizing the sound as that of her patron, the fountain. ¡°Hey,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Long time no see.¡± The currents shift all around her and she feels her body moving. ¡°Life is busy, what can I say?¡± replies the fountain. ¡°Listen, uh, I know this is kind of random,¡± starts Fresh, wanting to say something before the fountain lets her know why she¡¯s here. ¡°But I wanted to say thanks,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s been really nice lately,¡± she says. ¡°I didn¡¯t know life could be this nice.¡± ¡°See?¡± asks the sleepy voice. ¡°And you doubted me.¡± ¡°I still do,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m not happy about how you made me curse the hero and how you keep threatening me and my friends. You¡¯re really suspicious and honestly, probably evil.¡± ¡°But?¡± asks the water. Fresh frowns, looking to the side. She¡¯s never really seen the fountain, having only ever heard its voice. Or maybe this, ALL of this, is the fountain? ¡°But¡­ I¡¯m happy now.¡± ¡°Aaaah! There it is,¡± says a coy voice. ¡°And?¡± Fresh crosses her arms, or at least tries to. She doesn¡¯t really have a body. ¡°And¡­ I want to know, is this going to last? Or is this just¡­ a ¡®for now¡¯ thing?¡± The water swirls around her, spinning her around and around in a circle, like a child spinning a doll that they¡¯re playing with. ¡°After your little betrayal with the crystal in the west, maybe it should have stopped a long time ago?¡± suggests the fountain. ¡°I don¡¯t need employees who I can¡¯t trust.¡± ¡°As if you didn¡¯t set that up!¡± argues Fresh, leaning in towards the darkness. ¡°You¡¯re manipulative and mean!¡± ¡°But?¡± it asks knowingly. Fresh frowns, wanting to yell. But. She¡¯s happy. Whatever this life of hers has turned out to be, whatever she¡¯s had to do to get here, she clearly feels that the ends have justified the means. She¡¯s happy, her family is happy, they¡¯re warm and safe and sort-of-kind-of fed and she¡¯s grateful for that, even to something that has made her do so many terrible things for reasons that she doesn¡¯t understand. ¡°I thought so,¡± says the fountain, as if reading her thoughts and the expression on her unseen face. ¡°I just want to live this life, forever,¡± says Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s awfully selfish of you, isn¡¯t it?¡± asks the fountain. ¡°Is that what they want?¡± it asks. ¡°Your friends?¡± Fresh floats there, listening to the voice echoing all around her. ¡°Have you ever considered something?¡± asks the fountain and Fresh looks up towards the edges of the distant water, where, in her faintest imaginations, she¡¯s sure that she can see the silhouette of something, someone, floating there, adrift in the black-water. ¡°That maybe, they¡¯re only your friends because I¡¯m making them be?¡± it asks. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m forcing them? Like I made you, with the apple, with the hero?¡± Her eyes open wide. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s all just¡­¡± A soft voice whispers into her left ear, as if it were right next to her. ¡°- a dream.¡± Fresh sits upright, gasping for air, clutching her chest as she looks around herself, at her sleeping friends who are all laid out next to herself. They¡¯re laying in the library, in their corner, asleep and outside of the small four walls of the little nook they¡¯ve made for themselves, she hears two tiny feet, running around back and forth. Razmatazz Boss is being a bully again =( Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 318: Soup day Fresh sweeps through the house with an old broom that she had found on a trash-heap. It seems that today is the day of the month when people are throwing out their old furniture and larger items from their houses, for the people in charge of the city¡¯s disposal to pick up. While she honestly didn¡¯t see anything during her excursion that caught her eye apart from this broom, Shamrock and Basil are still out there, gathering what they can. Most of the furniture is just kind of ugly, honestly. But they¡¯re gathering what looks useful, not to decorate their home with, but to take apart for solid pieces of wood, for nails that could be reused, for fastenings and little panes of glass. Anything at all that they could add to their very minuscule stockpile of ingredients. Fresh still has some stuff in her inventory window, but most of the items that they had packed in the west, they had left sitting at their house in the east. She sighs, trying to remember if they locked the door or not? But surely they did? The east¡­ it¡¯s only been a week or two and it already feels like an oddly distant memory. It¡¯s just about as foggy and as jumbled as her memories of the west or of the north. ¡°We¡¯re back. Again,¡± says a very exhausted sounding Basil from downstairs as the door opens and the two of them come inside. Fresh looks down the spiral staircase from the library. ¡°Welcome home! Again,¡± she says for the seventh time today. Her stomach growls and she clutches it. ¡°I heard that all the way down here,¡± laughs Basil. ¡°You didn¡¯t find any food, did you?¡± asks Fresh, for the seventh time today. ¡°No, just an old cabinet this time and an empty crate,¡± replies Basil this time. Metal rattles downstairs as Shamrock walks. ¡°A shelf,¡± he says, setting something heavy down. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just eat the spriggan?¡± calls Jubilee from upstairs, also for the seventh time. ¡°We¡¯re not going to eat the spriggan!¡± argues Fresh. The spriggan, as if knowing what Jubilee¡¯s intentions are for it, runs away down the staircase, making a hasty escape past Fresh and then the other two as it heads towards the basement. They still haven¡¯t figured out where exactly it¡¯s coming from. Any attempts to follow it have been met with failure so far, as it seems to know when they¡¯re watching it and then refuses to go to wherever that spot might be. Basil comes upstairs, dusting herself off. ¡°You look like the dragon got you, Basil,¡± remarks Fresh, staring at the exceptionally dusty and ragged priestess. ¡°I feel like it,¡± she sighs, rubbing her dirty face on the inside of her dirty sleeve. ¡°I had an idea about dinner,¡± she says. ¡°Yeah?¡± asks Jubilee from upstairs. ¡°The spriggan seeds,¡± says Basil. Jubilee raises an eyebrow, looking down from the upper staircase. ¡°Those are worth six Obols each. We¡¯re going to eat you before we eat them.¡± Basil rolls her eyes. ¡°We¡¯ve got to eat something no matter what and food costs money. Unless you want to go into the dungeon and eat mush-mushes?¡± ¡°I know how to cook those,¡± offers Fresh. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s hear your idea.¡± ¡°Bread,¡± remarks Basil, shrugging. ¡°Bread?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s your great idea? Bread? Bread has existed for thousands of years and I can tell you, we don¡¯t have what we need to make bread.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll make seed bread,¡± suggests Basil, pulling up the little pouch of spriggan seeds. ¡°We¡¯ll sell four of these and buy a bag of flour,¡± she explains. ¡°Then we¡¯ll sell one more to get a fistful of normal seeds and grains. With some water from the mineral pool we¡¯ll mix it together and ta-da, bread.¡± ¡°Sounds like shit.¡± ¡°I think it sounds great, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Jubilee¡¯s just cranky.¡± ¡°I know,¡± sighs the priestess. ¡°This is the best way to stretch our money though. Flour goes far and seeds are nutritious. I¡¯ve survived a few winters off of it already. One more won¡¯t hurt.¡± ¡°Fine. Go for it,¡± says Jubilee, waving Basil off and vanishing as they return to their work upstairs. ¡°Did you do that thing I asked you about?¡± asks Basil, looking back at Fresh. Fresh nods, pointing at a pile of plants and mushrooms sitting in an old basket. Some mushrooms and grasses that were growing from the floor and the walls. ¡°My botany ability isn¡¯t good enough to let me see which ones of these are good to eat and which aren¡¯t,¡± says Fresh. ¡°So maybe you can look through them, Basil?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the bread then.¡± Basil nods and the four of them set to their work with Jubilee getting the upstairs cleared out and inhabitable, Basil sorting through their plants, Shamrock gathering more materials and Fresh being in charge of dinner. The spriggan simply does whatever it is that spriggans do. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing they left this old oven here,¡± says Fresh, pulling the extremely lumpy loaf of bread out of the oven with a cloth. She smells it, taking in a deep breath. It smells great. They don¡¯t have any salt and it¡¯s literally just flour, water and some seeds, so it¡¯s hardly bread in her eyes. But it¡¯s still very fragrant, the dough having been permeated during baking by the oils of the seeds. Basil nods, stepping back to the stove as Fresh closes the oven door again, stirring the pot filled with a thin soup that she¡¯s making from several mushrooms and some roots. Fresh shivers, holding herself as she sits down on the floor next to the kitchen, where she can still get some heat from the oven but isn¡¯t in the way. It¡¯s cold in here. Even now that the roof has been patched, the winter¡¯s chill still sits deeply in the building that has lacked any real warmth for a long time. ¡°You did a good job, Jubilee,¡± she says, looking around the upstairs area. It¡¯s as clean and as ¡®ready¡¯ to be furnished as can be, given the circumstances. The old bed they took apart, adding its wood to their collection and the old mattress they had thrown out. The floor is clean and all of the loose boards have been realigned. The walls are free from most of the overgrowth. She reaches over and grabs Jubilee, straining herself to scoot them over towards herself as she latches her arms around them, in an attempt to share their warmth. Shamrock sits there with crossed legs, staring at the spriggan that seems to have taken him as its person of interest for whatever reason. It stands in front of him, looking up at the slits of his helmet as it waves its stubby arms around. Jubilee just sighs. ¡°Soups almost done,¡± remarks Basil. ¡°We can eat in a minute. But¡­ uh¡­¡± She looks around. ¡°I just realized that we don¡¯t have any bowls.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Fresh looks up, letting go of Jubilee and running downstairs to their wood stockpile. Hmm¡­ no. This wood is all porous and maybe it¡¯s been treated with some weird gunk? Better not. She shakes her head and goes to the basement, into the cave until she finds a big rock. Two large, stone spheres fall out of the rock. Holding her hands above them one at a time, she cuts them in half. The two half-spheres fall apart. Now all that she needs to do is hollow out the insides. Smiling to herself, she takes the four bowls and stacks them on top of each other, bringing them over to the pool of water to wash them out, before heading back upstairs with her heavy load in hand. ¡°Ta-da!¡± she says, setting the four bowls down and spreading them out. ¡°Great work,¡± smiles Basil and shoos her away, before she pours the contents of the pot into them. Basil sets down a bowl for each of them and they set the loaf of bread into the center of their floor-circle. It¡¯s a humble meal, in all honesty. The soup is really mostly just water and a few mushrooms. The bread is just flour and a single handful of seeds. But it¡¯s hot and nourishing and Fresh can¡¯t help but feel, as she takes another bite, that she is being generously rewarded for all of her hard efforts. She beams, breaking off a piece of her bread and dipping it into the steaming soup. Extending it out, she pokes the confused spriggan with it. It¡¯s still sitting in Shamrock¡¯s lap. He doesn¡¯t seem to mind its presence. ¡°Here you go, little guy,¡± she smiles. ¡°Don¡¯t feed it, you idiot,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s not a pet. It¡¯s a pest.¡± The spriggan grabs the piece of bread with its stubby arms and Fresh watches in mesmerized enchantment as it does its best to eat with its stubby, fingerless joints. ¡°How do they even survive?¡± asks Basil, watching the creature try its best to eat. ¡°They¡¯re so¡­ helpless.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the great part,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°They don¡¯t survive. Spriggans are the lowest of the low. Even mush-mushes are better monsters than them.¡± ¡°The bigger ones are kind of tough,¡± remarks the priestess, thinking. She seems to consider something for a moment. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t feed it? What if it grows?¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll be friends and everything will be fine, right?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°So. A cage?¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°We can get some iron tomorrow for the bars.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not putting it in a cage!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to learn to co-exist, like with the crabs in the east.¡± ¡°And the fairies in the west,¡± remarks Basil. ¡°I miss Veli,¡± sighs Fresh. ¡°And Tarja and Sauli and Pauli and Liro and -¡± Jubilee lifts a hand, stopping her. ¡°Are you just going to list everybody?¡± Fresh thinks for a second and then nods. ¡°We get the point.¡± They shake their head. ¡°Good soup.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil. ¡°Eating something like this is¡­¡± she thinks for a moment, swirling her last piece of bread around in her bowl. ¡°- nostalgic.¡± ¡°Growing up poor must be shit,¡± notes Jubilee. ¡°It is,¡± says Basil. ¡°But I guess in a weird way, I feel really at home right now?¡± she puzzles, looking around the empty, cold, dark room that they sit in, illuminated only by the dying glow of their last burning wood for the night. ¡°Is that weird?¡± Fresh shakes her head, before drinking the last of her soup. She doesn¡¯t think so. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 319: An old secret Gone are the days of spring sunshine and summer glows, gone is the autumn and its gentle, nudging winds that would so often coax one to go back home, to slowly seek shelter and warmth and comfort. Now, the winter is here and it has brought with it a front of cold and unforgiving air. Fresh looks at the breath that is floating out of her mouth as she exhales, standing in the library. The spriggan is down in front of her and seeing her do so, it seems to puff itself out for a moment as well and then also lets out a breath of air. The two of them stand there, watching the vapors of their bodies float away towards the ceiling. ¡°What am I even supposed to start with this?¡± asks Jubilee, watching them from the stairwell together with Basil. Fresh blinks, turning towards Jubilee together with the spriggan at the same time. ¡°Hey, guys.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you have something productive you should be doing?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh nods, turning back to the ceiling and slowly taking in another deep breath before exhaling and watching the dampness of her air float away once more. ¡°If you breathe one more time, I¡¯m going to hit you. Get to work.¡± ¡°But Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I am working!¡± she says, making sure never to inhale so that Jubilee doesn¡¯t actually hit her. ¡°I¡¯m trying to¡­¡± Her throat feels scratchy and strained. ¡°To¡­¡± ¡°You can breathe, dumb-ass.¡± Fresh gasps, drawing in a lungful of fresh air. ¡°I¡¯m trying to find out where the cold air is coming from!¡± Jubilee sighs, shaking their head. ¡°It¡¯s coming from outside. It¡¯s winter.¡± They look at Basil. ¡°If I cry, are you going to tell anyone?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep it to myself,¡± promises the priestess, placing a hand consolingly on Jubilee¡¯s shoulder. Fresh puffs out her cheek, frowning. They don¡¯t understand. She looks back down at the spriggan that is waving its stubby arms around, exhaling once more. She had recruited it for this task. It seemed surprisingly amiable to her cause for only the few nibbles of bread she had to bribe it with. She watches the trail of its breath rise away and watches as a tuft of its damp vapor is pushed to the side, as some unseen air current breaks its rising. Sharply, Fresh turns her head to the right, looking at the direction the draft is coming from. Bending down, she grabs the spriggan. ¡°I¡¯m gonna pick you up, okay?¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± Grabbing the spriggan with both hands, she stands back up and holds it out in front of herself and walks through the library. The spriggan keeps exhaling deep, slow breathes of warm air and she wanders around, trying to find the origin of the air-flow. ¡°I¡¯m going to go with Shamrock to the dungeon,¡± says Basil. ¡°We¡¯ll make some money for today¡¯s dinner,¡± she promises. ¡°I¡¯ll stay here and make sure that she doesn¡¯t get eaten by the spriggan,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°And that she actually does some work,¡± they say sternly. ¡°I am working!¡± protests Fresh, turning her head around before she vanishes behind a shelf. ¡°Oh, hey!¡± she calls back. ¡°Basil, there¡¯s a book on cheap recipes here!¡± she calls out. ¡°Really? Set it to the side please!¡± calls Basil, turning and heading down the staircase. Fresh nods, grabbing it. There are a lot of interesting books here, honestly. They just haven¡¯t had the chance or the comfort to really sit down and sort through them. Though she has seen Jubilee peruse the area a few times, apparently being secretly excited about this room, which she finds very endearing. Jubilee still has trouble showing themself. But they certainly like reading a lot. The spriggan¡¯s breath moves sidewards, as if some gust had pushed against it. Fresh blinks, turning to the right, to a shelf against the dungeon-facing wall. She leans in, holding the squirming spriggan against herself as she looks into the gap where there are no books. There¡¯s a small handle. ¡°Thanks, little guy,¡± says Fresh, squeezing the spriggan once and setting it down before reaching for the handle. She cups a hand by her mouth, yelling. ¡°Jubilee~!¡± she calls, rather blase. ¡°We have a secret-bookshelf-wall.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Secret-bookshelf-wall!¡± calls Fresh again, looking back to the handle as she turns it. The bookshelf swings open, like a door on a hinge. ¡°I think there¡¯s a murder-room!¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± asks Jubilee, looking around the corner. ¡°I told you this was a murder-house,¡± they say. Jubilee comes over and helps her swing the bookcase open, it swings out into the library. Behind it is a small room, covered in roots from top to bottom. It isn¡¯t so much that there are roots and plants coming through the gaps in the walls as it is that there is simply nothing here but roots and plants. It¡¯s a small room, a passage made up entirely out of gnarled wood and plant-matter and on the far-end of the six-step room, is a portal. A cut-off space. Blue fog. ¡°¡­What the fuck?¡± mutters Jubilee, looking around. ¡°Is that the dungeon?¡± ¡°Is that possible, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, blinking. ¡°I thought there was always only ever one dungeon gate?¡± Jubilee turns to her and looks, shrugging. ¡°Never heard of it before¡­ but, well, there it fucking is.¡± ¡°Maybe it doesn¡¯t go to the dungeon?¡± she considers. ¡°Maybe it goes somewhere else? Like the adventurer¡¯s guild?¡± ¡°One way to find out,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Stay there. Let me check it out,¡± they warn, holding a hand out to block her as they step towards the swirling fog. The spriggan runs in after them. Fresh yelps, trying to stop it, but it squeezes past her before she can. Not sure what else to do, Fresh runs in after Jubilee. ¡°I told you to wait,¡± says an annoyed voice a moment later. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± apologizes Fresh. ¡°The spriggan ran in and I got scared that it would get hurt,¡± she admits. ¡°You got scared because the spriggan went inside?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°But not when I did?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, thinking about it. ¡°You¡¯re strong, Jubilee,¡± she says, explaining why she wasn¡¯t worried. Fresh looks around the area. They¡¯re definitely inside of the great-tree, by the looks of it. ¡°Are we in the dungeon?¡± she asks, just to be sure. ¡°Sure fucking looks like it,¡± replies Jubilee, looking around the area. The room is a bit unusual however, for the dungeon. Rather than being one of the gnarled, rooted arenas that she¡¯s gotten used to during their prior explorations of the dungeon, this place rather is a large, open area. The ground is covered in lush grass and mushrooms sprout out in all directions, popping out of forgotten mounds of dirt that run in long, vertical rows. In the center of it all, is a small, gnarled, leafless tree that twists and turns around itself over and over, as if it had constantly decided to change directions on which way to grow. ¡°What is this place?¡± asks Fresh, looking down at one of the long lines of dirt on the floor. Jubilee pokes the ground, watching as the spriggan runs off towards the odd, dead looking tree in the middle of the room. ¡°Looks like an old, overgrown farm, actually,¡± they say, puzzling. Jubilee plucks a mushroom. ¡°Aren¡¯t these the same kind that Basil made last night?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I dunno. We better let her look at them, but¡­¡± she looks around the room. This is clearly the dungeon, but there¡¯s no way out from here, apart from the blue-fog behind themselves. It¡¯s like there¡¯s a secluded room, somewhere deep down in the dungeon and the only way to get inside of it is through their house. Jubilee drops the mushroom back to the ground and the two of them walk towards the tree that the spriggan has started to oddly dance around. It lifts its little, stubby arms into the air and does an odd prance as it moves around the gnarled tree in a circle, humming as it does so, its leaf bouncing on its head. ¡°Aw, look, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°He¡¯s playing.¡± ¡°He¡¯s praying, dumb-ass,¡± notes Jubilee. ¡°Haven¡¯t you ever seen a cultist before?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°Basil doesn¡¯t dance when she prays.¡± ¡°Thank fuck.¡± The two of them look at the little spriggan that continues its odd dance. The tree starts to move. Jubilee grabs her and pulls her back a few steps as the knotted, old, gray and leafless tree begins to unwind like a frozen serpent unstiffening itself. The ancient, dried bark begins to crackle and break as it falls off from the movements, like dried, flaking skin off of an old burn. The tree spreads its branches, revealing a brighter, newer branch in its center that it had hidden. It then begins to extend it outward towards the dancing spriggan. With a crack, it swings one of its own branches against the new one, snapping off the fresh, leafy limb and severing it. The spriggan does a little flourish, chiming and shaking its leaf as it ends its ritual. It bends down and grabs the freshly fallen branch and drags it back over their way. The two of them look down at this newest oddity. ¡°Pa-fucking-kew,¡° mutters Jubilee, staring at the very proud looking spriggan. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 320: Busy-busy! Dew collects on the tip of the crystal body hanging above the pool of water, forming together out of the rising mist that sticks to the glassy surface of the thing, coming together at the pointed edge. Fresh, floating in the water, watches as that single droplet falls down from the crystal above the pool, splashing against the surface of the bath below. ¡°Drip,¡± she mutters to herself. She floats there, staring at the large, yellow crystal as more vapor collects on its tip. She¡¯s been doing this for a while now, just relaxing a little before bed. Basil and Shamrock came home eventually, after their outing. Shamrock was as stoic and quiet as ever about their discovery, but Basil, having been a little worried, soon became almost childishly excited as she ran around the new room, inspecting all of the mounds of dirt. From what she could see, it really was a farm of sorts, in days long past. Having this much space is an incredible opportunity for them. Jubilee had told Basil off, telling her that they aren¡¯t going to become farmers. But Basil shook her head, saying that she can take care of most of the stuff there. Though, given the room¡¯s size, she won¡¯t manage entirely by herself. But mushrooms seem to be sprouting there all on their own and the few dead rows of soil that remain only needed a little love and a few seeds and they could grow other crops there too. ¡°Drip.¡± Plants are always good. Not just for eating, but for medicine, for potions and crafting of all kinds. Same with the mushrooms. As for the rare-wood tree, it seems to be a fixed entity. There are a few scattered throughout the real dungeon, every few dozen floors. So having one at home is a luxury for sure, even if they can only harvest the wood from it every two weeks. In theory at least. They assume that it resets with the dungeon reset, during the new moon. ¡°Drip.¡± Rare-wood offers exciting opportunities as well. The magical properties of the material are wild. Honestly, there¡¯s so much to do and to start with that Fresh doesn¡¯t really even know where to begin. So she¡¯s just down here, floating. She sighs and then yawns. It¡¯s about time for bed. Sitting up, she lets her feet touch the floor of the pool and then gets up. A droplet of water strikes against her head, having fallen from above. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to having a real bed again,¡± says Basil, squirming to the side. ¡°Fuck off, you¡¯re all wet,¡± barks Jubilee, pushing Fresh away and back onto her mattress. They¡¯ve laid their four mattresses all right next to each other, so that they¡¯re touching. ¡°Hi,¡± says Shamrock, laying on the other side of Jubilee. Jubilee tries to push him away too, to little effect. ¡°Fuck off, Shamrock!¡± Fresh frowns, rubbing her wet head against Jubilee. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°We don¡¯t have any towels.¡± ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± they sigh, trying to move away. ¡°We should sell that rare-wood as is and just use the money to get some beds ready.¡± There¡¯s a loud growling behind them. Basil¡¯s stomach. The priestess lets out an uneasy laugh. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to breakfast.¡± ¡°The fucking free breakfast at the guild is literally nothing but oatmeal, every single day,¡± complains Jubilee. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh in delight. ¡°Isn¡¯t it the best?¡± Jubilee sighs. Fresh wiggles into place between her friends. Jubilee had made them one large blanket out of spriggans¡¯ bark, but it¡¯s hardly warmer than sleeping without it. Thankfully, their bodies produce more than enough warmth that they can sleep comfortably in this cozy, little corner of the house. Fresh rubs her fingers over the blanket, hoping that it isn¡¯t too grim for the spriggan that they¡¯re essentially wearing the skin of its kind. But, it hasn¡¯t seemed too bothered so far. She had given it the last of her portion of tonight¡¯s bread, for its help in showing them the farm. On the positive side, they have a lot of mushrooms now. Her stomach growls too. On the negative side, not many of them were good to eat. It is the afternoon of the next day. Fresh sits on the floor, looking at a bundle of harpy feathers as Jubilee walks past her, with a basket full of overgrowth that they had pulled out of the shelves and walls. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She opens her window and pulls out her damp-grimoire, fluttering through the pages as she looks for something about harpies or feathers. [Roc-Feather Blade] 1. Acquire 1 roc feather 2. Place in direct sunlight 3. Leave it there and walk away. Nothing is going to happen. Fresh blinks, staring at the page for a moment. Her eyes wander down further. 4. Instead, get an anqa or harpy feather 5. Dunk in moonwater 6. Leave it to bake in direct moonlight for half an hour Fresh tilts her head. What an odd recipe. She wonders if she can just skip steps one to three? It feels like the book is just messing with her today. Looking out of the window, she sees that it¡¯s still going to be a while until night-time, so instead, she shrugs and gets up. There¡¯s lots else to do until then. Downstairs is a literal mountain of furniture waiting for her to disassemble it. ¡°Not bad,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Over there, Shamrock,¡± they say. The man places a large board from the side of a cabinet onto the stack of ¡®big¡¯ pieces of wood. Everything is disassembled and while it¡¯s all a little ramshackle, they at least have a heap of crude wood to work with, as well as a bucket of nails, screws, bolts and hinges that they could salvage. Fresh wipes her dusty forehead on her dusty sleeve. It looks like she¡¯s going to need to take another bath tonight before bed. That¡¯s fine though. With these materials, she can make them some real beds. They¡¯re going to look a little improvised, because they are, but it¡¯s better than sleeping on the floor. Fresh stands there, thinking for a second. Well¡­ maybe one more night on the floor, with all four of them sleeping together in one jumble isn¡¯t so bad? The witch lets out a devious cackle that nobody can hear, as she sneaks away to get things ready for tonight. It¡¯s night-time. Grabbing the glass of old moon-water from her inventory, she sets it down on the floor. She¡¯s sitting in front of the big window in the library. Looking around, she nods to the spriggan that is accompanying her tonight and grabs a harpy feather from the basket, dipping it into the jar. Fresh doesn¡¯t really worry about letting the creature see her do anything witchy. She trusts it for whatever reason and even if she didn¡¯t, it isn¡¯t exactly able to communicate with others to tell them about what it has seen. Fresh sets the soaked, sky-blue feather down on a piece of wood, sitting directly in the rays of moonlight that shine in through the very shiny glass of the window. Shamrock did a great job polishing it. ¡°Moon sure is bright tonight,¡± she mutters to herself. Looking around herself, she grabs a random book from the nearest shelf and starts reading it quietly. It¡¯s kind of a dumb story about a lost man who becomes a lizard. It doesn¡¯t make much sense, really. The spriggan sits in her lap and she points at the odd, blurry pictures in the book as she quietly explains to it what¡¯s happening. But, by the time she finishes reading it, the feather has finished ¡®baking¡¯. She pokes it and then watches as it crumbles and falls apart. Fresh blinks, touching the powder. Yup. That¡¯s powder. Still, a dual property material is something new. She¡¯ll have to show this to Basil, she¡¯ll definitely be interested. Maybe they can use this to craft something together again? She feels the crumbles sift through her fingers. It almost feels like metal. Another day has passed. It¡¯s the next evening. ¡°Nooo!¡± yells Fresh dramatically in a deep, scratchy voice. ¡°I¡¯m going to get yoooou~¡± she cries, waving the fingers of her free hand as she points at the picture in the picture-book that she¡¯s holding. The evil butterfly-king is shaking his butterfly-fist at the little, adventuring slime who is hopping away, having retrieved the stolen hoard of sweet-flowers. The spriggan claps its stubby arms together in excitement. She flips the page, handing the book over to Basil who looks down to see what the next drawing is. She clears her throat. ¡°And then, the little slime went home to his home in the sweet-fields,¡± explains the priestess, pointing at the picture of the slime hopping away back to the large field of flowers he had started his adventure in, so long ago. ¡°And then he lived happily ever after.¡± She flips the last page. ¡°The end.¡± Fresh cheers and the spriggan spins around in a circle, humming. Jubilee sighs, rubbing their forehead. ¡°That was fun!¡± says Fresh. They had read through the entire book together like this, passing it around in a circle and taking turns reading a page each. Though, ¡®reading¡¯ is of course a bit of a vague term, as there are no words. So they always had to make something up that seemed to fit. ¡°I¡¯m glad it¡¯s over with,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Oh, please,¡± starts Basil. ¡°You enjoyed it too. I saw. Right, Shamrock?¡± she asks. Shamrock nods. ¡°I saw it.¡± ¡°Fuck off, both of you,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes and getting up. ¡°Let¡¯s go to bed,¡± they say. ¡°Speaking of beds,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering. Couldn¡¯t we make some out of that scrap wood downstairs?¡± ponders the priestess. Shamrock and Jubilee stare at Basil for a moment, before turning their gaze to where Fresh was sitting. But she¡¯s nowhere to be seen, having escaped into the darkness of the library, cackling as she leaves. A hand grabs her. ¡°Get back here, you slacker!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Noooo~!¡± howls Fresh dramatically, clutching her heart. ¡°I¡¯ve been captured by the evil fairy-queen!¡± Jubilee¡¯s hand grips her tighter as they drag her back out. ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck. You¡¯re about to be executed.¡± And so, Fresh, having been captured by the horrible fairy-queen, has no choice but toil through grueling labor, crafting late into the middle of the night for the rest of her life, forever. Though, she might just be being a little imaginative. In truth, it only takes about thirty minutes. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 321: It’s all coming together ¡°Those sure are a lot of mushrooms,¡± notes Fresh, looking at the giant basket of mushrooms that Basil is bringing back out of the ¡®farm¡¯ in a basket. The priestess walks over to the table in the middle of the library, setting them down, the spriggan running alongside her. ¡°They¡¯re not good to eat, sadly,¡± she sighs. ¡°But these can be used in medicine.¡± Fresh blinks, staring at the mushrooms and then back towards Basil. ¡°How can we use them for medicine, if we¡¯re not allowed to eat them?¡± she asks. ¡°Well¡­ look, see this one here?¡± asks Basil, picking up a red mushroom with cream-white swirls all over it. ¡°This is a conchatus,¡± she explains. ¡°They¡¯re very deadly if you eat them as is, but if you boil the caps into a goo and then let it cool and then reboil it again a second time, it¡¯s a very powerful poison-antidote,¡± she explains. ¡°It¡¯ll give you some stomach trouble for a day or two, but it¡¯s better than dying.¡± Fresh nods. That makes sense. ¡°What about these?¡± she asks, picking up a very long, slender mushroom with a thin, almost spiky cap. ¡°That¡¯s a kobold¡¯s wart,¡± explains Basil. ¡°If we dry them and then let them soak in ash-water and then dry them again, they¡¯re potent magic-enhancers,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°Honestly, these mushrooms are all pretty high-level materials,¡± she notes, playing with the red bracelet on her wrist. ¡°There¡¯s nothing like them in the other cities, apart from one or two in a rare forest-grove somewhere.¡± She rubs her forehead with the back of her sleeve, seeming very content, erasing the streak of dirt on it. ¡°You sure do know a lot about plants, Basil,¡± remarks Fresh. She still isn¡¯t sure if mushrooms are technically plants or not. Basil laughs. ¡°Like I said, I spent my entire childhood collecting plants to eat. Then whenever I had free time, I was in the library at the cathedral reading about plants, so that I would know which ones to collect.¡± ¡°But none of these are good to eat?¡± asks Fresh, lifting up a few and looking at the bright blue, wide caps laid down on the floor of the basket. ¡°Afraid not,¡± replies Basil, shaking her head. ¡°That kind was only growing inside the house. But maybe it isn¡¯t the best for our house to have fungus growing inside of it,¡± she says. ¡°It could be bad for our health.¡± Fresh frowns, crossing her arms. ¡°I thought it looked mystical and enchanting, right, little guy?¡± she asks, leaning over sideways to look at the spriggan who is currently running around Basil in a circle for some reason. ¡°Pakew!¡± Basil laughs. ¡°That¡¯s very like you. But we should certainly replace the walls, at least downstairs in the store and upstairs in our area. As for here¡­¡± The priestess looks around at the library. The shelves, covered in books and plant-matter that Jubilee has plucked out three times now, are fully regrown and full of life once more. ¡°It might be a lost cause,¡± admits the priestess. ¡°I think the dungeon-magic is leaking out of the portal and touching this room,¡± she says. ¡°Is that why the spriggan¡¯s here?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It could be,¡± nods Basil, rubbing the spriggan¡¯s giant leaf as it runs another circle around her. ¡°He might just be a ¡®wild¡¯ spawning monster like the crabs in the east. ¡°Wonder why he doesn¡¯t give experience points then?¡± ponders Fresh. Basil shakes her head. ¡°Who knows? The world is a weird place.¡± Jubilee and Shamrock are currently down in the dungeon, determined to make a real push towards its depths today, in order to get them a solid chunk of money and materials to work with. ¡°Oh, I looked at that powder,¡± remarks Basil, talking about the harpy-dust. ¡°It¡¯s interesting. Harpies are odd creatures, but we could use it to make some really strong medicine, I think.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I figured it would be dangerous because of the dark-attribute.¡± Basil smiles, shaking her head. She digs through the basket, picking out a very flat, almost square mushroom that has a dark purple cap. ¡°This is inpertus,¡± she explains. ¡°It only grows in places where someone with holy-magic has bled,¡± notes Basil. ¡°Obviously, there are some unsavory connotations about it. But, at the same time¡­¡± She turns the mushroom around. ¡°It¡¯s one of the most potent consumption-medicines for children that we know about. It¡¯s very hard to find.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Consumption?¡± ¡°Lung sickness,¡± replies Basil, setting the mushroom back down gently onto the basket. ¡°Oh. Wait, Basil, how much are all of these worth?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the basket that is heaped full. These all sound very useful and potent, surely it has to be a significant amount? ¡°Not much,¡± replies Basil, sadly. Fresh frowns, her hopes of lunch having been dashed. ¡°Really? Even with this many?¡± Basil shakes her head. ¡°By weight, mushrooms are really just mostly water. By the time we dry them, there¡¯s not much left to ground into dust.¡± She points at the inpertus. ¡°This one has a weight value of one kilogram, but when we dry it and turn it into powder, we¡¯ll probably only get about a tenth of that as an end product.¡± ¡°Oooh,¡± says Fresh. That makes sense. ¡°Still,¡± smiles Basil. ¡°This is a real blessing. In the east, I could only make creams and salves with the plants I had. Things for little burns and maybe a sniffle. But this,¡± she says, sounding very satisfied. ¡°This is going to be real medicine. Even if it¡¯s only a little,¡± she beams. ¡°As for your harpy-powder, I think we¡¯ll find something for it.¡± This is pretty motivating news for Fresh, honestly. She smiles, nodding and then leaves Basil to her work, together with the spriggan who has chosen the priestess today to accompany. Fresh stands in the downstairs area, looking around the room that they¡¯re going to have the shop inside of. Framing it with her fingers from where she stands at the staircase, she makes a plan. Medicine, huh? That sounds nice. So far, they¡¯ve always sold things like snacks and foods. But with the winter being here and the city being cut off from the outside world for whatever reason, maybe a local source of powerful and readily available medicines is exactly the right thing to offer the people? It¡¯s something useful. Something that people can eat or drink and, while it might not bring a smile to their face taste-wise, it might do so to those around them, upon seeing their loved ones become healthy again. It fits all of her criteria for the basis of their products. With Basil here willing to make some and to work together with her as well, the abundance of natural, organic ingredients from the dungeon, plus the secret farm, the universe has really perfectly aligned to allow this to happen. Fresh can¡¯t help but continue to carry her smile that she had brought with herself from upstairs. Fate really is always so kind to her and her family. So, that means that they need an easily visible counter that people can come to and ask questions at. The shelves need to be lower, so that they can guide and the customers to the right aisles should a question arise and so that there is a smaller chance of any mishaps, should anything get knocked over. Safety comes first, after all. She supposes that they need to have a section for freely available remedies and one for more dangerous potions and medicines that should only be distributed on advisal, similar to her cleaning-solution from the north. Medicine can have side-effects, after all. So that means¡­ Fresh nods. They¡¯re going to have a long, rectangular counter by the door, on the left-hand side when you enter. The entire right side of the store can be dedicated to their products. The left ¡®wing¡¯ on the other side of the counter, where the room dips out, can be used for more shelves. Maybe a different section of goods could go there? They¡¯ll have to block off the staircase though. So that nobody goes upstairs. But she prefers to have the counter by the door, rather than across from it. It feels like it improves the flow of foot-traffic, honestly. Fresh nods. But she won¡¯t use the scrap wood here for that. They need the store to look professional and clean, after all. Especially if they¡¯re selling medicine. The floor needs to be fixed down here as well. But what she can do is use this scrap-material that they have heaped here for their own areas of the house. The library needs a good fixing as many of the shelves are crooked and offset and damaged from time and overgrowth. The upstairs needs a good remodeling, especially the roof that needs to be professionally tended to. But she can start by making it more cozy. They need furniture and while they have beds, there aren¡¯t any closets or wardrobes yet. The kitchen cabinets are dinky and loose and old and, while Jubilee hasn¡¯t asked for a room of their own yet, she assumes that it¡¯s going to happen soon. Some heaters like in the eastern house would be a real luxury too, if she can get some metal again. Nodding to herself, Fresh grabs a hunk of wood, noticing how light it feels in her arms that have gotten much, much stronger over the course of the year and heads upstairs. There¡¯s always more work to do. Razmatazz Hello, reader. Thanks for being here and reading and stuff. I just wanted you to know that I''m really grateful for it =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 322: Trying to keep up Water droplets fall around herself, descending like rain stemming from someplace high up above, splashing down to the ground at her feet. But there is no ground, it¡¯s just blackness. There is no sky, it¡¯s just blackness. ¡°Hello?¡± asks the voice. ¡°Hello? Is anyone there?¡± it calls, stemming from no source, from just blackness. ¡°Fresh?¡± asks Peridot. ¡°Hellooooo~?¡± asks the girl, as if trying to talk into a phone with no signal. The blackness is ripped apart, devoured in an instant as both she herself and it are consumed by a giant dragon of indistinct color. Fresh¡¯s eyes shoot open. She¡¯s laying in her bed upstairs. It was just another weird dream. The upstairs room doesn¡¯t feel quite as cozy or as warm as the library does just yet. But they opted nonetheless to move their beds up here. The coziness of the space, which has so far been lacking, is just something that needs to be developed and nurtured by living in the otherwise empty room. Walls need to be put up, the bones of the building need to be filled with the warmth from their bodies. So, to start, they had put their beds here. Fresh blinks, staring at Basil¡¯s foot that is up next to her face. Sitting upright, she looks at the priestess who has somehow managed in the middle of the night to turn herself around entirely and even more impressively, without waking them up. They had achieved half a compromise. The beds had to go upstairs, according to Jubilee. But given that it¡¯s still cold in the house and that the whole room is empty, they¡¯ve placed them all side by side, so they¡¯re all sleeping in one big jumble. But it¡¯s still better than being on the floor. ¡°You still got another hour,¡± says Jubilee¡¯s voice. Fresh turns her head, looking at the spot next to her other side. The mattress is empty now. Lifting her gaze, she sees Jubilee sitting with their back against the kitchen cabinets on the floor, reading a book from the library. ¡°Good morning, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, sliding out of bed. ¡°I had a bad dream. The dragon ate me,¡± she explains. Wasn¡¯t there something else in the dream¡­? Uh¡­ Hmm¡­ Well, it was just a dream. It¡¯s probably not important. ¡°That fucking dragon. We should really go back there and kill it again, just to make a point,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a happy way to live our lives,¡± states Fresh, rising to her feet and stretching. Her back pops and she catches herself on the foot of the bed. ¡°Pathetic,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head and looking back at their book. Fresh scowls, turning back their way. She shuffles over towards them, holding her back with one arm and pointing with a crooked finger with her other. ¡°Bully!¡± ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee, not bothering to look up from their book. They turn a page. Fresh reaches them and flops down onto the ground, still tired. ¡°Don¡¯t lay on the floor, goo-brain. It¡¯s cold.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± yawns Fresh, laying her head and arms on Jubilee¡¯s lap, before closing her eyes again and falling to sleep a second time. This time, her dreams don¡¯t get eaten by a dragon. ¡°What happens if you eat orichalcum?¡± asks Fresh, looking at a small jar she has with her. It has a few flakes of chipped, pinkish metal inside of it. ¡°You die,¡± explains Basil, eating another spoonful of her oatmeal. They¡¯re in the adventurer¡¯s guild, having their free daily breakfast, which consists of a large bowl of oatmeal or porridge, usually with a sprinkle of sugar or spice at best. It¡¯s not even cooked with milk, it¡¯s cooked with water. Still. Fresh gratefully eats another spoonful herself. It¡¯s nourishing and hot and they get to eat it every day. ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh. That¡¯s rather direct. Basil stirs her porridge around. ¡°Well, no, probably not. But also, maybe.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Huh¡­?¡± ¡°Maybe just don¡¯t eat metal?¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°Orihalcum is magic-resistant. Gods know what it¡¯ll do to your insides if it passes through them,¡± they say, poking at their bowl of oatmeal with clear dissatisfaction in their eyes. ¡°Especially if you have a lot of soul-points.¡± ¡°People have tried,¡± says Basil. ¡°But it can get really weird, depending on your condition,¡± explains the priestess. She lifts another spoonful of her porridge, showing it to Fresh. ¡°When you eat something, you get its energy, right?¡± Fresh nods, watching a drop of it fall back down into the bowl. ¡°Well, when you eat something that you can¡¯t digest, it disrupts the workings of your body,¡± she explains. ¡°It¡¯s like if you ate the spoon instead of the porridge.¡± ¡°Sure, that makes sense.¡± ¡°It¡¯s worse though,¡± says Basil. ¡°Because of its magic-repelling properties, it could cause all sorts of damage to your body if it gets inside. That¡¯s why anti-caster regiments always use orichalcum weapons. They¡¯re bad news for people with high soul-values.¡± ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee, sighing and setting their spoon back down, apparently disinterested in breakfast. ¡°It¡¯ll go right through any magic barriers or shields like they were never there.¡± Fresh blinks, staring at the bottle of orichalcum flakes in her hands. She wonders, if it can destroy magical bonds, can the metal destroy curses too? ¡°We got some wild shit in the dungeon yesterday,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at the heap of items downstairs. ¡°What floor did you get to?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Forty,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We killed the boss and then fucked off back home.¡± Basil sighs in relief. ¡°That¡¯s good news. So we¡¯re having dinner today?¡± ¡°We got two boss-cores to sell, plus all of this junk. So I¡¯d say so.¡± Fresh digs through the loot, trying to figure out what it all is. There is some equipment that had been dropped, swords and staves and clothes and bits of armor. But there are also just the normal monster drops, which are far more interesting for her and her work. ¡°So what kind of monsters are there?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee counts off their fingers. ¡°Spriggans, big and small, harpies, giant snakes, spiked mush-mushes are the entry-monsters,¡± explains Jubilee. Fresh nods, she¡¯s seen all of those. ¡°There are some stone-golems then,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at some large, square, engraved rocks covered in grass and a few flowers. Fresh holds her hands above one, feeling the magic pouring out of the heavy thing. ¡°Then there are the giant bees.¡± Fresh looks back at them. ¡°Giant bees?¡± ¡°Giant bees,¡± nods Jubilee, pointing at a jar of very dark, wood-colored honey on the side of the pile. ¡°It hurts like a bitch when they sting you.¡± ¡°Floor thirty,¡± says Shamrock, pointing at a few tusks. ¡°Boars.¡± ¡°Boars?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Like¡­ pigs?¡± ¡°Yeah, but they¡¯re as big as Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Fucking huge.¡± ¡°Are they good to eat?¡± asks Basil. ¡°We¡¯re not eating dungeon-meat,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I think we can,¡± argues Basil. ¡°I¡¯m getting sick of oatmeal too, honestly.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°After that, we had some spirits. Water and nature,¡± they say, pointing at a small heap of odd fragments. Shamrock¡¯s chest heaves. ¡°Dragon.¡± Fresh and Basil look at him. ¡°A dragon?¡± asks Basil. ¡°It was just a small one. The boss of floor forty,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°A nature type. All covered in moss and shit.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Yeah. Oh,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We got some claws from that one, plus those boss cores I mentioned.¡± Fresh nods. This is a lot to work with. A whole lot. Plus all of the other materials she already has too. Honestly, she doesn¡¯t even know where to start. Maybe the first thing to do is to get a proper storage room set up and a workshop? That sounds like a sensible idea. They need wood. Real wood. ¡°Jubilee, can we chop wood from the dungeon?¡± she asks. ¡°Like, inside of it. The roots and stuff?¡± Jubilee thinks for a moment. ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t see why not?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°I wanna harvest as much normal wood as we can then, from the roots. We need building materials and wood to burn.¡± She looks at Shamrock. ¡°Shamrock, can you help me with that? I¡¯ll make an axe.¡± The man nods. ¡°Basil,¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Can you please sort this stuff into different piles? What we¡¯re going to sell as is and what we¡¯re going to use for crafting.¡± Basil tilts her head. ¡°Sure thing, I can do that.¡± Fresh smiles. ¡°Jubilee.¡± They place their hands on their hips. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me what to do, goo-brain.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ okay, but can you please mark the floor in our living space with some chalk to map out some rooms?¡± she requests. ¡°I need to get a workshop set-up and we need to get your bed-room done too, eventually.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Don¡¯t want one.¡± The three of them look at Jubilee. ¡°What?¡± they ask, feeling them staring. ¡°Fuck off.¡± Fresh smiles, clasping her hands together. ¡°That¡¯s great, Jubilee~! Then think of something nice to use the free-space for, okay?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. The four of them get started with their work, trying to catch up with the impossible amount of tasks still ahead of themselves. Razmatazz *Picks up phone* Yes? Hello? This is dog *Laughs in old* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 323: A sprouting idea Fresh stares at her reflection in the moon-glass mirror that she¡¯s made with Jubilee¡¯s help. It isn¡¯t an enchanted mirror, like the one that they had to leave behind in the east before their vacation. But it¡¯s a mirror, alright. She stands on one leg, holding her other leg out to the side as she lifts her arms up in the air. The girl in the reflection does the same thing. Fresh lowers herself down to a one legged squat, sticking her other leg out to the side and holding her hands out forward towards the glass, wiggling her fingers. The girl in the reflection does the same thing. ¡°Do I want to know?¡± asks a voice from next to her. ¡°I¡¯m testing the mirror, Jubilee,¡± replies Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a mirror. What¡¯s there to test?¡± ¡°A lot of things,¡± says Fresh. She sits down with her back to the mirror and then lays down on her back. Pressing her head to the floor, she presses her hips up into the air and stares at the girl in the reflection, who also happens to be upside down, like she herself is. ¡°You do understand what a mirror is, right?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh blinks, upside down, staring at Jubilee¡¯s reflection who is standing there in front of her with crossed arms. Fresh lifts a single leg. Jubilee just dodges out of the way in-time, barely avoiding getting kicked. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee!¡± apologizes Fresh. She has a hard time with her body coordination as is, let alone while she¡¯s half-way upside down. Lifting her leg up into the air, she spins her foot around in a circle. Her dress falls down and Jubilee grabs it, pulling it back up. ¡°Can you please have some common decency in public, you creep?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just my leg,¡± argues Fresh, continuing to spin her leg around while watching the reflection carefully. It¡¯s copying her masterfully. Nothing is out of place, not a single hair on her head or twitch of her digits is wrong. Speaking of her head - Fresh rolls over, flopping onto her stomach. She was becoming light-headed. Jubilee lets out an annoyed bark and by the time Fresh looks back down, she notices that she¡¯s squishing them against the floor with her legs, having fallen on top of them. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee!¡± apologizes Fresh, looking back at the mirror. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake,¡± sighs Jubilee, trying to pull themselves out from beneath herself. ¡°You¡¯re going to be the death of me one day, you know?¡± Fresh turns around, looking at Jubilee and frowning. She lifts herself up, allowing Jubilee to scoot out from beneath herself. ¡°If you die, can we die together, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, shifting around to sit there on the floor normally with crossed legs. Jubilee shakes their head, dusting themselves off and readjusting their clothes. ¡°That¡¯s sad,¡± they say. ¡°You¡¯re a sad, creepy, weird thing.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh in agreement, not having any arguments against that. ¡°You¡¯re my best friend forever, Jubilee,¡± she states, grabbing their hand and holding it. Jubilee looks down at their hand and tries to shake her off, a disgusted look on their face. ¡°I don¡¯t recall ever agreeing to this.¡± ¡°Forever¡­¡± repeats Fresh, her eyes going wide. ¡°Ugh. Fine. Maybe I have another two or three days left in me,¡± they reply, rolling their eyes. Fresh nods. These terms are acceptable. ¡°I¡¯ll be back to renegotiate in three days then,¡± she says, already making a plan in her mind of how she is going to annoy Jubilee in three days. ¡°Get to work, goo-brain,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head and pulling their hand free as they walk away. But Fresh can see the crack of their smile as they turn their face to hide it. Beaming, she looks back at the mirror. The girl in the mirror winks at her. ¡°Ah!¡± yelps Fresh. ¡°Jubilee! The mirror did a thing!¡± she says, looking back at Jubilee. Jubilee sighs. Fresh looks back at the mirror. The girl on the other side shrugs and then resumes doing exactly what she herself is doing. Fresh whistles. Fifty Obols is a lot for a single monster drop. But then again, golems are really tough cookies. So maybe this item is actually pretty worthless, for the effort required to get it? Plus it weighs twelve kilograms, so it¡¯s a huge pain to carry out of the dungeon. She tilts her head. She bets a lot of people don¡¯t bother with them for exactly that reason, actually. Running her fingers along the top of the square block of dark-gray stone, she touches the grass and moss that¡¯s growing on the surface of it. The block itself is squarish and covered in runic, rectangular spiral carvings. There¡¯s strong nature-magic trapped inside of this, she can feel it. But what can she do with it? Stone isn¡¯t well suited for weapons or armor. At best, some kinds of talismans or trinkets? But¡­ no, that doesn¡¯t feel right either. She ¡®did¡¯ bracelets and jewelry already. And as a whole, it¡¯s just too heavy to use for adventuring. Maybe¡­ Maybe¡­ Fresh narrows her eyes, thinking. ¡°Basil?¡± she calls, looking over her shoulder. Basil, sitting at the table in the library and making a list of items to sell and to keep, looks up at her. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Can you use that spell again, please?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The big, round bubble-shield thing?¡± she requests. Basil tilts her head. ¡°It¡¯s not good to use magic inside of the house,¡± she explains. ¡°Please? I won¡¯t tell Jubilee!¡± promises Fresh. ¡°I just need to see something.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Basil looks around. Jubilee and Shamrock are in the dungeon again. ¡°Okay. But it¡¯ll be our secret.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± agrees Fresh. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t tell anyone.¡± Basil gets up and then holds her hands against the ground. White-magic runs through her fingers, tracing a spiral pattern around the spot her hands press against, repeating over and over until it then branches out all at once, like a multi-pronged arc of lightning, in all directions across the floor about a few meters out from herself. The prongs then rise up and make a bubble around the priestess that fills itself in in a matter of seconds. ¡°Neat!¡± says Fresh, looking at the bubble that surrounds them. ¡°It¡¯s like with the city!¡± she says. ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Basil. ¡°Holy magic and nature magic are closely linked.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Well¡­ yes,¡± says Basil, shifting a little nervously. ¡°But so is dark-magic, actually. Nature magic is sort of in the middle of everything.¡± ¡°Huh¡­ thanks Basil!¡± says Fresh, tapping against the shield. Her finger stops as it touches the solid bubble. It feels like warm glass. She smiles. She has her idea. Its use is¡­ limited, perhaps. But she thinks that it¡¯s a strong idea, nonetheless. The shield fades, dissipating. ¡°Did that help?¡± asks the priestess, rubbing away a scuff mark on the floor with her foot. ¡°It did!¡± beams Fresh, setting to work on the large stone. If nature-magic is similar to holy-magic, then there¡¯s a potential application here. Fresh rubs the spiral engravings on the rock clean of moss with her finger. The pattern reminds her of the arcs of magic that left Basil¡¯s fingers just a moment ago. But they look more ¡®clean¡¯ and structured, whereas Basil¡¯s were more like chaotic electricity. Fresh smiles, looking at the thing and then over towards Basil. She nods, having her idea. Chunks of the rock fall off as Fresh holds her glowing hands above it, moving them around its surface as she makes the statue. She takes extra care to leave the naturally growing grass and moss on the top of it. It¡¯s important for the look of the item. Humming to herself as she works, hewing away more and more bits of rock, she then sets to the finer details, making grooves and branches in and from the stone. About an hour later, after a lot of tinkering and finicky work and one or two close calls where something almost broke off, Fresh is finished. She dips her fingers into a bottle of harvest-moonwater, sprinkling it over the small statue of the world-tree. Quality Effect: Restores 1% of MAX-HP every 5 minutes Restores 1% of MAX-SOUL every 5 minutes Fresh smiles a prideful smile as she turns to look at Basil, who is staring at her newest creation with a familiar expression of worry. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 324: It’s in the cards ¡°Wow,¡± says Jubilee, looking at the thing on the table. ¡°That looks like shit.¡± Fresh frowns, her lips quivering as she looks away from her drawing and down towards Jubilee. ¡°But¡­ but Jubi¡­¡± she starts, her throat starting to tighten up. She had been working on these all morning. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°If you cry, I¡¯m leaving.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t always be so mean,¡± says Basil, walking over and rubbing Fresh¡¯s shoulders. ¡°I think they¡¯re very cute.¡± ¡°You¡¯re just trying to butter her up,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°They look like shit and I¡¯m sparing her from the pain of rejection and failure by telling her that to her face now.¡± Basil lifts her nose. ¡°As if. You¡¯re just being a bully. Like always.¡± ¡°Shut up, Basil,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I wish we still had a shower so you¡¯d lock yourself inside of it for a few hours again.¡± Fresh turns her head, looking down at the drawings scattered around the table while Basil and Jubilee get into one of their daily fits of ¡®banter¡¯. Okay, so, maybe they aren¡¯t exactly the best drawings ever. She doesn¡¯t actually know how to draw. They¡¯re kind of like the sketches that she made in Jubilee¡¯s old demon-book, but ironically these are more esoteric. Her finger slides a sheet of paper over towards herself. It¡¯s cut into a small, rectangular shape, like a card. Well, in fact, it is a card. A tarot card. She figures that since they¡¯re living in a ¡®witchy nature house¡¯, that she should really embrace the image that they¡¯re going to be selling to the people. So, she decided to make decks of tarot cards. But this is a challenge, since she can¡¯t draw and especially not well enough that people would buy them. She tilts her head, looking at the squiggly image of a moon on the card. ¡°- And that¡¯s what I think,¡± finishes Basil. ¡°Yeah?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you have any room left in that head of yours to think, since you¡¯re such a perverted degenerate,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re a nasty, mean redemptionless jerk!¡± yells Basil. ¡°Weirdo,¡± is all that Jubilee replies with, shrugging. Fresh lifts her head, looking at the two of them as they¡¯re practically at each other¡¯s throats. ¡°Hi,¡± says Shamrock, grabbing them both with a large hand. He lifts Jubilee and Basil into the air, pressing them against each other. ¡°Shamrock! Fuck off!¡± barks Jubilee. Basil kicks her legs, trying to reach the floor. ¡°Put me down, Shamrock!¡± ¡°I will not,¡± is all that the man says as he stands there, holding them in front of each other. He tilts his helmet, looking at Fresh. ¡°Lunch?¡± ¡°Can we afford lunch?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Not after we pay for Shamrock¡¯s grave,¡± snaps Jubilee, their face squished against Basil¡¯s shoulder. The man just nods, looking at her. ¡°Will you?¡± he asks, turning his helmet to the other two. ¡°I¡¯m busy.¡± Fresh smiles, collecting her ¡®cards¡¯ together into a neat stack and getting up. ¡°Okay! Thanks, Shamrock,¡± she beams, sparing a hug for the man as she grabs her bag and heads downstairs, listening to the bickering come from behind her as she leaves. The spriggan runs after her, at least until she gets to the front door of the house where it waves goodbye. She waves back to it. Half an hour later, Fresh returns, her bag full of salted and cured meats, some fresh vegetables and bread and a single bottle of milk, which is unfortunately not from a dragon. ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± she calls, heading upstairs past the library. ¡°Welcome home,¡± says Shamrock. She stops, looking at him. He¡¯s still holding Basil and Jubilee. Fresh blinks. The man is certainly strong, not only physically, but apparently also in his nerves. He imagines that the two of them have been bickering non-stop at each other and him this entire time. ¡°Can you please tell him to put us down?¡± asks Basil, looking hopelessly her way. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh stares for a moment. ¡°Shamrock? How come you¡¯re holding Jubilee and Basil?¡± The man looks at her for a while and then shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s the right thing to do.¡± ¡°Like fuck it is, you fucking freak!¡± snaps Jubilee, striking against his armor again with their fist. Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Okay. Well¡­ sorry Basil,¡± she says, shrugging. ¡°Are you guys gonna figure it out?¡± she asks, turning around to show them her full bag. ¡°I gotta get lunch ready.¡± ¡°We will,¡± affirms Shamrock, entirely ignoring the protests of Basil and Jubilee. Fresh nods, heading upstairs and listening to their continuing arguments coming from below. She¡¯s not really sure what¡¯s up with them today, but it¡¯s probably just more of the usual, honestly. Humming, she unloads her bag. The kitchen needs a cooling cabinet, despite it being cold in here. Perhaps ironically, at the same time, the building needs heaters. She wonders how the previous owner handled this issue in winter? There¡¯s no fire-place as far as she¡¯s seen. Fresh nods. That¡¯s her project for the day. With all of the loot from the dungeon that Jubilee and Shamrock had been collecting, they¡¯re slowly getting back onto their feet. So they can afford some expenditures again. ¡°Say ¡®aaaaaaah¡¯~!¡± beams Fresh, holding out the sandwich. Basil, having accepted her fate, obliges. ¡°Aaah~¡± says the priestess with a crushed soul, opening her mouth to take a bite of her sandwich. Jubilee however, is not so cooperative. Fresh sets down Basil¡¯s half-eaten sandwich, picking up Jubilee¡¯s. ¡°Say ¡®aaaah¡¯~!¡± she says. ¡°The only one who¡¯s going to be saying ¡®aaah¡¯ is you, after I take that sandwich and shove it up your ass!¡± they bark. ¡°Shamrock! I¡¯m fucking sick of this!¡± Shamrock shrugs, looking back towards Fresh. ¡°Ah~¡± says the man. Fresh slides Jubilee¡¯s sandwich in through the slits of his helmet. ¡°Fuck off! That was mine,¡± snaps Jubilee. Fresh points down at the plate. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Jubilee. There¡¯s another one here. They¡¯re all the same. Everybody gets one.¡± After a little more coaxing, she does manage to get everyone to eat their lunch, including Jubilee. Though, she did have to suffer an earful of swears with every attempt at bringing their sandwich closer to their face. Shamrock is still holding them up in the air. ¡°I have to use the washroom!¡± protests Basil. ¡°Shamrock! Please!¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Shamrooock!¡± howls Basil, kicking her legs. ¡°Fine,¡± says the man, carrying both of them downstairs. Fresh watches as they go, shrugging to herself as she continues working on cooling cabinet. There isn¡¯t really space for it in the kitchen, since the wall is already full of cabinets. But she¡¯s just going to take one of the old cabinets out and slide it in there. The principle is the same as always. A box lined with crystal-drakonium and cooling beads. It doesn¡¯t take long and she¡¯s finished. By then, the three of them and the spriggan return upstairs and are all oddly silent except for Basil who is red in the face. Fresh scratches her cheek, looking back down at the floor. She squints, seeing something. Bending down, she pulls at one of the boards and peeks below. There¡¯s something here. A root? No, it¡¯s a pipe. Fresh tilts her head. A pipe? She flicks it, listening. It sounds empty. But the construction of it reminds her of their shower in the east, actually. There¡¯s something about the method used to attach these segments of pipe together. It looks familiar. It¡¯s like seeing a new painting from an artist that you¡¯re familiar with. The image is different, but the strokes and the movements used to create it have left marks that are vaguely familiar. Fresh is downstairs now, in the cave. After some exploration and some literal digging, she found that every floor of their house had pipes running through it in a criss-cross pattern. It seemed very inefficient for anything really, unless the point was just to cover as much floor-space as possible, which they certainly did manage. A floor heater? She assumes so. But the only place that something like that could source its heat from would be here, from this natural source of rising warmth. She looks around, not able to see a pipe here anywhere. Unless¡­ Fresh lifts her gaze, watching the rising vapors of steam drift away from the pool of hot-water, rising up to the ceiling of the cave. She squints, seeing it. There¡¯s a small grate in the ceiling. She assumes that steam is supposed to go up through there and then the heat will run through the pipes all by itself. But¡­ for some reason, it isn¡¯t doing that. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh heads back to the ground floor, trying to solve this latest mystery. This latest mystery was far more easily solved than she had been anticipating. There on the ground floor, a section of the floor had been broken up by a segment of root from the world-tree, which had pushed the stones away. Lifting them to the side, she then finds the issue. The pipe is crushed, having been flattened by the growing root. Any of the steam that had been trying to go through there simply got stopped after a meter in and then likely dripped back down as condensation into the underground pool. Making a pipe is easy enough. But she needs Shamrock¡¯s help to replace it. Not only is the old one stuck, but it¡¯s very hot and she doesn¡¯t have her gloves anymore. She doesn¡¯t think that the dragon ate them, but she certainly left them at home. ¡°Shamrock, please?¡± asks Fresh, finding the three of them upstairs a minute later. ¡°I really need your help to fix the heater.¡± Shamrock looks at her and shakes his head. ¡°My hands are full.¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee and Basil, who are both still hanging there, both of them reading a book together. She¡¯s somewhat surprised that they¡¯ve both accepted their fate so well. Jubilee sighs, slapping the book shut. ¡°Hey! I wasn¡¯t done yet,¡± protests Basil. ¡°I am,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Sorry,¡± apologizes Jubilee, throwing the book to the library table and crossing their arms as they look away. Basil stares for a moment and then sighs. ¡°I¡¯m sorry too.¡± Shamrock nods and sets them down. That was all that it took. ¡°Sorry that you¡¯re such an ugly freak!¡± barks Jubilee immediately, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°Sorry that you¡¯re such a disgusting goblin!¡± replies Basil, leaning in to them. Fresh sighs, watching as Shamrock picks them both back up again and it all starts over from the beginning. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 325: Den of the mushroom-people ¡°Here, hold this,¡± says Basil, handing Fresh a woven basket that they had plundered from the streets. She bends down, picking at a few mushrooms, plucking a few larger ones out of the ground while leaving the rest. They¡¯re inside of their secret farm room. Basil has been busy here and while it¡¯s still very much overgrown and wild, there¡¯s definitely a look to the place that signals that somebody has been here and has been working. ¡°So are we just gonna grow mushrooms?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Well, they¡¯re growing on their own, honestly,¡± replies Basil. ¡°I¡¯m not really doing much, except picking the ones that are good to take.¡± Fresh looks at the mushrooms in the basket as Basil drops another one inside. ¡°How can you tell?¡± ¡°It depends on the kind, but usually by the size.¡± She pokes the head of a large, flat one in the basket that Fresh has already forgotten the name of. ¡°Most of these we want when they¡¯re at their fullest, which is just something you learn over time, I suppose.¡± The priestess bends down, pointing at a small cluster of thin, spiky mushrooms. ¡°These kobolds¡¯ warts are different though,¡± says Basil. ¡°We want them while they¡¯re in adolescence. If we wait until they¡¯re fully grown, well¡­¡± she shakes her head. ¡°No good.¡± ¡°No good?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°No good,¡± repeats Basil, getting up and dusting her hands off on her robe as they wander to another patch. Fresh looks around the field. Mushrooms sure are odd things. She likes plants and stuff in general and she likes mushrooms, but they¡¯re weird. She doesn¡¯t know how to really explain it, but they¡¯re just¡­ weird. Fresh stares down at the mushrooms in the basket. If mushrooms are plants, then they¡¯re weird. So¡­ She blinks, realizing something. ¡°Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m a people-mushroom.¡± Basil looks up at her in confusion. ¡°I¡¯m people. But I¡¯m weird. It¡¯s like how a mushroom is a plant, but it isn¡¯t. You know?¡± Basil shakes her head, getting back to her work. ¡°And yet here we are, trying to find as many weird mushrooms as we can.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± Fresh stares at the gnarled tree in the center of the farm. The spriggan is working around it. It¡¯s not doing its odd dance, rather, it seems to be lightly pressing against the soil, as if massaging it, pulling out weeds and disturbances as it tends to the tree. Maybe she¡¯ll do something with that rare-wood today. ¡°It¡¯s not about how different you are in context to the environment around you,¡± says Basil. ¡°Mushrooms are odd, sure. But at the same time, they¡¯re some of the most useful things that we have,¡± says the priestess. She gets up and lifts a finger, poking Fresh on the nose, leaving a smear of dirt on the tip of it. ¡°So maybe it¡¯s for the best of us all if they¡¯re odd. Like us,¡± says Basil, getting up and holding a mushroom on top of her head. Fresh gasps, realizing. It isn¡¯t just herself. Jubilee, Basil, Shamrock, they¡¯re all mushroom-people and like such odd things, they have found a place to grow in together. ¡°Jubilee? What¡¯s rare-wood?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee, sitting at the library table with their feet kicked up, looks up from their book and over her way. ¡°It¡¯s rare wood. What do you want me to tell you?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s in the name.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± relents Fresh. ¡°But what does it do?¡± Jubilee groans, setting down their book. ¡°You know how different materials have different strengths?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Like how blackstone helps fire damage or how aquamarine helps water-casters?¡± Fresh shakes her head. She¡¯s never heard of such a thing. Jubilee seems to ignore her denial however, as if being entirely unsurprised by it. ¡°It¡¯s like that. But for life.¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°For life?¡± she asks. ¡°You mean like¡­ forever? What does it do forever?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡± ¡°No, I mean for li-¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Just make something and find out, goo-brain,¡± says Jubilee, picking their book back up and hiding their face behind it, signaling the end of the conversation. Fresh shrugs, looking around the library. Maybe there¡¯s a book here on it? She did not find a book on it. What she did find however, was a book on core training and stretching. So she started doing that in the library until Jubilee took her book away, flicked her in the head and told her to get back to work. Fresh now sits down in the basement, rubbing her forehead that has a sore dot on it now as she looks around at the empty room. Basil had already begun setting up some tables and stuff here that they had taken from the street, so Fresh supposes that it''s about time to get a real workshop up and running too. She¡¯s been taking it easy for a while now and they really need to reopen their store soon. Nodding to herself, she starts with the usual process. The basement is a rectangular room. The staircase down to it is in the north-west corner and the door to the bath and washroom is in the middle of the southern wall. The crumbled wall where they had found the spriggan is the eastern wall. Shamrock had cleared all of the rubble away from there. But Fresh has decided that she wants the workbench to be by the staircase. That would make it easier to just run up and down when there are little things that need to be fiddled with during the workday. She supposes that they¡¯re going to be doing repairs again here, since they don¡¯t have the fairies to not steal competition from. Fresh sighs. She hopes that they¡¯re doing well. What if they need help with their house again? She shakes her head. They¡¯re strong. They raised them well. They¡¯ll manage until the four of them can go back home. She blinks, staring at the wall for a moment. ¡®Home¡¯. Is this home? Or is the east home? No, those are both just houses. But they live here now. Who knows how long it¡¯s going to be until the shield drops. Fresh just hopes that they don¡¯t get found out or have to leave before that happens. Getting discovered and having to run here would be a real disaster. There¡¯s nowhere left to run. It¡¯s an hour later. Fresh pushes the workbench one last inch further, back against the wall. This time, unlike in the west, she was smart enough to have made it right where she wanted it to sit. Now they need shelves and storage. An hour passes. It looks a little dinky, since she used a lot of scrap wood for the shelves. But it¡¯s just for their basement and most importantly, they¡¯re all stable and mounted into the rock of the basement walls. Three sturdy shelves sit to the right of the workbench, all next to each other. Then, in the back corner past them are a few large, wooden boxes and a barrel. Fresh doesn¡¯t know why they needed a barrel, but she decided that they needed a barrel. It just looks ¡®right¡¯, having a barrel in the basement. She steps back, framing the corner with her fingers. ¡°Yup,¡± she nods to herself, happy about having made the barrel with nothing inside of it. It just looks like she expects a storage corner to look like. There needs to be a barrel. It just is what it is. An hour passes. Fresh has made a few planter boxes and hung up a few lanterns. She assumes that Basil will be doing most of her gardening in the farm now, but still, she made a few planter boxes so that Basil would come down here in the basement to take care of them. It¡¯s bait, disguised as productivity. In truth, Fresh just wants the priestess to come down here once in a while, so that she isn¡¯t all alone while working downstairs all the time. Fresh cackles maliciously to herself. ¡°Stop cackling like a ditzy crow and get back to work!¡± barks Jubilee from upstairs on the ground floor. Fresh yelps, scampering to find something else to do. Shamrock bends the pipe, pulling out the compressed segment of hot metal and setting it to the side. Tufts of steam rise out of the free end down below, the mass of the rising vapors displaced by the surge of the man¡¯s heavy breath. The giant reaches over to the side, grabbing the new piece of pipe that Fresh had made to replace this one and then bends down, jamming it into place. With a smear of a goop that Fresh made, liquefied crystal-drakonium mixed with glue, he runs a brush around the edges of the connections. An odd clinking and groaning can be heard coming from all around the house, as something moves through it. Like blood flowing through old veins that had long since been dry, the steam rises up now throughout the pipes, rising higher, floor after floor. The cold metal of the old pipes expands from the sudden heat, popping and clanking noisily as it comes back to life, reawoken from its deep, long sleep. The spriggan dances around Shamrock. This new piece of pipe, Fresh had outfitted with a valve. So they can adjust the amount of steam that goes through with a twist of it. Though that does mean removing the stones covering it every time. For now, since it¡¯s winter anyways, they just leave it at full heat. It takes about an hour, but the house slowly starts to become very warm and comfortable. After about another hour, Fresh can¡¯t see her breath inside anymore. ¡°Ah~¡± sighs Basil in relief, lying on her back on the floor of the library. Her head rests on Shamrock¡¯s chest, he¡¯s also laying on the floor. ¡°That¡¯s nice. What an oddity.¡± ¡°Never heard of anything like it,¡± says Jubilee. But they don¡¯t seem to mind either, as they have their boots off and their feet on a particularly warm section of floor. ¡°It¡¯s like with the shower,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I think whoever made that in our eastern house made these pipes too,¡± she suggests. Basil shakes her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, that¡¯s very unlikely.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a big world. There are lots of craftsmen,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. Maybe¡­ She still thinks so though. But, oh well. It isn¡¯t important, right? What¡¯s important is that her family is warm and comfortable. ¡°Pakew?¡± asks the spriggan. She turns her head, looking down at it. It¡¯s holding a book up towards her. Blinking, Fresh takes it and looks. ¡®How come orichalcum?¡¯ Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 326: Book smarts Fresh is laying on her back on the floor of the library. Her legs are bent up and resting on a chair, her feet dangling over the other side and wiggling as she does her best to read the book on orichalcum that the spriggan had brought her. She squints, skipping over a particularly hard chapter. A lot of this text is technical jargon that a trained smith or an alchemist might understand, maybe even someone who went to the magic-academies that supposedly exist in every city. But she¡¯s just always been a person who made it up as she went along, no training, no education. ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, tilting her head. ¡°What¡¯s a ¡®fulcrum¡¯?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°It¡¯s the feeling I get when you ask me stupid questions all day.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± Fresh blinks, looking back at the book. ¡°Man. This book sure is specific.¡± She tilts her head, rubbing it across the floor. ¡°Wait. What do feelings have to do with orichalcum?¡± Jubilee plants their head on the table, as evidenced by a silent ¡®thunk¡¯ and then quietly screams into their crossed arms. ¡°Everything is going to be okay,¡± consoles Basil, rubbing the back of Jubilee¡¯s head as she walks past them. ¡°I don¡¯t think that was a serious answer,¡± explains Basil, looking over the table and down towards her. ¡°Oh.¡± Fresh frowns, looking back up at the book and turning another page. There¡¯s got to be something in here somewhere that she can understand. Is metal really this complicated? Isn¡¯t it just¡­ kind of like a rock, but just more ¡®rocky¡¯? It¡¯s like how dirt is also like a rock, but less ¡®rocky¡¯. Maybe that¡¯s not entirely right though? Fresh flips the page and blinks. ¡®Orichalcum can only be melted through a process of undergoing sustained, intense heat, not able to be achieved by most conventional forges. Given its magic-resistant properties, all forms of fire and heat magic applied to it have failed to be of useful application. An attempt was made by Hearthmaster Uorsar during the advent of the twelfth hero to coax a captured male red-dragon to use its flames to heat up a specially prepared forge. This process worked, however, given its highly unconventional nature, the costs of capturing and sustaining such a creature inside of a city, it was deemed a scientific success, but a clear economic failure.¡¯ ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Can we get a dragon?¡± ¡°Ask Jubilee,¡± says Basil, sipping her tea at the table. Fresh rolls her head to the side. ¡°Jubileeee~?¡± ¡°No.¡± Fresh frowns, sighing, looking back at the book. How does one melt a metal that is both magic and heat resistant? She flips the page, determined to figure something out. ¡°We¡¯ll set it up here,¡± says Fresh, pointing at the spot by the door. They¡¯re talking about the counter. ¡°Right in the middle of it?¡± asks Jubilee, looking around the room. Fresh nods. ¡°I think it¡¯s good to be by the door because it helps flow,¡± she says, swaying with her hands from side to side and making a soft ¡®whooshing¡¯ noise. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Jubilee looks around. ¡°Basil. How¡¯s the medicine coming along?¡± Basil looks around. The priestess is on the ground, trying to set some loose stones back right. ¡°It¡¯s going well,¡± she says. ¡°The mushrooms are coming in nicely and there are a lot of different kinds. But¡­¡± She looks around the room. ¡°I certainly don¡¯t have enough to fill all of this space.¡± ¡°Good thing you¡¯re not,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Dumb-ass.¡± Basil narrows her eyes, glaring at them. ¡°I¡¯m going to be taking a section here for coats and gloves and winter-shit. Armor for the dungeon.¡± Basil smiles a smug smile. ¡°I bet you¡¯re sad about not being able to make those creepy bathing suits of yours anymore,¡± remarks the priestess, crossing her arms. Jubilee waves her off. ¡°The only thing I¡¯m sad about is that I never got to see you wear one.¡± ¡°As if!¡± protests Basil. Fresh thinks for a moment, wondering what that would look like. She bets that all of her friends would look cute in bathing suits. She blinks. Is that a weird thing to think? ¡°Why are you such a creep?¡± asks the priestess. Fresh thinks that she means her for a moment. But Basil is still talking to Jubilee. ¡°Please,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at Fresh. ¡°She sniffs people.¡± Fresh looks at them and shrugs. ¡°It helps me think,¡± she explains, scratching her cheek. ¡°What about you, fat-ass?¡± asks Jubilee, looking at Shamrock. Shamrock¡¯s massive chest heaves. ¡°Books.¡± ¡°¡­Books?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Books,¡± repeats the man. Jubilee lets out a sharp exhalation, holding the tips of their fingers together and pointing them his way. ¡°Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee, letting the word float around the room for a while. He turns his head towards them. ¡°You can barely fucking write.¡± ¡°I practiced,¡± says the man. Fresh raises her hand. ¡°It¡¯s true! He did! And I think it¡¯s a great idea!¡± she says, wondering what kind of fun stories the man wants to write about? Or maybe he wants to do something practical? ¡°What kinds of books?¡± asks Basil. Shamrock looks at his hands, thinking for a moment, the stones beneath him pressing downward onto a soft part of root below the floor as his weight presses against them. ¡°How to kill.¡± ¡°Books on how to kill monsters?¡± asks Basil, thinking. She looks back towards him. ¡°On how to kill monsters, right?¡± ¡°It¡¯s relative,¡± says the man. Fresh lets out an uneasy laugh. ¡°That¡¯s my kind of answer!¡± says Jubilee, slapping him on the leg. ¡°Okay. So we have medicine, winter clothes, murder manuals and¡­¡± they turn to look at Fresh. She lifts her hand. ¡°I have stuff.¡± ¡°¡­Stuff?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°What the fuck is ¡®stuff¡¯?¡± They place their hands on their hips, staring at her. Fresh shrugs. ¡°You know. Stuff.¡± They raise an eyebrow. ¡°Give me an example.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ oh!¡± She lifts a finger. ¡°I made the shielding statue!¡± Basil frowns, letting out an unsure groan. ¡°I don¡¯t know if we should be worried about those,¡± says the priestess. ¡°They seem very powerful.¡± ¡°We¡¯re already in the center, it¡¯s fine. What else?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Uh¡­ oh!¡± Fresh lifts a second finger. ¡°I¡¯m making medicine together with Basil.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t count.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ uh¡­ huh¡­¡± Fresh wiggles with her third finger, not sure if she should raise it or lower her second one, since medicine ¡®doesn¡¯t count¡¯. ¡°Wait! Why doesn¡¯t medicine count?¡± she asks. ¡°That¡¯s my big idea!¡± ¡°Your big idea is Basil¡¯s idea?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to working on it together with you.¡± ¡°Huh¡­ uh¡­¡± Fresh is unsatisfied with this turn of events. ¡°I dunno.¡± She shrugs. ¡°I¡¯ll think of something. I still need to use the rare-wood and the orichalcum and I want to keep trying with those cards.¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the spriggan. Fresh looks down at it, seeing that it¡¯s holding a new book up towards her. ¡®Rare-wood and its applications¡¯. Fresh hums, laying on her back on the floor of their bedroom. It¡¯s later in the evening, they had spent most of the rest of the day constructing the shelves for the store area downstairs. It¡¯s all set up now, apart from the counter. Her legs are swung up over the foot of her bed and she squishes her feet down into the mattress as she reads. Fresh tilts her head, listening to Jubilee walk past her, helping Basil clean up the kitchen after their dinner. ¡°Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°What¡¯s a ¡®kiln¡¯? Jubilee sighs. ¡°It¡¯s the feeling I get when you ask me stupid questions all day.¡± Fresh blinks, having the oddest sense of familiarity with this moment. ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°It¡¯s like our oven,¡± explains Basil. ¡°But it¡¯s meant to dry things out, rather than to bake them. I think?¡± Fresh tilts her head, rubbing it on the floor. ¡°Aren¡¯t those the same things?¡± Basil thinks for a moment, looking up towards the ceiling. She shrugs. ¡°Go take a bath and stop trying to read,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s sad.¡± Fresh glares at them, puffing out her cheek. She lifts the book above her head and squints, trying to focus on the next word. Something chimes next to her. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 327: Out of the woodworks Fresh stands outside, in front of the giant heap of wood that the market has been cleared out for. Workers run around, carrying timber from the dungeon and placing it onto a large stack in the middle of the plaza. ¡°What¡¯s this for?¡± asks Fresh, looking at Basil. The priestess shrugs, not knowing either. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s a festival?¡± she suggests. Fresh blinks, looking back at the heap of wood. ¡°Again?¡± A worker stops, dusting his hands as he looks at them. ¡°You fresh?¡± Fresh blinks. Has she been recognized? She grabs Basil¡¯s hand, getting ready to make a run for it. ¡°We¡¯re new here, yes,¡± says Basil, reading the situation better than she had. ¡°We made it in just before the shield went up.¡± ¡°Lucky break,¡± nods the man. He lifts his shoulder, tilting his head towards the stack of wood. ¡°It¡¯s for the start of the winter festival.¡± ¡°Oooh!¡± says Fresh in relief, understanding now. Apparently, there¡¯s going to be a winter festival in a few days. Despite whatever troubling circumstances might be present outside of the city, the ¡®central-authority¡¯ has allowed the festival to proceed, saying that it¡¯s important for the spirit of the people. Fresh doesn¡¯t know what that means exactly either, but she¡¯s excited. Maybe this time, during her third visit to a festival in this world, she¡¯ll be able to have a fun time? Her last two attempts haven¡¯t been so successful. Basil and Fresh continue on their way out to explore the top floors of the dungeon that Shamrock and Jubilee had already cleared, in order to find things like seeds, plants and wood that they could use for the store. Fresh looks around the dungeon, watching as Basil yanks on a large sprout that¡¯s sticking out of a wall. Something about being in the dungeon feels¡­ weird. It¡¯s like there¡¯s something about dungeons that she¡¯s forgotten. Something important. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± she scratches her cheek, looking around herself as she thinks. Oh well, if it was really important, she¡¯d remember, right? Fresh nods. That makes sense to her. ¡°Do you need help, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, heading over to the struggling priestess who is fighting against a very resilient plant. What if she burns the rare-wood? Fresh sits downstairs in the basement that is now mostly converted to a workshop. Shamrock is down here with her, restacking the heavy, broken stones of the crumbled wall and affixing them back into place with a mortar that Fresh had made. Normal fuels don¡¯t get hot enough to burn and melt orichalcum. But what about rare-wood? She frowns. But it¡¯s so expensive and even if it could work, surely there had been people in this city who had thought of it and tried it already? It seems like too obvious an idea. Fresh rolls the chunk or orichalcum ore around on her workbench, staring at it. She shakes her head. That isn¡¯t the way to go. There¡¯s got to be something else. Sighing, she sets it to the side and grabs the branch of rare-wood. A wand? Wands are simple. They can make a lot of them out of little material, which means that their rare-wood will go further. She recalls a man from the west, the one who had brought his rare-wood staff in to be repaired once. Staves too, then. Though, for a branch of this size, they might only get one staff out of it, whereas they¡¯d likely get five or six wands. They¡¯re going to be expensive. She read in the book on rare-wood that the spriggan had given her that elves once were very fond of wooden weapons, particularly ones made out of rare-wood. Through use of old techniques and practices that have now long since been forgotten, their craftsmanship was so on point with these materials, that they were no less deadly or durable than the metal weapons that their human rivals had once used. But those days are now long since past. The sound of a stone clacking against another stone gets her attention, waking her from her daze. Shamrock turns her way, having set another rock down into its place. ¡°Start simple,¡± is all that the man says to her, before returning to his task, stacking another simple rock on top of other simple rocks. Fresh smiles, figuring that this is good advice. Looking down at the branch of rare-wood, she sets to work, starting simple, as it were. First, she measures the branch out, marking it with a knife and then uses her abilities to cut the branch into five segments of equal length. Then, she strips them of their bark, removing any twigs and old leaves. Maybe she should have done this part first? Oh well. The inside of the wood, beyond the healthy, dark bark, is surprisingly bright and yellow, verging almost towards white, like Jubilee¡¯s mask must¡¯ve once been, before both the sun and time had come to stain it. Grabbing the shorn bark and twigs, she scoops them into a bag. There¡¯s certainly a use for this as well, no sense in wasting anything. As for the five, bright pieces of wood before herself, she begins shaving them down into wand shapes, making the ends fatter where the grip is and the front stubbier and pointier for the tips. Fresh wipes her forehead, feeling a slight bout of dizziness for a moment as she lets out a satisfied ¡®phew¡¯, looking at the five wandy things on the table. They¡¯re currently only wandy things and not wands because they aren¡¯t ready yet. She isn¡¯t sure what force it is exactly that determines such a thing, but she is on the same page with it right now that these aren¡¯t ready. They look like wands, but they¡¯re not ready. Life, huh? She recalls Jubilee¡¯s words about the material. Rare-wood helps properties related to ¡®life¡¯. Life in the context of being, of healing, of nature and nurture. Reaching into her inventory, she grabs one of her bottles of harvest-moonwater and shakes it off, before popping open the lid and dipping a rag into it. With that harvest-moonwater soaked rag, she hums and polishes the wand, lovingly making sure that drops of it soak into every pore and crevice of the thirsty wood. Now, usually getting raw wood wet like this is a sub-par idea for most crafting applications. But it¡¯s magic wood and she¡¯s using magic water, so honestly, it evens out. How? She isn¡¯t sure. But that¡¯s just what it is. Fresh has found that in life, it¡¯s often better to ask fewer questions than more. Once that has been done, she sets it to the side and then works on the other four wands, repeating the process. They¡¯re still not ¡®done¡¯ though and it¡¯s not hard to see why. They need a coating. How does she know that they need a coating? She isn¡¯t sure. But they do and she knows about it. Humming to herself, she sets her work down, heading into town with a bag to buy a small bottle of resin, made from the sap of the great tree and then comes back down to the basement, just as Shamrock is finishing up the wall. Grabbing another rag, she takes a wand and then starts polishing it, coating it with the sticky resin before setting it down again and holding her sticky fingers over it. The resin crackles and stiffens, coming together into a hard, thick shell that encases the wands, coating them and trapping all of the magical energies of both the rare-wood and the harvest-moonwater inside of the material, condensing and compressing it. The wand glows, rising up into the air for a moment and then falls back down to the table. It¡¯s done. Fresh beams, looking at the little thing. A healing wand? What a novel idea. This way, party-members will be able to heal each other even without a healer! She tilts her head. She bets the priests in the north wouldn¡¯t like these¡­ they¡¯re bad for business. Oh well, they¡¯re not in the north now. They¡¯re in the center and now that it¡¯s winter, the world needs as much tending to and healing as can be offered. She takes the wand and gives it a flick. ¡°PAKEW!¡± says an excited spriggan from next to her, popping up out of nowhere. Tiny steps run down the staircase as the ¡®real¡¯ spriggan comes from upstairs, perhaps having heard the disturbance. ¡°Pakew!¡± it calls. The two of them look at each other. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± Fresh beams. What a great turn of events. Jubilee peeks around from upstairs, looking down the stairwell. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± Jubilee groans and roll their eyes, but Fresh continues to smile. This is a good item. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 328: Bitter medicine ¡°This is a disaster,¡± says Jubilee, staring at her. Fresh blinks, not sure what the problem is. She brushes her arm to the side, pushing a spriggan away. ¡°What do you mean, Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°Don¡¯t you like the wands?¡± Fresh frowns, rubbing her arm as she looks down towards the ground. ¡°I thought you¡¯d think they¡¯re neat¡­¡± she says sadly. A spriggan raises its stubby arms up towards her, dancing in front of her as if it were trying to cheer her up. The large leaf on its head bounces from side to side. ¡°Pakew!¡± She nods solemnly to it, lowering a hand and petting its head. Pakew. ¡°Do you have brain damage?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Basil!¡± The priestess sitting at the table calmly sips her tea, a spriggan sitting in her lap. ¡°Yes?¡± she asks as if nothing were wrong. Jubilee plants their hands on their hips. ¡°Don¡¯t you have anything to add to this conversation?¡± they ask. A spriggan stands next to them, copying their movements. ¡°Fuck off!¡± barks Jubilee, pushing the spriggan away. It turns out that the wands have a slight issue. Well, Fresh doesn¡¯t really see it as a problem, she thinks that it¡¯s a bonus more than anything. But the thing is, the effect doesn¡¯t seem to be limited. Rather, it can be activated once for every wand that a person has in their possession. Fresh, having had five wands, decided to test it to see what would happen. What happened is that they now have five extra spriggans running around the house, plus the ¡®old¡¯ spriggan that seems to have taken seniority over the newcomers. Basil shrugs. ¡°Well. There¡¯s nothing to do now but to wait until the effect wears off,¡± says the priestess calmly, sipping her tea. ¡°They¡¯ll be gone by tomorrow,¡± she says. ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts a spriggan, running around with a wand in its hand. ¡°Pakew!¡± Another spriggan looks at them, flicking the wand through the air. It¡¯s holding it with its sprout. ¡°Pakew?¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± Jubilee groans. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill them.¡± ¡°Pakew?¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t be mean to the spriggans. They have a hard life already.¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow, leaning in towards her. ¡°The only person with a hard life here is me,¡± they state. ¡°Have you ever tried living with you people? It¡¯s a nightmare.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that bad,¡± says Basil, setting her teacup down. ¡°I suppose I could use their help on the farm?¡± she thinks, looking around at them. ¡°Can you guys help me with that stuff?¡± she asks. The spriggans, not really having any context into what that actually means, since none of them have ever seen the farm save for the one, all lift their stubby arms and chant excitedly, happy to have something to do. Pakew. A spriggan digs through the dirt, working its way down along the first row of the field, tearing up the soil and pulling out old, gnarled roots and weeds. Another two wobble on behind that one, holding each other¡¯s arms as they spin around in a circle after it. ¡°Basil! Look!¡± exclaims Fresh, sure that she is about to start crying tears of joy. ¡°They¡¯re dancing!¡± ¡°They¡¯re flattening the dirt,¡± corrects Basil. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s just easier for them to do it together?¡± she ponders out loud. Basil lets out a surprised yelp as Fresh grabs her hand and drags her off to the field, spinning around in a circle too, copying the spriggans¡¯ not-dance. ¡°Get back to work!¡± barks Jubilee from the tree in the center of the farm. Fresh looks at Jubilee as she spins around with Basil. ¡°We¡¯re farming, Jubilee!¡± ¡°Do I have to explain to you what farming is?¡± they bark over towards the two of them. Basil gets dizzy easily apparently. She only manages to survive a few more spins before falling down to the ground together with her. Two more spriggans come up after them, fixing the freshly compressed dirt that they had ruined. But Fresh laughs. It was fun. Basil doesn¡¯t laugh, she¡¯s blinking, trying to orient herself, looking a little green in the face. ¡°You have the same color as Shamrock, Basil!¡± remarks Fresh, looking at the wobbly priestess. Shamrock looks over from the side, before turning back to his work without saying a word. The old spriggan next to him does the same, stoically continuing its work as well. ¡°It¡¯s a really simple thing,¡± remarks Basil, holding up the little sachet that she¡¯s crafted. It looks like a small tea-bag. ¡°Tea already exists, Basil,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s not tea, it¡¯s medicine,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°For the lungs, after you¡¯ve breathed in poison air of if you have slime, uh¡­¡± she looks at Shamrock. ¡°I mean, gunk in the lungs.¡± Fresh stares at the purple contents of the little not-tea-bag. ¡°Ah!¡± she recognizes it. It¡¯s the powder of the purple mushroom that Basil showed her the other day, inpertus. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to steep it in a bowl of hot-water,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°Then you hold your face over it and breath in the vapors. It¡¯ll clear out anything in a jiffy. But uh, it doesn¡¯t smell too great, honestly.¡± ¡°Medicine is supposed to be bitter,¡± remarks Fresh, remembering what Basil had told her once. That way, people wouldn¡¯t waste it when they don¡¯t need it. Basil smiles, nodding. A blend of ground and processed Inpertus fungus, mixed together with herbal grasses and root-bark meant to free the airways. Instructions To use, add it to a bowl of boiling water and inhale the vapors. Effect When inhaled: Removes all minor respiratory STATUS effects 20% chance to removes all major respiratory STATUS effects ? POISON ? When drunk: 56% chance of severe illness ¡°I can make a lot of these for cheap. But given their specific use, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll sell too many,¡± says Basil. ¡°Lung sickness doesn¡¯t happen too often here, even in the winter. The air is very clean.¡± ¡°Still,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s good to have everything around. I like it!¡± Basil nods, smiling. ¡°We also have the kobold¡¯s wart,¡± says the priestess, showing them a little, dense, compacted ball. ¡°I¡¯ve dried them and added some ground bone to it. These are meant to be boiled into a cup of hot water and then drunk like a broth,¡± says the priestess. ¡°They¡¯ll pump your magic up. But they will make you feel a little weak on your legs.¡± A dense ball made up out of kobold¡¯s wart, lemon-root, bone-meal and sap. It¡¯s highly nutritious and warming. But it will cause physical fatigue Instructions To use: Melt in a cup of hot water and drink. Effect When drank: +10% SPELL DMG for 24h -5% SPELL COST for 24h -10% MAX STAMINA for 24h ¡°Well¡­ hmm¡­¡± Jubilee thinks. ¡°Yeah, you know what? These can move off of the shelves, I think. People always want more spell damage.¡± ¡°You think?¡± asks Basil. ¡°I¡¯m worried that since everyone here is so high-leveled, that they won¡¯t want our items, honestly,¡± she remarks, playing with her string bracelet. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°First off all, it¡¯s a flat percent bonus. That¡¯s good no matter what level you are,¡± they explain. ¡°Secondly, not everyone here is high-leveled,¡± says Jubilee, looking at the last item that Basil has to show. ¡°The kids of the people who made it through generations ago and their kids live here. Most of ¡®em are just normal schmucks.¡± Basil nods. ¡°That makes sense.¡± Fresh is also relieved to hear this as well, actually. She¡¯s never made a real ¡®high-level¡¯ item. In fact, she really doesn¡¯t even know what that means. Many of the items she¡¯s made so far, she has been scolded for even daring to create, given how world-changing many of the applications could be. But those were all low-level items, in her eyes. So what exactly is a high-level item? ¡°This is my last one,¡± says Basil. ¡°It¡¯s made from the conchatus mushroom,¡± she explains, holding out a bowl filled with an off-red goo. ¡°Yeah, it was hard not to smell with you stinking up the kitchen with it,¡± says Jubilee. Basil sighs. ¡°Mushrooms have an odor. There¡¯s nothing I can do about it,¡± explains Basil. ¡°I can only do so much with what we have. I need a real alchemical set-up downstairs to do more than this.¡± ¡°I can help with that, Basil,¡± remarks Fresh. ¡°Not bad,¡± affirms Jubilee. ¡°Get a nice bottle and we¡¯ll sell these as emergency medicines. There¡¯s a lot of poison shit down deeper in the tree dungeon,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°Fucking spriggans get weird when they¡¯re older.¡± The spriggan looks at them. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°Fuck off,¡± sighs Jubilee. Basil nods. ¡°I¡¯ll start making more and stocking the shelves then.¡± Jubilee nods back. ¡°I¡¯m gonna have the first coats and winter-gear ready by tomorrow.¡± ¡°Same,¡± says Shamrock, sitting at the table and scribbling on some stacks of paper. The three of them look at Fresh, who lets out an uneasy yelp and sprints back down to the basement. She has far, far, far more work to do and she gets the feeling that they¡¯re going to be opening again soon. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 329: Bauble bubble Fresh stands outside of the door to their house, staring up towards the distant bubble covering the city. She doesn¡¯t move and isn¡¯t out here with any particular purpose that she can recall having. Rather, she¡¯s just standing here, staring vacantly at the magical shield. Snow falls down onto her cheek, stemming from the casters standing atop the lower branches of the world-tree. They seem to be there all day, every day. Apparently, they had been hired by the city to keep the mood and spirits of the population up. Winter is a very popular time here amongst the people. She wonders what the outside of the bubble looks like? Did something happen to one of the other cities? To all of them, perhaps? Is everyone who she knows and has met okay? She wants to know. She wants to go out there and check on each and every one of them. She thinks that she still has her broom in her inventory? But even if she flew up towards the peak of the shield, there¡¯s no way out. It¡¯s all domed off. It¡¯s like they¡¯re some ornamental trinket trapped inside of a glass bauble for the gods to look at during idle ganders. A flake of snow lands on the tip of her nose, not melting as it sticks to her clammy skin. She¡¯s always so cold, so she always has to steal warmth from her friends. Well, it¡¯s not such a bad life, really. She hopes that they don¡¯t mind. But so far, it doesn¡¯t really seem like they do. ¡­A bauble? Fresh repeats the word in her mind, having taken a spontaneous liking to it. ¡°Bauble, bauble.¡± She blinks, lowering her gaze and opening the front door. Looking inside, she peeks over towards Jubilee, who is making tags and price shields for the shelves. Feeling her gaze, Jubilee looks up from their work. ¡°¡­What?¡± they ask, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Bauble,¡± explains Fresh, stepping inside and heading down to the basement. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about this time?¡± ¡°Baubles, Jubilee~!¡± explains Fresh, looking over her shoulder as she heads down the spiral staircase. They shrug. ¡°What the fuck is a bauble?¡± Fresh, unable to see them anymore as she heads down to the basement, cups a hand by her mouth and half-shouts. ¡°It¡¯s like a bubble, Jubilee. But baubely.¡± She just hears a sigh in return. ¡°Bauble,¡± mutters Fresh to herself. It¡¯s a good word. Fresh swings the staff around through the air, cutting through the damp ambiance of the basement with the wooden pole. It¡¯s just a simple staff. It isn¡¯t made out of rare-wood. Rather, it¡¯s just made out of common wood, otherwise known by the everyman as ¡®wood¡¯. But she added a hollow moon-glass bauble to the end of it. That¡¯s the entire gimmick. It¡¯s so simply stupid that it¡¯s absurd. But it works. Bauble: [EMPTY] -) All spells add +15% {BAUBLE ATTRIBUTE} to cast SPELL-DMG / SPELL-HEAL +2 INT +2 WIS ¡°Bauble,¡± she smiles to herself, looking around for something to put inside of it. Laying the staff on the table, she unscrews the glass bauble and then picks up a spriggan¡¯s seed from a small bag, dropping it inside and screwing it back in. The staff shakes in her hand, the magic of the spriggan¡¯s seed condensing and fluctuating as it cracks apart. The glass of the staff is filled in an instant with what looks like a fern that presses itself against the insides of it. It almost looks like a small aquarium now, minus the water. Bauble: [Spriggan¡¯s Seed] -) All spells add +15% {NATURE} to cast SPELL-DMG / SPELL-HEAL -) Summons a Spriggan healer to follow you +2 INT +2 WIS ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the latest spriggan, appearing suddenly behind her. Fresh turns around, waving to it. It lifts its arms, reaching up. She hands it the staff and watches curiously as it bobs on its feet, trying to hold the far too large staff in its stubby, handless arms. Having difficulty, it opts to hold the staff beneath one of its arms, wrapping its long, green sprout around the top of the staff to keep it steady. A green glow envelops her and then fades. The nature-based healing spell feels far less warm than Basil¡¯s white-magic, but the feeling that it brings isn¡¯t bad either. It¡¯s like the cool of a forest creek. ¡°Thanks, little guy,¡± says Fresh, appreciating the effort, even if she was already at full health. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°Will you stop with the fucking spriggans?!¡± yells Jubilee from upstairs. Fresh frowns, looking up towards the staircase. ¡°I can¡¯t help what nature does, Jubilee.¡± She gets a second sigh in return. But she can hear Basil laughing from all the way upstairs. Looking back at the bauble, she wonders. What happens if she puts¡­ well, actually, anything else inside of it? What about some ash from the fireplace? A drop of water from the fountain? A drop of water from her inventory window? Fresh blinks, no, that one is a bad idea. Best not to do that. But what about a chicken¡¯s feather? A piece of fabric? Harpy dust? It¡¯s very exciting. But she only has one staff right now and the spriggan is holding onto it. She doesn¡¯t want to steal it from the poor creature whose life literally depends on it, so, instead, she just sets to work making more. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. They¡¯re upstairs in the living area. Jubilee had marked out the floor with chalk a while ago and they¡¯re only now getting around to setting it up. The current plan is to have a small pantry by the open kitchen. In the center between the pantry and the kitchen is going to be a table for the four of them. ¡°Is the thieves¡¯ guild here too?¡± she asks. ¡°In the center?¡± ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if they weren¡¯t,¡± replies Jubilee, shaking their head. The bedroom, they¡¯ve opted to build as a separate room that¡¯s in the back-right, diagonally opposite of the kitchen. But, to Fresh¡¯s delight, this is going to be one large, shared room. They¡¯ve decided to go for a shared, but separate space to sleep in, because it just feels better. Basil had said that she didn¡¯t like sleeping here in the open area because the ceiling is so high. ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain,¡± says the priestess. ¡°But it¡¯s just creepy,¡± she explains. ¡°Having that big empty thing above you at night.¡± She plays with her bracelet, staring up towards the rafters and the patched roof. ¡°Is that weird?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°No, I get it, Basil,¡± remarks Fresh. She doesn¡¯t mind it herself, but she feels like she can understand why it would be spooky. There is a substantial height gap between this floor and the ceiling. Honestly, one could fit an entire second floor up there. Fresh ponders the idea. A telescope? She lifts her gaze towards the ¡®fixed¡¯ hole in the ceiling. Times are certainly challenging these days. But what if they built a raised platform here. Just another spiral staircase that leads up to the hole in the ceiling where they¡¯d have a big telescope? She doesn¡¯t know how useful it would be, given the shield. But maybe¡­Honestly, so far, the technique she had learned from the magistrate of the western city hasn¡¯t been too helpful for her yet. But she feels like she shouldn¡¯t give up on it just yet. Fresh points up at the ceiling. ¡°Can I build a big telescope?¡± she asks. ¡°Are you going to do something creepy with it?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Like stalking the neighbors?¡± ¡°No!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I just want to look at the sky and stuff.¡± She hadn¡¯t ever considered it. But with a big telescope, she could watch her friends from a high perch, even if they aren¡¯t at home. Fresh blinks. Is she being creepy? Nah. It¡¯s fine. ¡°Fine with me, but it¡¯s low on the budget list right now,¡± says Jubilee, dropping a heap of wood. The house-spriggan runs over, dragging a single plank onto the heap. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. The other spriggan with the staff heals the first spriggan, both of them chanting as it runs away to pick up another plank of wood from the basement. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 330: Ready for business Fresh digs through the soil on the farm, pulling out weeds and roots. She¡¯s opted to make herself a straw hat out of some old bark. There isn¡¯t actually any sunlight in this room. It just seems to be illuminated by the same ambient glow that many rooms down in the dungeon are also filled with. But she figured that if she was going to do farm work, that she needed a straw hat. It¡¯s just the way things are. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± says Basil, sounding a little concerned. ¡°That¡¯s odd¡­¡± Fresh looks up at the priestess. ¡°What¡¯s up, Basil?¡± she asks, rubbing her sweaty face on her rolled up sleeve. ¡°Something picked at these, look,¡± remarks the priestess, pointing at a mushroom that something has nibbled on, down near its stem. ¡°I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d have pests here. But maybe that was optimistic¡­¡± sighs Basil, looking around the space. Fresh gasps. ¡°Varmints¡­¡± she mutters under her breath, looking around the room. But there is nothing to be seen. The shelves are all lined up and ready. The price tags are set up and the ledger, that Jubilee had to make a brand new one of, is tabled out and also ready to use. When entering the store, the counter is immediately to the left hand side. To the right, in the direction that the customers are automatically channeled into by the set-up of the shelves, are Basil¡¯s day to day medicines. Things that one could always make use of. Salves for aches and pains. Little glass ¡®shots¡¯ with small concoctions of brew that help fight off headaches after too much drinking or after using up too many soul points. Ready-made bandages, coated with a disinfecting blend of herbs and bees¡¯ wax. The more potent medicines, which need to be explained, are behind the counter on a shelf on the wall. After that, when walking around the aisle, past an ¡®L¡¯ shaped shelf that makes use of the right outcrop of the building as foot space, comes Fresh¡¯s section, which is full of healing wands and baubled-staffs and the shielding-statues. It¡¯s still missing one or two items though. She still wants to make some medicine herself. It¡¯s very important to her, actually. Past that, further ahead, is Jubilee¡¯s area which is currently full of thick coats, gloves, scarves and even long underwear. ¡°How come we didn¡¯t get any long underwear, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s always so cold.¡± Jubilee taps their open palm with a finger. ¡°Thirty Obols and they¡¯re yours.¡± ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± complains Fresh, setting them back onto the shelf. She doesn¡¯t have thirty Obols right now. At least they have the floor-heater. It¡¯s always nice and warm when one steps inside of the store. The warm, only slightly damp air, is very comforting. Somehow, it has intermingled with the smell of the many flowers and mushrooms that still invade the house despite their best efforts to remove them, giving the entire building an easing, floral perfume. Stepping into their home is like stepping into a calm, sunny forest grove. While it¡¯s hard to say that the long-term effects of this kind of overgrowth could possibly be positive for the integrity of the structure, it certainly does give it a charm in a way. ¡°I¡¯m still not convinced that it¡¯s healthy,¡± says Basil, poking a mushroom that is coming out of the shelves. The dungeon-magic just seems to cause greenery to grow everywhere, no matter what. ¡°But I suppose we¡¯ll have to live with it.¡± ¡°If walking through a forest is healthy, then I don¡¯t see the issue,¡± says Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°Mushroom spores can be really bad for you,¡± explains Basil, her finger resting on the cap of the mushroom as she looks back towards Jubilee. Jubilee, resting with their elbow on the counter, shakes their head. ¡°We all gotta die of something, Basil,¡± they say. Basil frowns, but then shrugs, giving up the fight. The plants have won and are here to stay. The others are outside drumming up business for their opening tomorrow. Fresh, meanwhile, is down in the basement, working. She swipes her hand over the workbench, getting rid of a heap of dust that had collected surprisingly quickly. Maybe these are those mushroom spores Basil was talking about? Fresh sneezes, blowing a load of harpy feathers all around the room. The house-spriggan runs around, picking them up for her. Rubbing her face, she bends down and takes them. ¡°Thanks, little guy,¡± she says, setting them down onto the table. So. Dust, huh? She shakes her head, grabbing a load of feathers and bundling them together at the stems with a cord. Then, she grabs a wooden cylinder that she uses for her wand-crafting and grinds it down into a grip. With a dab of glue, she takes the bundle of blue feathers and holds it to the handle, attaching them to each other with a new ability. The new construct falls down to the table. Fresh blinks, picking the odd thing up. She places it to the table and swipes across it. Blue feathers fly everywhere as the heap of remaining harpy feathers is thrown all around the room at once, one of them sticking into her hair which flies wildly back. Upstairs, the windows and doors slam shut as a strong gust shoots through the entire building. Fresh looks back at the spriggan, which stares at her and then at all of the feathers that are strewn around the room. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± she says to it and starts picking the mess up herself. Fresh reads the line of the book, standing downstairs. This all kind of reminds her of back in the north, back when she used to make potions. Man, that feels like a lifetime ago. She sighs, closing the book and looking around the basement. Basil flicks the feather duster her way. A surge of wind moves past her, blowing her hair and dress to the side, Fresh lifts her hands, covering her eyes until the wind dies down. ¡°No sad faces allowed in this house,¡± remarks the priestess, looking at the feather-duster. ¡°Sorry, Basil,¡± says Fresh, catching herself just as she starts frowning and scratching her cheek. Basil swipes the feather-duster at her again. ¡°Will you fuck off with the wind?!¡± barks Jubilee from upstairs. Basil laughs, setting the thing down before grabbing a strand of Fresh¡¯s hair and pulling it back into the spot it belongs at, next to her ear. ¡°How about something that helps people sleep?¡± ¡°Sleep?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Hmm¡­ I dunno. That seems really specific.¡± Basil tilts her head. ¡°That¡¯s what medicine is. Specific.¡± ¡°What about vitamins?¡± considers Fresh. ¡°Vitamins?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Mm!¡± She gestures with her hands. ¡°What if we make something that people can take before they get sick, so they won¡¯t get sick at all?¡± ¡°Then we¡¯re going to go bankrupt,¡± remarks Basil dryly, turning her head to look at her stack of medicine. Fresh sighs, crossing her arms. ¡°You sure sound a lot like Jubilee sometimes, Basil.¡± ¡°What a terrifying thought,¡± remarks the priestess. ¡°I heard that!¡± yells Jubilee from upstairs. Fresh laughs, looking around the room. Something donks her on the head. ¡°Ow!¡± She turns and looks at the little healer-spriggan with its staff. ¡°Why¡¯d you donk me?¡± she asks, rubbing the sore spot. ¡°Pakew!¡± it exclaims, as always, before pointing with its free hand to its head. Fresh looks. A little bulb is hanging from its sprout. It looks like it¡¯s starting to grow a seed. She blinks, looking back at their collection of spriggan seeds. Pulling one towards herself, she looks at it. ¡°Basil!¡± she exclaims. ¡°What if we take these seeds and then grind them up with a mixture of different dried herbs? Nothing super potent, just stuff that¡¯s really healthy for you?¡± she asks. ¡°Then we¡¯ll pack them into little nibbles and tell people to take them once a day!¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t those just your dungeon-snacks from the west, but with less candy?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°It¡¯s different!¡± remarks Fresh. ¡°These can use honey.¡± ¡°I think those used honey too, for the shell?¡± ponders Basil, frowning as she thinks. The priestess yelps as Fresh swipes the feather-duster her way, filling the room with a strong current of wind and the sounds of Jubilee¡¯s vehement swears, carried all around the house, as if by magic. Fresh beams, looking at the tiny thing in her palm. With her spells, it¡¯s easy for her to make a few dozen of these at a time. ¡°We should sell these in bottles of thirty,¡± remarks Fresh. A month¡¯s supply seems generous. Then people won¡¯t have to worry about their health as much. She smiles. ¡°Good idea,¡± says Jubilee, thinking. Basil nods in agreement. ¡°Then they¡¯ll have to come back every month to buy a new one.¡± Jubilee seems to agree. ¡°Once the effect starts, they¡¯re not going to want to drop it, ever. We¡¯ll have ¡¯em hooked for life like a bunch of addicts.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, looking at her friends. ¡°One Obol per tablet?¡± considers Basil. ¡°Fuck that. We¡¯re in the big leagues now,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Three per tablet. We¡¯ll give kids a discount of only two each, get ¡¯em hooked early.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°Guys!¡± she protests. ¡°You sound super evil!¡± she cries in distress. ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts a spriggan next to her. They look at it. The little creature waves the feather duster in its hand at them. Shamrock¡¯s papers that he has been drawing on for the better part of the day, fly off of the table and fly all around the house for the third time today. The man sits there at the table, pen still in hand. Silently, he turns his head towards them. The spriggan quickly puts the feather-duster into Fresh¡¯s hand and then hides behind her. Fresh lets out a quiet laugh, as one of the pages falls back down and sticks to her face. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 331: Considerations ¡°I don¡¯t know about this¡­¡± says the guardsman, rubbing his chin. ¡°Pakew!¡± Fresh grabs the spriggan, pulling it back towards herself. ¡°It¡¯s just a little spriggan,¡± she argues. Today is the day of their store¡¯s opening. They¡¯re not open just yet, but in order to assure public safety, a man from the city as well as a guard are here to check out everything and to make sure that their home isn¡¯t a giant death-trap. The wares, especially the medicine, had been rigorously examined and approved with a satisfied nod by the city-alchemist, who seemed very excited about both their assortment as well as its quality. The accompanying guard however, here to oversee the process, had encountered the spriggan in between their shelves. ¡°City ordinances don¡¯t allow for monsters to be taken out of the dungeon. You understand,¡± says the man. ¡°You¡¯ll have to bring it back.¡± ¡°We already tried,¡± says Jubilee, snapping their fingers. A shard of glass shoots out of the cracks between the stones of the floor, impaling the spriggan from below. It dies instantly. ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± yells Fresh, horrified as the spriggan leaves her clutches and is pinned against the ceiling. She looks at her sad reflection and the glass shatters an instant later, falling down to the ground as a million pieces, together with the dead spriggan¡¯s body which thuds unceremoniously against the floor. Jubilee lifts a hand, ignoring her. ¡°Give it a minute. He¡¯ll be back.¡± Shamrock walks by with a broom, starting to sweep the glass away without a complaint. ¡°Anyways, we¡¯re loaded with summoning items,¡± they explain, pointing at the wands and staves. ¡°Every one and their mother is going to end up with a spriggan running after them soon,¡± they state. The guard looks at the wands and then towards the alchemist. ¡°Those are flagged as ¡®pets¡¯ though. They¡¯re harmless,¡± says the older caster. ¡°A wild spriggan is something else.¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the spriggan, running back up the spiral staircase and back into Fresh¡¯s arms, where it was a moment ago. ¡°Curious,¡± says the man. ¡°It¡¯s a wild spawn, but it doesn¡¯t give experience points?¡± He examines the creature, lifting its arms and looking beneath them. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem hostile either.¡± ¡°It¡¯s really nice!¡± argues Fresh, rubbing its head. The guard looks around the room. ¡°Is the dungeon leaking?¡± he considers. ¡°You bet your fucking ass it is,¡± replies Jubilee, pointing at the flowers and herbs. ¡°We pluck these fucking things every day, but they keep coming back.¡± The two men exchange a worried look. ¡°Excuse us for a moment,¡± says the caster, pulling the guard away with him out of the door as they go to talk for a minute in private. Fresh frowns, stepping to the side so that Shamrock can sweep where she was standing. ¡°Are we gonna be okay, Jubilee?¡± she asks, feeling worried for obvious reasons. What if they don¡¯t allow them to open? They¡¯ll be ruined. ¡°We¡¯re fine,¡± says Jubilee, crossing their arms and leaning back against the shelves. The bristles of the broom strike against their boot as Shamrock motions to sweep where they¡¯re standing. Jubilee looks up at him and continues to stay exactly where they are. ¡°With the shield up, the city has a big fucking proble- FUCK OFF!¡± Shamrock picks Jubilee up, setting them on top of a shelf, before sweeping the spot clean. ¡°A problem?¡± asks Fresh. Basil comes by. ¡°Food. The shield makes sustaining the city very difficult,¡± she explains. ¡°Because of the nature-based dungeon, the city can stay self-sufficient for a long time. The guards are going to be going in to gather resources from now on, together with the normal adventurers.¡± ¡°Really?¡± asks Fresh, looking at Jubilee who is puzzling about how to get down from the shelf. She tilts her head, pointing at them. ¡°Hey, what does this cost?¡± she asks. ¡°I want one.¡± ¡°You couldn¡¯t afford it in your wildest dreams,¡± sighs Jubilee, simply jumping back down. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil. ¡°But that¡¯s only going to keep the city running on fumes after the reserves are eaten through,¡± she explains. ¡°Medicine and food are going to become very important, very soon.¡± Fresh considers this for a moment. It¡¯s indeed not exactly great news for the city, but at the same time, it¡¯s great news for them. Right when the city is facing a hard time, they¡¯re showing up at the right place, right on time, offering exactly what is needed, as if they had been deistically ordained to be here. The two men come back in. ¡°Okay. We¡¯re approving your operation,¡± says the guard. ¡°But we¡¯ll have to station a man outside during your working hours, until we know it¡¯s safe.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But he¡¯s not getting a free lunch.¡± Fresh lifts a hand. ¡°I can make him a free lunch.¡± ¡°Stop giving away our profits!¡± barks Jubilee, glaring at her. The two men stay a while longer to discuss the formalities with Jubilee. Fresh meanwhile, continues to help Basil and Shamrock get the store ready, the spriggan wobbling after her. The store is ready. It has taken many hours, many days. But the store is ready. The shelves are set-up and fully stocked with a decently wide enough assortment of wares to start with. The counter is ready, together with a prepared ledger and a till. The staircase has been blocked off with a little rope that simply dangles across it with a sign. The broken floor is fixed and evened out. The windows are clean and polished and all that remains is to hang up the new sign and to open the door. There¡¯s already one or two curious faces outside, Jubilee and Basil¡¯s marketing apparently having drummed up some attention. ¡°Dungeon Item Shop?¡± asks Fresh, already in the middle of carving the name into the sign. It¡¯s a rectangle of treated wood, but hollowed out with a pane of very prismatic moon-glass on the inside. She¡¯s carving the letters out of the wood, so that the glass shapes their name. ¡°Dungeon Item Shop,¡± nods Basil, bending down and trying to teach the spriggan how to play pat-a-cake. Though it seems surprisingly proficient at the game already for whatever odd reason. ¡°What the fuck else?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Dungeon Item Shop.¡± Shamrock nods, adjusting a few bottles up behind the counter. ¡°Dungeon Item Shop.¡± Fresh nods, smiling. Of course, this was the only choice to begin with. But it¡¯s good to just kind of reestablish it amongst themselves once again. The sign is ready. *+~- Fresh -~+* Jubilee Basil Shamrock ¡°Well,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Fourth time¡¯s the charm.¡± Basil sighs, getting up and rubbing the spriggan¡¯s head. ¡°I hope nobody gets hurt this time.¡± Shamrock¡¯s chest heaves, his strong breath blowing a page of the ledger to the side and flipping it. ¡°Chicken butt,¡± says the giant man. Fresh stifles a laugh, feeling it scratch in her throat as she gets up, composing herself. She needs to be the party-leader right now and that means being serious. She holds her hand into the circle. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do your fucking ¡®team¡¯ thing,¡± sighs Jubilee. Basil obliges, lifting her hand, as does Shamrock. Outnumbered three to one, Jubilee rolls their eyes and lifts their hand. ¡°Go team!¡± shouts Fresh. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Go team,¡± they say, absolutely bored. ¡°Go team!¡± smiles Basil, apparently a little embarrassed. ¡°Go team,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the spriggan. Jubilee eyes it. ¡°Fuck off. You¡¯re not a part of this,¡± they say, taking the sign and walking around the counter. Fresh waits until they go to the door and then bends down, whispering to the spriggan. ¡°You are,¡± she nods to it. The spriggan bounces on its stubby legs, its sprout bobbing up and down in excitement. Getting up, she walks around the counter and heads to the door together with Jubilee, opening it and looking at the curious faces on the other side. Adventurers really do make great customers. Given their trade, they¡¯re naturally curious and willing to try just about anything, if it might help them progress further. Drawing them in is always super easy because of that. ¡°Hello everyone!¡± says Fresh, looking at the many different faces. ¡°Welcome to the Dungeon Item Shop!¡± she says, holding her arms out to the sign. ¡°We¡¯re open for business!¡± Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 332: The first day of work ¡°PAKEW!¡± shouts the newly spawned spriggan, only moments after popping to life right in front of a very surprised elf, who lets out a sharp gasp, her hands by her mouth as she watches the small monster. The little creature lifts its stubby arms and starts bobbing up and down in an odd, excited half-dance. Fresh thinks that it just wants the staff from the elf, but from an outsider¡¯s perspective, it looks like it¡¯s reaching for her. Giddy, the elf picks it up with both of her hands and the two of them stare at each other for a quiet moment from up close. The spriggan lifts a stubby, fat arm and places the tip of it onto the elf¡¯s nose. ¡°I¡¯LL TAKE IT!¡± she yells, perhaps somewhat too loudly, as she quickly spins her head around towards the counter. ¡°Pakew!¡± Jubilee¡¯s glove taps the wood. ¡°One hundred ninety-nine for the wand,¡± they say. ¡°Double if you want a staff.¡± The elf¡¯s lip trembles as she looks back at the spriggan and then over to her party, who are standing by the medicine section. ¡°Deal!¡± she says, ignoring the clearly objecting looks she gets from her group as she rushes over to the counter to pay for the spriggan and not for the wand, which she has left behind on the shelf. Laughing, Fresh makes her way around, grabbing it and bringing it up to the till. The wands are pretty popular amongst the more easily excitable adventurers because of the spriggans, who the cosmic-system classifies as ¡®pets¡¯. That means they¡¯re unable to harm their owners and are bound to follow their instructions within a reasonable limit. Also there is a popularity amongst the more fiscally conservative parties, looking to cut corners on their healing budget. Conversely, there are a few sour faced healers who Fresh can¡¯t help but feel bad for. She may have put one or two people out of work with her wands¡­ Though, thankfully, this isn¡¯t too extreme in all actual likelihood. The spriggans as healers are only able to heal according to their own level, which is one, so they¡¯re more of an auxiliary than a real replacement. For now. It¡¯s still open whether they can level up, but Fresh assumes that they can. As for the healing effect on the wands themselves, that can only be used ten times a day before a person is entirely drained and knocked out because of their depletion of soul-sickness, so it isn¡¯t a viable strategy either barring the occasional emergency heal. Perhaps this is what stops the many druids, priests and other such people from setting fire to their house. Fresh lets out an uneasy wave, waving goodbye to the elf¡¯s party as they leave, one member fuller than before. The spriggan waves goodbye to her, reaching over the elf¡¯s shoulder. ¡°¡¯Tschu!¡± sneezes a small orc, holding a rag in front of her face. Her friend looks at her, somewhat grossed out. ¡°What?¡± she asks, annoyed. ¡°I have the sniffles.¡± ¡°That¡¯s just the evil leaking out of you,¡± says their friend, a cloaked man who makes Fresh twitchy at first. But he doesn¡¯t seem to be from the thieves¡¯ guild. He¡¯s just some man in a cloak. Wait¡­ Hasn¡¯t she seen these three before? Fresh tilts her head, watching them look through the medicine section. ¡°Ah!¡± she mutters to herself, realizing. When she was here to curse the hero, she saw those three wandering around the festival, drunk and having the time of their lives. She blinks, looking around the room, remembering that she cursed the hero. Man. That sure was a thing that happened. Frowning, she looks down at the wood of the counter, wondering. What ever happened to him? To the hero, Garnett? What happened to his awkward, but kind sister who had just wanted more from life than she had been given? Peridot? Fresh scratches her cheek, feeling like there was something about them that she knows about, but it¡¯s on the tip of her mental-tongue. There¡¯s something there, but she just isn¡¯t sure what it i- ¡°Excuse me,¡± asks a voice. Fresh blinks, looking up. A man is standing there in front of her. ¡°Do these really work?¡± he asks, pointing at the little pamphlet. It¡¯s a piece of paper that is folded together, sealed along the edges with some bees¡¯ wax. The outside has a depiction of a tall, half grown spriggan. The inside is full of details listing their weak points, tendencies and abilities. ¡°Sure as fuck do,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Shamrock.¡± Shamrock looks over at the man, holding one of his ¡®murder manuals¡¯ as Jubilee had called them. ¡°Yes,¡± is all that he says, nodding. ¡°See? Straight from the source,¡± replies Jubilee, pointing over their shoulder with their thumb at Shamrock. ¡°Ninety-nine Obols for a permanent boost against spriggans. It¡¯s a good deal.¡± The man thinks. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh blinks, looking at them. She lifts a finger, tapping against the sealed pamphlet. Notes: This pamphlet disintegrates when read once. This effect can not be stacked. The man thinks for a moment longer, looking at the menu. Honestly, Fresh is really proud of Shamrock for these. Sure, they¡¯re a little grim. But a permanent stat boost against common monster types is a huge selling point. They¡¯re very potent items. Plus since they always only count for one type of monster and can only be read by one person each, that means everybody has to buy their own pamphlet as well as one for every single type of monster that they want a boost against. It¡¯s just good business. He nods, setting down a silver Obol onto the counter. Fresh hands him one back. (Fresh) sold [Murder Manual]{Spriggan (Stage 2)}(Normal) for [{99} Obols ] ! ¡°Thank you, come again!¡± she beams, waving goodbye to the customer. ¡°Good job, Shamrock!¡± she praises. ¡°They really seem to like them.¡± ¡°Finally,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Someone around here apart from myself is pulling their weight.¡± ¡°Please,¡± says Basil from the shelves. She¡¯s restocking as her medicine seems to be going well. There appears to be a case of deadly-sniffleitus going around town right now. The orc sneezes into her rag again. ¡°Try those,¡± says Basil to her, pointing at a small glass vial. ¡°They¡¯ll take care of that sneeze.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± groans the orc, wandering over to the bottles. Basil turns back to Jubilee. ¡°As if you ever do anything productive around here.¡± ¡°Shut up, Basil,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°It doesn¡¯t surprise me that all you can make is medicine,¡± they remark. ¡°Just being around you is sickening.¡± Basil lifts her nose. ¡°You should try looking in the mirror sometime,¡± replies Basil. ¡°It¡¯s a wonder any of us are still sane after spending this long around your toxic personality.¡± ¡°Go team!¡± shouts Fresh randomly into the room. The three of them look her way. She looks between them and then shrugs. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what else to say and I don¡¯t want you guys to fight all the time,¡± she admits. After that, the situation calms itself down somewhat. Basil and Jubilee get back to their work and Shamrock, not needed behind the counter after a while, helps Basil with the shelves as well as the items from the dungeon that they¡¯re buying. Given their somewhat tight budget, they aren¡¯t buying everything just yet, but mostly everything. Fresh makes a note that she needs to get a cauldron up and running again, so that they can start doing repairs. They really need the cash-flow. The shop runs along on its first day with a slow, but constant trickle of people. There isn¡¯t a huge, excited, rabid rush to their door like there was in the east. But there is always a slight flow of people in and out. Just about everybody who comes in takes something, or at the very least asks a few interested questions about their items. Honestly, the people here seem really kind, Fresh notices. Though, she had already noticed that once before. In a sense, she¡¯s glad that they aren¡¯t being bombarded with customers though. Fresh closes her eyes and just relaxes for a moment, feeling the rays of the morning sun shine in through the door onto her face. Jubilee closes the till again as the next person leaves. The drawer closes, rattling noisily as it is already full of coins. Their new venture is off to a strong and steady start and this time, she¡¯s confident that they have the recipe and the formula nailed down. This time, nothing is going to go wrong. This time, this last time in this last city available to them¡­ This time, it¡¯s finally going to be alright. The warmth on her face proves that to her. Buzzing with energy, with joy, Fresh opens her eyes and looks at the next customer in line. The red-wizard stands there, staring at her. Razmatazz Hmm... Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 333: Forgone conclusions ¡°And so, they made a lot of money and all of their problems were solved forever. The end,¡± says Jubilee, closing the book with soft affection to their movements. They let out a long sigh. ¡°That¡¯s my favorite story,¡± they say, softly rubbing the cover of the book on the counter with their hand. The four of them are downstairs, the shop is closed after their first, very successful day of business in the central city. Basil, sitting down across from Jubilee, with her head in her hand and her elbow on the counter, stares at them dryly. ¡°That¡¯s our ledger,¡± states Basil, unimpressed as she looks at the book that Jubilee is doting on. ¡°Let me have this, Basil,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing I have in my life that brings me joy.¡± The priestess raises an eyebrow. ¡°The sad thing is that I believe you.¡± ¡°My dream is to save up enough money so that I can escape you people forever,¡± explains Jubilee, setting the ledger down below the counter. ¡°Seems like a pain,¡± remarks the priestess. ¡°Do you know how much money we¡¯re going to have to save to keep up with you then?¡± she asks. ¡°Traveling is expensive.¡± Jubilee rests their elbows on the counter, folding their hands together in front of their face. ¡°I think you don¡¯t understand what the word ¡®escape¡¯ means,¡± remarks Jubilee. Basil lifts a hand, pressing it against their face, letting the tips of her fingers scratch Jubilee¡¯s hair. ¡°Touch.¡± Jubilee sighs and just sits there, accepting their horrible fate. Though, Fresh feels both Basil¡¯s as well as Jubilee¡¯s eyes turn back her way. Fresh blinks, turning back to look ahead of herself as she thinks about the events of that previous afternoon, as she thinks about the red-wizard who had once again crossed paths with her. Fate seems intent on making her see that person again and again. Every time she feels like the hurt is slowly starting to heal and that it¡¯s about time to take the metaphorical bandage off, the universe always comes back and shoves the red-wizard right into her face, as if it were doing so on purpose. ¡°Medicine, huh?¡± mutters Fresh to herself, her hand running along her ribs as she feels the knick present in the bones there. It still hurts to touch a bit, like the scars on her shoulders. Those early days here in this world, those early memories, they caused a lot of scars. A hand grabs her from the side and hoists her up to her feet. ¡°Work,¡± says Shamrock, nudging her forward towards the shelves. She looks back towards him for a moment and then nods. He¡¯s right. She can¡¯t go down that rabbit-hole of bad feelings and self pity again. That¡¯s what the bad-thing would want her to do. Shaking her head, she moves to the shelves and gets to work, getting everything ready for the next day. Six words. The red-wizard had said six words. The woman had been standing at the counter, staring at her for a while in a moment that Fresh can only describe as terrifying. A small boy had run up and disturbed the scene, grabbing the wizard¡¯s hand and pulling her away. He had called her ¡®sister¡¯. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I need medicine. Please,¡± Fresh repeats the words to herself over and over in her mind, not sure if she isn¡¯t whispering them under her breath too. What is she supposed to do with that? They¡¯re still alive. They haven¡¯t been chased out of town or attacked or anything of the sort. The red-wizard apparently, despite recognizing them and having every reason to call them out, has done no such thing. Of course, this was always a risk connected to them living in the central-city. But she hadn¡¯t expected it to happen so fast, so soon. And now what? She¡¯s ¡®sorry¡¯? ¡®She needs medicine¡¯? What is she supposed to do with those statements? She doesn¡¯t care if the wizard says that she¡¯s sorry. That just¡­ it just doesn¡¯t cut it. If the wizard had attacked them or done any of the things that Fresh would have expected her to do, she¡¯d know how to feel, how to react. It would be frightening and terrifying, but in a way, comfortingly familiar. But how is she even supposed to feel about ¡®I¡¯m sorry. I need medicine. Please¡¯? ¡°Will you stop fucking grumbling?!¡± barks Jubilee from the counter over towards her. Fresh blinks, looking back at them before looking back at her work, her hand holding onto a few bottles of Basil¡¯s medicine. Red. Fresh stares at the pale red concoction in the bottles that her hand is hovering over. A glimmer of light comes in through the window, catching the small, glass chicken on her string bracelet. Red. Her fingers clutch the bottle, getting ready to throw it against the wall, simply as a release of her frustrations. Fresh isn¡¯t usually one for outbursts of this nature, but - She sees the paleness of her cold, clammy fingers, wrapped around the glass of the bottle that she herself had lovingly made for Basil to sell her medicines in. The skin on her fingers is white and pale, as if the sun itself had chosen to reject her from its bounty of warmth and touch. But beneath it, there¡¯s a tinge of strained muscle and sinew. Red. Fresh lets go of the bottle, setting it back down, ashamed that she was about to destroy something that her friend had worked so hard on for no real reason. ¡°Everything is going to be fine,¡± assures Basil, grabbing her from behind, wrapping her arms around her stomach. ¡°I¡¯m scared, Basil,¡± admits Fresh, her throat clenching, her eyes growing damp as she looks back over her shoulder to her friend. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere left for us.¡± Sure, as party-leader, perhaps more confidence and inspiration would be desirable for her to project out to the others. But right now, those simply aren¡¯t available to her. Basil shakes her head. ¡°As long as we keep ourselves and each other,¡± starts the priestess. ¡°We¡¯ll always find a place to belong somewhere.¡± ¡°Worst case, we¡¯ll live in the fucking forest,¡± sighs Jubilee. Shamrock walks by, carrying a crate of new manuals. ¡°Dungeon,¡± is all that the man says. Fresh doesn¡¯t have it in her to apologize, so she just holds on to Basil¡¯s hands which are pressing against her stomach and does her best not to cry at work. That would be unprofessional behavior. She doesn¡¯t manage. But the others assure her that she is allowed to keep her job nonetheless. At least they can afford real, nourishing food again. With a profit of nearly a thousand Obols each, there is ample dinner on the table. After the stress of the day, they have forgone cooking and once again splurged on street food. Is it the best thing ever, health-wise? No. But right now, after a bad day, it feels like the best thing ever. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t eat your stress away,¡± remarks Basil. Fresh chooses to ignore the sage priestess this time, biting into her second wrap and then taking a long drink of her doubly sweet sweet-tea. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re gonna cave in the floor,¡± remarks Jubilee. Shamrock lifts his hands, poking both Basil and Jubilee once in their stomachs. Fresh laughs, appreciating the moral support as she bites into her second dinner again. Sure, gluttony isn¡¯t a good trait to have. But after days of soup and bread, even if they were lovingly home-made, she just wants to eat garbage and a lot of it. It¡¯s a reasonable way to live your life, she feels. Although, later that night, as three of them sleep in the beds with a fourth person staying awake to keep a lookout, she finds that she has trouble sleeping because her stomach hurts from eating too much. Is there a lesson here to be learned? Perhaps. Fresh lies awake in their half-finished bedroom, staring at the dark ceiling above their heads as she thinks about her feelings, trying to decipher which ones are legitimate and which ones are simply a touch of something tainted on her personality, as well as trying to decipher if such a differentiation even exists. ¡®I¡¯m sorry. I need medicine. Please¡¯. She rolls over to her side again. ¡°Enough,¡± says an annoyed Jubilee, laying next to her. They scoot over to her from behind, placing an arm under her pillow and another over her shoulder. ¡°Go the fuck to sleep,¡± they say, squeezing her with a hand that Fresh can see in the soft glow of the moonlight dancing in through the high windows. The skin of the hand, as she has so often identified, is red. Fresh finds sleep and eventually, the next day to come finds them and brings with it no new danger or inherent threats that hadn¡¯t already existed the day before, if not only in their own minds. Razmatazz -) That''s right. I off-camera''d you. This is going to be a whole thing with the red-wizard this arc. -) In Weaponsmith, this would be considered a holy chapter. Since we''re talking about holy things, here''s a holy Basil for you, friends! (Done by @5enketsu) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 334: Asking politely The house-spriggan stands upright, tilting its upper body and its raised arms to the left. Fresh, her arms also in the air, mimics its movements. The spriggan sways to the right and then so does she. The spriggan lifts a leg and then hops around in a circle and then Fresh does the same, before coming to a stop and bouncing on the soles of her feet, just like it. That¡¯s how it goes. Left, right, leg, circle, bounce. The spriggan does it again and then so does she. Left, right, leg, circle, bounce. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts Fresh, clearly drawn into whatever this is. A sigh comes from the table. ¡°Do I ask? Or is it your turn today?¡± asks Jubilee, staring at Basil. There¡¯s a bowl of dried fruit jerky on the table that they¡¯re snacking on while reading. The priestess rubs her chin, making a show out of thinking. She turns her head to the side. ¡°Shamrock?¡± asks Basil. ¡°I think you¡¯re up.¡± The man lifts his head from his work, staring at them before turning to Fresh. ¡°What?¡± is all that he asks. ¡°Thanks, Shamrock,¡± says Basil, sipping her tea. ¡°Always,¡± replies the man, turning back down to his work. Fresh frowns and does it again. Left, right, leg, circle, bounce. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± replies the spriggan. Fresh nods, satisfied and the spriggan does the same, before wobbling off down the staircase to go to the library. ¡°I was learning the spriggan dance, guys,¡± she says, standing in front of her friends and repeating the motions, wobbling towards them as she moves like a spriggan. Fresh lowers her gaze, towards Jubilee and more importantly, towards their snack. ¡°Get the fuck away from me,¡± snaps Jubilee, dryly. ¡°As long as you¡¯ve found a way to relax, I suppose,¡± remarks Basil, flipping through the book on cheap recipes that Fresh had found the other day. Fresh blinks. ¡°Relaxing?¡± she asks, not sure if she understands. ¡°This is work stuff, guys,¡± she argues. Jubilee shakes their head, returning their focus back to their book. ¡°I told you we should cut her pay by half,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll look into the numbers tomorrow,¡± nods Basil, turning a page. ¡°Hey!¡± Fresh frowns, puffing out her cheek. ¡°The spriggan dance is super important! It¡¯s how they get the rare-wood trees to give them rare-wood!¡± Making a point of it, she stands in front of Jubilee and does it again. Left, right, leg, circle, bounce. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°I will give you this if you fuck off,¡± says Jubilee, sliding the bowl her way. Fresh smiles a devious smile. That¡¯s the exact premise that the rare-wood trees work off of. The spriggans and the trees have an unspoken deal of sorts. The spriggans provoke the trees, without harming them, through their dancing and the tree, in order to be left alone, gives them one of its fresh branches. In exchange, the spriggans tend to the soil and the roots of the trees. Fresh grabs one of Jubilee¡¯s fruit bars for herself, her dance having been a success. She makes a note to try it on the others later too. Though¡­ perhaps this weapon is too powerful to use against her own friends? Fresh bites into the fruit jerky as she thinks about the morality of spriggan-dancing her friends into submission. It¡¯s a tricky subject. Maybe it¡¯s best to leave this one as an emergency tool? She nods, heading downstairs. This is a good compromise. ¡°Blub,¡± says Fresh, leaning over the natural hot-spring in their basement and staring into the water. The water doesn''t respond. She wants to use the water for her crafting. It¡¯s powerful and rare. But it¡¯s also their bathwater. So it¡¯s weird. Sure, nobody would ever know. But she would know. Every time someone buys one of their potions or drinks, she would know that they bathed in it and it would be weird. That¡¯s already apart from any hygiene issues. Hygienic standards are certainly more lax in this world. But that¡¯s just what the nature of adventuring life is. Fresh frowns, watching her reflection do the same back up towards her as she examines the pool. There are crevices in the rock where fresh water comes in and crevices where it seeps back out again, so it¡¯s always ¡®new¡¯ water. But still¡­ She tilts her head. What if she makes a small indent in the rock for water to flow into? Water that they haven¡¯t bathed in yet. She can just make a small channel or a pipe from one of the sources and then route that over to a separate hole that she¡¯ll dig and then from there, it can flow back into the bath and drain out. That way, things won¡¯t be weirder than they need to be. Fresh nods, setting exactly to that task. On the far side of the bath, on the opposite side of the room, she sets up a metal pipe and fastens it into the rock of the pool. It¡¯s a bit of a tricky process, since she has to get undressed and get into the water to do it and the seal isn¡¯t perfect, but that¡¯s fine. Just enough water has to get into the pipe with enough pressure that it pushes through to the other end. Rising back up, she looks at the end of the new pipe, at the water that splashes out of it like a little fountain. She smiles. It looks pretty. She should make something like this for the bath too, just as a decorative feature, or maybe to sit under so that it can run over one¡¯s head. One thing at a time though. First, she gets out, dries off and gets dressed again, setting to work on digging a hole behind the bath. Just small enough so that there¡¯s enough water in it to work with. Then, with a new segment of pipe, she carves out a groove into the rock and leads it back to the bath. Now, all she does is connect one final piece of pipe to the initial fountain. The pipe shakes. Water starts moving through it and drips out into the basin. Once it becomes full enough, the overflow pushes out through the other pipe, back into the pool. Fresh smiles, nodding to herself, before then burying as much of the pipe construction as she can in order to keep the ¡®natural beauty¡¯ of their washroom as intact as possible. She beams as she looks at her reflection in the large, red crystal across from herself. Despite the fact that she¡¯s kneeling down on the ground, working with her hands in the dirt, the girl in her reflection is standing there and doing the spriggan dance. Left, right, leg, circle, bounce. Feeling her watching, the reflection stares at her somewhat awkwardly for a second and then drops to its knees and sticks its hands into the dirt, pretending that nothing ever happened and Fresh blinks, tilting her head, not sure if it ever really did. Fresh stares at the bottle of water in her hands, swirling it around. It¡¯s crystal-clear, but there are a couple sand-grain sized pieces of rock and sediment floating around in it. Lifting it to her lips, she tries it and nods. ¡°Yup. That¡¯s water.¡± It¡¯s good water, objectively speaking. But perhaps its health benefits are more of a long-term issue. Drinking high-quality water in comparison to ¡®normal¡¯ good water certainly has an impact over the course of one¡¯s life. But perhaps not right off from the first sip. But there¡¯s definitely something here. It says as much in the item¡¯s own window. Fresh gets poked. She blinks, looking down. It¡¯s the healer spriggan, the one with the staff. ¡°What¡¯s up, little guy?¡± she asks? ¡°Pakew!¡± it says. She blinks, looking at it and then the bottle. ¡°You want this?¡± she asks. The spriggan nods. Fresh shrugs and obliges, pouring a little splash of it onto its head. The spriggan¡¯s sprout moves, growing outward with unusual speed, together with its stubby legs and arms. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh, looking at the spriggan that seems to be admiring its own new body. It¡¯s a little bigger than before and a little slimmer. The sprout is more pronounced and grown, having several leaves now. ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± affirms the spriggan. Its voice is much less ¡®childish¡¯ now, for a lack of a better word. These second stages of spriggans tended to be down by the harpies in the dungeon. They¡¯re a little more competent than the usual kind and even have a small bit of magic. Maybe they can sell ¡®upgrades¡¯ for peoples¡¯ summoned pet spriggans? ¡°Mm¡­¡± Fresh looks at the bottle of water in her hands and then at a rack of Basil¡¯s medicine. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Razmatazz Hmm... Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 335: For sure Fresh hums to herself as she stirs the water of the cauldron around with a big stick. There¡¯s nothing in the water, it¡¯s just water. The cauldron isn¡¯t hot either, so the water isn¡¯t boiling or bubbling or doing anything witchy. She just feels like she needs to stir it because¡­ because that¡¯s just what she needs to do. It just is what it is. Swaying with her head from side to side, she continues to hum as she looks up towards the window of the library that she¡¯s standing in front of, together with the cauldron. This is all going to go down into the basement in a minute. Shamrock is standing behind her and waiting to carry it downstairs. But first, she has to make her batch of moonwater. Though, today, there is something different. Fresh continues to hum and to stir as she looks at the water in the cauldron. It¡¯s mineral water, from the bath down below. The clouds part, rays of cold moonlight shining in through the whisper thin glass of the house, which she really ought to replace with something more isolating. Another thing for the never ending to-do list. She pulls the stick out, tapping it against the pot to dry it off. The water is ready. She doesn¡¯t exactly know how or why it¡¯s ¡®ready¡¯. It¡¯s still just water and all she did was stir it. But it¡¯s right now and it wasn¡¯t before. That¡¯s just what it is. Fresh hums, lifting her hands. This is her third time making a cauldron of rebirth and this time, as with the last time, she hopes it will be her last one. Who knows? Maybe this time, in this house, everything is going to go great? Maybe here, they¡¯ll all get to grow old together? She likes the idea of being an old lady and walking after Jubilee, nagging on them about not eating enough. It sounds like a fun way to live. Fresh smiles, taking in a deep breath and then letting it out as she casts her spell and begins her work. It¡¯s going to be a busy life. ¡°Why is it bubbling?¡± asks Basil, peering over curiously from the side. Fresh scratches her cheek, staring at the bubbling cauldron for a moment before turning back towards Basil. ¡°Uh¡­ bubble bubble?¡± She shrugs, turning back to look at the water inside of the cauldron. It certainly wasn¡¯t bubbling last night when she made the cauldron and it wasn¡¯t bubbling when Shamrock had carried it downstairs. She had gone to bed after that. Now, on the morning of the next day, Basil had dragged her downstairs and pointed out that the cauldron is, in fact, bubbling. There¡¯s no fire or heat. The metal of the cauldron is cold. But still, somehow, it bubbles. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the mineral water?¡± guesses Fresh. It¡¯s her only idea. Otherwise, everything is exactly the same with the spell and the recipe as it¡¯s always been. Same process, a store-bought cauldron, it¡¯s all one-to-one except for the water. This time, she used water from the mineral pool. ¡°Ah!¡± She has a realization, hitting her fist into her open palm. ¡°It¡¯s juiced up.¡± ¡°¡­Juice?¡± asks Basil, looking over into the cauldron. ¡°It looks like water to me.¡± Fresh shakes her head, pointing at the tip of a root that sticks out of the basement wall. ¡°No, Basil,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s juiced up. You know? It¡¯s stronger,¡± she explains. ¡°The spell is already super resto¡­ restorative,¡± she says, tripping over her own tongue for a moment. ¡°I bet with the healing water that has like¡­ world-tree minerals, it¡¯s super juiced up.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil. She looks around the room. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s safe?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Probably¡­¡± ¡°¡­Probably?¡± Basil frowns. ¡°We better ask Jubilee about this.¡± ¡°Jubilee is gonna be mean to me,¡± sighs Fresh. She can hear them yelling already. She rubs her arm. A loud cracking fills the room. Fresh looks over, staring at the broken rare-wood wand in Basil¡¯s hands. ¡°Ah!¡± she yelps in terror. Jubilee is going to be furious with both of them now. Making a weird, bubbly cauldron is one thing. But destroying merchandise? Expensive merchandise at that? By the end of the day, the two of them are going to be the only thing left inside of the cauldron. ¡°We can¡¯t have that,¡± says Basil, shaking her head. ¡°Our secret,¡± she says, dropping the pieces of the wand into the cauldron and nodding to her. Fresh smiles in relief, looking at the cauldron. She nods her head to the side, motioning for Basil to step back. The priestess obliges, taking an extra step afterwards for good measure. Lifting her hands, she holds them over the cauldron and focuses on channeling her energy into its bubbling waters. ¡°Bubble bubble,¡± she says. Not for any reason, it¡¯s not a part of the spell or anything. It¡¯s just the right thing to say, is all. A vivid purple glow encapsulates her hands and surrounds the cauldron. The water begins to bubble twice as fast as before, almost coming close to ¡®over-boiling¡¯. The cauldron shakes and a second later, it spits the wand out, sending it flying straight upwards into the air. Fresh blinks, not sure if she¡¯s seeing right, but her instincts kick in and she catches it before it can fall back into the water, which now begins to recede back to the prior slow bubbling. There¡¯s something wrong with the wand though. Well, maybe ¡®wrong¡¯ is the wrong word. But there¡¯s something different about it. Two things, in fact. First of all, it isn¡¯t broken anymore. Fresh blinks, holding the suddenly very heavy thing out to Basil, who also stares just as dumb-founded. Secondly, the rare-wood has ceased to be rare-wood and the wand now shimmers with a soft, pale, silvery luster that seems to catch a pink shine from somewhere. Orichalcum. ¡°Basil,¡± says Fresh, looking at the wand as Basil takes it from her and examines it herself. ¡°Is this bad?¡± she asks. ¡°Are people going to kidnap us for this?¡± she asks, looking back down at the cauldron. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to be doing repairs¡­¡± mutters Basil, staring her way for a second as she thinks. She looks at the cauldron and then at the wand, lost in thought. ¡°Well¡­¡± she sighs, shaking her head. But then, a smile adorns it and she nods, to Fresh¡¯s surprise. ¡°We¡¯re already all here together. So, honestly, I¡¯m not worried about you being taken to the central-city by yourself anymore,¡± she admits. ¡°Let¡¯s ask Jubilee.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Fresh blinks, looking at Jubilee who sits at the table, admiring the wand. Basil lifts a finger. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± repeats Jubilee, setting the wand onto one of their fingers and balancing it. ¡°Four times what we¡¯re charging for the rare-wood wands,¡± they say. ¡°No. Five.¡± Jubilee wasn¡¯t hard to convince at all. They were on board the moment they saw the item¡¯s menu. ¡°A cauldron that can turn shit into orichalcum?¡± they ask. ¡°For free?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°I don¡¯t think you guys get it. We¡¯re retiring.¡± Fresh crosses her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t want to retire. I want to work.¡± ¡°Correction,¡± notes Jubilee. ¡°Everyone but you is retiring.¡± Basil waves a hand their way. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s exactly fair.¡± Fresh considers it for a moment. Honestly, she wouldn¡¯t have a problem with providing for her friends with her own labor forever and ever - She blinks. - and ever. Is that creepy or sad? Maybe. It is what it is. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯ll keep working together with you.¡± ¡°Me too,¡± says Shamrock. Jubilee sighs. ¡°You people are no fun. Fine, we¡¯ll keep the business running.¡± Shamrock lifts his hand. ¡°Sword?¡± he asks. ¡°Sword?¡± asks Jubilee, looking his way. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡± Fresh blinks, and then nods. ¡°Sword.¡± ¡°I think Shamrock wants a sword,¡± notes Basil. ¡°Yes,¡± affirms the man. ¡°Talk like a normal fucking person,¡± sighs Jubilee, before turning back to her. ¡°How many of these can you make?¡± Fresh rubs her arm, thinking. ¡°How many rare-wood wands do you got?¡± Jubilee stares at her. ¡°¡­How many rare-wood wands can you make? I have that many.¡± ¡°A lot. But we don¡¯t have the rare-wood for more than five¡¯ish a week, I guess,¡± notes Fresh. Jubilee stares at the wand. ¡°Does it have to be rare-wood?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek as she processes their question. ¡°Does the wand have to be out of rare-wood, or can you make a shitty scrap-wood wand and change it to orichalcum?¡± The three of them look her way. ¡°When we¡¯re rich,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯d like a big, soft pillow full of gryphons¡¯ down.¡± Jubilee kicks their feet up, swishing with the wand through the air. ¡°I¡¯ll settle for a mansion and some servants, preferably as far away from you three as possible.¡± ¡°Sword,¡± says Shamrock, getting up to his feet. Fresh sighs. But smiles. She¡¯s happy enough with what she has and she knows that her friends are just joking around and that in reality, that they are too. For sure. Razmatazz No, really. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 336: Grim and evil A gigantic, two-handed sword made out of orichalcum. It¡¯s extremely heavy, but is resilient and has powerful anti-magical properties. Orichalcum is magic-resistant. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Shamrock, looking over the blade as he holds it in both of his hands. Fresh nods. ¡°It¡¯s not gonna last forever,¡± she explains. ¡°But with that durability, it¡¯ll last you a few months. Worst case, I can repair it or just make you a new one,¡± notes Fresh. Shamrock nods. She thinks for a moment. ¡°Lemme see that again real quick,¡± she says, pointing at the table. Shamrock sets it down and Fresh holds her hands out over it. Stopping herself, she turns around and places a hand on Shamrock¡¯s chest, pushing him back another step, before turning back to the sword again. ¡°Huh¡­ neat,¡± she says. Apparently, the magic-resistant metal orichalcum is also resistant against curses. That¡¯s interesting. Fresh tilts her head, wondering if there¡¯s an application to be found here in regards of curse-removal? She shakes her head. ¡°Sorry, Shamrock,¡± she says. ¡°I hope you like it even if it isn¡¯t cursed.¡± The man¡¯s chest heaves as he picks up the large blade. ¡°It¡¯s perfect. Thank you,¡± he says, holding out an arm. Fresh gasps and accepts her rare payment of a hug. ¡°We need to keep it on the down-low, until we manage to think of a good excuse for why we have so much fucking orichalcum,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Agreed,¡± says Basil. ¡°It¡¯ll be very suspicious if we try to sell a wagon full of orichalcum equipment in out first week of business. But¡­¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°We need a cover-story.¡± Fresh stands downstairs, behind the counter, getting everything ready for the day before they open. She watches as the two spriggans chase each other around the low shelves. She can only see their bobbing and bouncing sprouts peaking over the top. ¡°A cover-story?¡± she asks. ¡°We¡¯ll just say that we found it in the dungeon.¡± ¡°Oh, yeah, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll fucking buy that,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Maybe for one wand a month and even then¡­¡± ¡°Where does the current supply come from?¡± asks Basil.Jubilee lifts a finger, pointing out of the window. ¡°Up the road, towards the castle is the forge,¡± they explain. ¡°Some old family operation that works together with the city. They¡¯re basically nobles now.¡± Basil frowns. ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll be in danger if we step on their toes?¡± ¡°When are we not in danger?¡± asks Jubilee, sighing. ¡°I think our timing is good though,¡± they explain. ¡°There¡¯s clearly some shit going on outside. Food and medicine are going to be rationed probably right after the winter festival is over,¡± they say. ¡°So we¡¯ll just be too valuable to be a problem.¡± Basil plays with her bracelet as she thinks. ¡°It¡¯s a good plan, honestly. We have food to offer, we have medicine and if we can supply cheap and powerful equipment too¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be a lifeboat in a crisis,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We might piss off one noble family, but we¡¯ll have ten more begging to wipe our asses so that they don¡¯t get executed by a hungry mob in a few months.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°You¡¯re always so crude.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Sorry. I always forget that I¡¯m in the presence of royalty,¡± they say sarcastically. Fresh considers their points for a moment. They need an explanation for all of their orichalcum, huh¡­? Hmm¡­ She shakes her head. One problem at a time. First, they have to get the store ready for the items they already have on sale. ¡°I got the goo,¡± says an orc woman with a deeply scratchy voice, pointing at her face. Fresh assumes that having ¡®the goo¡¯ is just an expressive way of saying that she has a cold. Basil frowns, leaning over and looking at her. ¡°Do you have trouble sleeping?¡± The woman shakes her head. ¡°All I do is sleep.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± says her party-member from behind her, standing there with crossed arms and shaking their head. ¡°But that was before she got sick too.¡± The orc takes a subtle step back, landing conveniently on their toes. ¡°Follow me,¡± says Basil, walking around the counter. ¡°I have something that¡¯ll help,¡± says the priestess, walking through the shelves with the orc and her friend. ¡°Hey,¡± asks a voice from in front of her. Fresh blinks, looking at the caster wearing an assortment of layered fabric and strings covered in bones and stones. A druid? ¡°If I buy one of these staves, what happens if I put a bone in it?¡± ¡°A bone?¡± asks Fresh, thinking. She shrugs. ¡°I dunno. Maybe it¡¯ll summon a skeleton?¡± guesses Fresh. ¡°We¡¯ve never tested anything except spriggan seeds.¡± ¡°Can I try?¡± asks the caster. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Jubilee pulls her to the side. ¡°You can. But if it breaks, you¡¯re buying it.¡± The customer considers the statement for a while and then nods, setting the staff down onto the counter. ¡°Pretty fucking grim,¡± says Jubilee, looking them over. ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee forgets to be nice a lot.¡± The caster shakes his head, undoing the bauble and dropping a small sliver of bone from one of his cords into it, before screwing it back on. ¡°I get that a lot,¡± says the man. ¡°Part of the trade.¡± ¡°Oh, really?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I thought people liked druids.¡± ¡°Druids?¡± he asks, lifting the staff up. ¡°Ah, you gotta shake it,¡± says Fresh. The man nods and gives the staff a shake. It starts vibrating. ¡°I¡¯m a necromancer,¡± he explains. The piece of bone inside of the glass bauble disintegrates and turns into a fine ash as it fills the glass sphere, swirling around like the nebulous fog inside of a crystal-ball. For a brief instant, the vapors come together to form the shape of a skull, only to come apart again a moment later. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Get the fuck out of here, you¡¯re going to scare away the other customers.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± shouts Fresh. ¡°Sorry! Please don¡¯t go, Jubilee is just a meanie.¡± Something rattles, rising out of a heap of dust on the floor that is leaking out of the staff. ¡°¡­What kind of bone was that?¡± asks Fresh, watching it grow. ¡°Human,¡± replies the man. Fresh blinks. ¡°¡­Oh¡­¡± A simple, sturdy, straight wooden staff with a hollow glass bauble at the end. The enchanted, strong glass absorbs the attributes of whatever is placed inside of itself. Bauble: [Bone Shard] All spells add +15% {DARK} to cast SPELL-DMG Summons a Skeleton fighter to follow you +2 INT +2 WIS A tall, lanky, human skeleton rises up, forming out of the dust, staring around the room, before turning to look at them. ¡°Not bad,¡± says the man. ¡°I can always use another pair of hands.¡± ¡°Is that meant literally?¡± asks Jubilee, eyeing the man¡¯s coat. He digs around in his pockets, setting down a gold Obol onto the counter. ¡°Only on the second day of the week,¡± he says, nodding to them, before leaving. Jubilee sighs, taking the coin and shaking their head. Fresh meanwhile, is trying to decipher what is supposed to happen on the second day of the week? ¡°Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°Did we cross a moral boundary?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not even lunch time,¡± replies Jubilee, dusting off the counter. Fresh lets out an uneasy laugh as she lifts her gaze and stares at Basil¡¯s horrified expression from across the store. It¡¯s probably fine. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 337: A normal morning Fresh sways around, her body drifting through the odd current as the black-water carries her far off and away, off towards some place that is darker, deeper, colder. She knows that she¡¯s dreaming again, but she isn¡¯t really sure what the purpose of the dream tonight is supposed to be. She isn¡¯t being talked to by the spirit of the fountain, she isn¡¯t seeing any odd, horrible visions or vague prophecies of the future to come. She¡¯s just¡­ floating. The currents shift, or more aptly said, the stream that she is being carried in comes to a turn as it moves its way around something massive, something immovable, that sits grounded at the bottom of the water. The water shifts, the ocean receding as Fresh continues to float exactly where she is, as if suspended nonetheless. But now, the space she finds herself in is the air. The ground beneath her, that was just lightless darkness in the depths of the ocean just a moment ago, now comes to form the silhouette of a bright, vivid city beneath herself. It¡¯s glowing, full of life and prosperity and she alone hovers above it, distant, watching, a thing that does not belong to what lies below, as much as the clouds around her do not belong to the grasses beneath them. Patala, the man from the thieves¡¯ guild had told her as much. She doesn¡¯t belong here. She¡¯s not a part of this world and its systems and nature. She¡¯s an outsider, a parasite that has drilled its way into a foreign body without invitation, with nothing good to offer except for the gorging of its own sensations. It feeds and takes from the world and gives nothing good in return. Something grabs her from behind, a strong, metal hand that wraps itself around the back of her neck, as if getting ready to rip her out of the flesh of the body she has attached herself to. Fresh wakes up, shooting upright in her bed. Basil lets out an annoyed grumble at her disturbance and flops over, a limp, noodly arm whacking Fresh on her side. She sighs and rubs her tired eyes. Another bad dream. She¡¯s been having one of these just about every night for the last week and she really doesn¡¯t know why. Things are going well. They¡¯re safe, they¡¯re building a successful, new enterprise, they¡¯re fed and warm. So what¡¯s the problem? Fresh lays back down on her bed, wiggling her way out, feeling Basil¡¯s zombie arm slide over her as she scoots down through the foot area of the bed and gets up. The bed-room is still half-finished. They¡¯ve moved the beds together here in one room, but the walls are little more than timber-framing right now, which still needs to be filled in with insulation and then covered. The spriggan doesn¡¯t ever seem to need sleep and it¡¯s sitting at the base of the kitchen table, waiting for them to wake up like it does every day, having finally stopped its persistent running after and towards them in the middle of the night. Fresh shuffles past it in her ¡®grandma pajamas¡¯. She and Basil had gotten a matching pair again after Jubilee told them to, saying that they¡¯ll throw up if they have to touch either of their ¡®weird, clammy, frog skins¡¯ in the middle of the night one more time. Fresh of course, understands as much for herself, she¡¯s always cold and a little froggy on her exterior. But Basil is really warm and soft. Jubilee is probably just being Jubilee. Fresh yawns, patting the spriggan on the head, as she heads to the kitchen to get their morning coughee started. The spiked mush-mushes don¡¯t offer as much ¡®tanginess¡¯ to the coughee as their other colored counterparts. But it certainly tastes a lot stronger. The spriggan taps after her. Fresh wobbles around the kitchen, getting everything ready and setting up a pot of coughee on the table. Turning off the stove, she zombie-shuffles her way downstairs, sighing with every few steps. Taking this many stairs is always really exhausting in the mornings. Eventually, she reaches the washroom and locks the spriggan out for some privacy, before she falls into the bath and floats there for a while. ¡°You¡¯re really soft!¡± notes Basil, rubbing her hands over Fresh¡¯s arm from across the table. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Jubilee, sipping their coughee. ¡°Like a fucking lizard.¡± Fresh frowns, but then smiles. ¡°I think it¡¯s the mineral water from the bath. It¡¯s really good for our skin,¡± she notes. ¡°Look.¡± She lifts a finger, pressing it against Jubilee¡¯s nose and rubbing it up and down. ¡°Even Jubilee is really soft and smooth.¡± ¡°What did I say about touching me before breakfast?¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, lifting her finger to tap her chin a few times. ¡°I think you said ¡®to do it as much as we need to¡¯.¡± ¡°Gods, you¡¯re sad.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°I am. So let me touch you, Jubilee. So I can feel better,¡± she remarks, pressing her face sideways against Jubilee¡¯s. They let out an annoyed half-snarl, half-grumble and push her away. Basil moves in from the other side, squishing her cheek against the other half of their head. ¡°You know¡­¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°I expect it from her. But I¡¯m really surprised at how fast she ruined you,¡± they remark, looking at Basil out of the sides of their eyes. The priestess who is smushing her face against theirs. Jubilee lifts their coughee, trying to take a sip of it, despite their face being scrunched together from both sides. ¡°Or maybe ¡®disappointed¡¯ is the word?¡± ¡°Oh, lighten up,¡± says Basil. ¡°It¡¯s called ¡®being alive¡¯, you old sour-puss.¡± ¡°If this is what life is,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Then I¡¯m done with it.¡± Jubilee sets their cup down, looking up at Shamrock. ¡°Shamrock, I¡¯ll give you my share of the money if you kill me. Right here. Now.¡± Shamrock sits there, the spriggan in his lap. ¡°Money is worth less than you.¡± ¡°Fuck,¡± mutters Jubilee, looking around the room for an escape. ¡°They got you too?¡± they ask. ¡°I¡¯m gonna be sick¡­¡± Fresh nods, understanding. ¡°That¡¯s because you didn¡¯t have breakfast yet, Jubilee.¡± Jubilee points at their coughee. ¡°It¡¯s right here.¡± ¡°No, I mean, a real breakfast,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Eating breakfast would imply that I still had a will to live,¡± replies Jubilee. Basil bites Jubilee¡¯s cheek and then finishes her attack, so that she can get back to her own breakfast. ¡°On that note, maybe we shouldn¡¯t do business with necromancers?¡± suggests the priestess. ¡°Are we doing this again?¡± asks Jubilee. They point at Shamrock, a follower of the witch¡¯s sect. Then at themselves, a demon and then over to Fresh, the horrible witch. Basil blinks and then sighs, setting her spoon down. ¡°No, you¡¯re right. Sorry. I get lost in old thoughts sometimes.¡± She stirs her porridge around. ¡°I guess necromancers just give me the heebie-jeebies, you know?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°A paying customer is a paying customer. I don¡¯t care if they¡¯re a minotaur, an undead harpy or the reincarnation of the god of lust,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°As long as they pay in cash, we¡¯re open for business.¡± Basil nods. ¡°Sorry, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I didn¡¯t think that we¡¯d end up with a dead body in our house.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°The dead body walked out of our house all by itself. Everything¡¯s fine in my book.¡± Fresh nods. Necromancers are a bit weird, socially. They have powerful magic and are often desired in parties, especially in high-level ones. But at the same time, they¡¯re socially undesirable, given their tendency to defile the corpses of the dead, which really ought to be resting. This often leads to them leading lives of solely work-relationships. The same is true for other taboo magics, such as poison-magic or ash-magic. The fact that most people didn¡¯t choose these gifts, but were rather chosen by them by nature, is of little concern to most. Didn¡¯t one of the fairies have poison-magic? Fresh thinks for a moment. Liro or Pauli or somebody? She doesn¡¯t remember exactly. There are too many of them and she¡¯s lost track in her mind, honestly. ¡°I hope the fairies are okay,¡± she says. ¡°Well that¡¯s fucking random,¡± notes Jubilee. ¡°They¡¯re fine. The useless little shits.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°You think Veli is okay too?¡± ¡°Who the fuck cares?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I care,¡± replies Basil. ¡°I think Veli is doing very welli.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. Shamrock nods, lifting a hand. ¡°I care.¡± Jubilee sighs, emptying their cup and setting it down onto the table. ¡°Okay. I think breakfast is over,¡± they say. ¡°I can¡¯t handle this sad, ¡®give me a hug¡¯ bullshit. The sun isn¡¯t even up yet.¡± Jubilee gets up and then so do the rest of them, finishing their breakfast and getting ready for another day that is surely to be as peaceful and calm as all the others before it. Fresh plays with her red-string bracelet as she walks down the stairs, lifting her gaze to the windows of the storefront, where she can see a smear of red on the other side of the glass, waiting for her. Razmatazz Will we ever come to enjoy the color red again? I don''t think so, personally Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 338: No foreshadowing Fresh stands in front of the cauldron, peering down into its bubbling surface as she watches her reflection float around inside of it, always staring up to face her. ¡°What do I do?¡± she asks it, her voice echoing around the otherwise empty basement. The girl in the water shrugs. ¡°Heck if I know!¡± she says. Fresh sighs. The reflection meanwhile, shakes her head. ¡°Just do what you think is best.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m dumb,¡± argues Fresh, looking at her reflection that has started floating upside down on her back, facing the entirely wrong way in relation to where the real Fresh is. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if you¡¯re real.¡± ¡°I¡¯m as real as you are,¡± replies the reflection. Fresh frowns. ¡°Then how come you¡¯re always hiding?¡± The girl shrugs. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to make things weird for you,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t want to butt into your life,¡± says the reflection. ¡°Besides, it¡¯d be really weird, you know?¡± it asks. ¡°Jubilee would be all, ¡®good morning¡¯ and then you¡¯d say ¡®good morning¡¯ and then I would too and we¡¯d both look at each other awkwardly because we don¡¯t know which one of us was being talked to.¡± The girl in the water shakes her head and rubs her arm. ¡°It¡¯s too weird.¡± Fresh tilts her head. That¡¯s a very specific anxiety. Is she really like this? ¡°Aren¡¯t you me?¡± she asks. The reflection lifts a finger, swirling it around the bottom of the water, as if her finger were stroking along a sheet of glass. ¡°Maybe. I dunno. Aren¡¯t you me?¡± asks her reflection. Fresh grumbles. ¡°Please, just¡­ what do you think I should do?¡± asks Fresh again. ¡°I can¡¯t ask the others because¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s weird?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. She isn¡¯t even sure why it¡¯s weird. But it¡¯s weird. She just¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ It¡¯s all just weird. She can¡¯t ask Jubilee for a neutral opinion, because Jubilee is just as mad at the red-wizard as she herself is. Basil and Shamrock weren¡¯t really there the entire time, they didn¡¯t have the same ¡®relationship¡¯ with the red-wizard as Fresh and Jubilee had. And Fresh herself is the one who was essentially betrayed by the wizard. Though, maybe ¡®betrayed¡¯ is the wrong word. It¡¯s not like there was ever any pact of friendship or allegiance. They always had a business-natured relationship with another. But she herself got too close, she read too much into it all and then it hurt twice as much when the wizard was looking out for her own survival, rather than helping them. Then again, she did steal from their store during a crisis. In a sense, Fresh feels like she could find a way to forgive the wizard for leaving her behind, as odd as that sounds. But she can¡¯t forgive her for stealing from them. But then again, in the west, she had forgiven the fairies for stealing some of their candy. So it¡¯s weird. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be fine,¡± says her reflection. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, looking at it. The reflection shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be fine. It¡¯s all been fine so far, so why wouldn¡¯t it keep on being fine?¡± Fresh thinks for a while. This feels like good advice to her. ¡°Man, I¡¯m really smart,¡± mutters Fresh. ¡°Right?¡± asks the reflection, drifting around in a circle. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t talk to yourself,¡± says Basil, coming down the staircase. Fresh blinks, lifting her gaze to look at the priestess. Turning back down to the cauldron, she sees that her reflection has gone back to normal. ¡°It makes you turn weird after a while.¡± Fresh laughs quietly to herself. ¡°Wait. So you don¡¯t think that I¡¯m weird, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. The priestess shrugs, walking past her and sparing a hand for her shoulder as she makes her way to her table full of potions and bottles. ¡°As weird as the rest of us,¡± says the priestess. ¡°So that makes you normal. For our house.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°That¡¯s a relief.¡± She looks back to the cauldron. ¡°So what do you think?¡± ¡°Me?¡± asks Basil, turning back to her bottles. ¡°It¡¯s not my decision to make,¡± says the priestess. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything that can help her with her predicament,¡± admits Basil, shaking her head. ¡°It¡¯s in the hands of the gods now.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says Fresh. ¡°But, I mean, I do. Maybe,¡± she says, looking over to her damp-grimoire which is sitting against the wall. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t surprise me,¡± notes the priestess. ¡°After all of the other weird stuff you¡¯ve conjured up.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°So you do think I¡¯m weird!¡± Basil laughs. ¡°Like I said. I guess in the context of someone from the outside, so, any normal person, that we¡¯re all weird,¡± explains Basil. ¡°But I¡¯ve found that that¡¯s the way I like the people around me to be.¡± The priestess tinkers around with some glass bottles. ¡°It¡¯s nice that I don¡¯t have to pretend to be any different than I really am, you know?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Mostly,¡± she adds on, looking down at the bottles and then over her shoulder. ¡°Mostly?¡± asks Fresh, tilting her head. ¡°Well¡­¡± Basil. ¡°I¡­ you know¡­ It¡¯s just that -¡± ¡°Hey!¡± barks Jubilee¡¯s voice from the stairs. ¡°Stop fucking around, you slackers! We¡¯re opening!¡± ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh jolts upright. She had completely forgotten that the store is opening now. ¡°Coming!¡± she calls up the stairs. She turns around to grab Basil, so that she can drag her along. But she just sees the door to the washroom closing and then being locked from the other side. Fresh shrugs, assuming that Basil just needs to wash up after breakfast. So she goes upstairs by herself. Fresh stands there with her hands on her hips, staring at the wall. She¡¯s upstairs, it¡¯s her lunch break and she¡¯s decided to work on the wall of their bedroom, rather than eating something. She tilts her head, staring at it. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± The house-spriggan, standing next to her, copies her movements and does the same. ¡°Pakew¡­¡± She nods. ¡°Right?¡± ¡°Pakew.¡± Fresh sighs. It¡¯s a giant dilemma. One that she hadn¡¯t expected to ever be faced with. Should she put a window on the inside wall of their bedroom? On one hand, it doesn¡¯t make much sense, since it¡¯s an inside wall and it would only look out into the living area. But on the other hand¡­ She could put some cute shutters on it and then they¡¯ll roof-over the top of their bedroom. And because of all the empty ceiling space, they can put a little thing on top of it and then it¡¯ll look like they have a tiny, witchy house, inside of their not so tiny, witchy house. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± ¡°Three!¡± says Fresh joyfully, moving her figure three spaces over the board. There¡¯s a little, red game-piece that she knocks to the side as she moves hers to its spot. ¡°Fuck off!¡± barks Jubilee, looking at the dice and then back towards the board. ¡°You fucking scammer.¡± Fresh lets out a devious cackle, reaching over to Jubilee¡¯s bowl of fruit snacks, pulling one out and making a very theatrical show out of eating it. ¡°Basil. Kill her,¡± orders Jubilee, tapping against the table. Basil grabs the dice. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far. But I¡¯ll see what I can manage,¡± says the priestess, giving the dice a shake before throwing them down to the table. ¡°Five.¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°No!¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says Jubilee, watching gleefully as Basil moves one of her figures over by five steps and knocks Fresh¡¯s out of place. ¡°Aaaah, get fucked!¡± they say, showing her the finger. Fresh frowns, watching her little purple stick man die. She sighs, letting her head droop as she slides her bowl of tiny muffins over to let Basil steal one. ¡°Thank~ you~!¡± says Basil sharp and curtly, picking out one. Each of them has a bowl of their favorite snacks. Fresh even went out of her way to buy some of Basil¡¯s favorite orange fruits. Shamrock had requested that Fresh make him a bowl of the red-candy from the west. It was a real pain to get all of the materials here, but she managed somehow. Every time they ¡®damage¡¯ one of the others with their pieces, they get to steal one of their snacks. Every time they make a full lap around without dying, they get to eat one of their own. The snacks represent health-points. It also adds a slight gambling thrill to the game. Fresh had thought of it while she was working on her tarot-cards from a few days ago. She had made up a simple board-game in which each card is a field. They¡¯re using little carved pieces of wood as their figurines. It¡¯s fun. Basil had always wanted to have a ¡®game night¡¯ and now, they¡¯re finally getting their chance. Shamrock grabs the dice. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°Get lost, runt,¡± says Jubilee, pushing the spriggan away. ¡°You¡¯re not a part of this.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t always be so mean to the spriggans,¡± says Basil, patting the thing¡¯s head. Jubilee waves her off. ¡°I¡¯ll be as mean to the spriggans as I deem necessary.¡± Shamrock rolls his dice, landing on an eight, falling exactly one field behind Basil, who lets out a sigh of relief. So far, the man has gotten far more of her fruit than she herself has. He turns his head to look at her. ¡°Soon.¡± ¡°Shamrock, you¡¯re kind of scary,¡± remarks Basil, very dryly. The man¡¯s chest heaves as he turns back to the table, looking at the little figurines moving across the board. ¡°Soon.¡± Razmatazz Speaking of things coming ''soon'', expect some news from me eventually regarding the DIS audiobook! =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 339: No good deed ¡°Please, open your heart,¡± pleads the man, holding out an empty bowl. ¡°Get fucked!¡± barks Jubilee, waving him off, walking away and rolling their eyes. Fresh gasps, shocked at her friend¡¯s rudeness. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she scolds, apologizing to the man who she then gives a few Obols to, before running after her friend. ¡°Jubilee, don¡¯t be mean to people,¡± she lectures. ¡°The poor guy looks like he¡¯s having a hard time.¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°The only person having a hard time here is me, because you keep giving our money away while we¡¯re trying to survive.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°I want people to be happy and healthy though,¡± she says. Jubilee sure has gotten a lot softer in a lot of ways over the year, but ever since they¡¯ve arrived here in the central-city, she can¡¯t help but feel that they¡¯ve gotten snarkier to everyone outside of their own family circle. Jubilee looks back over their shoulder and up towards her. ¡°I¡¯d be happier if the streets weren¡¯t filling up with parasites,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Fuck ¡®em. If you can¡¯t make it on your own, I say it¡¯s fair for the winter to take you with it. The world doesn¡¯t need more dead weight,¡± says Jubilee, looking at her. ¡°People don¡¯t deserve to live just because they¡¯re alive.¡± Fresh rubs her arm. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have made it if you hadn¡¯t helped me back then, Jubilee,¡± she admits. ¡°When we first met.¡± ¡°That was different,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. But Fresh doesn¡¯t really understand how it¡¯s any different. With the shield up around the city, a lot of people whose businesses and industries relied on the surrounding forest or to excursions outside of the city have essentially been left adrift. Those with no substantial savings or other avenues of business to stay afloat are all going under. Those who can get their money in the dungeon, do so. But capable adventurers or fighters are only a small percentage of the population. A merchant who has been peddling wares for all of his days will only find very limited success in a real fight. So, day by day, the number of people outside, trying to beg for a few coins, trying to ask for a job, trying to make ends meet one way or the other, has been steadily increasing. Though, not around the festival grounds. The guards are chasing them all away there, intent on keeping the poor and hungry out of sight, so that they don¡¯t ruin the mood. ¡°Hello!¡± says Fresh, waving to the guardsman stationed outside of their door. The one who the city inspectors had told them about. Apparently, it took a few days to organize someone, but now that person is here and standing next to their entrance with a pike in hand. ¡°Mornin¡¯.¡± ¡°Can you fuck off?¡± asks Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips. ¡°You¡¯re going to scare away our customers.¡± The man shakes his head. ¡°Orders. I¡¯m supposed to stay here and stand guard.¡± Jubilee points to the left. ¡°Can you stand three steps to the left and stand guard there?¡± ¡°No.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Thanks for your hard work!¡± beams Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you,¡± she says, holding out her hand. ¡°Muldrich.¡± ¡°Hi, Muldrich!¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m Fresh, this is Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°Let us know if there¡¯s anything you need,¡± she says, heading inside and then upstairs to the kitchen, where Shamrock and Basil are getting things ready for breakfast. ¡°We got the eggs!¡± she says, pulling out a small, straw-packed wooden box that she hands to Shamrock. Jubilee is still the undisputed egg-master, but today is Shamrock¡¯s turn. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a guard outside,¡± says Basil, sipping her tea. ¡°Yeah, we saw,¡± replies Jubilee, sighing. ¡°Bad mood today?¡± asks the priestess, looking at Jubilee as they sit down on the chair. Fresh sneaks up behind the priestess, resting her chin on top of her head. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for my life to end,¡± says Jubilee, leaning back over their chair. ¡°But the gods have no such mercy for me.¡± ¡°Maybe you¡¯re having a bad time because you¡¯re grumpy?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°Wow. Thanks, Basil,¡± says Jubilee sarcastically. ¡°I never looked at it that way before, dumb-ass.¡± Basil shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m just saying. Maybe if you actually tried to be happy, you¡¯d be happy.¡± Fresh nods. She likes that philosophy. ¡®Fake it until you make it¡¯ is a tried and true motto for just about every avenue of life, from business success to personal happiness. ¡°Maybe I¡¯d be happy if I wasn¡¯t surrounded by tea-cup philosophers all day, every day,¡± notes Jubilee. Basil lifts her cup, sipping from it. ¡°It¡¯s a coughee cup, actually.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°It¡¯s true, Jubilee!¡± she says, pointing at the cave-stone cup. ¡°I made it especially to drink coughee out of.¡± Jubilee groans, sinking deeper into their chair. ¡°If you slouch like that, you¡¯re going to turn into a slime,¡± says Basil, sipping her coughee. ¡°Ah!¡± she looks over to Shamrock, who is staring over his shoulder. ¡°No offense, it¡¯s just an expression.¡± The man turns back to his cooking, his chestplate heaving as he lets out a loud exhalation. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If we¡¯re done dissecting my personal life, we need to tighten up some things.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± asks Basil. ¡°No more talking about ¡®business¡¯ downstairs or when the windows are open,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Last thing we need is that fuck, Moldorf -¡± ¡°Muldrich,¡± corrects Fresh. ¡°- Mulberry overhearing us,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If he asks to use the washroom, tell him to fuck off into the dungeon,¡± explains Jubilee. Fresh frowns, rubbing her chin over Basil¡¯s hair. It smells like lavender. ¡°That seems mean.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going to seem mean is when we all get executed because the city-guard saw your fucky cauldron,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh shrugs. ¡°We could move it upstairs? Or I could just like¡­ put a big crate around it?¡± she suggests. ¡°Then it would look like any other box in the basement.¡± Basil thinks for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s just a little thing. But it would be smart to make a good impression with the man,¡± she says. ¡°He might just be a low-ranking guard, but having him on our side is always better than having him against us.¡± The priestess sets her cup down. ¡°If we can win him over with some small neighborly kindness, it could save us a lot of headaches in the future,¡± suggests the priestess. ¡°Especially if we¡¯re going to be stirring up trouble with the nobles eventually.¡± Fresh blinks. Basil sure has taken on a lot after Jubilee. That sounds like one of their ideas. Though, sometimes she wonders if Basil isn¡¯t a lot like Jubilee to begin with and if their presence has simply allowed her to be freer from the metaphorical shackles of her priesthood? Shamrock sets down the plates onto the table. Breakfast is ready. The four of them enjoy a nice meal before getting ready for their opening today. Fresh has been banished into the basement. She frowns, looking at a glass bauble. A man had come in, asking for something to eat. He was the same man that Fresh had given some coins to this morning. Jubilee yelled at her and sent her to the basement, before going outside to Muldrich and telling him to keep out any riff-raff. She sighs, looking at the small ball of glass down before herself. The spriggans are running around behind her, chasing each other around the basement. The future is always such an uncertain thing. ¡°The future¡­¡± Fresh stares at the glass in her hands, realizing her latest idea. She sets to work. Really, it¡¯s a very simple thing. First, she takes a block of moon-glass from their collection, one that¡¯s about two fists in width and length, and then carves a sphere out of it. Then she carefully hollows it out, leaving a tiny pin-prick hole on the bottom. Dusting it off with a damp rag, she wraps the hollow glass ball into a cloth and then holds the edges of it as she dunks it into a vat of mineral-moonwater. The ball fills up with water, becoming heavier. She pulls it out and sets it back onto the table, unwrapping it. Drying it off, she grabs some paste and then seals the tiny hole shut again. Now all that¡¯s left is a pedestal, but that¡¯s easy enough. She just takes some normal wood and makes an indented circular shape with a flat bottom. Setting the ball inside, she steps back and admires her work. Nothing happens. Fresh blinks. One of the spriggans wobbles over and it taps the glass-ball with its staff. The crystal lights up. ¡°Pakew!¡± ¡°Thanks, little guy,¡± says Fresh, nodding in satisfaction as she looks at her latest creation. Quality Effect: Recharges its energy on a daily basis. Razmatazz Hello everyone, DIS volume 1 is now available for pre-order on Audible! The narrator is none other than Andrea Emmes, who you might know as the voice of Beneath the dragon-eye moons! Super exciting! *-* Volumes 2-4 are being recorded as we speak! https://www.audible.com/pd/B09RS3VSMZ?qid=1643963024&sr=1-1&ref=a_search_c3_lProduct_1_1&pf_rd_p=83218cca-c308-412f-bfcf-90198b687a2f&pf_rd_r=8KQXCSXZACV53A3TCA7E Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 340: Nothing to worry about A cool draft pulls in through the window, blowing the fabric of the newly hung up chicken-curtains to the side. The drapes billow in the breeze, pulling away from the wall like shackled ghosts as the whisper of the night enters their home. Light shines around Fresh¡¯s woven fingers which spin around the haunting glow of the orb set down before herself on the table. A light shawl, which she has twisted around herself like a hood, adorns her head that is hunched over the crystal-ball. ¡°I see¡­ I see¡­.¡± The air between the two of them is tense, stiff. The discomfort present in the emptiness between them is tangible. It can be felt as if it were a malevolent spirit, sitting there between the two of them. A pair of eyes stares her way nervously, two fearful appendages covering a set of pursed lips, waiting to hear what the future might hold in store. Fresh gasps. ¡°I see someone with you,¡± says Fresh, lifting her gaze to look at the customer. ¡°Pakew?¡± asks the spriggan, sitting across from her at the library table. Fresh nods. ¡°They have¡­¡± she looks back down at the orb. ¡°A leaf on their head!¡± ¡°Pakew?!¡± Fresh nods again, spinning her fingers around the orb as she stares back into it, her eyes wide, unblinking, as they absorb the glow of the future that might one day come to pass. ¡°Their skin is woody and barky,¡± she affirms. ¡°You¡¯re just describing a spriggan,¡± sighs Jubilee. Fresh jumps up to her feet. ¡°You¡¯re going to spend your days together, having a lot of fun!¡± The spriggan gasps, its stubby arms tapping against its face in excitement. Fresh nods. ¡°And then, one day, you¡¯ll like each other a whole lot!¡± The spriggan kicks its stubby legs around giddily. The wind howls, pressing into their home, pressing the fabric of the shawl past her face, whipping it towards the darkness present in the room, as if it were yanking her towards it. A hand clutches the table as the other rises to point at the spriggan with a crooked finger. ¡°But beware!¡± she says. ¡°Be on the lookout for a man with a purple scarf and black boots,¡± she warns. ¡°He will destroy your future.¡± ¡°Pa¡­ pakew?¡± Fresh nods, sitting back down. She lowers her gaze, closing her eyes. ¡°The orb has spoken,¡± she whispers, waving her hand over the crystal-ball. The house-spriggan nods uncertainly and then gets up. ¡°Pakew?¡± asks the healer-spriggan, coming upstairs. The house-spriggan blinks, staring at it. Its gaze rises up to the healer-spriggan¡¯s tall, sprouting leaf and then back down to its brown, woody body. ¡°P- pakew!¡± stutters the house-spriggan, clutching its face as it runs off, apparently embarrassed about something. The healer-spriggan looks back their way. Fresh gives it a wink. It runs off downstairs. ¡°Are you trying to hook the spriggans up?¡± asks Jubilee, leaning back against their chair. ¡°You scumbag.¡± The horrible witch of every-place ever lets out a devious, haunting cackle, spinning her hands above the orb once more. ¡°I see¡­ I see¡­¡± she jumps up to her feet. ¡°I see you going with me to the festival tomorrow!¡± exclaims Fresh. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Nice try. But we have a shop to run.¡± ¡°But Jubileeee~¡± protests Fresh. ¡°You can''t deny the future that I foresee in the crystal-ball!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°You haven¡¯t even used it yet. You¡¯re just making a bunch of spooky noises and playing pretend.¡± They shake their head, getting up. ¡°Let¡¯s go to bed,¡± they say, waving her off as they go downstairs too, to get ready to sleep. ¡°We have a business to run.¡± Fresh frowns, sitting there alone at the table. She looks back down to the crystal-ball and holds her hands against it. A vision appears in the glass of the crystal-ball. She is walking through the winter-festival. In one hand, she¡¯s holding a chicken in her arm. In the other, she¡¯s holding someone¡¯s hand. A human, a woman. Someone familiar. Someone with long hair. Someone - ¡°Come on,¡± says Basil, grabbing her shoulder and interrupting her vision. ¡°Let¡¯s go to bed.¡± Fresh blinks, looking down at the orb which has now stopped and then back to the priestess. ¡°Wanna go to the festival with me tomorrow, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. Basil nods. ¡°I think we can find the time for that,¡± nods Basil back to her. Fresh smiles, looking around. Well, okay then. It looks like it¡¯s time to sleep then. Shrugging, she takes her shawl off and drapes it over the crystal-ball, before heading downstairs herself to get ready to sleep. It is the afternoon of the next day. ¡°Hey Muldrich,¡± says Fresh, peeking out of the door. ¡°You want any lunch?¡± ¡°Are you trying to bribe me?¡± asks the guard, turning his head towards her. Fresh blinks. ¡°No,¡± she answers. This time it¡¯s true. ¡°I just want to know if you want lunch,¡± she says, shrugging. ¡°You didn¡¯t bring anything, right?¡± The man turns his head forward. ¡°No, thank you.¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°Okay. Let us know if you need anything,¡± she says, looking out at the snow-covered city and then at the man¡¯s metal armor. She heads back inside. Muldrich is really all business. Speaking of. Business is a little slower today. The festival is going to be opening tonight, so most of the customers seem to have pulled back, perhaps intent on spending their money there rather than in any of the local businesses. That being said, people might also just be starting to tighten their belts more now. Fresh sighs, looking around at the empty store. Jubilee is sitting behind the counter, tapping against it with a bored finger. Basil and Shamrock are upstairs, getting material ready for Fresh to finish up their bedroom wall with. ¡°What about you, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Lunch?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Don¡¯t care. I¡¯m too bored to be hungry.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°Usually, when I¡¯m bored, it¡¯s the other way around for me. So I get hungry.¡± Jubilee nods, lifting a finger and poking her. ¡°Yeah, it shows.¡± ¡°Rude!¡± ¡°What¡¯s rude is that you¡¯re going to eat us out of house and home and we¡¯ll starve before the winter is over,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re not doing that bad,¡± replies Fresh. Jubilee nods. ¡°Yet.¡± ¡°So, you wanna go to the festival later?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°There¡¯s no business anyways.¡± ¡°Nah.¡± ¡°Jubileeee~!¡± pleads Fresh. ¡°Pleeease?¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°We¡¯ve already been to one festival together. Why would I go to a second one with you?¡± they ask. ¡°My moral obligations are fulfilled.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how friendship works,¡± argues Fresh. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Ask Muldrich. Maybe he¡¯ll go with you.¡± Fresh blinks, leaning back out of the door. ¡°Hey Muldrich?¡± she asks. ¡°Do you wanna go to the festival with us later?¡± The man turns his head to look at her, before staring back straight ahead. ¡°No, thank you,¡± replies the guard. Fresh shrugs, going back to Jubilee. ¡°Muldrich doesn¡¯t want to go.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. A lot of people seem to be getting the sniffles lately. Fresh watches as Basil runs around the aisles, helping the fourth person today who has come in, looking for a budget friendly remedy. Maybe they should eat something wholesome again tonight? Something to keep themselves nourished and healthy. It would be bad if they got sick. She sighs, staring out of the window to the festival that is starting to fill up. It¡¯s going to open in a few hours, shortly before the evening starts. Fresh tilts her head and scratches her cheek, hoping that it¡¯s going to go better than the last festival that was held here. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 341: Positive energy Fresh sighs. ¡°Will you stop moping?!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m going home.¡± She straightens upright, grabbing Jubilee. ¡°Nooo~!¡± pleads Fresh. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± she says, looking around at the festival. ¡°I¡¯m just worried about Basil, is all.¡± ¡°Basil¡¯s fucking fine,¡± says Jubilee, waving her off. ¡°She just has the sniffles,¡± they explain. ¡°It¡¯s what happens if you hang around people all day who¡¯re sick. It gets you too.¡± They nod their head. ¡°Come on. I saw a snack stand over here. Let¡¯s get something, okay?¡± Fresh looks at Jubilee for a moment, realizing that they¡¯re trying their best too. She puts a smile back on her face. ¡°Okay!¡± agrees Fresh. She reaches down, grabbing the spriggan¡¯s hand in one palm and Jubilee¡¯s in the other. Jubilee shakes her off, rolling their eyes and walking away. But the spriggan remains in her grip. Fresh blinks, having an odd sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu for a moment. Shrugging, she pulls the spriggan after herself and runs to Jubilee. It¡¯s unusual for the house-spriggan to want to leave the house, but it seemed to want to do so today. So of course, Fresh had nothing against taking it with them to the festival. The more the merrier. Unfortunately, Basil has fallen ill again, having caught ¡®the goo¡¯ from one of the customers. So she¡¯s at home resting now, with Shamrock in charge of ¡®keeping her alive¡¯. Jubilee had said that Fresh was being dramatic, telling him to do that. But she just wants to be careful. She only has one set of friends and what would she do if anything happened to one of them? ¡°We still have to find something for Basil and Shamrock,¡± says Fresh, catching up to Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find a rat on a stick or something,¡± they reply. ¡°Jubilee!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s gross.¡± Jubilee waves her off. ¡°Oh excuse me, misses high and mighty. I wasn¡¯t aware that we had standards now.¡± Fresh blinks. She understands. ¡°Basil¡¯s going to be fine, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°She just has the sniffles.¡± Jubilee holds their hands out to their sides, shaking their head. ¡°¡­What? Do I sound worried?¡± they ask. The spriggan lifts a hand, patting Jubilee¡¯s side. ¡°Pakew.¡± ¡°Fuck off.¡± Jubilee swipes its stubby arm away. Fresh looks around at the many stalls while Jubilee buys a bunch of junk food which is, ideally, not primarily rat-based. There¡¯s a small stand with some trinkets and jewelry and the like. There are many beautiful stones and simple gems that aren¡¯t of extreme value, but that still carry a simplistic charm to them. They¡¯re adorned to strings and straps or simply sold as loose contents in bins. ¡°Looking for something specific?¡± asks the man, seeing her perusing. He lifts a red stone on a string. ¡°Some red-jasper will get those suitors running your way, missy.¡± Fresh laughs, scratching her cheek. ¡°No, thanks. Do you have anything for someone who¡¯s sick?¡± she asks, looking around at the many rocks, minerals and crystals. The man nods. ¡°Sick-sick?¡± he asks, pointing at his heart with his thumb. ¡°Or ¡®sick¡¯?¡± ¡°Sick-sick,¡± says Fresh. ¡°She has a cold.¡± The man digs around, pulling out an apple green, translucent, smooth stone. ¡°In that case, you want some peridot,¡± he explains. Fresh blinks, lifting her gaze, a little surprised at the word. ¡°Peridot?¡± she asks. The merchant shows her the stone. ¡°Yup. It¡¯s a great stone. It¡¯s really more representative of renewal and rebirth,¡± he notes. ¡°Great after a hard time. It has a very warm energy,¡± he says, handing it to her. Fresh takes it and holds the thing in her hands. ¡°It¡¯ll help clear that all right up.¡± It feels like a rock. Fresh shrugs. The man is clearly an expert in this field. Best to trust his judgment. ¡°Thank you, I¡¯ll take it,¡± she says, wrapping her fingers around it. She pays the man and then promptly gets scolded by Jubilee after they return for spending her money on rocks. (Fresh) bought [Peridot]{Small}(High) for [{30} Obols] ! On the bright side, Jubilee bought some good snacks. They¡¯re sour fruit pieces, dipped into a sweet sauce that¡¯s frozen on fresh snow and then seasoned. They get put into a paper bag, together with a set of small wooden forks. There are also a lot of games and stuff. Fresh plays a few together with the spriggan and she even manages to convince Jubilee to play a toy crossbow shooting game with her. It¡¯s a lot of fun, actually. She just wishes everyone could have been here. ¡°I got you a rock, Basil!¡± says Fresh proudly, holding out the stone with both hands to the priestess whose face just so happens to be the same shade of green as it. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil, sounding very stuffy. She takes it. Jubilee walks by, waving both of them off. ¡°What she¡¯s trying to say is that she got scammed and she¡¯s trying to pass it off as it being intentional now.¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± Fresh puffs out her cheek. ¡°I didn¡¯t get scammed! I bought it on purpose!¡± she explains. ¡°The man said it helps with this stuff.¡± ¡°Does the menu say it helps with this stuff?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh looks to the side. ¡°No¡­¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Then it doesn¡¯t.¡± Basil wraps her fingers around it and lays back down. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll help me feel better soon. Thank you,¡± says the priestess, laying back down. ¡°Mm! Try to get well soon, so we can still go to the festival together, Basil,¡± she says. But she receives no response, as the priestess seems to have fallen directly to sleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Fresh sighs and walks out of the bedroom. Time to finish the walls, so Basil can have some quiet and some privacy while she¡¯s suffering. Jubilee sits down at the kitchen table. ¡°When Basil dies, we should hire a druid as her replacement,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°They¡¯re more useful than a priestess.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not going to replace Basil with a druid!¡± protests Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll take a battle-alchemist or something then. Sheesh.¡± Jubilee thinks for a moment. ¡°Actually¡­ that could be a good profit avenue.¡± ¡°We already did potions, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. She looks at Shamrock and then grabs a rag, wiping him off. He has a little Basil-goo on his armor. ¡°Not potions to drink,¡± says Jubilee, tapping against the table. ¡°Potions to throw.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Jubilee considers it. ¡°Then again. I don¡¯t want you making explosives in the basement. Forget I said anything.¡± Fresh shrugs, sitting down too. ¡°Okay.¡± Explosives¡­ Fresh stares down at the table for a moment. Wasn¡¯t there something in the east that happened with explosives? She rubs her head, trying to think. Man, everything really is an odd blur these days. She supposes that it¡¯s to be expected with all of the stress and chaos they¡¯ve been undergoing. Maybe that¡¯s why Basil gets sick so often? Her body is probably just under a lot of pressure. Fresh sighs. She hopes that they can stay here for a while. For a longer time than their other homes. All of this moving around every few months is bad for their health. She¡¯d really like to have some peace and some long-term stability in her life for a while. Maybe just a year or two to start? That would be nice. ¡°Why the fuck are you moping now?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We just spent all morning at the festival. What do you want?!¡± they bark at her. Fresh blinks, looking up at Jubilee and Shamrock who are sitting at the table, staring her way. She¡¯s worried about so many things and she¡¯s right to be. But that worrying is putting a bad energy out into their home and her friends are seeing it. She¡¯s making things worse. She lifts her hands, pulling her cheeks up as she redraws the smile on her face. ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± beams Fresh. ¡°I was just thinking that we should make something really hot and heavy for dinner, like a stew.¡± ¡°Meat¡¯s running expensive,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Unless you want dungeon meat or rats.¡± ¡°I ate a rat once,¡± adds Shamrock. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°What the fuck haven¡¯t you eaten?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Demon,¡± replies the man, his chest heaving as he exhales. The room is quiet for a while as they sit there. ¡°Okay. We¡¯re just going to leave that standing there as is,¡± says Jubilee, looking back towards Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ll go get us some groceries if you promise to brighten up, okay?¡± What an unusual thing for Jubilee to request. Fresh supposes that her worrying must have really been getting to them in a bad way. She nods, accepting the terms of the arrangement. Razmatazz I will never not bully Basil Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 342: The little things Fresh sits at the library table, scribbling down sketches from a ¡®how to draw¡¯ book they have. She¡¯s trying to draw a moon like it¡¯s shown here in the book. But for some reason, hers looks nothing like the real drawing in the guide. Her moon looks kind of like a tuber, honestly. She frowns, lifting her gaze towards Shamrock who is sitting across from herself and writing one of his murder-manuals. She stares at him for a moment and then lowers her gaze, feeling a new determination come to her. She stretches her back out, pulls her shoulders back and tries again. Though, the next try also looks like a tuber. But it looks somewhat less tubery than the first one. She takes a five minute break, going to pester Shamrock for a while together with the house-spriggan and then she sits back down and tries again. This one is closer now. Left, right, leg, circle, bounce. Fresh spins around the rare-wood tree, having joined in the spriggan-circle on their farm. It¡¯s that time of the week again and this time, she wanted to be a part of things. The tree unfurls itself in an oddly familiar way. The tension of its slow movements, the exhaustion of its drooping branches, she recognizes this emotion. It¡¯s annoyed. It¡¯s moving exactly the same way that Jubilee moves in the mornings when she wakes them up by biting them in the side of their stomach or by poking them or just by sitting at the foot of the bed and staring at them while they sleep, until they feel her watching and wake up. The rare-wood tree extends its branches out, pushing out a young, thick branch in the middle that it then whacks off with one of its own limbs. The spriggans stop their dance, doing a little flourish and Fresh does the same thing, wiggling her fingers. ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the house-spriggan. ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the healer-spriggan. ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts Fresh, the witch-spriggan. A heavy, loud, slow clapping comes from the side and Fresh turns, looking at Shamrock who is sitting on a chair, having been watching them. Fresh takes a bow. Since Basil is sick, Shamrock and herself are in charge of the farm. Together with the help of the spriggans, it¡¯s a manageable endeavor. Honestly, since the mushrooms mostly grow all by themselves and since the spriggans take care of the tree, all that¡¯s really left for them to do is to pluck some unwanted weeds and to water the dirt, so that it stays nice and moist for the mushrooms. Basil has also started a small composting pile in the back corner, where they add any scraps leftover from their dinner or from their medicine crafting, but Fresh doesn¡¯t like to go near it. It smells. The spriggan drags the rare-wood branch to Shamrock, who takes it, patting the creature on the head. ¡°Pakew,¡± says the giant man. ¡°Pakew!¡± Fresh wobbles over, turning her head sideways. She feels like she¡¯s earned a pat too. Fresh wedges the last of the goop into place, filling the last hole to their bedroom. Grabbing her trowel, she smooths it over into a nice, even finish that can now settle and dry on its own. The windows are open to avoid any unwanted smells, even if it makes it colder in the house now. It¡¯s important. Who knows what kind of weird fumes this stuff might give off in a sealed room? Fresh nods to herself, satisfied with the wall to their bedroom. There¡¯s still the matter of the ¡®roof¡¯, but that¡¯s easy. A support beam, a few planks on top and it¡¯s done. If she does it right, they can even use the space above their bedroom as a little hangout area. She really likes that idea. Plus it will keep the warmth inside of their bedroom. But that¡¯s a project for tomorrow, after the walls have dried. She heads inside, making sure Basil is tucked in, before going back out and getting lunch ready for everyone. Fresh stands in front of the magical cauldron, down in the basement, staring at it. The cauldron bubbles, the water being as tumultuous as ever. She lifts her hand, still staring at the thing in it. - A fork. Fresh stares at the fork and then towards the cauldron and then back at the fork. She shouldn¡¯t¡­ Looking around the basement, Fresh whistles quietly and then turns her head around, lifting her arm and ¡®accidentally¡¯ dropping the fork into the water with a quiet splash. The cauldron rumbles and bubbles and a second later, it spews the fork out, which Fresh only realizes the danger of as she barely catches it in mid-air. Laughing a nervous laugh to herself as she sees the prongs of the fork sticking through the gaps between her fingers, that it only just barely managed to slide through by sheer happenstance, she steps back from the cauldron and shakes it off, making a note to make a net or something. Otherwise there¡¯s going to be a real problem when they start making swords and stuff. Fresh blinks, staring at the orichalcum fork. ¡°Huh¡­¡± she mutters to herself, setting it down onto the workbench. She looks around the basement, grabbing one of Basil¡¯s glass bottles. Double checking to see if nobody is watching, she drops it into the cauldron, catching it a second later as it flies out. Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Interesting. She sets the bottle down next to the form and looks around the basement for anything else. There are so many different things she could try out. ¡°Here, try this,¡± says Jubilee, handing her a hammer. Fresh nods. ¡°Good idea, Jub-¡± She stops, turning her gaze to stare at Jubilee, who is standing there with their hands on their hips, glaring at her. She didn¡¯t even notice them coming downstairs. Fresh laughs nervously and quietly sets the hammer down onto the table. ¡°You know what you did.¡± Fresh turns, making a break for it. ¡°CHICKEN-BUTT!¡± she yells. Something grabs her and she stumbles. ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t!¡± barks Jubilee. Fresh falls down to the floor and howls in terror as a strong hand grabs her ankle and drags her towards her cruel, inescapable fate. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 343: Medical professionals ¡°Do you have anything for sore feet?¡± asks the man. Fresh blinks, looking at Jubilee for a moment, who just shrugs. ¡°No, sorry,¡± she says. ¡°Do you walk a lot?¡± He shakes his head. ¡°I stand a lot.¡± ¡°Buy a chair?¡± suggests Jubilee. Fresh clears her throat, nudging Jubilee with her leg. ¡°We¡¯ll have something ready for you, if you can come back tomorrow,¡± she offers. The man thinks for a moment and then nods, hobbling away and out of the door. Fresh sighs, scribbling down the next item on the list she has laid out before herself. It isn¡¯t just a cold going around, there are all sorts of weird things that happen to people¡¯s bodies. But this is outside of her field of expertise. Foot aches? Maybe the man just needs a bath and a foot-rub? ¡°Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°Do you want a foot-rub?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to pretend I didn¡¯t just hear you ask that,¡± says Jubilee, sliding some coins around in the till. ¡°We will never speak of this again.¡± Fresh shrugs, looking back to the list. She has to ask Basil about all of this stuff. The next customer comes up to the counter. ¡°Excuse me,¡± says the dark-elf. ¡°I¡¯m looking for something to help with an ear-ache?¡± she asks, rubbing her long ears. Fresh blinks, writing down another thing on the list. ¡°Try scissors?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she gasps, nudging Jubilee again. This isn¡¯t going to be a very productive day. She can feel it. Fresh sits on a chair at the side of the bed, her head resting on Basil¡¯s legs as she waits for the priestess to wake up from her daily sixth nap. She is here on her lunch break. It¡¯s hard to run the store without Basil, given that such a large focus of their inventory is on medicine and that she¡¯s the only one who¡¯s really knowledgeable enough in any fashion to deal with that sort of stuff. Fresh sighs to herself, it doesn¡¯t look like Basil is going to wake up soon though. So, after another five minutes of laying there, she leaves her notepad by the bed with a question mark scribbled onto it and then goes outside to make lunch for the others. ¡°Pakew?¡± asks the spriggan. The healer spriggan nods. ¡°Pakew.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± asks an excited voice. Fresh looks over the counter, seeing a familiar elf. She¡¯s one of their first ¡®wand customers¡¯. ¡°How did you get your spriggan to grow?!¡± she asks excitedly, pointing at the healer spriggan. Fresh blinks, staring down at the spriggan the elf has summoned with her wand. It¡¯s¡­ dressed in a cute little wizard¡¯s hat and cape. It even has its own tiny rucksack. She¡¯s going to cry. She can feel it. Fresh gasps, clutching her face as she sees it. She feels like a proud mother. The spriggan holds its stubby arms out and bobs around on its feet. ¡°Pakew!¡± Jubilee pulls her to the side to get her out of the way, looking at the elf. ¡°We have our ways. Thr- four hundred Obols and we can do it for this guy too,¡± they say, pointing at the little adventurer. The elf blinks, looking back towards her party who are standing there, all four of them shaking their heads in unison. The healer of the group seems to be shaking his head a little faster, actually. She turns back to the counter. ¡°Deal!¡± she says, slapping down a few large, silver Obols onto the wood. Jubilee nods, elbowing her. ¡°Take care of it.¡± ¡°Okay!¡± says Fresh, looking down at the spriggan. ¡°You don¡¯t mind, right?¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± She nods. That¡¯s good enough for her. Heading down to the basement, she grabs a bottle of mineral-water and then heads back upstairs. ¡°Close your eyes, little guy,¡± she says and then drops a few drops of the mineral-water onto it. The spriggan changes and shifts, growing into a larger, thinner second stage of development. Its sprouts begin to grow many more leaves and petals, pushing the hat off of its head. ¡°Wow!¡± says the elf, clearly excited about this. ¡°Can you do it again?¡± she asks. Fresh blinks. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Can you do it again?¡± asks the elf. ¡°There are way bigger spriggans down in the dungeon!¡± Fresh lifts her eyes, looking at the party in the back who are furiously shaking their heads. ¡°Sure as fuck we can!¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Eight hundred Obols for a stage three spriggan.¡± The elf frowns. ¡°That¡¯s a lot.¡± Jubilee points at the spriggan. ¡°You¡¯re paying a one-time investment for a permanent, unpaid party member. It¡¯s a good deal.¡± The elf seems to be thinking. ¡°That¡¯s a good point.¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°Right?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll come back next week then,¡± says the elf, sighing as she walks off. ¡°We¡¯re broke now.¡± She slouches out of the door. The adventuring spriggan waves goodbye and then wobbles after the elf, her party in pursuit, each of them sparing herself and Jubilee a cold look. Fresh laughs an uneasy laugh, waving goodbye to them. ¡°Thank you, come again!¡± she calls. Muldrich peeks inside, looking around the store, staring at the spriggans. ¡°Everything¡¯s fine, Muldrich,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Do you want lunch?¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± replies the guard, leaning back out. Jubilee whistles, setting the sheet to the side. ¡°Those spriggan upgrades are free money,¡± they say. ¡°We need to get more of those wands out there,¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°The more wands we sell, the more upgrades we can sell.¡± They lean back, nodding in contentment. ¡°It¡¯s a good business model.¡± Fresh walks back out of the bedroom. Basil is still asleep, but the notepad is covered in scribbles and instructions for all sorts of different things. From a salve for sore feet to a tincture for an ear-infection. Basil had apparently written down all of the things that she needs to do in between one of her naps. It looks like it¡¯s going to be a long, busy night with little sleep tonight. ¡°I gotta skip dinner today,¡± says Fresh, holding the notepad out to them. ¡°Gotta get started with this medicine if we want it done by tomorrow,¡± she sighs. Jubilee nods, getting up. ¡°Shamrock,¡± they say. ¡°You¡¯re in charge of dinner. Get something good,¡± instructs Jubilee, sliding a pile of coins towards him. ¡°No fucking candy.¡± The man nods, getting up. ¡°I serve.¡± ¡°Damn right you do,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°You go to the basement and get started with the ingredients.¡± ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re helping.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Are we qualified to make medicine, Jubilee?¡± ¡°Fuck no,¡± says Jubilee, kicking their chair in. ¡°But we¡¯re gonna do it anyways. If someone dies, it¡¯s not our problem. They paid in advance.¡± Fresh rubs her arm, laughing. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good business model, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Fuck ¡®em,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°They came to us, they¡¯ll get what we make and they¡¯ll like it.¡± They wave for her to follow them. Fresh looks at Shamrock who shrugs at the same time as her. Jubilee sure has been a real go-getter lately. Oh well, it could be worse. Smiling, she heads after them to the basement, happy to have some company. It¡¯s going to be a long, exhausting night. There¡¯s always so much work to do. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 344: Double trouble Fresh floats there on her flying broom, not sure if she should feel bad or not. Though, she¡¯s tending towards feeling bad, in all honesty. Shamrock stares up her way and gives her a thumbs-up from down below. The horrible witch gulps, looking at the little spriggan that is bobbing around in the middle of the first floor of the central-dungeon. She lifts a finger, pointing at it from near the ceiling that she is hovering just below. Sorry, little guy,¡± says Fresh, a glow collecting around her finger. Given their current circumstances, Fresh had decided that it would be in their collective best interests if she finally got herself together and did some dirty adventuring work down in the dungeon. If she levels up a little more finally, she¡¯ll get more stats. If she has more stats, she can be more useful for her family. When Basil gets sick, she¡¯ll have more energy to take care of her and to compensate for the missing person. When Jubilee has a bad day, she¡¯ll have more capacity to help them out with their troubles. When Shamrock decides to eat half of their food in the cooling cabinet in the middle of the night, she¡¯ll have the ability to save him from Jubilee¡¯s wrath. But in order to ensure that she wouldn¡¯t get in Shamrock¡¯s way while he tears through the dungeon, Fresh took her broom with herself, so that she could always just float away, outside of any particular danger. It has the added advantage that from up here, she can just blast the dungeon-monsters with her spells and most of them can¡¯t do a single thing about it. It actually feels a little like cheating? She wonders if this is why flying is seen as somewhat taboo? Hmm¡­ During their stay in the east, she had gotten a lot of ¡®passive¡¯ experience points and levels because of all of the crabs, before the weather-vane incident. But they¡¯re in the big leagues now, the center is full of high-level people and she¡¯s nowhere near that. It¡¯s the hour between breakfast and their opening and they make the most of it, the two of them essentially strolling down the first twenty floors of the freshly reset dungeon, until she levels up again. [Level up! You are now LEVEL 21! ] {Cooking 7}{Crafting 9}{Gathering 4}{Adventuring 5}{Witch-Crafting 9}{Mercantile 7} STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 4327 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] *~+- PLEASE CHOOSE AN ABILITY -+~* [1] Choice Remaining [Witch-crafting 9]{Hexenjagd} Spawns a mirror version of yourself from any reflective surface that will, while in combat, theatricality fly around the area, distracting any enemies. The mirror version takes half of your stats while present. [Cooking 6]{Cookie Crumble} All sweets baked by you have an enhanced shelf life of 25%, as well as an additional +15% to any offered stat bonuses. Allows you to use SWEET food items as weapons. [Adventuring]{I have been to the western-mountain} Passively regenerates your SOUL-POINTS at a rate of 1 / Minute when the temperature is below 10¡ãC. Fresh stares at the menu, before then lowering her gaze towards Shamrock. The choice is clear. The giant man shakes his head. She nods, lifting a finger. He shakes his head faster. Fresh nods faster. Her finger pressing against the screen. ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee!¡± says Fresh excitedly, standing on the other side of the counter. ¡°Look at this!¡± she exclaims, holding out an open book that she found in the library. It¡¯s a compendium of the cutest monsters known to man. Thankfully, there are a lot of very cute, very detailed pictures. She looks down at the page. Oh, this is the wrong one. This is the succubus page. Laughing to herself, she flips the page to the thing she actually wanted to show Jubilee, the page on baby mush-mushes. Spriggans only rank in at about spot seventeen, which she thinks is a travesty. But she¡¯s not going to show the spriggans that. Jubilee stands there, their head resting on their hand, their elbow on the counter. ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± says Fresh, standing behind Jubilee, grabbing their shoulders and shaking them. ¡°I was in the dungeon with Shamrock and I found a rock!¡± Jubilee¡¯s free hand taps against the wood of the counter. Fresh flips through the pages of the book, looking for other cute things to show Jubilee. She had no idea that there were so many cute monsters. What a world! She¡¯s been making potions and items and gunk and stuff this whole time, when in reality, she clearly should have gone into the monster trade. Fresh gasps, looking at the entry on baby dragons. This one is red. ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee!¡± she exclaims, pointing at the drawing of a baby dragon. The other Fresh flops her body over the counter, looking sideways at Jubilee, who is doing their best to ignore both of them. ¡°Jubilee! Look at what I can do!¡± The Fresh laying on the counter sticks her tongue out, trying to touch the tip of her nose with it. Feeling Jubilee staring at her, Fresh stops, her tongue held out. She lifts her hand, touching Jubilee¡¯s face. ¡°Touch.¡± The Fresh across the counter lifts a hand, touching Jubilee¡¯s face too. ¡°Touch!¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to kill one of you. I don¡¯t care which one of you is the real one,¡± says Jubilee, reaching around for the bag of dirt. Both Freshes blink and then lift a hand, pointing at the other one. ¡°I¡¯m the real one!¡± ¡°Nu uh!¡± argues the other Fresh, crossing her arms. ¡°I¡¯m the real one!¡± The Fresh across the counter leans in, placing her hands on her hips. ¡°Oh yeah?! Prove it!¡± ¡°Okay! I will!¡± says the Fresh behind the counter. ¡°One time, I was in Jubilee¡¯s room back in the north and I secretly smelled their pillow!¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°That was a secret!¡± she yells, hitting her fists against the counter. ¡°Okay! Well, one time I stood in front of Jubilee¡¯s bed and watched them sleep for over an hour!¡± The other Fresh gasps. ¡°How could you share my secrets like that?!¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m the real Fresh! They¡¯re MY secrets!¡± ¡°No! I¡¯m the real Fresh!¡± Both of them turn towards Jubilee, pointing at the other one. ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± shout both of them at the same time, pointing at each other. Jubilee turns their head, glaring at Shamrock. Feeling them staring, the man who is standing by the shelves, restocking them, lifts his helmet to look their way. The two of them look at each other for a moment. Metal rattles as Shamrock turns back to look at his work, as if nothing was wrong at all. ¡°I can¡¯t live like this,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m just going to kill you both. The real one should probably come back to life¡­ eventually.¡± They nod to themselves, grabbing some dirt from their bag. Both Freshes yelp, scrambling away, one of them flopping over the counter as they both run for their lives. ¡°Just admit that you¡¯re fake!¡± yells Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re getting Jubilee mad at us!¡± ¡°No! You admit that you¡¯re fake!¡± yells the other Fresh. ¡°Jerk!¡± ¡°Meanie!¡± They sprint upstairs, making a sprint towards the only safe place, the bedroom. ¡°Basil! Basil!¡± yells Fresh, pointing at her double. The priestess, sitting upright in bed with a damp rag on her forehead, stares their way, blinking. ¡°I made a magical copy of myself and now she won¡¯t admit that she¡¯s fake!¡± ¡°Huh?!¡± The Fresh on the right grabs her arm, biting it. ¡°Ow!¡± ¡°You¡¯re the fake one!¡± says the biter Fresh. ¡°Basil! Don¡¯t listen to her! She¡¯s an evil mirror copy of myself that I summoned with dubious witch magic!¡± Basil, still not having said anything, blinks and then continues to stare quietly. She adjusts the rag on her forehead, mumbling something indiscernible as she lays down in bed again, apparently not wanting or able to get involved because of her raging fever. A pair of large, metal hands grabs the two of them and then drags them out of the room. ¡°Work,¡± is all that Shamrock says. ¡°Noooo~¡± howls one Fresh. ¡°Okay!¡± says the other one. ¡°Aha!¡± she gloats. ¡°The real me likes working hard!¡± ¡°Nu uh!¡± says the upset Fresh. ¡°I just like working hard so that I can make my friends happy.¡± ¡°They¡¯re my friends!¡± ¡°They¡¯re mine!¡± They glare at each other for a moment before turning to Shamrock who is carrying them both over his shoulders, down the stairs. ¡°Shamrock!¡± cry both of them at the same time. The man shrugs. ¡°You¡¯re heavier than before.¡± Both of the Freshes over his shoulder sigh at the same time. Razmatazz DIS Books 1-3 have been entirely re-edited and re-formatted on amazon. Plus they now include the trivia sections! If you already have them, you''ll probably need to redownload on your kindle to see the changes. Trivia - Doppelgangers The word ¡®Doppelganger¡¯ is actually a German word that has been borrowed by the English language, similar to the word ¡®Kindergarden¡¯. Doppel = Double G?nger = Traveler* {Fu?g?nger = Foot traveler} *This isn¡¯t an exact translation of ¡®g?nger¡¯ but it¡¯s close enough. Literally Double traveler, double walker, double goer, etc, something on that line. Anyways, Doppelg?nger are often ghostly or spooky twin versions of a person and are the origin of the ¡®evil twin¡¯ stereotype. The first time the word was used was in 1796 by the German romantic novel ¡®Siebenk?s¡¯. That being said, the concept of a things as an alter-ego or ¡®spirit doubles¡¯ goes back much further than that and is widespread around the world. For example, the ancient Norse had a creature known as Vard?ger who are essentially deja-vu ghosts. They would often be seen by a person, doing the tasks that they themselves were about to do. In Finish, the same thing exists too, which makes sense because they¡¯re neighbors, though they call this eti?inen ¨C A thing that comes first. The ancient Egyptians had spirit doubles as well, entities that shared a persons emotions and feelings. Most relevant for us however, is the Ankou. The Ankou is the Breton/ Norman version of the doppelganger and is often seen as a man or a skeleton wearing a black robe, with a scythe. Often with a large hat or a hood that hides his face. Sound familiar? This sounds like our modern depiction of the grim-reaper, however, Ankou is just a henchman of death, not death itself. So this means that the grim-reaper, the man with the robe and the scythe who we all hold to be the spirit of death himself is actually just the guy who works for death. How is this related to doppelgangers? Well. What do you think you¡¯ll see, when Ankou lowers his hood, dear reader? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 345: Birds of a feather-duster Fresh stares at the forbidden feather-duster. The harpy feather-duster is set high up on top of a bookshelf in the library. Jubilee had told Shamrock to throw it up there, so that she would stop causing trouble with it. She was working downstairs in the basement, but she had to sneeze. She assumes it¡¯s from all of the dust, so now, here she is. Alone in the library, trying to reclaim her lost feather-duster. Should she climb up the shelf? That seems dangerous¡­ What if they¡¯re not mounted to the walls? They could tip over. Or the boards of the shelf could crack through if she puts her weight on them, trying to climb up its face. Maybe she could just get a ladder? Or a really long stick with a hook? Hmm¡­ Fresh stands there in the library, feeling the morning sunlight shining in through the window, the warm, orange rays illuminating the dusty particulate that drifts around the room. ¡°Ah!¡± She comes to a realization, hitting her fist into an open palm. Opening her inventory, she pulls out her flying broom and then sits herself onto it, floating up to the top of the shelf. Her head peeks out above the shelves and she looks around. They had dusted the library before, but it looks like they missed the top of the shelves. Boy, it sure is dusty up here. Fresh¡¯s nose wiggles. Then again, with all of the regrowing plant-matter inside of their home, dusting is a losing battle. The flowers are always releasing fresh pollen and the mushrooms are always releasing spores. The air is just¡­ full of nature, for better or worse. Fresh grabs the feather-duster. Somebody clears their throat. Hovering above the bookshelves, her hand resting on the feather-duster, Fresh turns her gaze and looks at Jubilee, who is standing at the library-table with crossed arms, looking at her. The two of them stare at each other for a moment. Not saying a word, Fresh doesn¡¯t budge a muscle on her face and slowly hovers back down into the obscuring safety between the bookshelves. The feather-duster slips down along with her hand, swinging out. A gust of wind shoots through the house. Doors and windows slam shut all at once, the shelves rattle. Books and loose papers fly all around the room, together with a cloud of dust that fills the space like a thick fog. Hearing Jubilee¡¯s angry shouts, Fresh flies the other way through the shelves, zooming around between them as she maneuvers her escape. Taking a sharp bend, she shoots over Jubilee and towards the staircase. ¡°Get back here!¡± they bark, pointing behind themselves. ¡°You¡¯re cleaning this up!¡± ¡°I just wanted to dust!¡± howls Fresh, flying up the staircase as she looks for a way to escape. But she¡¯s trapped herself. There¡¯s nowhere to go upstairs. She flies into the walled off, but not roofed, bedroom. ¡°Hi, Basil,¡± she says. Basil sips a cup of tea, still lying in bed. ¡°Are you being mean to Jubilee?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, pointing at the feather-duster. ¡°I¡¯m never mean to Jubilee. I¡¯m trying to dust the house.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± remarks the priestess, who is on her way to getting better again. She lifts a hand, pulling a strand of Fresh¡¯s hair back where it ought to be. ¡°I had an idea about that.¡± ¡°An idea?¡± asks Fresh. Basil nods. ¡°Why not use that to create a draft?¡± she suggests, pointing at the feather-duster. ¡°We¡¯ll open up the window on this floor and wedge all of the doors open,¡± says Basil. Fresh hears a pair of small boots thudding their way. She yelps, running to block the door with her back. ¡°Then we¡¯ll secure everything loose. If you stand down in the basement and give that thing a few shakes, we¡¯ll blow all of the dust and powder right out of the window after a minute.¡± Fresh thinks about this suggestion for a moment. It¡¯s a good idea, actually. The boots come closer. She yelps quietly to herself, grabbing the broom and getting back onto it. Basil grabs her ankle. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t run away from the results of your own actions,¡± notes the priestess, sipping her tea calmly. She lets go, leaving Fresh hovering there, free to escape if she so chooses. The door opens and Jubilee glares at her. Fresh sighs, lowering her head and letting her boots come to the ground. Basil has a point. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± she relents. ¡°I just wanted to dust the library.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°There¡¯s more dust than ever now,¡± they say. ¡°Dumb-ass.¡± She rubs her arm. ¡°I¡¯ll clean it up¡­¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes, staring at her suspiciously. Basil rubs her back. ¡°What are you up to?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Nothing! I¡¯ll clean up the library. I didn¡¯t want to make a mess.¡± The room is quiet for a moment. Jubilee turns to Basil. ¡°Basil. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?¡± asks Jubilee, gesturing to her with a hand. The priestess shrugs, sipping her tea calmly. ¡°Be proud?¡± ¡°Fuck off and die, Basil,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°No, you.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll probably do exactly that,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If you don¡¯t get off of your fat-ass and start working again.¡± Basil nods. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I feel better already. I think by tomorrow, I¡¯ll be good to go.¡± Jubilee lifts their hands to their sides. ¡°Do I sound worried?¡± ¡°Awww, Jubilee~¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s really sweet how you¡¯re always so caring about Basil.¡± Jubilee sighs, looking around the room. ¡°Where¡¯s Shamrock?¡± ¡°I think he¡¯s hanging out with Muldrich,¡± says Basil. ¡°Why the fuck?¡± Basil shrugs. ¡°They have a lot in common.¡± Fresh tilts her head, staring at Jubilee for a moment. The two of them walk out of the bedroom to the upstairs window and open it, leaning out to look down towards the front door. Shamrock and Muldrich are standing there on either side of the front door, neither of them saying a word as they just stare out straight ahead into the city. Both of them are entirely motionless, entirely silent. ¡°Huh¡­¡± mutters Fresh. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Birds of a feather,¡± they state. ¡°Come on. I¡¯ll help you get the library back together,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh nods, grateful for their help in fixing another one of her blunders. The two of them go downstairs and get to work. With two pairs of hands and then an application of Basil¡¯s idea, it¡¯s really not so bad. Razmatazz Psst, hey reader. I heard you like Jubileeeeeee~ So here''s a season 1 Jubilee concept art-piece for you. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. - MY STORIES - -) Dungeon Item Shop -) Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] -) Sin-Eater -) TANGO Heavy -) Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - LOOT - Stickers, magnets, mugs, journals and more! - Other Junk- -) Open for writing/editing commissions! -) My website! Chapter 346: The thing that we have in common is fire ¡°I¡¯ve really been feeling a lot better these last few days,¡± replies the familiar orc. Fresh nods, glad to hear it. It looks like Basil¡¯s medicines have had a positive effect. She leans down to the side, pulling out a bottle of vitamins. It¡¯s a little glass jar with a pop-off lid and a hand-drawn label. ¡°I¡¯d suggest trying these,¡± says Fresh, opening the item¡¯s window for the orc to read. ¡°If you take one a day, they¡¯ll really keep you pepped up!¡± The orc thinks for a second. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I feel better now. So¡­¡± Fresh nods, understanding. ¡°Sure, but how much revenue did you guys lose because a cold went through your group?¡± she asks, tapping the lid of the bottle. ¡°A pinch of prevention beats a fistful of cure!¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± the orc turns to look at her party-member, the cloaked man. He considers it for a moment and then nods. ¡°Ten percent across all stats is a pretty big boost¡­¡± ¡°Right?¡± asks Fresh, shaking the little glass bottle. ¡°And you can share a bottle. There are thirty-one tablets in each.¡± The two of them look at each other and then nod, accepting the sale. (Fresh) sold 1 [Vitamin Bottle](Excellent) for [{89} Obols] ! ¡°Thank you, come again!¡± she calls after the two of them as they leave. They¡¯re hooked now. Once they get the ten-percent stat boost from taking a vitamin each every day for ten days, they won¡¯t want to lose it. And since they¡¯re sharing the bottle, she essentially made three sales at once now. She recalls their party having three different members in it. ¡°Pretty slick,¡± says Jubilee, having seen this exact scenario play out as well, as they throw her coins into the till. Fresh smiles, leaning against the counter with her elbows as she waits for the next person to come inside. ¡°Having a family is expensive, after all,¡± she says. Jubilee rolls their eyes and closes the till, which is full of rattling coins. ¡°We¡¯re going to the festival, Muldrich!¡± says Fresh as the four of them walk out of the house. ¡°Wanna come with us?¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± replies Muldrich, standing there, standing straight ahead. ¡°Okay, well¡­ have a nice night,¡± says Basil, waving to the man. The priestess has recovered from her illness as well. It¡¯s the evening, the store is closed for the day and the festival is coming to a close with the big bonfire event happening tonight. Fresh is glad that Basil managed to get healthy right on time. She was really looking forward to going to the festival with them all before it closes. They never really get to do stuff like this because they¡¯re always so busy with their work. ¡°It¡¯s all because of this,¡± says Basil, holding out the small peridot stone. Fresh beams, glad that it helped after all. Jubilee waves her off. ¡°Fuck off, Basil. It¡¯s a rock.¡± Basil puts it back into her pocket. ¡°You need to have a little faith sometimes, right, Shamrock?¡± she asks. Shamrock nods. ¡°Belief is a powerful tool.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°The only thing I have to believe in is that you people are going to drive me into ruin.¡± ¡°Oh, please,¡± says Basil. ¡°As if that isn¡¯t where we dragged you out from.¡± ¡°You¡¯re doing the thing again,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°The thing where you pretend that you¡¯re a part of my life.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil, fairly indifferently, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s hand as they walk towards the start of the festival. Jubilee curses, trying to shake the priestess off. But has less success than they did removing Fresh the other day. It is darker now, later in the evening. The streets of the festival ground are lit alight by the gentle glow of hundreds of soft, orange lanterns that adorn the many stalls, vendors and booths. People are strolling around in all directions, stopping here and there to look at things or to try on new clothes and scarves, to try out new simple foods and drinks. The atmosphere is light and happy. Snow falls down from the sky, drifting lazily as it finds its way to the ground. The white veneer of the flakes obscuring the flashes of smiles and the glints of happy eyes as they pass them in brief seconds. Even after those flakes of snow fall to the ground, they seem to still carry the imprint of those emotions all around them, as if the banks of growing snow were a form of insulation, keeping the warmth of the people here trapped between themselves. Fresh smiles, taking a long drink of her steaming hot mug of fruit tea. Though, it¡¯s really more of a syrup than a tea, given how thick and how sweet it is. On a night like this, she realizes that she misses chocolate. It¡¯s kind of a random desire to pop in her head. But she can¡¯t help but think, as she walks through the festival together with her friends, that right now, she would really like a big, steaming mug of hot chocolate to share with them. Oh well, this is really good too. They had spent the last few hours just wandering around together. Fresh convinced her friends to play a lot of games with her. They played the crossbow shooting game again, but her favorite was a padded sword fighting game, even if Basil did whack her on the head a few times. Shamrock wasn¡¯t allowed to play that one. They¡¯ve eaten a lot of junk food, far more than is perhaps reasonable. But there¡¯s only one winter-festival a year and Fresh can¡¯t help but consider that this might be the only one she¡¯ll ever get to see here, knowing their history. So she really tries to make the most of it and tries to get her friends to do the same. Though, they seem to be on board themselves. Jubilee and Basil had gotten something alcoholic to drink and are busy bantering with each other again. So Fresh and Shamrock are in charge of being the adults today. So far, it¡¯s been going well. ¡°It¡¯s going to start soon, guys!¡± says Fresh, dragging Shamrock after her. Shamrock holds Basil¡¯s hand and Basil holds Jubilee¡¯s hand and they¡¯re all dragging each other around the fairgrounds like several segments of a snake as they head towards where the giant bonfire is going to start soon, to signal the end of the festival and the breaking of winter. Winter isn¡¯t over yet. But this is the turning point. Tonight is the night when slowly but surely, the cold will begin to die down day by day, until in a month or two from now, the spring is to return. She can hardly wait. She hopes that spring will be as nice and as beautiful as it was last year. Fresh stares up as they reach the center of the marketplace, as they reach the giant stack of wood, towered high in the middle of a circle of stalls. They¡¯re still a little early, so they find a nice spot near some stalls and make themselves comfortable as they wait, sheltered here from the wind but still present within the warmth of the outdoor festival. Fresh takes a long drink of her mug and then sets it down onto a table, staring over towards the unlit bonfire. Children run around, carrying baskets as they prepare for the event. A year will soon have come to pass. A year since her arrival here. A year since the first day of her new life and as Fresh stands there, watching the breath leave her mouth, she isn¡¯t sure what to think. She¡¯s happy, but she¡¯s terrified. What if this happiness is just fleeting? What if it¡¯s just a temporary, ¡®for now¡¯ thing? What if in a year from now, this will all be¡­ gone? Her gaze wanders over to her friends who are discussing the logistics of simply flooding the dungeon with an army of summoned spriggans, as she remembers the words of her patron, the fountain. What if it¡¯s all just¡­ fake? What if their friendship with her isn¡¯t even real? What if she¡¯s holding onto something that doesn¡¯t exist? Like a sleeping person frantically clawing onto a happy dream as they begin to wake up again to a new dreary, sad day that is inevitably to come? A horn blows off to the side. ¡°Oh, it looks like it¡¯s about time,¡± says Basil. People start moving towards the bonfire, the crowd starts to fill in to the plaza, which becomes noisier and more active by the second. It¡¯s like a waking hive, beginning to stir. One of the children from before walks up to their table, holding up a basket to them. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Basil, taking one of the small candles out of it for each of them. It doesn¡¯t take much longer than that. Soon, the square is full of people. Adventurers, crafters, some politicians and some soldiers and guards, some children and some mothers and some fathers, some brothers and sisters and some vagabonds and some people who are just here by themselves. It feels like everyone is here. Fresh isn¡¯t sure what the ceremony here really is, but it seems to explain itself. A man walks out from the other side of the circle of people with an already lit candle. He holds it out to the first person next to him inside of the circle. That woman then holds her lit candle out to her left and to her right to light those of the people next to her who then in turn do the same. Slowly, like the spreading of a wildfire, the small flames begin to grow all around the circle with exponential speed as two people light four candles and then those four people light the candles of those next to them. Within a minute, every candle in the circle of some hundred people is lit. Fresh turns her head, looking down the streets, watching as the flame seems to travel down them, setting the entire festival alight as if the glow were blood leaving a beating heart, pushing out into a dry vein. A bell rings. The first man throws his candle into the wood. Nothing happens. It¡¯s just a candle, the wood won¡¯t burn from just that. One by one, the circle moves in towards the unlit bonfire, they place their candle inside, wedging it anywhere there is space between the wood. Some throwing theirs together, some lodging theirs as high as they can, others simply placing it at the foot of the thing. Fresh, Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock look at each other and then each find a spot for their candle that they find is most fitting to their own tastes before they step back and watch as the crowd moves in. From one candlelight becomes two, from two becomes four, from four becomes many. The collective glow of a thousand small candles begins to collect and soon enough, the wood starts to burn. The people begin to throw their candles in now and the wood begins to burn higher, faster, hotter. The flames rise up towards the night-sky that seems to hang so heavily over them, as if the fire itself were the only thing keeping the darkness from crashing down onto their heads. There isn¡¯t much festivity now. There aren¡¯t any cheers or hollers apart from a few drunks who are quickly shunned and silenced by their peers. This is a sacred moment and is held to be so by the people here, given their quietness, given the thousand stares that gaze longingly towards the fire that they had collectively made, towards the good-thing brought into life by their collective, small, minuscule efforts that are on their own, next to unnoticeable. Fresh stands there, quietly understanding herself why the center is different from the outside. It isn¡¯t wealth, it isn¡¯t seclusion, it isn¡¯t power. It¡¯s because it¡¯s a collective of people who are different in their backgrounds, makeups, beliefs and practices. But importantly they are homogeneous in one thing, their collective sense of belonging to this place, to this place belonging to them. That¡¯s the key factor. This city isn¡¯t just a city that people of different make-up live in, this is something that these thousand faces and then some all consider a home. That¡¯s what makes the difference in their efforts, in their actions, in their words and ultimately, in the results. This is a place where people, for better or for worse, feel that they belong. The fire grows, rising up higher and higher towards the night, towards the darkness, towards that bubble that covers the city, the shield that nothing at all seems to be outside of. Razmatazz Hello. You might have noticed that ALL of my images broke (Thanks, Namecheap webhosting). So if you see something broken in my stories, let me know please. I''m in the process of going through every single chapter and fixing them all now... *sigh* Jubilee image at the end of last chapter is fixed. - - - - - - Chapter 347: A red loop It is, of course, sub-optimal. All of it. Fresh floats on her back, downstairs in the bath. The water is hot and drifting steam rises up towards the open vent in the ceiling. Condensation drips down, back into the pool, as it falls from the tips of the crystals above her head. The red-wizard had been here again. It is the evening of the next day, the day after they had been at the winter-festival. The girl drifts around the warm water, staring up towards a red crystal that hangs over her head, as she wonders about all of her possible choices. She could tell the red-wizard to go away and just leave her to her fate. But that would give the caster motivation to out them to the public. She could help the red-wizard with her predicament. But that would mean¡­ helping the red-wizard. Fresh doesn¡¯t know if, despite everything, she has it in herself. Heck, it¡¯s possible that even if she decides to do that, that she won¡¯t have anything of use for that person at all anyway. After all, the fountain had only given her a remedy for the northern barkeeper after she had come with something to bargain with. A trade. A token. An eye for an eye. The fountain has nothing to offer for free. The red-wizard has come empty-handed, with only a mouthful of words and a frightened look in her eyes that never seems to lessen. Sure, she said that she¡¯s sorry. But¡­ that statement was just kind of laid out there without any further explanation or proof and then a request for help followed immediately after it. That doesn¡¯t really help foster any feelings of genuineness. So, her choices of possible resolutions in the matter are, of course, all sub-optimal. Fresh sighs. As the air leaves her full lungs, her body starts to sink down a little deeper beneath the surface of the water. She lets herself sink slowly down towards the bottom of the pool, letting her hand drift up towards the ceiling as she watches her fingers twirl beneath the shimmer of the reflection of the red crystal-body. It has the same shimmer as the scales of the dragon. The boss of the eastern dungeon. Fresh tilts her head, feeling a slight pang in her chest, but nothing too bad. She can handle it for a few moments more without air. It¡¯s oddly comfortable down here. The dragon. Man¡­ she can barely fight her way through the first twenty floors of any dungeon by herself. But it¡¯s a good thing they have Jubilee and Shamrock to handle that kind of stuff. She¡¯d really be lost without them. One odd, complicated part of their connected friendships is that they¡¯ve agreed to simply let each other have their secrets about their past, about their preferences and future desires. But at the same time, lies aren¡¯t allowed. Despite having been the core originator of this rule, Fresh has lied to her friends several times. Many of those are lies of omission. But aren¡¯t those just secrets, after all? That makes it fine. ¡­Right? Fresh closes her eyes, thinking, thinking about the color red. Red like the red-wizard. Red like the blood of Basil¡¯s slain companion. Red like the fairy, Pentii who had been cast to his death. Red like Jubilee. Red like the fire that had consumed their old house in the north. Red like the explosion outside of the eastern harbor. Red like the strings that bind them all together at the wrist and, in the spirit world, literally together at their cores. Red¡­ like a garnet stone. The hero¡­ Red like a breaking dungeon. For better or for worse, the color red has marked them all. As for those things, for ¡®the murderer¡¯, for the ¡®sheep killer¡¯, for ¡®the arsonist¡¯, perhaps they all already know the truth in their own ways. Perhaps she isn¡¯t the only one holding secrets to herself, for the health and wellbeing of the others. It¡¯s likely that everyone knows. Jubilee, Basil, Shamrock. How could they not? It¡¯s like when Jubilee had confronted her, after she returned from cursing the hero. They know. Of course they know. But everyone is pretending that they don¡¯t, just so that they don¡¯t have to talk about it. It¡¯s happier that way. It¡¯s been working out well, so far. Besides, the matters are all settled anyway. Everyone knows what this is. Her lungs burn. Fresh opens her eyes and stares at the quivering reflection above her head, at the strange reflection of hers as it dances through the warped light of the crystal. There are secrets in their home. Bad secrets. Terrible secrets. They¡¯re all responsible for many horrible, terrible things. But that¡¯s okay. These terrible things, these secrets, these are the prices that they pay for this new life. This is the trade that they themselves had made with the fountain, this is their price of their admission. This is the price of finding a family. The token of exchange is red. Her chest is really starting to hurt, she can feel her throat tightening. Fresh lifts herself out of the water, leaning over forward and letting her long hair drip down in front of herself, the long tangles floating on the surface of the disturbed pool. She stares at the reflection that is now beneath herself. It seems to want to show her something. ¡°Oh! Sorry!¡± says Basil from the door. Fresh blinks, looking away from her reflection. The priestess spins around, turning her back to her. ¡°I thought it was empty here.¡± ¡°I was just pretending to drown for a minute, Basil,¡± remarks Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m getting out now. Just a second.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°That¡¯s really bad for your health,¡± she says, crossing her arms. ¡°Please don¡¯t do that anymore.¡± Fresh gracelessly shakes herself off, splashing water everywhere as she grabs a towel to dry herself off. ¡°Sorry, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It helps me think.¡± The priestess shakes her head, defeated. Fresh slips on her robe, soaking its black fabric since she¡¯s still improperly dried. She walks over to the priestess, grabbing her from behind. ¡°How¡¯ve you been sleeping lately?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Basil, looking over her shoulder. ¡°¡­Sleeping? Fine, why?¡± ¡°No reason,¡± says Fresh. It¡¯s true, Basil hasn¡¯t been flailing like mad in her sleep anymore. Whatever it was that has been haunting her, it seems to have been resolved now in her mind. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go get dinner ready,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Can we have a stew?¡± asks Basil. ¡°It¡¯s always very comforting.¡± The priestess looks down at her own, now wet, robe as Fresh releases, making her way upstairs. ¡°Sure thing!¡± agrees Fresh, humming as she walks and shakes out her head, going through the basement. Honestly, it¡¯s a wonder that Basil has recovered in her eyes. Not from the cold. But from the other thing. Fresh heads upstairs, looking around at the library. Shamrock is here, apparently teaching the two spriggans how to fight. Though, the house-spriggan is at a clear disadvantage against the healer-spriggan. ¡°Hey, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh. ¡°We¡¯re having stew tonight.¡± The man nods to her. ¡°It¡¯s the best.¡± Fresh smiles a triumphant smile, clenching her hands together by her beaming face. Jubilee might be the egg-master, but she is the stew-champion. Everyone of them has their own strengths and weaknesses. ¡°Need help?¡± he asks. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know!¡± she says, heading upstairs. Shamrock too, has made a good recovery, for lack of better words. Though, given his ¡®push forward, no matter what¡¯ nature, anything else would have surprised her. She comes up the stairs to the final floor, seeing Jubilee rummaging around the kitchen. They throw a bag of tubers out of the cabinet, onto the table. Then some carrots. ¡°I heard stew.¡± Fresh beams, holding her arms out at her sides as she spins towards Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s right, Ju~ bi~ lee!¡± she says, spinning once each time until she bumps into them and laughs. Jubilee rolls their eyes, making a show of it, but she sees the tiniest crack of a smile that they¡¯re trying to hide. But they can¡¯t hide their secrets from her. She knows all, she sees all and that¡¯s even without a telescope or a crystal-ball. She grabs a brush and heads to the basin, scrubbing the first vegetables clean. Food tends to be more rustic here, to say it politely, so ¡®clean¡¯ is a relative term. But she likes it, honestly. There¡¯s something more real about it than the food she recalls from her oldest life, something more¡­ true. Fresh stares at Jubilee who is walking around maskless, in just their house clothes, their white hair bobbing around as they get everything ready for her to cook with. Jubilee¡­ Jubilee is the odd one out. They¡¯ve always been processing and recovering in their own way, so the one more thing that was added to the list was hardly mentionable for them. A confusing knot, for sure. Especially now. But nobody can do anything about that. Dinner turns out beautifully. Basil comes up from her bath after a while and then helps set the table, lighting some nice candles. Shamrock and the spriggans go out to the market to find a light floral-tea for them all to share along with the bite of the winter¡¯s cold that sticks to the man¡¯s armor until they manage to warm it up again. Jubilee stands in the kitchen, humming as they make a light desert for afterwards. Just a nibble, but something nice and sweet. And so, the day comes to an end as it had begun, despite all of the twists and turns held inside of it. Nested from the winter¡¯s cruel chill in their warm, safe haven of a beloved home, four members of a loving family, a murderer, a saboteur, an arsonist and a horrible, monstrous witch sit down at the same table and share their food, their feelings and their hopes for the tomorrow to come so that they might all experience these good things again together. Razmatazz I never forget a plot-line, dear reader. Old Razz still has many things for you. P.s. Here''s some half-canon Shamrock concept-art for you, just because you''re my favorite reader! Don''t tell the others though, they''ll get jealous. Done by @KiakisART Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 348: With purpose ¡°Hey Muldrich,¡± calls Fresh, leaning out of the door. It¡¯s snowing. ¡°Do you want lunch?¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± replies the man. Fresh nods, shrugging as she heads back inside to get everything ready. Now that the festival has come to an end, they had hoped that business would slowly starting to pick up again a little more. But a lot of people seem to be spent out of their savings and the number of weary, tired faces walking by outside of their window seems to be growing with every passing day. Now that the festival is over, there is little effort being made by the powers that be to hide the fact that things are getting tight for the people of the city. Fresh sighs, scratching her cheek as she looks around the store. Basil is sitting behind the counter, reading a book from the library about common farm pests. Jubilee is rearranging the items on the shelves and Shamrock is carrying their freshly bought materials downstairs into the basement, to sort them into the different shelves and containers. Today feels like a sandwich day. Fresh nods, going upstairs to get some food ready for everyone. It is the morning of the next day. Fresh pops her head outside of the door as she opens it, looking around. There¡¯s nobody waiting to come inside of their store today. She sighs, turning to look at Muldrich who is already there. At least she can count on him to always be there. ¡°Good morning, Muldrich,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Would you like some breakfast?¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± says the man, staring straight ahead towards the distance. Fresh nods, having expected as much. She still wants to ask. ¡°Okay, have a good shift!¡± She heads back inside, looking around the store. It¡¯s all set up and ready for the customers, but they don¡¯t seem to have any of those right now. So, instead, she goes downstairs into the basement to try and come up with some new items. Maybe they need something more exciting to lure people in? ¡°Varmints¡­¡± mutters Basil beneath her breath, looking around the basement as she collects a bunch of herbs and mushroom caps from their stores. ¡°What¡¯s up, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, looking over her shoulder. Basil sets a bunch of things down onto her workbench, flipping furiously through a few pages in that book that she¡¯s been reading. ¡°Something¡¯s still chewing through the mushrooms on the farm,¡± says Basil. ¡°It¡¯s getting worse now. We lost half of today¡¯s harvest,¡± says the priestess, looking for something. ¡°Oh, wow.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°That¡¯s really bad.¡± She thinks for a second. ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s not like there are any customers anyways?¡± Basil sighs, her head drooping. ¡°That¡¯s also really bad.¡± Fresh laughs, scratching her cheek. ¡°I guess so. Let me know if I can help, Basil,¡± she says, before returning to her own work. The tarot-cards, maybe? They¡¯re cheap to make and perhaps there might be some possibly useful effect? Fresh pops her head out of the front door. It¡¯s the evening of the next day. The third day in a row with no real amount of any customers. ¡°Hey, Muldrich,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Good work today!¡± she praises. ¡°Would you like some dinner?¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± says the man, standing where he¡¯s always standing, staring in the same direction that he always stares into. Fresh blinks, turning her head to look at Shamrock who is sitting outside on the other side of the door. The two of them are just kind of here, just kind of¡­ staring. She shrugs and heads back inside. ¡°Okay!¡± calls Fresh. ¡°See you tomorrow!¡± The snow continues to fall. The door is open, but Fresh is considering just closing it. Nobody is coming inside anyways. Day number four. ¡°AHA!¡± yells Basil from upstairs. Fresh blinks, turning her gaze towards the spiral staircase. ¡°Get back here!¡± The sounds of stubby legs running away gets her attention. The two spriggans come bolting down the stairs, running for their lives as a sleep-deprived Basil chases them off, swinging a broom around. They bolt off to the basement and Fresh intercepts the priestess, grabbing her. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Basil?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t be mean to the spriggans.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the spriggans! I caught them!¡± says the priestess. ¡°They¡¯re eating our mushrooms!¡± She turns her gaze to look down the spiral staircase, towards the basement where the spriggans are warily looking up her way. ¡°They¡¯re the varmints.¡± Fresh laughs a quiet laugh. Basil has been up dealing with this problem for days now. She¡¯s clearly exhausted and has become a little¡­ weird. But sleep deprivation will do that to you. She grabs the broom and sets it down, trapping Basil in a hug. ¡°There, there, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°The spriggans have to eat something, right?¡± she asks. ¡°It makes sense that they¡¯ve been munching that stuff.¡± Basil sighs, looking around the empty store. ¡°We can¡¯t sink our profits like this. We need to stay above water.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be okay, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°People will start coming in again soon.¡± The priestess loosens the tension in her body. ¡°I hope so. A lot of the medicine only lasts about a week on the shelf.¡± Fresh rubs her back, consoling her for a while as the spriggans cautiously make their way back upstairs, receiving an apology from Basil afterwards. ¡°Good night, Muldrich,¡± yawns Fresh, leaning out of the window. ¡°Sleep tight!¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± replies the man from down next to their closed front-door. Fresh blinks, rubbing her tired eyes and shaking her head as she pulls herself back into the window. ¡°Man, Muldrich sure is an intense guy,¡± she says, closing the window so that all of the warmth doesn¡¯t escape the house. Jubilee shrugs, sitting at the table. ¡°That fuck is there in the cold all day and all night,¡± they note. ¡°I have no idea when he fucking sleeps or takes a piss.¡± Basil nods, sipping her tea. ¡°I never even see him take a break for lunch. Talk about tenacity.¡± Shamrock sets down a pile of wood, getting the materials ready for Fresh so that she can make a ceiling over their bedroom. ¡°A man of purpose.¡± ¡°You sure he¡¯s not a fucking statue?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I feel like the city is just pulling one over on us with him.¡± ¡°He seems nice,¡± says Fresh, shrugging. ¡°You two get along, right, Shamrock?¡± The giant man nods, sitting down at the table. ¡°We have a lot to talk about.¡± Fresh, Jubilee and Basil turn their heads, staring at him for a moment and then look back towards each other. Fresh isn¡¯t sure if that was a joke or not and apparently, the same could be said of the other two. The next day comes. They¡¯ve barely made a profit at all this week. In fact, several days have been clear losses. Basil sighs, taking a few tinctures off of the shelves. They¡¯re on the verge of going bad. ¡°I¡¯ll make a cooling cabinet for down here,¡± says Fresh. ¡°That way we can keep some of the sensitive medicine longer next time.¡± Given the now sad look on Basil¡¯s face as she discards some of the things that she had worked hard on to make, with hopeful intent for them to be of use to people, Fresh feels bad for not having thought of this idea sooner. They¡¯ve had a cooling cabinet in the west and the east, of course they need one here too. Especially since the floor-heater keeps everything really warm. It can¡¯t be great for the shelf-life of Basil¡¯s herbal medicine. Something laughs outside. Fresh blinks, peeking out of the window, staring at the two half dark-elf children running around Muldrich, their mother standing in front of the guard, adjusting his armor and doting on him. She seems to be making a fuss out of every little thing out of place with his equipment, wiping off every flock of snow that lands on his armor with a glare in her eyes at the audacity of nature, or more aptly said, at the ice-casters on the high branches of the world-tree, for having done such a thing. The two children, a brother and sister, move to stand next to him, mimicking his stiff and quiet posture as they take after their father, staring out into the city with watchful eyes. Watching the streets, watching the shadows and the faces of everyone who walks by. ¡°Oooh,¡± says Fresh to herself, realizing as she stares out through the window. Basil presses her face against the glass too and then Jubilee comes by as well. The smaller child, the brother, sneezes. Muldrich lowers his gaze to stare at the boy and then sighs, picking him up and heading inside. ¡°Do you have anything for the sniffles?¡± asks the guard, looking towards Basil.The priestess stares for a moment and then nods. ¡°We sure do!¡± Razmatazz I''d consider doing a Muldrich spin-off series, but honestly, I don''t think that you guys could handle it. Too intense. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 349: The curse The cauldron bubbles as Fresh stands downstairs, fiddling around on the workbench. The vapors of the hot-bath creep through the door to the washroom and rise up against the ceiling of the basement, before wafting and drifting outwards as they crawl up the staircase. It is early in the morning of the next day. Very early in the morning. The others are still asleep, but Fresh had woken up and decided that she wanted to get to work right away. Sure, there might not be many customers right now, but that doesn¡¯t mean that there isn¡¯t stuff for her to do. The house needs to be fixed up and she wants to make some new items. Something cheap, long-lasting, but also useful. As such, the idea is in and of itself, extremely simple. Fresh takes one of her heating beads, the kind that can regenerate their magical energy. Grabbing a few strips of treated leather, she lays them out flat onto the table. They need to be water-tight. Hmm¡­ ¡°Ah!¡± Fresh realizes, grabbing her small jar of liquefied crystal-drakonium. It¡¯s really a great recipe that Shamrock had come up with. It turns out that slime goo is the key ingredient to stop it from resolidifying quickly. But if it''s heated, then it turns hard again. It makes it perfect for applications like this. Fresh takes a small brush and coats the two small sheets of leather with them on one side each. Then, holding her hands above the strips of material, she uses her tailoring abilities to sew them together, into a small pouch with one open end. The little bag which is about the size of her own palm flops back down to the table. She picks it up and looks it over, satisfied. Smiling to herself, she holds it open and flips it upside down, holding it over a lit candle so that the heat can come inside to dry out the crystal-drakonium smear. After a few minutes and one small burn later, Fresh goes to the mineral-pool and collects some of the world-tree mineral water in the pouch. Finally, she returns to her workbench and takes the self-heating bead, dropping it into the little bundle with a small splash. Now all that¡¯s left to do is seal it. She smears some more crystal-drakonium goo on the inside lip of the opening and then sews it shut, holding it over the candle for a minute longer afterwards. Fresh holds up the thing, smiling to herself as she feels it in her hands. Its squishy and soft, but it¡¯s hot. It¡¯s on the verge of being too hot, but it¡¯s not quite there just yet. She presses it against her cheek, holding it there for a second. What a nice item. She lets out a long sigh, feeling its warmth enter herself. The others will like these. They¡¯re cheap to make and they¡¯re more than useful now in the depths of winter. Plus with all the people having a hard time, if they can sell them cheaply, they¡¯ll keep a lot of hands and feet warm. She¡¯ll ask Muldrich if he wants this one. Maybe it will help him, since he has to stand outside all day? Fresh nods to herself, blowing out the candle and heading upstairs. It¡¯s about time for the others to wake up, so she should get started with breakfast. It¡¯s egg day today. ¡°It¡¯s so squishy,¡± remarks Basil, poking the hot-water bag laying on the table a few times. She watches it jiggle and then after a second turns towards Shamrock, lifting a finger towards the slits of his helmet. ¡°Inadvisable,¡± says the man. Basil frowns and then relents. They haven¡¯t eaten yet, so Shamrock¡¯s body is very acidic right now. ¡°Flip it,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh blinks, staring with terrified eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t, Jubilee!¡± she says. ¡°What if it breaks?!¡± ¡°You gotta flip it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Unless you want them to be wet on one side.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t I just use the lid-trick?¡± asks Fresh, staring at her quickly crisping egg with horror in her gaze. ¡°Oh, sure, why not just half-ass every aspect of your life while you¡¯re at it?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Using the lid-trick is for people who are afraid to live. Flip the fucking egg!¡± they bark. Fresh cries, sticking the spatula beneath the first browning egg and then quickly flips it, closing an eye in fear as she waits for the inevitable leak of a broken yolk to start. Nothing happens. ¡°Give it a minute,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You want to wait until the yolk gets a small film, that way you can just flip the pan and it¡¯ll fall out.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I just take it out with the spatula?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°You can. It might work, but you can also end up breaking the yolk.¡± They knock the handle of the pan. ¡°That¡¯s why we want a heavy duty, well seasoned pan like this. Eggs¡¯ll come right out if you flip it, no fuss.¡± Fresh blinks, nodding. ¡°Okay, wait¡­¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The other side is only a few seconds. And¡­ now!¡± they say, Fresh grabs the cast-iron skillet from the stove top and then with a quick motion like she had seen Jubilee do, flips it over a waiting piece of bread. The egg slides out beautifully, landing on the slice. No stick, no fuss, no breakage. By all objective standards, it¡¯s a perfect fried egg. And yet¡­ Fresh howls, setting the skillet back down onto the heat. ¡°Jubileeeee~!¡± she cries, falling to her knees and grabbing the fabric of her friend¡¯s shirt, as she presses her face against their chest. ¡°I¡¯m never going to get it right!¡± ¡°Boy, that sure is a suspicious menu,¡± notes Basil from the side. ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I would have been sure that was gonna be a good one too. Hold on,¡± they fight Fresh off of themselves and then set to work, making one now, using the exact same timing, method, heat, ingredients. One to one, it¡¯s the same exact recipe, except this time made by Jubilee instead of Fresh. Jubilee shrugs. Fresh, meanwhile, continues to cry at the table, Basil consoles her with one hand, while quietly sliding the cursed egg away towards Shamrock. Glass scratches across the table. Fresh lifts her face from her arms and looks as Shamrock slowly pushes the egg away from himself with one finger. Feeling her gaze, the man turns his helmet to meet her eyes. The two of them stare at each other for a second. Glass scratches as Shamrock keeps pushing the plate further away from himself. Fresh howls. ¡°Fuck off!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Sun isn¡¯t even up yet, you¡¯re giving me a headache.¡± ¡°I¡¯m cursed, Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°The egg gods hate me!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing.¡± ¡°Actually-¡± starts Basil. ¡°Shut up, Basil,¡± interjects Jubilee, pointing at Basil with a butter-knife. ¡°Nobody wants to hear your crazy stories.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not crazy stories!¡± argues the priestess. She crosses her arms. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°Anyways. Who the fuck knows?¡± they ask. ¡°You¡¯re cursed, so maybe whoever made that curse also set it up so that you can never make a good egg.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°And how does that make more sense?¡± Jubilee shrugs, cutting into their egg-toast. ¡°Fuck me if I know. Ask her, she¡¯s the one who¡¯s cursed,¡± they say, nodding towards Fresh. Basil thinks for a moment. ¡°Can¡¯t we do anything about that?¡± she asks. ¡°Or at least look into the matter?¡± she suggests. ¡°It would be great to have more information.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m cursed because I went left, Basil,¡± she says. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°The fountain gave me the curse. It¡¯s because of some choices I made back then, before we met.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil. ¡°But¡­ what does it do?¡± ¡°It makes my stats bad,¡± says Fresh. Jubilee nods. ¡°And it makes your eggs shit.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°I think it also makes chickens and anqas hate me.¡± ¡°How oddly specific,¡± says Basil. ¡°¡­I wonder if that really all has a connection with the egg thing?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Makes sense to me, but I can¡¯t say that I give a fuck. We¡¯ll just keep her away from anqas and forbid her from making eggs and life will be okay.¡± Basil thinks for a moment, before then shrugging. ¡°Okay. Sounds fine to me,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Shamrock?¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Shut up and eat your fucking egg,¡± barks Jubilee, sliding the plate with the bag egg back her way. Fresh frowns, staring at it. The yolk breaks, as if all by itself and leaks off of her plate, messily onto the table. Razmatazz I''d consider doing a Muldrich spin-off series, but honestly, I don''t think that you guys could handle it. Too intense. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 350: A hard day’s work The tail of the broom whips to the side, the bristles scratching noisily against the stone wall of the dungeon as Fresh flies away as fast as she can. The world rumbles, stones crack behind her as a gargantuan fist smashes into the spot where just was. The dungeon shakes, rocks start to fall from above. She lets out a panicked yelp, the broom zips down towards her lower-right, diving out of the way of a piece of falling rubble. Wind presses against her cheek as she looks back behind herself at the fist of the massive, sub-boss stone-golem that has entirely pulverized the area where she was only a few seconds ago. It turns its head, following her with massive, glowing eyes that shine with a soft, orange warmth. A growl fills the air as the thing lurches back to movement, its lumbering body turning slowly towards the side, towards her as it arcs its arm back again and then swings once again. Fresh yelps, shooting down towards the ground as the fist, which is the size of their house, smashes against the wall. The dungeon shakes. ¡°Heeeeelp~!¡± she howls, just as a shadow looms over her head. A dull spire of glass blasts her way, smashing the handle of the broom to the side, Fresh goes spiraling off towards the ground, barely missing the rock that was falling her way. One hand catches her, another hand catches her broom as she spirals straight into Shamrock. Basil¡¯s shield lifts up behind her and falling debris cascade down against it. The priestess has one of Fresh¡¯s shielding statues strapped to her bag and the two spriggans are running around her, topping them all up with health-points. ¡°Watch what the fuck you¡¯re doing!¡± barks Jubilee at her. The titanous golem looms down over the shield, staring at it with dull, glowing eyes. ¡°Shamrock!¡± Shamrock nods, holding Fresh¡¯s broom up and setting her onto it with his other hand. ¡°Bye,¡± is all that man says. Fresh blinks, looking at him with sad eyes. ¡°¡­Huh?¡± ¡°Bye,¡± he repeats and then throws the broom with her on it out into the room as hard as he can. Fresh howls, blasting through the shield and back out into the fray. The shield falls, the golem turns to follow her, having chosen her as its point of fixation. The fight continues. Fresh opens the door to their house and then sighs, her head drooping as she steps inside, kicking off her boots. Jubilee steps in after her and sighs too. Then Basil, sighing as she rubs her sore arms. Shamrock comes in, letting out a long, strenuous breath that Fresh can feel all the way at the front of the line. ¡°Pakew¡­¡± sigh both spriggans, coming in after them. The house spriggan closes the door. Fresh flops down onto the floor of the store and sits there, leaning with her back against the counter. ¡°Get the hell off of the floor, you animal,¡± says Jubilee, before flopping down next to her. Basil sits down and then so does Shamrock. The four of them just sit there on the floor, leaning against the counter and then sigh collectively. ¡°What a fight,¡± says Basil. ¡°A fucking disaster,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Our party composition is fucked against stone monsters.¡± ¡°Mm¡­¡± nods Basil in agreement. It¡¯s a real problem, in a sense. Shamrock is a close-combat fighter with no abilities, Basil is a priestess, Jubilee has fragile glass-magic and Fresh¡¯s curses are powerful, but extremely slow acting. As such, a high-defense, high health monster such as the stone giant is a real headache for them, as they have no real way to deal strong, consistent damage against it. Given the slow wave of business lately, they had decided to take the day off to just go into the dungeon together, so that they could get past the boss on floor fifty-something that Shamrock had gotten stuck at by himself. ¡°I think we did good,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Are you fucked in the head?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We barely managed,¡± they say, taking their mask off and rubbing the bridge of their nose. ¡°What a mess.¡± ¡°But we made it,¡± notes Basil, sounding rather pleased nonetheless. ¡°I guess you can call it that,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. The four of them sit there, more or less out of energy and just stay like that in quiet for a while. Even the spriggans are sitting there, leaning against each other and napping. It was a hard, long fight. The growl of an empty stomach fills the room. ¡°Lunch?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Dinner,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m going to bed after we eat.¡± ¡°So lunch and a nap?¡± asks the priestess, forcing herself to get up. ¡°I¡¯m on board for that.¡± Jubilee shakes their head, rising to their feet as Basil helps them get up. ¡°No, I¡¯m planning on sleeping until tomorrow. So that makes it dinner and bed.¡± ¡°What a life,¡± jokes the priestess. ¡°Let me have this, Basil,¡± replies Jubilee, waving the priestess off as they turn to go upstairs. ¡°This is all I have.¡± The priestess sighs. ¡°What a tragic life we live.¡± ¡°Right?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been saying.¡± Fresh laughs, getting up by herself. She turns to look at Shamrock, who stares up her way. The man lifts a hand. She blinks. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can help you up, Shamrock,¡± she says, grabbing his hand and pulling. The man doesn¡¯t budge. Four small arms grab her legs as the spriggans join in and then all three of them pull together. Fresh stares into the crystal-ball, her fingers hovering over its glossy, reflective surface. Her reflection is down on the other side of it, copying her. Sure, that is perhaps a reflection¡¯s job, but Fresh can¡¯t help but feel like the reflection isn¡¯t copying her because that¡¯s what a reflection does, rather she feels like it¡¯s copying her like a teasing sibling mimicking the other. Fog swirls around in the crystal-ball, floating around inside of it. A vision begins to appear in the glass. It¡¯s¡­ her. Fresh narrows her eyes, staring at herself as she - ¡°BOO!¡± ¡°IAH!¡± Fresh yelps, jumping back and flailing her arms. The chair she¡¯s sitting on rocks backwards and she falls down to the floor. Fresh lays there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. ¡°Rude.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± says the girl in the reflection. ¡°I get bored sometimes, you know?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks about it and then nods. ¡°I guess I understand that.¡± A thumping comes from the wall of the bedroom. ¡°Stop talking to yourself, goo-brain!¡± barks Jubilee¡¯s muffled voice. Fresh sighs, getting back up and looking into the crystal-ball. The reflection shrugs and then gets back to its job. She looks around herself and decides to do the same. There is still a lot that needs to be done around the house. Razmatazz Next few days are going to be about the quiet life, in which nothing will go wrong. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 351: Presumably so A constant, dull thudding echoes around the large room as Fresh hammers the nail down into place. The first of many hundred to come. She¡¯s working on the ¡®ceiling¡¯ to their bedroom and has already set up some rafters and supports with Shamrock¡¯s help. Now it¡¯s just a matter of adding the covering, which is going to be made up out of sheets of wood. Then, a layer of insulating padding will go on top of that and then, after that, another layer of wood. That way it won¡¯t be so noisy inside of the bedroom if anyone is up here, plus it will just be more sturdy and warm. It takes the better part of the morning, but since business is still catastrophically slow, she¡¯s been ¡®allowed¡¯ by Jubilee to go and do this. Though the truth is perhaps that Jubilee had simply sent her away because they were getting annoyed by her constant pestering of them as an alternative source of enjoyment. Fresh hums to herself, holding the next nail in place and then striking it down into the wood. Given the sing-song voices of the winter-birds having found nests in the city, between the many nooks and crannies of the winding streets, given the hundreds of voices walking past their open doors and windows, talking about the exciting things that they have planned for the day, given the warm winter sunlight, shining in through the openings in their home and warming the old wood, nobody would ever know that people were doing badly in the outside world. Fresh sips her tea, tenderly lifting her bandaged thumb to look at it. She had struck herself with the hammer while working on their bedroom and ran crying to Basil who pampered her back to health. She had tried Jubilee first, but Jubilee told her to stop being such a cry-baby and to get over it. Fresh smiles and notes the soft, floral taste of the tea. Being a clingy cry-baby¡­ it¡¯s not such a bad life, really. The ceiling of their bedroom is completed and now, Fresh hovers on her broom down below the real ceiling of their house. Beneath the improvised patch they had laid out over the roof after they moved in. She¡¯s going to take the time to do it right now. This is their home and it has been kind to them, as such, it clearly deserves only the best of her efforts. She still can¡¯t help but wonder what the deal with the odd house was, though. Why was there a hole in the roof? Why is there a cut-off space connecting to the dungeon? Why was the craftsman, who had made their shower in the east, also here to make the complicated heating system? It doesn¡¯t really add up in her eyes, but she¡¯s used to having so many mysteries in her life, that she just doesn¡¯t really think about most of them anymore. Sometimes, life is just whatever life is. Best not to worry so much about it. The red-wizard was here again. Despite her previous thoughts of not worrying about life so much, Fresh is now downstairs in the basement, doing exactly that. She still doesn¡¯t know what to do or what to think about it. Fresh¡¯s hands hold the edge of the workbench, as she leans over it and stares blankly at the wooden surface beneath herself. A good person would help the red-wizard, no matter what, right? Fresh knows that she is a lot of things. A cruel, horrible witch. A clingy, dumb friend with creepy, possessive tendencies. But is she a good person? Apparently not, otherwise she wouldn¡¯t even be hesitating to help the red-wizard. ¡­Presumably? Nobody is there to give her an answer to her thoughts, so Fresh simply stands there in silence, listening to the bubbling of the cauldron. But it has little to tell her. In order to get up to the top area of their bedroom, Fresh has made a small staircase. It kind of reminds her of the little staircase she had seen in the attic, back in their house in the north. The one that led up to the bed and the telescope, both of which she now assumes were Jubilee¡¯s, back from whenever their first life had happened, the life before they met. She also makes a small, waist-high railing so that nobody falls off of the platform. Sure, it¡¯s not a huge drop, but best to be safe. Especially with the spriggans running around. ¡°You want dinner?¡± calls Basil over from the staircase as she comes upstairs. ¡°We¡¯re buying from a restaurant tonight.¡± Fresh lights up, looking down towards the priestess from her perch. ¡°Was there some business again today?!¡± she asks excitedly. Restaurant food is expensive. Basil shakes her head. ¡°No, but we just want something nice today.¡± Fresh thinks about it for a second and then nods in agreement. Sure, it isn¡¯t a responsible, sustainable strategy to buy expensive food when they have next to no income and are living off of their savings. But sometimes in life, you just¡­ have to let go of responsibility. You¡¯re only here once, after all. - Presumably. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I trust this death-trap,¡± says Jubilee, looking around warily as they stand on-top of the new platform above their bedroom. ¡°It¡¯s not a death-trap!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°I was working all day on it!¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°Wow? A whole day?,¡± they ask, rolling their eyes. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s fine,¡± says Basil, walking on ahead. The area above their bedroom, the indoor ¡®balcony¡¯ is finished and there is still plenty of head-space left. This place really does have a high ceiling. Fresh stares around at the flowers growing out of the walls. Basil sits down on her chair, leaning in to cup one in her hands and to smell the blossom. They had opted to move their dinner table up here. Not that they didn¡¯t have the space for it down there. It¡¯s just¡­ cozier here. Sure, it¡¯s a bit further away from the kitchen and so it isn¡¯t as easy to carry food here, because you have to go up a small staircase. But it¡¯s cuter and cozier and somehow the different atmosphere just makes dinner feel nicer than it already is. It might be one of those ¡®forgoing practicality and responsibility¡¯ things, like before. Fresh can¡¯t really say. The four of them sit down and have a nice, warm dinner that none of them had to put any effort into to cook. But that¡¯s okay. Fresh was working on this all day. Basil was making medicine. Shamrock was in the dungeon, providing them with an income and Jubilee held the store down for the two or three people who did actually come inside today to buy something. So, all in all, the work was there, but in a different way. She supposes that the lesson of the day is to just not worry about it all so much. In the end of it all, for better or for worse, things are going to be okay, one way or the other. - Presumably. Razmatazz It has come to my attention that some of you have been worrying about things, despite me specifically asking you not to. Do not. I''m warning you. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 352: It’s a mystery It¡¯s a mystery. Fresh sits down on the windowsill in the library, staring out towards the heavy moon that hangs above the city, shining through the shield that encases them all with cold, distant light. What¡¯s outside of the shield? Nobody knows. What¡¯s going on in the outside world? Nobody knows. Where¡¯s the hero, Garnett? Nobody knows. Where¡¯s Peridot? Nobody knows. What happened to them both? Nobody knows. What did the curse or the apple do? Nobody knows. Why is the red-wizard here? Nobody knows. Why was the craftsman who made their shower in the east also here, in this very house? Nobody knows. What are the black-fountain¡¯s true goals and intentions not only for her, but for the world itself? Nobody knows. There are so many mysteries still remaining and Fresh just doesn¡¯t know what to think of it all. Sure, usually she would just ignore these things and let life just be life. Sometimes, you aren¡¯t supposed to know the answers to the questions you have, that¡¯s just what it is. But tonight, perhaps because of the brightness and the fullness of the giant moon, perhaps because of a random assortment of worries, perhaps because of their slow business and her growing anxieties, Fresh can¡¯t sleep. So, here she is instead, staring up towards the moon and wondering about so many different things at once as she watches the thick rays of yellow moon-glow dance through the silhouettes of the houses, dance through the flakes of falling snow, dance through the magic of the giant shield around the city as she thinks. That¡¯s it, that¡¯s the only reason that she¡¯s down here by herself in the middle of the night, she just wanted a place to be and to think. ¡°What color was the dragon?¡± mutters Fresh, staring at the shelf of books next to herself. Her voice carries around the library, but never gets far as the collection of books and shelving almost seems to swallow her words, as if trying to prevent her insecurity from reaching any other ears. She¡¯s sure that the dragon was red. But Basil is sure that the dragon was orange. Shamrock says it was green. Jubilee says it was blue. She already knows that it¡¯s odd, that everyone¡¯s perception of what color the dragon was is based on their own favorite colors. She knows her friends extremely well. Perhaps too well in some contexts to be considered a healthy social dynamic, but those perceptions of ¡®socially healthy¡¯ don¡¯t matter in her eyes. But why would they all consider the dragon to be something else than what it was? They¡¯ve never disagreed about anything like this before, so of course its odd. And given how absolutely gigantic the dragon was, it¡¯s not really possible that they could mistake the color of its scales, especially all of them at once. And yet¡­ Fresh turns back out towards the city as she runs the thought through her mind again, the obvious though that even someone as simple and dumb as she holds herself to be could understand. ¡®The dragon¡¯ isn¡¯t real. They never fought an end-boss in the eastern dungeon. The four of them can barely make it past the half-way boss of the easier central-dungeon and yet somehow, they were supposed to have beaten the final boss of the hardest, eastern dungeon? - Not a chance. Do the others know? Probably. If she¡¯s figured it out, then there¡¯s no way that they all didn¡¯t see through it all, perhaps even weeks ago. They were just not talking about it because they¡¯re sparing her feelings. She really appreciates them for that. Friends don¡¯t lie, but keeping secrets is okay and she really appreciates that they tried. But the secret is revealed now. She knows. But, if the dragon is fake, then why would the fountain instill such a powerful, obscuring memory in them? The only thing she can think of is that something bad must have happened, something terrible. Something so wild and dangerous, that it would perhaps jeopardize its goals, if the four of them were to have these facts in the back of their heads all day, every day. Perhaps, somewhere in this connection, there is the answer to her questions before, to all of those mysteries she had listed a few moments ago. The red-wizard¡­ Fresh clenches her eyes, thinking. The red-wizard has been here a few times now, asking for help and yet¡­ Those moments while she was here, those instances are all oddly¡­ vague. She knows that the red-wizard was here. She remembers talking to her. She remembers listening to the problem that the woman has and yet¡­ It¡¯s all foggy, like it never happened. It¡¯s like the dragon ate those memories. Fresh stares up towards the moon as she continues to wonder. Where is this all going to go? She just wants her friends to be safe at the end of it. ¡°Excuse me, do you have anything for dry eyes?¡± asks a man. Basil nods, gesturing over her shoulder for him to follow her as she walks with an excited pace, apparently happy that someone is finally here again to buy some medicine. ¡°Hey,¡± says a familiar necromancer. He lifts up the staff he had bought the other day. ¡°I need a new bauble, I broke mine.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Are you going to put more bones in it?¡± ¡°I could also use teeth?¡± suggests the necromancer, receiving a sigh in response. ¡°Do you have these for the giant snake sub-boss?¡± asks a dark-elf, pointing at a ¡®murder-manual¡¯. Shamrock considers for a moment and then nods, walking towards the shelf. More people walk in, business is apparently going to pick up again today, finally. ¡°Hey, I heard this is a really good place to -¡± Fresh sighs a sigh of relief. After a full night of worrying about different things, it¡¯s nice to have a little foundation back beneath her feet. People come and people go for the better part of the morning. She asks Muldrich if he wants lunch, receiving only her traditional ¡®no, thank you¡¯ in reply. Then she makes lunch for the others. All in all, it¡¯s a perfectly normal day like any other and she is extremely grateful for it and for everyone who steps foot into their store. Even the people who don¡¯t buy anything and just are there to look around or to accompany someone. She¡¯s glad that she is here to share this space and the time with them as they pass each other by in the quick, rapid mystery of a thing that is life. The till slams shut as Jubilee finishes the sale they were just making and Fresh, sipping her tea quietly, stands behind the counter and watches the door as the next group comes inside to look around, perhaps drawn in by the unusual crowd that is around today. An elf, a human, an orc, a dark-elf and a fairy. Veli. Fresh lets out an excited scream, dropping her tea and jumping over the counter. Razmatazz Wow! What a coincidence! =o Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 353: Welli To say that the fairy is taken by surprise is an understatement. But that¡¯s fair, the same could be said of Fresh, of Basil, of Jubilee and especially of the strangers who are surrounding Veli, who all look her way in confusion. ¡°Veli! Veli!¡± beams Fresh. Of course, she can¡¯t just snatch somebody small like Veli and grab them in a hug, for risk of hurting him. So instead, she clenches her fists and starts excitedly bobbing up and down on her feet. The fairy has grown in many ways. His hair is longer, his thin, small arms are now healed as well as fuller and well trained, together with the rest of his body that is hidden behind an adventurer¡¯s outfit that Fresh recognizes as belonging to a higher tiered adventurer. A small rapier hangs at his side, pure silver. Veli seems to have indeed done very ¡®welli¡¯. ¡°Oh, hey, wow,¡± replies the fairy, looking at her in surprise. ¡°You guys are here too?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Do you know her?¡± asks the dark-elf next to Veli. Fresh can¡¯t help but notice that the woman has her hand on the hilt of the small hatchet on her waist. Veli nods, lifting a hand. ¡°These are the people I told you about. From the west.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± says the dark-elf, letting her arm fall slack again. She sizes Fresh up and down and then shrugs with an expression of a somewhat colder disinterest, turning to walk away again. ¡°Veli!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°We tried to find you, but you already left.¡± ¡°Ran away is more like it,¡± barks Jubilee from behind the counter. ¡°Jubilee!¡± snaps Fresh, looking over her shoulder. The fairy buzzes there for a while. ¡°I got sick of the mountain air,¡± he says, turning to look at Shamrock. The two of them nod to each other once. ¡°Anyways, uh, I gotta go,¡± says the fairy, lifting a hand as his group has already turned to walk back out of the door without ever stepping another foot into the store. ¡°It was nice seeing you again,¡± says the fairy, but Fresh isn¡¯t really sure if he means it, given the tone of his voice and the quick departure of the people who he seems to have a closer connection to. The fairy lifts a hand and waves, flying back out of the door, not sparing a second glance over his shoulder, leaving a confused Fresh standing there all by herself as she watches them quickly vanish away into the city. Muldrich looks inside. ¡°All good, Muldrich,¡± says Basil and the man leans back out, returning to his position. It¡¯s later in the evening. Business had picked up considerably today, but no matter what task was ahead of her, no matter what question was asked of her by a customer, no matter what issue or challenge had arisen during the day, Fresh could only think about the fairy Veli. ¡°Are you fucking done yet?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh blinks, lifting her gaze to look at them. They¡¯re all sitting at the dinner table. She looks back down towards her plate. She has been playing with her fork absentmindedly this entire time and her baked tubers and vegetables have been mushed into a goop by her constant scraping and prodding with the utensil. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, scooping some of the food onto her fork. Jubilee had cooked tonight. ¡°I just keep thinking about Veli.¡± ¡°Veli¡¯s dead to us, just like he was before,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Nothing¡¯s changed.¡± Fresh sighs, receiving a consolatory rub on her back from Basil, who is just coming up the small staircase to the platform with a new pitcher of cold tea to drink with their dinner. ¡°Let¡¯s be happy that he¡¯s doing well and that he¡¯s found some people,¡± suggests the priestess. Fresh nods. ¡°I am, but why didn¡¯t he want to talk to us?¡± She thinks for a moment, returning to her previous smushing of her food. She quickly lifts her gaze, having a thought. ¡°Do you think he knows?¡± she asks sharply. Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°No. Veli was never near any of that stuff.¡± Shamrock nods. ¡°It¡¯s simpler.¡± ¡°Simpler?¡± asks Fresh. Basil sits down, pouring some new tea into their cups. ¡°It¡¯s just awkward. Running into people who used to be a part of your life.¡± ¡°Why would it be awkward?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I was really happy to see him.¡± Basil smiles and nods, continuing to pour the tea. ¡°Sometimes, people change and grow in such dramatic ways that they don¡¯t like to be reminded of where they came from,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°He looked very strong.¡± ¡°The results of hard work,¡± states Shamrock. Fresh watches them for a moment, before looking back at her plate. ¡°So we¡¯re just a bad memory?¡± she asks. That kind of hurts, especially considering that the fairy is still likely wearing the heartstone-necklace that she had made for him all day every day, so that he can persist outside of the mountain. ¡°It¡¯s uncomfortable,¡± says Basil. ¡°When you¡¯ve buried the dead and then they come back to life.¡± ¡°Fucking understatement,¡± throws in Jubilee. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± they say. ¡°Like I said. Veli is dead to us and we¡¯re dead to him. It¡¯s better that way.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it so harshly, but¡­¡± The dinner table is quiet, except for the renewed scraping of Fresh¡¯s fork against her plate. Feeling Jubilee¡¯s eyes on her, she catches herself, clearing her throat and setting her fork down, so that she can¡¯t play with it anymore. It hurts, in a lot of ways. She wants to sit the fairy down and tell him everything, she wants to set the record straight and explain to him that what happened in the past was a mistake of theirs. But it doesn¡¯t look like that¡¯s an option that¡¯s available to her and even if it was¡­ apparently that¡¯s just not what the fairy, Veli, wants for the life he has now chosen to live. Fresh supposes that she understands. It would be like one of Jubilee¡¯s old friends from their past life just appearing in front of them in the middle of the street on a random day in spring. It would be quite a shock. ¡°Aaah~¡± sighs an orc in relief, holding one of the hot-water bottles against his neck. ¡°These are really nice.¡± Jubilee taps against the counter. ¡°You bet your frozen green ass they are,¡± they say. ¡°Ninety-nine Obols and you can keep it.¡± Fresh sighs. Jubilee will always be Jubilee, she supposes. Though, maybe there¡¯s nothing wrong with that. The customers don¡¯t ever seem to mind the ¡®banter¡¯. Adventurers really are a different breed than the normal day-to-day customer. The man considers it for a moment, looking at the squishy little rectangle in his large hand. ¡°Can you make them bigger?¡± he asks. ¡°Huh? Bigger?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°I mean, I guess?¡± they look towards Fresh who nods. She supposes that¡¯s a reasonable request. ¡°How much bigger?¡± she asks, assuming that he means perhaps double, so that it can fit in his big hand better. ¡°I¡¯m interested in the spell,¡± he says. ¡°The rechargeable heating element,¡± explains the orc. ¡°Can you make one that¡¯s just¡­ bigger?¡± he asks. ¡°About the size of a small child.¡± ¡°That¡¯s suspiciously specific,¡± says Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. The orc nods. ¡°It could be great for my family business,¡± he explains. ¡°We run the central-forge, up by-¡± Before he can finish his sentence, Jubilee has already slammed the till shut. ¡°A small child?¡± they ask. ¡°We¡¯ll fucking make you one the size of a dragon.¡± They cup their hands by the mouth. ¡°Store¡¯s closed! Everyone get the fuck out!¡± Fresh blinks, staring, looking for a moment at the orc, noticing that he has an orichalcum ring around his finger. The man examines the heating bundle closely, apparently having an idea. Razmatazz SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOOOOOOOOOOOW~ Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 354: Red-handed ¡°Jubilee!¡± argues Fresh, her voice echoing around the basement. ¡°I have no idea how to make a heating bead that big!¡± she protests. ¡°It¡¯s not even a bead anymore, it¡¯s like¡­ a heating boulder!¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Nobody could have known that by ¡®a small child¡¯ he was referring to an orcish kid.¡± Fresh groans, looking at the small heating bead on the table that she is using for reference. Making these is one thing, but she isn¡¯t really sure how she¡¯s even supposed to start on one in the size that the man wanted for his forging operation. Plus she isn¡¯t really sure how a heating bead, even a large one, could be useful for a forge. They certainly don¡¯t get hot enough to melt metal. But the man is from the family that runs the orichalcum forge and he seems to have some use for it. So Jubilee told her to ¡®just shut up and make it¡¯. ¡°Can I go to bed?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°No, you¡¯re staying down here until it¡¯s done,¡± says Jubilee, crossing their arms and leaning against the wall. ¡°But Jubileeee~¡± protests Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be the prisoner of the evil fairy-queen.¡± ¡°You¡¯re pushing your luck,¡± replies Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Look, we need the money and even more importantly, this is a big chance for us.¡± ¡°You think?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I think,¡± replies Jubilee with a nod. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it, goo-brain?¡± they ask. ¡°They won¡¯t let us anywhere near the forge, but it¡¯s still going to be good for us to have a connection.¡± ¡°You think?¡± asks Fresh again. ¡°I think,¡± replies Jubilee, nodding a second time. ¡°We need a way to explain our orichalcum away. If we get on the good side of the forge, we might just be able to figure something out.¡± Fresh sighs, looking back towards the workbench. She supposes that Jubilee has a point. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll get started,¡± she relents. Though, she really does want to go to bed. Oh well. Snow continues to fall outside of their home. Fresh stands down on the street, staring up towards the high branches of the world-tree, up towards the casters who are standing atop its middle boughs and covering the city with snow. The snow that falls outside of the shield fails to reach inside of it. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, turning her head towards Basil. The two of them are outside on a run to the bakery, to get some fresh bread rolls for breakfast. ¡°Why is it so big?¡± she asks, looking back towards the tree. ¡°The tree?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°It¡¯s been here for eras,¡± she explains. ¡°The books say that there was a war a long, long time ago,¡± says Basil. She shrugs, looking at the paper bag of warm bread in her hands. ¡°It was so long and so terrible, that there was so much ash and death covering the world, that it made up an entire layer of dirt all by itself.¡± Basil points up towards the tree. ¡°And then, the tree began to grow from that, using all of those minerals and bodies to become what it is now.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Wow, uh¡­ that¡¯s kind of dark, Basil,¡± she notes, looking back towards the tree. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Basil. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s a sacred thing that nobody is allowed to ruin,¡± says Basil. ¡°It reminds us of where we came from and shows us what we could be.¡± Fresh stares for a moment, the cold winter¡¯s wind pressing past her face. She likes that thought, in a way. Sure, the origin is dark and terrible, but the place that it is going, the thing that it has become, born from such circumstances, is good. The tree is big and strong and proud despite all of the things that its once, minuscule seed might have been buried beneath. Fresh decides that she wants to be more like a tree. Like this tree, in particular. It¡¯s a good tree. ¡°Come on,¡± says Basil. ¡°Breakfast is going to get cold.¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, turning around and running after Basil, as the two of them walk home together. Down in the basement, Fresh looks at one of the bottles of Basil¡¯s expired medicine that she had removed from the shelves the other day, but hasn¡¯t had the heart to throw away yet. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± she mutters, looking around herself. The basement is empty. Picking up the bottle of tincture, she slowly scoots over sideways to the cauldron and ¡®accidentally¡¯ drops the bottle inside of it. ¡°Whoops!¡± she says, looking around the room. There is still nobody there. The cauldron bubbles and shakes and a second later, the glass bottle shoots back out of the cauldron, feeling significantly heavier. ¡°Oh, wow,¡± says Fresh as she carefully sets the pink vial down and pushes it away. That¡¯s super bad. That¡¯s really, very, incredibly super bad. She looks around the basement. There¡¯s got to be something here somewhere that¡¯s good. ¡°Ah!¡± she picks up a spriggan¡¯s seed from the bundle on her table and plops it into cauldron. The cauldron rumbles, shaking and a second later, a glint of metal flies out for her to catch. ¡°Oh¡­ huh¡­ wow¡­¡± says Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s also super bad.¡± She stares for a moment, blinking. The seed clacks as she sets it down onto the table next to the poison. Boy, orichalcum sure is hard to make nice things with. Everything is always super dangerous. She looks around the room, searching for a third thing. There¡¯s got to be something here, something that can turn out well¡­ An Obol lays on the workbench, just against the wall. It¡¯s an old coin that she found in her pocket the other day. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Her fingers reach slowly out towards it. Someone clears their throat next to her. Fresh stiffens up, slowly turning her head to see Basil standing there. The priestess rolls up her sleeves, shaking her head. Fresh laughs nervously. ¡°¡­Hi, Basil.¡± ¡°You know,¡± says the priestess, adjusting the fabric of her sleeve around her elbow. ¡°Back in the orphanage, we often had to discipline the children,¡± she explains, calmly. ¡°Usually this was just a stern talking to or some extra chores, but in those cases when someone did something really bad that endangered the others, we¡¯d have to take more drastic measures.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°I never liked it. I think it¡¯s wrong. But now, I see the necessity of the act, even if it¡¯s distasteful,¡± says the priestess, grabbing a strip of leather from the table. Basil narrows her eyes. Fresh yelps in terror, dashing away to make her escape, first to Jubilee, who tries to sell her out to Basil almost immediately. But then after her second escape, she manages to hide behind Shamrock until Basil is convinced to let it slide, this time. Though, Shamrock does flick her forehead with one of his metal fingers, so that kind of stings. Though, in the end, Fresh feels like she got away pretty lightly with it. After that, she promises to stop playing around with the cauldron and endangering the others. Razmatazz Wow that was close. I almost had to update the tags again, haha *Respawn Condition ''gets the belt'' memories intensity* Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 355: Snippets In the morning, Fresh sits downstairs in the basement and tries to cobble a coherent design for the giant heating-sphere together. But it¡¯s hard for a variety of reasons. The metal is more difficult to work with in this size. Plus it needs to be thinner too, so that the heat can leave the spherical body easier. The crystal-dust inside of it needs to be far denser, given the size. There are just¡­ complications of scale on every facet of the construction. Everything that works in the small format of a bead, doesn¡¯t really translate to the larger version. Things just work differently at this scale. The heat, the magic, the metal, it¡¯s all different. Fresh sighs, rubbing her forehead as she lifts her gaze to the floor above her head where she hears boots. It sounds like the store is opening. Dusting her hands off, she goes upstairs and gets to work. In the afternoon, Fresh does her best to avoid Basil who is still shooting her cautious looks. She pretends to be a spriggan and just wobbles around the house after the two of them as they do go about their day, hoping that the priestess won¡¯t notice a third, significantly larger spriggan having joined the group. It is evening now. Fresh flops down onto her chair upstairs, at the dinner table. It¡¯s her turn to cook dinner again today, so she¡¯s going to get started in a second. She just needs a break first, is all. Business has really picked up again ever since the ¡®Veli day¡¯ and between her crafting and her work on the house and her work in the store, she¡¯s been on her feet all day. She turns her head, staring towards the somewhat reworked patch in the ceiling of their home. She still needs to make a platform, some stairs and a big telescope. ¡°Anyway,¡± says Basil, coming up the staircase to the platform together with Jubilee. ¡°I told him to go ask a shoemaker,¡± she explains, shrugging. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you want to do boots too?¡± she asks. ¡°Fuck no,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Boots are a pain in the ass. I¡¯m a tailor, not a cobbler.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± says Basil. ¡°How about some socks?¡± The priestess runs a hand over Fresh¡¯s shoulders as the two of them pass her to sit down at their spots. It looks like all is forgiven. ¡°I can do socks,¡± notes Jubilee. ¡°Can I get a pair of socks, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I only have a bunch of old ones.¡± Jubilee sits down on their chair, turning her way. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be making dinner tonight?¡± they ask. ¡°It¡¯s your turn.¡± Fresh sighs, drooping further over her chair. Before she can slouch too far, a pair of large, metal hands grabs her and hoists her into the air. I¡¯ll help,¡± says Shamrock, flinging her over his shoulder like a sack of tubers as heads back ¡®downstairs¡¯ to the upstairs. Fresh waves a sad goodbye to Basil and Jubilee as they vanish from her sight. The horrible witch, having been captured by the brave, adventuring slime, is sentenced to toil and to cook dinner forever, for the rest of her days. All in all though, in reality, it takes about twenty minutes and Shamrock does most of the hard work. Fresh howls, the wind whistling as it shears along the crooked thistles of the flying broom as she shoots along the walls of the floor. Screeching shadows shoot around behind herself, razor sharp talons just barely missing her as the flock of harpies misses its next attack. Somehow, this always keeps happening. The monsters in the dungeon always seem to take particular offense to her presence there. She recalls the ghoul in the north having chosen her as its point of fixation, then the big stone-golem and now the harpies. The broom turns as she flips upside down, making a quick descent towards Shamrock who is getting ready to swing his orichalcum greatsword. She hears the air whistling, they¡¯re right behind her. ¡°Hi, Muldrich¡­¡± sighs Fresh, dragging herself back home along the street. Her robe is a bit torn up and feathers stick out of her hair. ¡°Hello,¡± replies Muldrich, not bothering to look at her, despite what a mess she is. Fresh appreciates that a lot. Shamrock nods to the man and the two of them head inside and go upstairs. It¡¯s time to go to bed. ¡°Do you have anything against a back-ache?¡± asks a man, standing in front of the counter. Fresh blinks, that¡¯s the fourth one today. ¡°Basil?¡± she asks, turning towards the priestess who nods, gesturing for the man to follow her. ¡°Right this way,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Boy,¡± remarks Fresh, looking at Jubilee. ¡°It looks like there are a lot of back-aches going around.¡± ¡°It¡¯s because that weird flu that was going around is gone,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°The flu? You think?¡± she asks, not sure how those things could be connected. Jubilee nods. ¡°People have been laying in bed for days because of the damn thing,¡± they remark. ¡°Now they¡¯re better and getting up again.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. That seems like a really simple explanation. Does it make sense? She isn¡¯t sure. ¡°Think about it,¡± says Jubilee, seeing her confusion. ¡°You got a thousand sick people. Maybe fifty of them will get some back pain from staying in bed for days and then maybe five of them will come to our shop instead of somewhere else.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± Maybe it does make sense? The world sure is a weird place. ¡°Excuse me?¡± asks an elderly woman, walking up to their counter. ¡°My back is killing me, do you have anything for that?¡± Fresh lifts a finger, calling across the room. ¡°Baaaasil~!¡± It is the evening of the next day and they¡¯re in the library. ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee!¡± cries Fresh excitedly. Jubilee sits there, their head planted down against the counter. They don¡¯t reply. The other Fresh runs over, grabbing Jubilee¡¯s shoulder and shaking them to get their attention too. ¡°Hey! Jubilee! Look at this! Jubilee!¡± she says excitedly, continuing to shake them. Jubilee doesn¡¯t reply and simply continues to hide from the world. Fresh had decided that she was having a tough time keeping up with all of her work at home, so she used her spell to double herself in the hopes that two of her would be more productive than just one of her. So far, the calculation doesn¡¯t seem to have worked out. ¡°Hey! I¡¯m talking to Jubilee right now!¡± argues the Fresh on the right. The Fresh on the left grabs Jubilee. ¡°Nu uh! Jubilee is my friend first!¡± Right-Fresh gasps, grabbing Jubilee. ¡°No! Jubilee is my friend!¡± She turns her head. ¡°Basil!¡± protests right-Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m trying to steal Jubilee from me!¡± Basil, standing by the shelves and trying to find a good book to read on body-aches turns her head and stares blankly, looking at the two of them. ¡°Shamrock!¡± argues left-Fresh, pointing at the other Fresh. ¡°Tell me to go away!¡± Shamrock lifts his gaze from his writing work. Shamrock and Basil turn their heads to look at each other for a moment, before the two of them just head towards the staircase and leave without saying a word. Both Freshs let out a distraught yelp and continue to shake Jubilee, trying to get their input on why Basil and Shamrock would just leave them here without replying. But all that Jubilee does is let out a sad, long sigh. Razmatazz Poor Jubilee My list of story ideas is growing longer by the day and even with all of the chapters I write, I can''t keep up. But I think I''m doing pretty good since this is something I do in my free time. Maybe one day I''ll make it to full-time, then I can flood you with my drivel, reader. Then there will be no escape for you. Everywhere you look, every page you open, there will be old uncle Razz, standing there, watching, waiting, judging. - You know what you did. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 356: The price of strength Stronger. It is early in the morning. The others are still asleep and Fresh is out in the living area. She pushes herself up off of the floor. This is her twelfth push-up now, in her second set of movements. She sits back, letting herself breathe for about fifteen seconds, before she gets back into position and starts working towards another twelve. After this, she wants to do some other exercises for her core and legs. The spriggans are next to her, copying her movements. Fresh exhales, pushing herself up again. ¡°One -¡± Stronger. Fresh stands down in the basement, looking at the fistfuls of harpy-powder that she has yet to make anything out of. She had a bad dream this morning. She doesn¡¯t really want to think about it, but she knows that the way to feel better about what she saw and felt is to just¡­ become stronger. Grabbing a few fistfuls of the powder, she puts it into a bowl and then throws in several sips of their world-tree mineral water, mixing it together into a thick paste. Fresh looks around herself. She needs a mold of some kind. So, she sets to work, making a mold out of an iron bar. It¡¯s just a simple, rectangular brick of metal with an indent in it, carved to look like a dagger. She notices how light the iron-ingot seems to feel. She can lift it pretty easily with one hand. She recalls the days in the north when this would take both of her arms and great effort. She isn¡¯t super strong, she isn¡¯t really a great close-combat fighter. Unfortunately, given the delay of her curses, she isn¡¯t that great of a long-distance fighter either. She needs to find something that she¡¯s good at, something that she can do to be useful all by herself, when Shamrock, Jubilee and Basil aren¡¯t there to bodyguard her. She takes the bowl and pours in the mixture of harpy-dust and mineral-water into the mold, watching the oozy, thick substance plop messily out of it. Fresh holds her hand out over it. In a sense, it¡¯s a very familiar recipe. It¡¯s like the bone-weapons that she had made back in the north, out of goblin teeth. Feathers aren¡¯t exactly the same as teeth, but they¡¯re close enough. Witch-magic thankfully allows for a lot of flexibility in these things. 8 DMG +4 DARK DMG Fresh flips the mold upside down, looking at the odd dagger. It¡¯s completely flat on one side, given that it was poured flat into the half of the mold. She picks it up. It certainly isn¡¯t ergonomic. But in a way, she likes it. It¡¯s pretty nifty looking. She stares at the dagger for a while, before setting it down. - Stronger. She needs it to be stronger. The girl digs around through her inventory, shaking out her wet arm and a just as wet bottle of harvest-moonwater. The dagger uses a health-point based effect, so harvest-moonwater makes the most sense to use here in combination with it. Picking up the dagger, she just dunks it into the bottle, rather than her usual sprinkling of it. 8 DMG +4 DARK DMG +2 HOLY DMG She sets the dagger down, her fingers tapping impatiently against the wood of the workbench. The moonwater effect is really good. It has a bit of extra ¡®free¡¯ damage now as holy, plus instead of health, the effect now costs soul-points to use. Which means that for her, she could use it for free¡­ - Stronger. Fresh lifts her hands, holding them above the dagger. She stands there, alone in the basement, staring at the dagger, listening to the bubbling of the cauldron filling the room with sound. The sound of the bubbling water reminds her of the bad dream she had. - Stronger. Fresh lifts her hands above the dagger again. The dagger seems to curve and to bend, as if the pressure of the spells and the enchantments were compressing it like two hands bending it into a curved shape as its unable to fight against the force of the spells pulling it together. She narrows her eyes. More. Stronger. All SPELL-DMG applies IMPACT-FORCE equal to a value of - (STR * SPELL-DISTANCE) Hallow light shines around the basement, the conjoined glows of the many magics and the bubbling cauldron coming to meet together to fill the dark underground room with a heavy ambiance. The metal of the dagger groans and creaks as it bends and gnarls, twisting like the body of a dying man whose muscles are tightening in broken, wrong positions. - Stronger¡­ ¡°Are you good?¡± asks Jubilee, sitting at the breakfast table. Fresh nods, lowering herself down. ¡°Just doing some squats, Jubilee,¡± she says. Jubilee rolls their eyes, but Shamrock gives her a thumbs-up. ¡°I wanna be ready.¡± ¡°Ready for what?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh shrugs, holding her arms out in front of herself. ¡°I dunno. Just ready.¡± Basil looks over from the kitchen. She¡¯s in charge of breakfast today. ¡°Didn¡¯t you work out earlier?¡± she asks. ¡°I thought I heard you shuffling around.¡± ¡°I did,¡± nods Fresh, lowering herself down again. ¡°I¡¯m working out again.¡± ¡°¡­Are you okay?¡± asks Basil. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Basil,¡± reassures Fresh. ¡°I just¡­ I dunno, I feel like doing stuff today. I had a bad dream so I wanna get stronger.¡± Basil and Jubilee exchange a look and then both shrug. Basil returns to her cooking and Jubilee returns to their book. Shamrock comes over and pokes her side. ¡°Tighten your core,¡± he instructs. Fresh nods, doing her best to tighten the muscles there as she lowers herself down again. It is is the middle of the night of the new moon. Cold, damp air surrounds her as Fresh hovers on the first floor of the now reset dungeon, sitting atop her broom by herself. A curled, twisted, jagged piece of dense, sharp metal is held in her free hand, her other holding onto the shaft of the flying broom. She lifts a finger, pointing at the single spriggan standing there on floor one of the central-dungeon. ¡°Pakew?¡± it asks, looking up her way. Fresh nods, knowing that the dungeon-spriggan knows that this is just business. ¡°Pakew.¡± The dagger in her hand shakes as the spell travels through it, collecting the many effects together into a bundle of wild-magic and then, an instant later, the spriggan just¡­ stops. Black blood streams out of its deflating body that is flung up into the air, crashing against the ceiling of the dungeon as it¡¯s violently thrown against it, already dead. Its body, filled with melting, goopy insides flops down to the floor like an empty sack filled with nothing but mush. Black-water leaks out of it, splashing across the dirt of the dungeon floor. Fresh stares at the deflated thing for a moment and then flies to floor two, not bothering to stop as she lifts her hands towards the two monsters there. - Stronger. She has to get stronger. If Veli can get strong enough to survive this world, to find a happy, safe place, if he can put his old self behind him, then so can she. The fact that she hasn¡¯t done this with clear, focused intent before, the fact that she hasn¡¯t been putting in serious effort into protecting her friends, her new life by getting more powerful, by grinding through the dungeon, Fresh has realized in a very spontaneous fashion, was the last proof of her lack of self-worth. She never really tried to get stronger, to protect what she has collected as her own because she didn¡¯t think she was worth it. Just like back then, just like nearly a year ago, when this all started, she had felt a feeling of unworthiness, of weakness, of self-hatred. Back then, she felt that she didn¡¯t deserve good, nice, warm things. Not someone like her. Someone dumb, ugly, stupid, terrible, selfish, someone worthless like her. Fresh flies to floor two of the dungeon, lifting her hand, not stopping as she casts her spell and flies towards floor three. [ You got {101/850} Experience ! ] [ You got {106/850} Experience ! ] She¡¯s sick of it, she¡¯s sick of that person who she was, that person who still lives inside of herself somewhere, in some dark corner of her being. And so she¡¯s just going to have to get stronger. Strong enough to kick that thing out of herself, strong enough to fight the hero, to fight the fountain, strong enough to deal with herself when she¡¯s in a bad mood and strong enough to not fall apart when she has a dream like the one she had last night. A dream in which she woke up in her old bed, in her old life. She had dreamt that it was a perfectly normal, perfectly average day in her perfectly average, lonely, sad existence. She had dreamt that she was running around her old house, looking for her friends, trying to use her powers, trying to make things and to be useful and to be happy. But by the time she stumbled into her old bathroom, looking into her old mirror, she realized that none of those things had come back with her and that she was, once again, undeserving of such things in both her eyes as well as those of any god that might be watching. She was alone, she was back where she started and in that dream, before she was brought back to reality, she was certain that this time, nobody would come to take her away. Fresh enters into floor three of the dungeon and then lifts her hand as she works mercilessly on becoming stronger. She¡¯s never going to go back to that place, to that person again. She¡¯s staying here, if the world likes it or not. Razmatazz *stares menacingly* We''re all going to be happy, reader. WE''RE ALL GOING TO BE HAPPY FOREVER. SIT BACK DOWN. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 357: You won’t take me alive. The feathers bends, its soft form giving way to the pressure of the warm wind that leaves Fresh¡¯s lips. Its body sways from side to side, the bristles of its single strands splaying and coming apart along the edges. She watches it, watching as it slowly rises back up between her fingers, as her breath leaves it, as she runs out of air in her lungs. The feather returns to its former stiff position in her grasp, but it¡¯s different now. The edges are different now. They¡¯re frayed apart and unable to be put back together again. She inhales again, blowing against the feather a second time. Jubilee is sitting upstairs at the library table, having found a quiet working space for their tailoring there, together with Shamrock who does his writing there. The workshop in the basement is mostly Fresh¡¯s and Basil¡¯s, but Basil only comes down there to make her potions, as most of her work takes place in the secret-farm. So she¡¯s alone now, down in the dark basement. The feather bends, the bristles of its gestalt shaking and moving as her breath presses against it once more. - She¡¯s never going to go back. To that old world of hers, to that person who she used to be, she¡¯s never going to go back. She knows that the old world itself wasn¡¯t the problem, it was her. She could have been just as happy in that old place as she is here. Though, she prefers it now, given her family. It¡¯s just that back then, in that place she was at, the person who she was couldn¡¯t see that. So it¡¯s for the best. - She¡¯s never going to go back. Her breath runs out and Fresh takes a moment to breathe again, before pursing her lips a third time. In a sense, the man from the thieves¡¯ guild, Patala, may be right about her. She doesn¡¯t belong. Not by any standards of natural law, at least. She is a thing that is out of place, a drop of oil in a place made up out of water. She blows again, the feather frays apart, coming undone on every end. Her air leaves her a third time. This time, the feather seems to be losing its springiness. It doesn¡¯t seem to bounce back like it had done the first time, or the second. It¡¯s frayed on the sides. The witch, Perchta, was here in this world before and was forced to leave it once, being killed by the hero back then, those ten years ago. But if Shamrock is to be believed, which he is, that person, that witch, is her. But how does that make sense? She remembers being someone else, living somewhere else before she became ¡®Fresh¡¯. But if it is true, if somehow, she is the untimely reincarnation of the witch, Perchta, then Fresh understands that this feeling that she feels is the same thing that Perchta must¡¯ve felt in that bygone era. Perchta, who found a way to get back, quicker, faster. ¡°I¡¯m not going back,¡± repeats Fresh to herself, dropping the feather into the cauldron. Not the cauldron of transmutation, but rather, the new cauldron of rebirth she had Shamrock help her set up today, using normal water. They need the money from offering repairs again, after all. Waiting a second, she fishes out the harpy¡¯s feather, before it can float too long. She looks at it, spinning it around in her fingers. It looks brand new, like nothing had ever happened. It looks¡­ fresh. She sets it down and gets up. She¡¯s going to the dungeon again tonight, after the others are asleep. ¡­Right? Fresh stops, not having managed to get upstairs after all. Didn¡¯t she go through this all before? Didn¡¯t she have this same exact problem back in the north, just on a minor scale, but with Jubilee? Jubilee who had forgiven her for sneaking around their home. Jubilee who was also¡­ Fresh lifts her gaze towards the ceiling. - Jubilee who, ten years ago according to what they had told Basil the morning after the reveal of their truth, underwent their demonic transformation. Shamrock was there. When the witches left. He had said as much. Was Jubilee there, when the witch, Perchta died? Did Jubilee know Perchta? Fresh lowers her gaze, looking back towards the flowers that are sprouting out of the basement walls. Friends have secrets sometimes. But not this one. She¡¯s come too far as a person, she¡¯s come too far as a woman, as a friend, as someone who cares and who feels and has love, not only for herself, which is something that had never happened before, but for those around her too, which is also something that has never happened before. Fresh grabs the cursed dagger, carefully carrying it with herself as she goes upstairs to tell her friends the truth. Because she isn¡¯t going to go back. Nobody is going to make her. Fresh grips the dagger tightly, the grip groaning from the pressure of her fingers wrapping around it. - She¡¯ll kill them if they try. ¡°I¡¯m not sorry,¡± finishes Fresh, standing there in front of the dinner table, having finished her explanation of the situation to her friends. She had gathered them all here to explain her entire emotional journey to this point, in slow detail, telling them about her troubles and her worries and her ¡®solution¡¯ to the problem. ¡°I know it¡¯s not great for me to use my curses, but we¡¯re out of places to go,¡± she argues. ¡°I won¡¯t waste a chance to protect us anymore because we¡¯re scared of using it,¡± states Fresh, closing her case and getting ready for Jubilee to yell at her and for Basil to make a disappointed face. Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock don¡¯t exchange a look this time, rather, they all seem to be lost in their own thoughts for a while. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were so worried,¡± remarks Basil. She turns her head towards Fresh, grabbing her hand. ¡°Thank you for telling us,¡± says the priestess. Fresh blinks. Basil is kind and compassionate about these sorts of fears, but she still didn¡¯t expect her to take it so well. ¡°I¡¯ve been scared too,¡± admits Basil, turning back to the others. ¡°But everyone seemed so ¡®normal¡¯ that I didn¡¯t want to say anything.¡± She turns back towards the others. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about changing my class,¡± says the priestess. ¡°I don¡¯t feel useful most of the time.¡± ¡°Basil¡­¡± gasps Fresh. She knows that the woman is devoted to her faith far more than any of them could understand. This is a big thing. Besides, she recalls Jubilee telling her about class changes, back in the north. They¡¯re expensive beyond belief and so are very rare coinsurances outside of the central-city. ¡°You¡¯re super useful!¡± Basil shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t know about that sometimes. I couldn¡¯t even heal my own leg,¡± she says, rubbing her scarred thigh. Fresh frowns, looking at the other two who still haven¡¯t said anything. ¡°The fucking dragon was a scam,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°We got duped like a bunch of fucking goons,¡± they remark. Fresh nods, she had figured as much out herself. ¡°The outside is fucked. It¡¯s probably our fault.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± remarks Basil, lowering her gaze towards the table. Fresh now understands the problem that the priestess has. It might not even be about her feeling useful or not, it might simply be a conflict of the results of the actions she helped bring about and the tenants of what she holds faith in. They turn their gaze towards Shamrock, the last one who hasn¡¯t spoken. ¡°You better not make a fucking joke, Shamrock,¡± warns Jubilee. The man just shakes his head. ¡°For better or for worse, the world is lighter,¡± he says. ¡°The moon is closer than ever before.¡± The room is quiet. ¡°¡­Fucking hell,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°You never talk and then when you do, you either recite a shitty joke or what sounds like a sad poem. Fuck,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head. Shamrock turns his head to look at Jubilee. ¡°You have beautiful eyes.¡± ¡°Right?!¡± asks Fresh excitedly. Jubilee rolls their, objectively beautiful, eyes. ¡°There¡¯s something new that we¡¯re just going to leave as is and never speak about again.¡± They shake their head again. ¡°Anyways. Does anyone have any grim secrets left to share with the room, or can we move on?¡± ¡°¡­Actually -¡± starts Basil, lifting her hand. ¡°- Fuck off, Basil!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°Keep that one inside of yourself until you die. Don¡¯t shit where you, and the rest of us, eat.¡± Basil frowns, lowering her hand again. ¡°¡­You¡¯re such a disgusting creature,¡± she says. ¡°Apparently. But I have great eyes though,¡± replies Jubilee, tapping against the table. ¡°We¡¯ll talk later, okay? Moving on.¡± They point at Fresh who is still standing there. ¡°Sit down. We¡¯re having a talk.¡± ¡°Yes, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, sitting down like a scolded child. ¡°What the fuck are we doing here people?¡± asks Jubilee, looking around the table. ¡°The world is ending and we¡¯re playing house.¡± Fresh lifts a hand. ¡°I¡¯m not playing. I¡¯m really enjoying myself, actually.¡± ¡°Be that as it may,¡± says Jubilee, staring at her. ¡°Can we maybe not ignore the ¡®world is ending¡¯ part?¡± ¡°It¡¯s comfortable to ignore,¡± says Basil. ¡°Since it¡¯s our fault.¡± ¡°Yeah, no shit,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Look, what¡¯s the end result going to be here though?¡± they ask. ¡°Either the shield falls and everyone outside is dead. Which is¡­ okay, fine, I guess. I can work with that. We¡¯ll just retire here.¡± Fresh nods. That¡¯s a good plan. ¡°But what if the shield doesn¡¯t fall? What if that¡¯s why we¡¯re inside of it?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°The dragon was green,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°The dragon is a make-believe fantasy pushed into our heads to keep us busy and scratching our asses so we don¡¯t ask any uncomfortable questions,¡± says Jubilee. They point at Fresh. ¡°¡¯Black-fountain¡¯, clearly fucking evil. I told you from day one.¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°I think it was like¡­ day twenty-something, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°It took a while until I got my class.¡± Jubilee lifts a hand, stopping her. ¡°I¡¯m ignoring you now and that statement.¡± Fresh gasps. They look towards Basil and Shamrock. ¡°We¡¯re here, we¡¯re comfortable because this is only ending one way.¡± They look at Shamrock. ¡°I know you¡¯re on board because you¡¯re a creepy fuck who wants to end the world,¡± says Jubilee. Shamrock shrugs. ¡°But what about you?¡± they ask, turning to Basil. ¡°I doubt you¡¯re here because of your unwavering loyalty to the, clearly fucking evil, black-fountain.¡± ¡°I¡¯m here because I want to be with you all, you know that,¡± remarks Basil, looking to the side. ¡°Ass,¡± swears the priestess. ¡°That¡¯s why I want to change my class. Nothing else has changed,¡± says the priestess. ¡°But you know that. You¡¯re just being a bully.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re killing people and ending the world. A little bullying is the least of your problems.¡± The room is quiet for a moment. Jubilee picks up the cursed dagger, looking at it. They turn their hand around and prick their finger. They slide the dagger across the table towards Basil who catches it, looking at the curved, twisted and wrong thing for a moment before picking it up and doing the same. She slides the dagger to Shamrock. The man takes off a gauntlet and scrapes off a chunk of his slime, throwing it off over his shoulder before sliding the sizzling dagger towards Fresh, who catches it, looking down at the thrice-stained blade. She picks it up and pricks her finger too, holding her hand into the circle that has already been formed by the others, who are just waiting on her. ¡°Go team,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Go team,¡± nods Basil. ¡°Go team,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh cries, holding onto the warm, wet hands that hang there, dripping onto their table. She cries for the person who she has left behind as her past self, she cries for the person who she was dreaming of becoming in this new life, who will never come to fully blossom in the kind, warm place she had envisioned in her deepest heart, she cries for the people who have suffered because of her insatiable greed and she cries for the people who will suffer still for her and her friends¡¯ yearning for life, for each other, for family, for love. They¡¯re all going to die. If the fountain gets what it wants, then this much is inevitable. Not just them. Everyone. But if through that, if somehow that means that she gets to keep her friends with herself forevermore, to keep this source of warmth and abundance with herself, forevermore, then she will take each and every soul to the black-water kicking and screaming. ¡°Go team,¡± says Fresh, her voice breaking as she fortifies her resolve, as she promises with blood, that no matter what, that she, that the others, that they will never, ever, ever, go back again. Razmatazz -) Go team. -) Poor Basil though -) But still, go team. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 358: Of trust Trust. Trust is a strange thing. The sureness of it, the absolute certainty that the thing you hold to be true is exactly that. That the faith which one holds in another person is so strong, that you¡¯re sure that you can see into the future, that you know exactly what they¡¯re going to do, when they¡¯ll do it and how. When you ask something and you can be as sure that it will be done, as if you were to do it yourself, with your own two hands. Real trust, true trust isn¡¯t just believing in another person or a thing. It¡¯s like having an extra limb, it¡¯s knowing with absolutely zero doubt that the desired outcome will be achieved, as certainly as one can lift their hands and grasp their own fingers, feeling the strike of a beating heart, coming from within. - That is how Fresh knows that breakfast is going to be good today. Sure, that might be a rather dramatic way to look at it. But she finds that a little dramatization helps in all aspects of her life. Emotions are there to be felt, after all. She sits up on the inner balcony, reading a book on survival stories of old adventuring parties, who both did and didn¡¯t make it out of hairy situations, out of dark dungeons and desperate times. She learns from their mistakes and from their successes, trusting in that the depictions that the author is describing for her are accurate. All the while, Shamrock cooks breakfast and she trusts that it will be good. Basil and Jubilee are in the city, gathering information about the outside world and about the inside of the shield. She¡¯s trusting that they¡¯ll find something useful. She¡¯s trusting that they¡¯ll come back on time for them to open the store, as if today were a day like any other day. Shamrock looks over his shoulder, feeling himself being watched by her. The two of them stare at each other from the distance for a moment, before both of them return to what it was that they¡¯re doing, trusting that the other is going to be a helpful, productive member of their family. What does the fountain know? What doesn¡¯t it know? Is it always listening, watching, or is it simply a thing that checks in now and then? Does it know about their ¡®knowing¡¯, or does it not? Does it even care, if it does? Perhaps it simply assumes that even if they are aware, that there is nothing that they can do about it anyway, because they¡¯re right where it needs them to be. They¡¯re powerless against its control and whims. Fresh¡¯s feelings towards the fountain are a mixed bag, for sure. On one hand, it has allowed her this rich life, but on the other, it has only allowed her this existence for a price, on the basis that she acts as a tool for its terrible wish for the world. On one hand, it¡¯s a mean-spirited, angry, bitter thing that likes to deceive her and to show her horrible things. It likes to whisper terrible words into her ears. But on the other hand, it has given her so much. So how does this balance out? She doesn¡¯t know. Her obligations to the fountain have been fulfilled in her eyes and its to hers, the deal has been completed. Yet here she is, it¡¯s all still going along. Fresh flips the page of the book, trusting that, one way or another, things are going to work out. Because they¡¯re all doing their best, they¡¯re all trying their hardest. The nature of spriggans is one of playfulness and ease. Fresh sits behind the counter of their store, waiting for the next customers to come. To keep herself busy, she has been watching the house-spriggan and the healer-spriggan, who have been spending their morning running around the house and playing with each other. It looks to be some kind of game of tag, but with spriggan rules that she doesn¡¯t quite understand herself just yet. The green leaves of their heads bounce as they run between the shelves, darting around the few customers who have shown up today. Despite Jubilee yelling at them, they seem to be difficult to discipline and simply return downstairs to continue their game a few minutes later. ¡°Will you two get lost?!¡± barks an annoyed Jubilee. The two spriggans stop, turning their way and then scamper off into the basement. If Fresh didn¡¯t know better, she¡¯d be sure that they were holding ¡®hands¡¯ as they left. ¡°Cute¡­¡± she mutters beneath her breath. ¡°Hey Muldrich,¡± says Fresh, coming back from her dinner-grocery run. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± ¡°Fine, thank you,¡± replies Muldrich, standing where he always stands, staring out into the city that he watches with sharp eyes. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, happy to hear it. ¡°Listen, I know you don¡¯t ever like this stuff,¡± she says. ¡°But we¡¯d like to invite you and your family for dinner sometime, if you ever feel like it,¡± she offers. ¡°No, thank you,¡± replies the guard. Fresh shrugs. ¡°Okay, well let me know if you ever change your mind,¡± says Fresh, heading inside with her bags of groceries. Muldrich sure is a tough nut to crack. Their plan had been to get on his good side, in order to get an inside-man in the city-guard. But the man is so stoic and quiet that it¡¯s impossible to get anywhere near him emotionally without seeming suspicious. She stands there for a while, turning her gaze to look at the other side of the wall where Muldrich is standing. He¡¯s a simple man, a man who¡¯s only interested in serving his city and thereby his family. She doesn¡¯t know Muldrich, but she feels like he¡¯s a good person. Fresh closes the door behind herself, heading upstairs. There are a lot of good people in this world, both inside of the central-city and outside of it. Just like there are a lot of bad people too. She knows that if Muldrich ever really knew the true truth about them and their own goals, that he¡¯d charge in here with his pike and kill them himself. He seems like the person who will do anything for his family, after all. To keep them safe, healthy, warm, fed. Fresh narrows her eyes. It¡¯s important that he never finds out then, for her family¡¯s sake. She goes upstairs and begins cutting the large, vibrant vegetables that she bought, thinking about what that will mean in the future as the blade of the knife sinks against the cutting board. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 359: Social proof Rain strikes noisily against the stones, the sound of thousands of small strikes coming to Fresh¡¯s ears to remind her that such a thing could exist. - Rain. She stares out of the window, wondering how it could possibly be raining? The shield is still up. But she realizes that the rain is coming from inside of it. Lifting her eyes, she follows the trunk of the tree, awash in the glowing, warm lights of the city below, until her eyes land on the silhouettes of the many casters, sitting high up atop the branches. One of them lifts an arm and a powerful crack of lightning shoots out. Thunder splits the air. The ice-casters seem to be done making snow and ¡®winter¡¯ and have now moved on to other things. New casters have taken their place, water-casters and apparently one or two people capable of manipulating lightning and fog. Fresh imagines that must be very powerful and potent magic. But, for better or for worse, they just seem to be using it to fill the night that hangs over the city with the calming ambiance of a heavy storm. She closes the shutters on their windows and listens as a magical wind howls through the streets. Standing there with closed eyes, she can¡¯t even tell that any of it is fake. It sounds just like a real storm, coming after the break of winter. The warm waters of the clean sky of a new year, coming to wash away the snow and the grime and the cold. The white burial shroud that had covered the world has now laid there long enough for everything beneath it to decompose. Now, it is time to remove the cloth and to let things return to as they once have been. It seems that winter is desired to be over. The cold is still here as is the hunger and the distress. But the winter, having never truly been able to form here, has now been declared, by the people at least, as being over. Whatever might be outside of the barrier, Fresh can¡¯t say. Perhaps the casters high up on the tree are able to look out through the shield, out through towards what lies on the other side of it. But they speak of nothing, no words reach the streets from what they might witness up there. She could fly out there, up there herself. She could get on her broom and whisk herself up to a high branch on the other side of the tree where nobody can see her and just take a look herself at what¡¯s going on. Thunder cracks anew and Fresh turns her head, looking over her shoulder as Jubilee shuffles upstairs, looking around themselves somewhat nervously. Nah¡­ she¡¯s needed here. Fresh goes upstairs after her friend and the four of them spend a warm, dry, quiet evening together. An evening as good and as whole as many of those that had come before it, both on days like this one and on days unlike this one. Winter isn¡¯t actually over yet. It¡¯s bitterly cold outside, enough to bite the skin. But there seems to be an attempt at play to make people forget that fact. For tonight, Fresh is willing to play along. The next day comes. Fresh sits behind the counter of their store as a man comes inside. She recognizes him as the cloaked man, the one who belongs to the trio party of an orc and one other person. ¡°Welcome!¡± she greets him. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± He nods, heading to the shelf and picking up a new bottle of vitamins, having burnt through their thirty day supply in just ten days, given the number of people taking them in his group. ¡°Good, just trying to get deeper into the dungeon,¡± he says. Fresh notices that he looks a little more gaunt than before. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh. ¡°Is your friend feeling better again?¡± He places the bottle down onto the counter, digging around through his pockets for his money. ¡°Yeah, the medicine helped a lot,¡± he explains. ¡°Thank you.¡± Fresh smiles. She¡¯s glad to hear that. The man keeps digging around, apparently not able to find his money pouch. ¡°Ah, hold on¡­¡± he says. Fresh shrugs. He¡¯s the only customer, so it¡¯s not a big deal. She looks around the store. The rain is keeping people inside of their homes and those without them out of the way. In an odd moment of clarity, she can¡¯t help but wonder if that isn¡¯t by design. Her gaze returns from the window to the man who is still digging around in his coat. She frowns and just pushes the bottle of vitamins over his way with a finger. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she reassures. ¡°You can just have this one.¡± He stares at her for a moment, his hand still stuck in his pocket. She nudges the bottle his way. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Just don¡¯t tell anyone, alright?¡± she asks, making a shushing motion. The man blinks and then nods, taking the bottle. ¡°¡­Thank you.¡± ¡°Yeah, stay dry,¡± she says, waving to him as he leaves. After he walks out of the door and into the rain, Fresh lets out a sigh. ¡°You¡¯re never going to stop, are you?¡± asks Jubilee, who she had completely forgotten being there. Fresh yelps, twitching together at the sound of their voice in fear. She turns her head to look their way. Jubilee stands by the till with crossed arms.¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± she says, turning back to look around the once again empty store. ¡°You know how it is.¡± ¡°Unfortunately,¡± sighs Jubilee. ¡°Whatever. Who even gives a fuck anymore?¡± they ask. ¡°It¡¯s the least we can do.¡± Fresh nods, staring at her friend for a moment. It is indeed, the least they can do. Given the current state of the world and the direction that it¡¯s going in, financial security feels like it¡¯s becoming less of a problem by the day. So what if they give away one bottle of vitamins to a repeat customer? Pragmatically, it¡¯ll keep him coming back to them in the future, because of his good experience. Realistically¡­ She stares out through the open door, at the rain pouring down outside. - Realistically, this is all heading in one specific direction, sale or no sale. Fresh walks around the counter to the front door, leaning outside to the guard standing in the rain. ¡°Hey, Muldrich?¡± she asks. ¡°Do you want to stand inside at least?¡± she offers. ¡°You must be getting soaked.¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± replies Muldrich, as always. Fresh sighs, but nods, accepting the man¡¯s choices as she heads back inside to wear it is dry, safe and warm. ¡°Is this far enough?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Maybe another few steps,¡± warns Fresh. The priestess frowns, stepping back and pulls Jubilee and Shamrock with herself. The four of them are down in the dungeon together. ¡°It¡¯s super dangerous, guys. I don¡¯t want you to get near it.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t we just fucking go up three floors?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Because I want to see it,¡± replies Basil. ¡°I want to be here, in case something goes wrong.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a woman of faith?¡± they ask. ¡°Have some faith. It¡¯ll be fine.¡± Hovering on her broom, Fresh looks at her friends who are on the staircase between this floor and the last one. Happy that they¡¯re far enough away, she flies out into the dungeon room; floor forty-seven. The nest of harpies stir, a dozen feathery heads popping out of the giant construction, made up out of gnarled root-wood and leaves, the moment that she enters into the floor. Fresh grasps the cursed dagger in her hand. For single enemies, she can just use her ¡®malediction¡¯ ability. It¡¯s good enough. The slow ticking of the damage is no issue with the dagger in her hand. However, for a room like this, she has her area-affecting spell, ¡®abomination¡¯. Purple strings shoot out of her fingers, straight into the chests of the quickly rising harpies, their angry screeches filling the room in an instant. They all go quiet. Their bodies fly apart from each other, tearing through the nest as they smash against each other or the rock of the ceiling, their bones breaking before they fall back to their nest, hanging over it, deflated, dripping, empty. A combat menu doesn¡¯t even have the chance to appear. [ You got {199/1100} Experience ! ] [ You got {207/1100} Experience ! ] [ You got {215/1100} Experience ! ] [ You got {223/1100} Experience ! ] [ You got {231/1100} Experience ! ] [ You got {239/1100} Experience ! ] [ You got {247/1100} Experience ! ] [ You got {255/1100} Experience ! ] ¡°Fuck me,¡± says Jubilee beneath their breath. ¡°That¡¯s grim.¡± ¡°Undeniable power,¡± says Shamrock, stepping down into the cleared room. ¡°Perchta is now as she was before.¡± Basil looks around the stained room, staring at the grotesque, deflated carcasses of the mangled harpies. The priestess looks for a moment more and then turns her gaze up towards Fresh and nods. Fresh nods back, flying to the next floor. Razmatazz Patreon is being weird. I can''t log into it over my normal internet anymore, only over my mobile data. Dunno why. =/ Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 360: Terms of employment Soft starlight shines in through the dusty windows of the library. Despite their best efforts to keep the house free of pollen and particulate, it seems to be an impossible task to master. Even with the magical feather-duster that they use on a daily basis, by the same time tomorrow, it¡¯s as if all the dust and pollen had never been removed. As if it all was just as a foundational part of their connection to the dungeon as the plant-matter and the giant, twisted roots of the world-tree themselves. Fresh stands in the library, in the back by the window and flips through the pages of a book. For whatever reason, she has an old tune stuck in her head, some melody from her old life and so, she¡¯s here, humming to herself and flipping through the pages of the tome. The others are asleep upstairs and the spriggans are down in the basement, doing whatever it is that spriggans do when nobody is watching them and so, alone in the witching hour, Fresh does what it is that she does when nobody is watching her. ¡­Reading? She blinks, staring at the book in her hands. Squinting her eyes, she tries to make heads or tails of it, but she notices that the letters are all indistinguishable. They¡¯re a jumbled mess. - This isn¡¯t real writing. This isn¡¯t even a real book. Water collects around her ankles as the upstairs library begins to flood. She looks through the gap to the other side that is full of water, up towards the ceiling. Somehow, the bookshelf seems to keep the flood locked on the other side of the room, as impossible as that is. And there in the darkness of that murky abyss, there, balled together in the rays of black-water, catching the shine of fake starlight, floats a creature, an entity, a thing, huddled together into a ball. - The spirit of the fountain. This is just another dream. ¡°What do you want?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re so annoying,¡± sighs the fountain, its voice carrying through the murky ocean. ¡°Is that any way to talk to your benefactor?¡± Fresh narrows her eyes, leaning into the bookshelf. ¡°We¡¯re done. We¡¯re even,¡± she says. ¡°I got what I wanted, you got what you wanted. We¡¯re through. I¡¯m not doing this anymore,¡± she says to it, setting the stage for their conversation. The current on the other side of the bookshelf rages, the water churning and spinning, flowing around the shadowy entity that is always just on the most distant edge of her vision. ¡°You¡¯re through when I say you are,¡± says the fountain. ¡°Or if you¡¯ve changed your mind, then let¡¯s just bring you back home, okay?¡± it asks. Its voice carries around the shelves, coming out of the water towards her as it were creeping her way from both sides of the library at once. ¡°Back to your old life, back to where you belong.¡± Fresh lets out a long exhalation, planting her feet firmly in the muck beneath herself. ¡°No. This is where I belong.¡± The fountain lifts its gaze as Fresh realizes something, something obvious. She realizes that this is a ¡®Jubilee moment¡¯. ¡°You need me here. Otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be here.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± asks the voice, clearly becoming angry. ¡°Yeah,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It is. You never brought me here to help me. You brought me here to help you.¡± ¡°And what about your friends?¡± asks the fountain. ¡°I might need you, for now, but I don¡¯t need them,¡± it states. ¡°How about we just cut a few cords and see what happens?¡± suggests the entity. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll remember your place then.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No. If you mess with them, I¡¯m not going to help you anymore.¡± The water rises, the bookshelves groaning from the pressure pushing against them. ¡°There seems to be a miscommunication happening here,¡± says the fountain. It¡¯s voice hissing around the library. The water of the black-ocean begins to church and to bubble. ¡°You work for me,¡± it says. ¡°You do what I say, when I say it and if you don¡¯t -¡± ¡°- No,¡± says Fresh, cutting it off. ¡°I told you, we¡¯re through,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you want with the world. I¡¯ll finish our deal, but you¡¯re going to leave me and my friends out of it after that,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Or what?¡± asks the fountain. The body in the distance moves. Two inky hands grip the shelves on the other side, a featureless face pressing itself towards her. ¡°What are you going to do about it I don¡¯t?¡± it asks. ¡°Whatever I want to,¡± replies Fresh, closing the book in her hands and setting it back into the shelf, blocking off the face on the other side. ¡°It¡¯s my life.¡± Fresh opens her eyes, staring at the ceiling of their bedroom. The bedding she¡¯s laying on is wet down at her feet. An arm is slung over her front, Jubilee¡¯s. Their breath pushes into her ear as they sleep. Basil is flopped over sideways, laying over Shamrock¡¯s chest like a sack of grains. Blinking, she subtly slides herself down out of bed, doing her best not to wake anyone up, making a note to change the sheets today. Going out and then downstairs, she waves to the spriggans who are doing a dance in the rays of the morning sunlight that shine in through the windows. As she gets ready for her day, Fresh can¡¯t help but think about her encounter with the fountain. The fountain needs her. Sure, it holds a power over her. But this power is only applicable if she accepts it to be so. Sure, the fountain can control her actions and make her do things that she doesn¡¯t want to do. But at the same time, it needs her to cooperate, since it apparently can¡¯t control her one-hundred percent of the time forever. She isn¡¯t sure what made her realize this all of a sudden. Perhaps it was their dungeoneering last night, perhaps her slowly raising stats, but the power of their ¡®relationship¡¯ isn¡¯t just in the fountain¡¯s hands, as it would have liked for her to believe forever. Half of it, a deciding half of a vote, is also in her own. Is the world still ending? Probably. But that¡¯s not her concern, in all honesty. Perhaps that¡¯s horrible and terrible and awful and all manner of things of that nature. Countless people will suffer cruel fates that they and their beloved ones are entirely undeserving of. However, as Fresh sits down in the bath, scrubbing herself with some soap and humming a happy song, all she can think about is how excited she is to make breakfast for her friends today. - Maybe some eggs? Today feels like the day. Razmatazz -) I''m sure this will bode well during our next round of contract negotiations -) Patreon is working again. Guess I just had to complain about it lmao Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 361: Spry spriggan spy ¡°Pat-a-cake! Pat-a-cake! Baker¡¯s man! Bake me a cake as fast as you can~!¡± chants Fresh, bouncing up and down in the kitchen behind Jubilee. They push her to the side, waving her off with a hand as they go to where she was just standing, bending down to grab a baking form. ¡°Will you get lost?!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re in the way. Like always,¡± they grumble. Fresh frowns and takes a step back. Then she clenches her fists and starts over again with her chant. ¡°Pat-a-cake! Pat-a-cake! Baker¡¯s man! Bake me a cake as fast as you can~!¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the house-spriggan from next to her. Across the room, back by Shamrock who is gathering material, the healer-spriggan shouts a distant pakew over towards them as well. Jubilee sighs. ¡°If you¡¯re not going to be helpful, then go bug Shamrock.¡± ¡°Shamrock¡¯s busy,¡± replies Fresh, looking back at the man for a moment. He¡¯s dragging materials around for her to get started on the telescope platform with. She turns her gaze back to Jubilee, who has their arms out at their side, gesturing to signify something obvious. ¡°And I¡¯m not?¡± they ask. ¡°Get lost. Go pester Basil then.¡± ¡°Mm¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, making a show out of it by tapping her chin with a finger. ¡°But Basil¡¯s working on her medicine. She doesn¡¯t like it when I bug her then.¡± ¡°I fail to see how this is my problem,¡± replies Jubilee. Fresh stares at them for a moment. They stare at each other, the sounds of Shamrock¡¯s work filling the room. Fresh claps her hands together. ¡°Pat-a-cake! Pat-a-cake! Baker¡¯s man! Bake me a cake as fast as you can~! Today, Jubilee is baking a cake. This is, of course, extremely exciting. There isn¡¯t really an occasion, as far as Fresh knows. Jubilee had just said that they wanted to bake a cake and Fresh had decided that this was a phenomenal idea. A cake? Jubilee has never baked a cake before. This is very thrilling, perhaps it is even the highlight of her life. ¡°Hey!¡± barks Jubilee over to the healer-spriggan. It looks over their way. ¡°I¡¯ll give you some more of that growing-water,¡± they offer, lifting a finger to point it at Fresh. ¡°If you whack her on the head with that stick of yours.¡± The healer spriggan looks at Jubilee and then towards its staff. ¡°Wait, huh?¡± asks Fresh, looking between the two of them. ¡°Pakew!¡± shouts the healer-spriggan, lifting its healing staff high into the air with both of its stubby arms as it quickly wobbles their way. Fresh lets out a terrified yelp and runs away, bolting down the stairs, listening to Jubilee¡¯s laughing as she makes her escape. The terrifying thudding of two small, stubby legs chases after her. ¡°Baaaasil~!¡± she cries, bolting towards the basement. She rounds the lowest bend of the spiral staircase. ¡°Not now,¡± says the priestess, looking over her shoulder from her workbench. ¡°Basil!¡± cries Fresh anyway. ¡°The spriggan is trying to whack me on the noggin¡¯!¡± she explains. ¡°Jubilee bribed it!¡± Fresh turns her head, listening to the steps of the healer-spriggan coming downstairs. She yelps and retreats to the door of the washroom, locking it behind herself. Eventually, the store has to open however. By then, the spriggan had already been shooed away by Basil, who was trying to focus on her work before they opened. Now, Fresh is standing behind the counter, watching the staircase with wary eyes. - So far, so good. ¡°How¡¯s the thing coming along?¡± asks Jubilee, looking her way. ¡°The thing?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± says Fresh, realizing that Jubilee is talking about the heating bead for the orichalcum forge. ¡°I dunno. It¡¯s sort of kinda, but not really coming along, you know?¡± she asks. ¡°How¡¯s the cake?¡± ¡°It has to sit until tonight,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Otherwise it¡¯ll get smushy.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t we just eat it now?¡± asks Fresh, looking around the empty store. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°If you touch it before I say so, I¡¯ll cut your hands off myself.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°But what if I don¡¯t touch it with my hands?¡± she asks. ¡°What if like¡­ I use my elbow?¡± She waves her elbow towards Jubilee. ¡°Or my shoulder?¡± ¡°Look,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t care what part of your body the knife is going to be going through, but it¡¯ll be going through one of ¡®em alright.¡± Fresh smiles. Jubilee must be pretty proud of their cake if they¡¯re this defensive about it. She can imagine that they¡¯re actually really excited for them to see their efforts tonight and so they want it to be perfect. She nods. ¡°You¡¯re a great friend, Jubilee.¡± ¡°You bet your fucking ass I am,¡± says Jubilee, pointing out towards the store. ¡°There¡¯s nothing going on. Go sweep.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I can¡¯t leave the safety of the counter, Jubilee,¡± she explains. ¡°The spriggan is still after me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a level two spriggan, you¡¯ll be fine, you baby,¡± replies Jubilee. They point towards the door. ¡°Worst case, you can run to Muldrich.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°But he¡¯ll kill it?¡± she asks. ¡°P- pakew?¡± asks the house-spriggan nervously. ¡°Yeah. So?¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°We¡¯ve never killed a spriggan summoned by an item before, Jubilee,¡± thinks Fresh. ¡°If we do and then re-summon it, is it the same spriggan, or a new one?¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°I assume it¡¯s the same one, since they can be leveled and resummoned like a normal pet,¡± they guess. ¡°Oh. That makes sense,¡± nods Fresh. The room is quiet. Jubilee stares at her. ¡°Are you just trying to distract me from the fact that you aren¡¯t sweeping?¡± Fresh lowers her head, shuffling out from the safety of the counter. Oh well. It looks like it¡¯s safe down here, so sweeping should be okay. The shelves are low, so there¡¯s nowhere for the healer-spriggan to be hiding. The house-spriggan wobbles after her, grabbing the broom. She smiles, at least she has a helper and later on there¡¯s going to be cake! Maybe it¡¯s all not so - ¡°Ow!¡± she yelps as the top of the broom-handle whacks her over the head. She rubs her head, watching as the broom falls to the ground, the house-spriggan wobbling off. It spares a glance over its shoulder and then keeps walking. The menu vanishes. Muldrich peeks in through the door a second later. She¡¯s been betrayed. The healer-spriggan pops out from beneath the basement, the two creatures finding each other in an embrace, before they flee together to the safety of the underground. Fresh stands there, rubbing her head before turning to Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she complains. ¡°I¡¯m impressed,¡± says Jubilee, honestly surprised, given the tone of their voice. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they were capable of teamwork.¡± ¡°Strong feelings make everything possible,¡± remarks Basil, who was sorting the shelves. The priestess comes over and looks at her bump. Okay, so, maybe the day isn¡¯t exactly perfect. But at least there¡¯s going to be cake later. That¡¯s something, right? Fresh makes a show out of how much it hurts so that Basil will dote on her, though she thinks that the priestess knows that she¡¯s doing it. Jubilee meanwhile pays the spriggans what is owed, a deal is a deal. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 362: Of slimes Fresh stands outside on the marketplace, staring into the window of the odd store that she¡¯s never seen before. A few people are running around inside of it, running the day to day. Bending down, she looks at the products on display. There are some medicines, made by an alchemist. There are winter clothes, made by a tailor. There are crude magical weapons made by some sort of carpenter or craftsman. Looking to the side, there are even hand-drawn dungeon maps. She tilts her head, feeling an odd sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Fresh looks up towards the sign above the door. ¡®The Dungeon Stuff-Store¡¯. Fresh blinks, staring back into the window. How odd. Shrugging, she continues on with her grocery run. They need fresh bread today for breakfast. She wanders through the aisles of the many street merchants as she walks over the marketplace, looking for something nice and warm. The stall that had once belonged to the muffin-man now seems to have an owner again, one who isn¡¯t a ghost and so she stops there in his memory, buying some fresh breads and a few small, bite-sized muffins from the baker who now runs it. They¡¯re not as good or as soft or as delicious looking as the muffin-man¡¯s. But they¡¯re perfectly acceptable muffins apart from that. (Fresh) buys {8} [Muffins](Normal) for {46} Obols ! Beaming, she heads back home. ¡°Hey, Muldrich,¡± she waves. ¡°Do you want a muffin?¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± replies the guard. She would have been surprised if he had said literally anything else, honestly. Humming to herself, she heads inside and goes upstairs where the others are waiting. Technically, breakfast today was supposed to be the rest of the cake that Jubilee had baked yesterday. But in reality, there just wasn¡¯t enough cake left for that. They had eaten it all last night, after they made the plan to save half for breakfast. ¡°Hey guys,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I think somebody is stealing our brand identity.¡± Jubilee looks over from the table. ¡°Those are some big words for you.¡± Fresh frowns, making a show out of it as she puffs out her cheek, setting down the bag of baked goods onto the table. ¡°You mean that other store down the street?¡± asks the priestess. She shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she remarks, turning back to the pot of fresh jam that she¡¯s preparing. ¡°We¡¯re doing well and if that inspires someone else to do well too, then we shouldn¡¯t have a problem with it.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. She supposes that Basil has a point. Deciding to change the topic, she looks around the room for something else to talk about. Her eyes land on Shamrock, who is next to Jubilee, playing with his fingers. ¡°Hey, Shamrock?¡± she asks. The man looks up towards her. ¡°How come you decided to try and be more humany?¡± His chest heaves for a moment as he exhales, staring her way. ¡°Armor only comes in one shape,¡± he replies. Fresh starts laughing. The healer-spriggan, having been given its second dose of mineral-water by Jubilee, is now a stage-three spriggan. That means it¡¯s significantly larger and more lean. It¡¯s grown just past Jubilee-sized. The buds on its head have begun to sprout and are dotted with a few flowers. Now it towers over the little house-spriggan, who is still only less than half of its size. ¡°Do you think we should give the house-spriggan some water too?¡± asks Fresh, watching the two spriggans run around. There¡¯s a clear difference in size and strength between them now. ¡°I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s not going to be some weird power dynamic now.¡± ¡°The fuck?¡± asks Jubilee. They gesture for her to bend down and Fresh obliges, thinking that Jubilee has a secret to tell her. Instead, they grab her head and begin twisting it around. ¡°No. Still as light as ever,¡± they remark. ¡°When did you learn so many words?¡± they ask. ¡°Jubilee!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°I know a lot of words! Really great words!¡± she argues. ¡°Like what?¡± asks Jubilee, letting her go. Fresh thinks for a moment, the two of them staring at each other. Now, put under pressure, she can¡¯t actually think of any of her great words. ¡°¡­Chicken-butt?¡± she asks. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Weirdo.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, looking back towards the spriggans. It looks like it¡¯s fine. They seem to just be playing their usual games and the smaller house-spriggan seems to be more enamored than ever with the healer-spriggan. Murder attempts bond people together, she supposes, rubbing the still sore spot on her head. ¡°Excuse me,¡± says a familiar voice. Muldrich. Fresh blinks in surprise, turning her head towards the door. The guardsman is standing there, holding a half-dark-elf child that Fresh recognizes as the man¡¯s daughter. ¡°Can she use your washroom?¡± asks the guard. Given the very spriggan-like dance that the girl is doing, Fresh supposes that it¡¯s an emergency. ¡°Sure,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°But the basement isn¡¯t safe,¡± they explain. ¡°Medicine making, you know?¡± They snap their fingers. ¡°Basil.¡± ¡°Sure thing,¡± says Basil, grabbing the child¡¯s hand. Muldrich nods and steps back outside. ¡°Thank you.¡± Fresh and Jubilee exchange a look. It¡¯s a good thing they had prepared for a scenario like this already, ever since they had made a plan to try and win Muldrich over. The basement, while full of what Jubilee would call ¡®fuckery¡¯, is dressed up in wood-cladding, crates, barrels, shelves and growing plants. As long as nobody looks around too carefully, everything should be fine, if they¡¯re just escorting them through it to the washroom on the other side. As for the mineral pool, it¡¯s not really a giant secret that they need to hide from the world. In fact, it might even be beneficial to let the world know about it through a second-hand source like this. Powerful magical water on their property could explain a lot of what they do and offer away pretty easily. Fresh looks back towards the door, wondering. Is this a real scenario that''s playing out right now? Or is Muldrich using his daughter to spy on them for the city guard? ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment, tapping her fingers against the counter. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± remarks Jubilee, perhaps knowing what she¡¯s thinking. ¡°The big slime eats the little slime,¡± they explain. Fresh nods, understanding. She doesn¡¯t like it. She doesn¡¯t like lying to Muldrich. She doesn¡¯t like him using his own daughter to check out their operation from the inside. She doesn¡¯t like the fact that they¡¯re all in this odd situation to begin with. But she understands. Fresh turns her gaze, watching as the healer-spriggan whacks the smaller house-spriggan on the head and laughs as it protests, clearly upset about being bullied. But in this world, as horrible as some things are, it just is what it is. - The big slime eats the little slime. She really has to do something about that. Razmatazz Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 363: Faith ¡°So what kind of stuff are we looking for, Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh, wandering after Jubilee as they go down another street, which is perhaps somehow even somewhat shadier than the last one that they were just on. It¡¯s not as dramatically shady as the red-light district in the east, but it¡¯s still, by the standards of the central-city, pretty shady. ¡°Shut up and keep walking,¡± says Jubilee, looking into another window. Jubilee had said they were going into the city this morning to look for ¡®some stuff¡¯, but has since refused to elaborate any further. It is early in the morning, just past sun-rise, but still around the time when they would usually be at home, shuffling around at a tepid pace while waiting for the designated breakfast cook, Basil today, to make breakfast. ¡°Ah, here it is,¡± they say, lifting a finger to her. ¡°Stay there. Don¡¯t move.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, looking up at the structure that is nested into a corner between two other houses. It looks like a store, but there¡¯s no sign of any kind. ¡°I wanna go inside too.¡± ¡°Stay there,¡± repeats Jubilee, jabbing her with their finger before they head inside. Fresh sighs, looking around the area. The streets are still asleep. They¡¯re out in the south side of the city, further away from the tree. This is practically next to the outer walls, which are only two or three streets away. Looking around the area in boredom while she waits for her friend to come back from getting their ¡®stuff¡¯, she sees something small, tucked into the opposite side of the street, below a low-hanging section of roof that seems to belong to neither of the houses it sits between. Blinking, she checks that the street is safe to cross and then walks over towards it, bending over and staring at the vaguely familiar thing. It¡¯s a small shrine, tucked into the section of the wall. A porcelain figurine sits there, shrouded in a thin, black cloth that she can see through. In front of the small statue, is an offering bowl full of¡­ Fresh narrows her eyes, staring at the contents. - Chicken feathers, some fruits and a piece of straw that looks like it could be from the head of a broom. She blinks. Wait. ¡°I told you to stay there,¡± says Jubilee, coming back out of the house already. Fresh looks over her shoulder. ¡°I just crossed the street, Jubilee,¡± she argues. ¡°Did you get your stuff?¡± ¡°I got my stuff,¡± replies her friend, looking at the altar. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. There are a lot of people like Basil and Shamrock in the world.¡± ¡°Like Basil and Shamrock?¡± she asks, turning back towards the small street altar, dedicated to the witch of the north. ¡°Huh¡­¡± She straightens herself back up and nods to her friend. The two of them go back home. Fresh supposes that it makes sense. In days now long since past, the witches¡¯ sect was a force to be reckoned with. But after the happenings of ten-some years ago, they all but left to the south as a collective. Only traces of them are still to be found here. People like Shamrock, people like whoever had built this altar to the witch, Perchta. It¡¯s important, she supposes, to have something to believe in when the bad times come. ¡°So¡­¡± starts Fresh. Her mind is still on her discovery from before. As for what kind of ¡®stuff¡¯ Jubilee got, that¡¯s a secret. They¡¯re currently upstairs at home, having just finished breakfast. ¡°What¡¯s with the witches¡¯ sect?¡± she asks, receiving three very different looks from her friends. ¡°I mean, why¡¯d they all leave?¡± she asks. ¡°And when?¡± Basil returns her gaze to her tea-cup, closing her eyes as she takes a sip. ¡°They used to be a big thing,¡± she says. ¡°You couldn¡¯t go past a street-corner without seeing a shrine or something.¡± ¡°Church took all of those down pretty fucking quick,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°There used to be a big one outside of the northern city, where that fountain is.¡± Fresh blinks, thinking back to it. ¡°Huh¡­ really?¡± That¡¯s the fountain in which she had arrived in this world. Shamrock sets down his cup, having finished pouring its entire content into his armor at once. ¡°After what happened,¡± says the man. ¡°They didn¡¯t see the point,¡± he explains. ¡°The point?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The point,¡± repeats Basil. ¡°The witches¡¯ sect believes that the world is sinking because its souls are too heavy.¡± ¡°It is. They are,¡± says Shamrock, his chest heaving. ¡°Sure, maybe,¡± concedes Basil. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t make it right.¡± ¡°It does,¡± replies Shamrock. ¡°¡¯It¡¯?¡± asks Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°If you ask me, we¡¯re all in this mess because all of you fucks can¡¯t stop bringing in people to solve your problems,¡± they say. ¡°No offense,¡± adds Jubilee, lifting a hand towards Fresh. They point at Basil. ¡°Your fucky heroes keep blowing up cities and your fucky witches can¡¯t just shut up, sit back and live quiet lives of dignity.¡± ¡°Some souls are called for greater things,¡± explains Shamrock. Jubilee¡¯s finger taps against the surface of the table. ¡°Those fucking ¡®greater things¡¯ are killing everybody.¡± ¡°Are we in a position to talk?¡± asks Basil, still calmly sipping her tea. ¡°We¡¯re probably the biggest problem there is right now.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°Fuck ¡®em all. Maybe I would have seen things differently a year ago, but I¡¯m done now,¡± they say, nodding to Shamrock. ¡°Game¡¯s over. It¡¯s lost. Let¡¯s just flip the fucking table and see what happens.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± says Shamrock. Basil shakes her head. ¡°You know that I don¡¯t and can¡¯t agree with that,¡± she says, setting down her cup. ¡°But here you are,¡± says Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°But here I am,¡± nods Basil. She smiles a somber smile, a hand clutching the piece of metal against her chest, which is strung to a cord around her neck. The glass-chicken on her wrist jangles from the movement, catching the rays of morning sunlight coming in through the upstairs window. ¡°Because I have faith,¡± she says, sounding almost relieved. ¡°Oh, fuck me,¡± groans Jubilee. ¡°This again? Weren¡¯t you thinking about changing your class?¡± they ask. Basil doesn¡¯t reply, just smiling as she rubs her necklace. Fresh knows though that she doesn¡¯t mean ¡®faith¡¯ in the context of her religious beliefs, but rather in a more general sense. Basil has faith in the same way that she herself has it. It¡¯s hard to say what¡¯s going to happen with the world, it¡¯s hard to say if it will sink or if it hasn¡¯t already or if things will somehow get even worse before they get better. But the faith that they hold is that, despite everything, for the four of them, somehow, things will get better. It¡¯s impossible for it to be any other way, even in the darker days that might perhaps still lie ahead. It¡¯s impossible for things to be bad or sad or wrong in a way that might break their spirits as it had done so for the witches¡¯ sect, some ten years ago. Because despite the creeping and crawling of the bad-thing that lurks in the whispering shadows of the world, in the hungry hearts of the people, here sit four people who, if nothing else, have faith in each other and that is more than enough to keep everything else away. Razmatazz - Probably? Yeah. It''ll probably be fine. Don''t worry about it. Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 364: Strong. Rain continues to fall outside, but that isn¡¯t really a big issue for the four of them, as they¡¯re heading into the dungeon. After Fresh¡¯s demonstration of her cursed dagger the other day, they had gotten down to a significant depth in the dungeon, as she can essentially just cast one spell to kill the majority of monsters on a floor and those who are left alive, if any, are in such a state of disarray from the stacked effects of her curses and the applied bleeding that they¡¯re quickly picked off by the others with no real difficulty. The sub-boss on floor fifty, the stone-giant, who had caused them so many problems and essentially a full day¡¯s worth of fighting alone, was dealt with in a manner of five minutes. In terms of levels, they¡¯re shooting upwards at rapid pace. - Well, those of them who can level are. Shamrock, as a monster, is unable to level any higher than he already is. That being said, he still has the ability to raise not only his technical skills through practice, but as a slime, through eating and growing, which he has been doing for so long that the process has begun to slow down, as slimes seem to have a ¡®natural¡¯ soft-cap, to stop one single slime from becoming too massive. Jubilee meanwhile, as a demon, also has no menu and doesn¡¯t get experience points. But at the same time, they don¡¯t need it either as their glass-magic simply bypasses the cosmic-system entirely. After all, there¡¯s no need for health-points if the enemy just bleeds out right away. Basil however, as a normal human, in the same way that Fresh is a ¡®normal¡¯ human, gets experience points and levels up essentially as quickly as Fresh does from the experience. So much so, that they actually have to take a break, because the sudden increases in values and stats makes the two of them literally dizzy and nauseous. After they get to floor seventy-five, powering through monstrous onslaughts, the four of them decide to go back out. But not to go home, rather, they just leave Fresh¡¯s cut-off space and then head inside to Basil¡¯s, which is still untouched and so, they begin to run through the entire dungeon again from floor one. At least until floor thirty, at which point they¡¯re so worn through and ragged, even with their luxury of Fresh¡¯s magic, that they simply have to call it quits. As for Fresh, even with her ¡®infinite¡¯ amount of soul-points, she can barely walk anymore by the time they¡¯re leaving. So Shamrock has to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her back home in a way that she finds almost nostalgic. The four of them head back to their house, their bags full of boss-cores and rare drops and with both Fresh and Basil both being close to a full ten levels higher, each at around level thirty now. [Level up! You are now LEVEL 31! ] {Cooking 8}{Crafting 9}{Gathering 5}{Adventuring 6}{Witch-Crafting 9}{Mercantile 8} STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 11844 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] As for abilities, given that one is able to receive a new ability with every level, provided one has unlocked the choices, Fresh found herself tapping against many different things, eventually just taking some choices because she had nothing better to take. They take a nap for a few hours and then open the store for the afternoon. Not because they need the money, but because Basil wants to sell medicine to some people, to make herself feel better and that rest of them don¡¯t have a problem with that. Fresh is down in the basement, working on the giant heating element for the orichalcum forge. It¡¯s a nightmare. Everything she had used as a principle in order to construct the smaller beads just doesn¡¯t work on this scale. The heat doesn¡¯t move through the metal right, the crystal-dust inside of it doesn¡¯t have the strength to move this much magic on its own. There are just things wrong on every end and so, she puzzles, trying to figure out a way to juice it up. Orichalcum is an interesting metal. Being resistant to all types of magic, it¡¯s pretty unique, but also deadly. Given that everyone has magic in themselves to some extent, swallowing orichalcum or getting some orichalcum dust stuck in your body could be really bad. Thankfully, it¡¯s so durable and hard to find that such a thing as ¡®orichalcum dust¡¯ seems to be a rarity in and of itself. Fresh taps her fingers against the counter, wondering. She grabs an iron-ingot from their pile and heads over to the cauldron of transformation, dropping it inside. The cauldron rumbles and a second later, it spits out a perfectly beautiful orichalcum ingot that she catches pretty easily, despite its weight. Sure that she¡¯d get in trouble if anyone sees her, she sets it down onto the workbench and then lifts a finger. A glow leaves her hand, surrounding the bar of metal for a moment like a poison cloud, before it then simply rises away and vanishes, dissipating into the air, rather than soaking into the metal. ¡°Huh¡­¡± she mutters to herself. So it is confirmed now for sure. Orichalcum, being resistant to all magic, is also resistant to curses. ¡°Interesting¡­¡± mutters Fresh. The next day comes. They¡¯re back in the dungeon, pushing through Basil¡¯s dungeon until they get to floor seventy-fine again. After that, they head back out and start Jubilee¡¯s dungeon, restarting from floor one all over again. It¡¯s easier to do this, as after floor seventy-five, the enemies become a real challenge, even with their growing strength and Fresh¡¯s cursed item. By the time they¡¯re done for the morning, they get a few more levels and then head back home, just as exhausted as the day before. [Level up! You are now LEVEL 36! ] {Cooking 8}{Crafting 9}{Gathering 5}{Adventuring 6}{Witch-Crafting 9}{Mercantile 8} STATUS: ??? CLASS: [WITCH] - of the Black-Fountain OBOLS: 12183 SUB-CLASS: [CRAFTSMAN] [INVENTORY] Fresh flops down onto their bed, laying there as she feels the tension in her back come loose, as her body begins to relax. They¡¯re going to open the store again in a few hours like yesterday. But first, she just wants to lay here and to just¡­ to just lay here, actually. - Being strong, becoming strong, they¡¯re both very exhausting processes. She closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of rattling pots and pans out in the kitchen and to the sound of boots walking above her head on the indoor-balcony. Just a little more. Just a little stronger. They all just need to become a little stronger. With every level-up, with every sale, with every minute spent practicing fighting and living together, they come a step closer towards their survival. Just a little more. Fresh yawns and falls asleep, exhausted and spent. Razmatazz -) Tomorrow is going to be a chapter. =) -) Stat reminder, things like STR, INT etc max out at 99, so we''re a long way from anywhere we wanna be. But it''ll probably be fine? Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 365: The ways I have gone It¡¯s raining outside. So heavily in fact, that it almost sounds like she¡¯s underwater. The girl exhales, watching her breath visibly leave her body, as she lays in her old, unmade bed, all by herself. It¡¯s cold in the room, like it always is and the several layers of soft, fluffy blankets that she lays on-top of, rather than beneath, do as little to keep her warm as the set of unwashed elephant-pajamas that have become soft and thin, not from care and from washing, but from simply being worn for so long that the material has become broken and loose. It¡¯s cold in the room. But she always keeps it cold in her room, so she can feel the chill on her skin. She always keeps it dark in her room, that way she doesn¡¯t have to look at the mirror that sits on the other side of it. It used to be that she had spent her free time outside, playing with the others. Her classmates, her cohorts, her friends. Well, ¡®friends¡¯, in the sense that they¡¯re people who were around her for a time, simply because they were always at the same spaces by sheer happenstance. But these were more childhood acquaintances than real friends. Then, school stopped and she stopped having a reason to go outside. It¡¯s not that she hated school, but she never liked it that much either. It was fine. The same with her ¡®friends¡¯, she was never too unpopular. Sure, there was some bullying here and there, but it wasn¡¯t the worst thing ever. She had gotten off more luckily than others. She wasn¡¯t ever popular, but she also wasn¡¯t ever unpopular. She was just kind of always¡­ in the middle. Then, work-life was supposed to begin. But¡­ work for what? For what purpose? For money? A shitty pittance of a paycheck that she would spend weeks working for that would barely cover anything that life could offer? And what would she even do as a job? All of the things that interest her, you need money to start with. That¡¯s what she tells herself at least. It¡¯s easier that way. - No, instead, she had closed the curtains and blamed the world. Days had passed like that. Then, those days somehow turned to months. Then those months somehow, through all the impossibility that was held in the visions of her mind, turned into a year. And somehow, all the while, the girl manages to just live her life, just kind of¡­ laying there. Sure, she gets up now and then to go to the store to buy a new bar of the cheap chocolate that she¡¯ll eat about three-quarters of, before she leaves the rest of the bar on top of a stack already several layers high. Candy, chocolates from a month ago, soda cans, they all lay stacked up in the corner, a testament to the life that she¡¯s built for herself. Sure, sometimes she¡¯ll watch something; a show or a movie or whatever. These will let her escape for a while, but they all end too soon and somehow, every time she watches some great, heart-yanking adventure that fills her spirit with an unusual fire and hope, somehow, after they are over and she realizes that she is sitting alone in her room again, bathed in the hollow glow of the sightless monitor, as before, as always, the girl in her elephant pajamas finds her way back to the old, unmade bed and becomes a part of it once more. - It¡¯s cold. But the cold itself is desirable. Because as miserable and sad as she is, as horrible and stupid and pointless as her life is, at least it lets her feel something, right? She exhales again, playing around with an old coin that was laying on her bed, some loose change left over from her last ¡®grocery¡¯ run. Her body hurts, as it has been doing so now for a while. Sure, she eats some junk now and then, but it¡¯s really never enough to sustain herself. Not for a, physically at least, grown person. She¡¯s decided to make herself feel hungry now too. Maybe not on purpose, but maybe just because the feeling of being hungry, that shooting pang which runs from her stomach to her heart which beats only weakly now beneath her visible ribs, it makes the cold feel stronger. Besides, she doesn¡¯t really want to eat anymore. It¡¯s too hard. It¡¯s been about a month now, since she stopped really eating. She¡¯s only eaten a bit of trash and she doesn¡¯t remember the last time she had gotten out of her bed. Her body doesn¡¯t seem to have any such requirements at the moment, likely because she just hasn¡¯t eaten for a while. So now, she continues to lay there, unwashed, unfed, unnourished in both body and soul as she plays with the coin that just so happened to be laying there perchance, watching as its slips back and forth through her skeletal, pale, shaking fingers, together with the vapors of her weak breath. She¡¯s tired. Slowly, she notices that her eyes seem to be falling heavy. Her body, having perhaps now finally realized in the same sense that her spirit has long ago that there is no way out of this, has given up the ghost. She notices that as her eyes droop, as the coin slips from her fingers one last time, as the world goes dark and as she finally falls into a merciful sleep, she notices the incredible pangs of hunger tearing through her like the terrible claws of a witch, she notices that¡­ - That this end, that it brings her no relief. The rain continues to fall. Sure, she might finally be able to ¡®get away¡¯ from life. But what was the point? What was it all for? Why did she even have to bother? This doesn¡¯t make her happy like she thought it would. But it¡¯s too late now. Oh well. Whatever. Not even death can be satisfying. Someone like her, someone as dumb and worthless and ugly as herself, someone who is nothing but similar to the trash that surrounds herself, she doesn¡¯t deserve nice things. What a nightmare existence is. She¡¯s glad that it¡¯s over, if not unhappy about the entire journey itself and as the darkness takes her, as the coin nosily falls from her fingers, striking against the mounds of garbage on her floor, she silently wishes a true wish in her heart of hearts, that she¡¯ll just never, ever, ever, EVER have to wake up again. Fresh opens her eyes. Darkness fills the room ahead of herself. The same room as before. Her stomach hurts like it did before she slept. She¡¯s still here. It sounds odd, even in her own head, but she was sure that she was dying. She sighs, watching a vapor of breath leave her body. She supposes that it would be uncharacteristic of life to let her get away that easily. She has always tended towards dramatics. The girl sits upright, looking around the dark bedroom that she finds herself inside of. Her feet plant themselves on the ground, plastic wrappers, strewn over the floor, crinkle beneath them. Her eyes wander around the darkness, wandering slowly over the shadows as she tries to remember the odd dream that she had. But it¡¯s vaguely blurry and distant. She turns her head, looking towards the window that the curtains obscure. It¡¯s still raining outside. Rubbing her face, she gets up, lowering her head as she walks towards the door. She pretends that she¡¯s just interested in not stepping on any of the garbage, or knocking over any of the cans there. But the truth is, that she can¡¯t bear to look at the mirror to her left. Weakly, she shuffles to the empty refrigerator, pulling it open and looking inside. The cans of soda that she bought, she didn¡¯t even bother putting in here. Too much work. Instead, they¡¯re behind her on the table. She sighs, looking at the empty fridge. There¡¯s nothing but some week old bread and three eggs. She shuts the door again and then stops as her eyes catch the thing glinting beneath her fingers, attached to the front of the fridge. ¡°Bakaw¡­¡± mutters Fresh beneath her breath, staring at the chicken magnet on the door. The hairs on her neck stand on end, but she doesn¡¯t really know why. Probably because of how cold it is. Fresh looks over her shoulder, to ask the others what they want for breakfast. ¡°Hey, g-¡± She stops, staring at the empty table, staring at the dark room. ¡­Why would she have anyone here to ask? It¡¯s just her. It¡¯s always just been her. She¡¯s always been by herself and why would it be any other way? She doesn¡¯t deserve not to be by herself. Fresh¡¯s eyes wander back towards the magnet. Instead, she grabs a can of soda from the table and heads back to the bedroom with her breakfast, lowering her eyes again as she wanders inside. A loud crashing causes her to jump. Her foot kicks against a can, as she actually wasn¡¯t really paying attention to her path. That was just an excuse to not look at the mirror. The can hits another one, knocking into a stack of cans that fall over, causing a cascade of half-full cans all over the floor. The avalanche causes an old glass bottle to fall and it shatters noisily, shards flying everywhere, sticking to the goop of month-old sugar and mildew. She sighs, stepping around and over the mess towards her bed, where she sits back down and stares around the room that will likely stay the way it is now for the next few weeks. A light flickers. The old lamp in the corner, by the withered house-plant, an herb, goes on the fritz because of the storm outside. The faint, second long glow is caught in the shards of glass, covered in somewhat acidic sludge, shining around the room for only a moment. - She hates it here. Fresh looks down at the still closed can of soda in her hands and then, instead of opening it, throws it over her shoulder. It strikes against the wall, falling down to the bed. She¡¯s sick of it. She¡¯s sick of it all. She hates it all so much. She hates herself, this room, this life, she hates it all so much that she can¡¯t put it into words. It makes her sick deep down on a level that she can¡¯t even put into thoughts. Although the girl isn¡¯t quite sure why, she gets up again, shuffling through the room again, moving into the kitchen again. She pulls out a small skillet and the three eggs and the old bread, setting to work on making breakfast. Pancakes is the one thing she can do well, but she doesn¡¯t have any flour. She¡¯s never been good at making eggs. But that¡¯s fine. It¡¯s not like anyone she can share them with and it¡¯s only fitting that she herself eats the trash that she herself cooks. Garbage in. Garbage out. Half an hour later, the three eggs are fried to the best of her ability. The old, stale bread is retoasted in the pan and she sits down at the table, staring at the food for a moment, not entirely sure what to do with it, in all honesty. She better eat. Jubilee will yell at her if she doesn¡¯t. Fresh blinks, looking around the darkness. Jubilee? Who¡¯s that? She shakes her head. She must be getting her dreams mixed up with reality again. The girl eats her breakfast. It¡¯s warm and simple. But it¡¯s nourishing and whole. She isn¡¯t sure why, actually. But somehow, it makes her feel just a little better and so, on her way back, she grabs a glass of water to get the stickiness out of her mouth that soda would just make even worse. An hour later, she returns to her room and looks around it. If Shamrock saw this, he¡¯d listen to Jubilee¡¯s order to whack her over the head. Fresh rubs her head. There are those names again. She¡¯s being weird again. The weird girl sighs, looking around the room. Honestly, it¡¯s getting on her nerves. Sure, she doesn¡¯t deserve a nice, warm, clean room. But it¡¯s making her sick being in it. Not physically, but in her core, in her spirit. It¡¯s¡­ suffocating. She feels like she¡¯s drowning. She grabs a garbage bag from the kitchen and then goes to her room, haphazardly throwing everything that she can reach into the bag. Cans, glass, plastic, paper, everything goes into the one bag. Sure, the environmentalists might take issue with it, but who cares? This world is hardly worth the effort anyways. An hour later, she ties the bag closed and throws it out of her door, slamming it noisily behind herself as she decides to finally return to her bed, where she belongs. Her foot sticks to some old goo that had leaked out of one of the many cans, if not all of them. It could also be some melted chocolate, it¡¯s hard to say, really. She lets out an angry, frustrated sigh and then hobbles back outside on one leg to the washroom, washing her foot off and then coming back with a damp towel. The same towel that she dries herself off with, but that¡¯s fine. She hasn¡¯t used it in a few weeks, so it¡¯s as good as clean anyways, right? Fresh bends down, wiping through the entire room with the towel, cursing and scowling the entire time as she channels an angry energy through herself that she didn¡¯t know she had. With every spot that she rubs away, Fresh realizes how much she hates herself. Because of that person, that horrible, terrible, wretched creature of a person, she has to be down here now on her knees to wipe away all of this grime. It¡¯s her fault. She hates herself so much that she can¡¯t even put it into words. - What an ugly person she is, not just in body, but truly in spirit. It¡¯s unfathomable. Thirty minutes later, she opens her door and throws the grody towel against the wall. It flops down, falling on top of the garbage bag. She slams her door anew, letting out an angry half-scream, half-sigh as she finally turns to go back to her bed. The rain continues outside. The light flickers again, as the storm shakes the world and it illuminates the room, this time, there is no garbage for it to show her, apart from what she expects to see in her reflection, but it does show her the dried out, sad, withering basil plant that she had picked up once with the intent to care for and to nurture it like a motherly figure. But instead, it had sat on the shelf and it died along with her. The girl stands there for a moment and then walks towards it, picking it up off of the shelf as she carries it out to the kitchen. There, she sets it onto the counter and begins plucking off the dead leaves and pruning some withered stems with her kitchen scissors. She doesn¡¯t remember who or where, but someone told her once that many plants need to be trimmed like this, because the old, dead growth is a hindrance to new life. - It needs to be removed, so that something good can come again. They can¡¯t coexist forever. Eventually, it¡¯s one or the other. The scissors click, snipping away some of the old. Before going back to her room, she waters it, taking it with her and setting it back onto the shelf. Now, finally, she is done. Fresh stands in her bedroom. She is fed. The floor is clean. The garbage is removed. The plant is watered. Her bare-minimum obligations towards herself have been met. She exhales and the breath leaves her body, filling the cold room, floating away to dissipate like a dying spirit leaving the world. But it¡¯s a crooked, sharp breath. Her lower back hurts, from laying in bed for so long. Her hands hurt, from her uncut, unwashed fingernails digging into her palms. Her throat hurts, because for some reason she¡¯s crying. This is odd because she never cries anymore. She¡¯s usually just¡­ quiet. Instead however, the girl in the elephant pajamas clenches her fists, her eyes and her teeth as she lowers her head, not sure what to do now. No, really. What is she supposed to do now? What is there to survive for? What is there to do? What is there for her to have purpose and intent and calling for? For this dark room? For this lonely existence? If not for what, then for who is she supposed to be doing this all for? The light flickers a third time and Fresh turns her head, looking at the last thing left inside of her room, at the girl in the mirror. Through her blurred eyes, through the shadows cast by the dying flash of light, she¡¯d almost swear that the person who she sees there isn¡¯t wearing what she¡¯s wearing. She¡¯s wearing a dress, imperfect but well worn as it shows signs of work and consistent care. Her hair is longer and loose, but well kept. Her body is fuller, fed, trained and used, the same as hers, but just¡­ better taken care of. Her eyes are brighter, well nourished with regular sights of things both beautiful and loved. The reflection winks at her with a smile that she never knew could be painted on a face like her own. - It looks very warm. There¡¯s a crackling outside, it almost sounds like the window is starting to break. Like the heavy, lightless, loveless storm that is raging outside has realized what she has done, what is happening, and it is now trying to break in to get her, to stop her. She yelps as something grabs her arm in the darkness and yanks her towards the mirror. In that instant, the window behind her breaks. Fresh sits upright in the bed, panting. Her hand clutches her chest, feeling her frantically beating heart which is barely able to keep up with her terrified breathing. Her wet hair sticks to her sweaty forehead. A hand touches her on the side and she looks down towards Jubilee, who has opened a single eye in annoyance at her newest midnight disturbance. Following the pressure of their hand, she lays back down in bed, catching her breath and processing her nightmare. Another hand places itself on her other shoulder, as Basil shifts, also having been awoken by her, its presence letting her know that everything is fine. Everything is as it should be. She¡¯s where she belongs. Shamrock, being used to this ritual that happens every so often for every one of them, gets up without a complaint and moves to the foot of the bed, where he sits down, leaning back against it to keep watch for the rest of the night, lest any other unwanted specters of the past make themselves shown in the darkness. Quietly crying to herself, but now for reasons far different than those she had had in a life long past, Fresh closes her eyes again and falls into a much gentler sleep, this time, finding herself in a full, warm, safe home that she might not be deserving of, by any objective or moral standards, but it¡¯s hers nonetheless. Exactly one year has come to pass in full now and she understands that this warmth, this itself is the point. This is the reason for going forward. It¡¯s not about what you deserve or even what you think you deserve. It never has been. And to think so, that is the trap of the bad-thing. It is what it is, that¡¯s all, really. Razmatazz This was a chapter. Thank you for reading exactly one year''s worth of DIS chapters! =) We''re getting there... Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 366: Work in progress ¡°Hey,¡± says Fresh, staring at her reflection down in the water of the mineral bath. ¡°Thanks for helping me last night,¡± she says. ¡°That was a really bad dream.¡± ¡°Right?¡± asks her reflection, shrugging. The girl in the water drifts around, floating upside down. ¡°I know it¡¯s easy to say, but we have to put that all behind us eventually.¡± ¡°Mm¡­¡± nods Fresh, staring at the reflection for a while and her reflection stares towards her. There were really periods of her life, years, where she couldn¡¯t bear to look at herself. Anything that was reflective, a mirror, a window, a bottle, a dark screen in a bright room, wherever her own image could be projected, she would avert her eyes from it. Because seeing herself just hurt too much. Every time she saw herself, it would remind her of the feelings she was trying to hide from; inadequacy, lacking, failure, disappointment. Fresh is reminded of Jubilee¡¯s once shattered mirror, back in their house in the north. The hiding of one¡¯s true self. Jubilee¡¯s identity as a demon was hidden from the world. Shamrock¡¯s identity as a slime was hidden from the world. Basil¡¯s identity for what she truly feels was and still is hidden from the world. This act of hiding one¡¯s self in some sense, in some manner, is really the biggest thing that they all have in common. They hide from the world, but they do so together. It¡¯s as if they were field-mice together in a burrow, but at least it¡¯s warm and safe. No matter how horrible things are outside, at least they have each other. Now, her life has changed so much that she actually enjoys seeing her reflection. Jubilee, she catches doing so as well now and then, trying to get their hair to sit right or to adjust the cuff of their sleeves. Shamrock slips out of his armor now and then, free to roam the house just as he is and Basil, well, Fresh isn¡¯t naive enough to understand what Basil¡¯s dilemma is, given the ample context she has been given so far. She¡¯s dumb, but she¡¯s not an idiot. Basil will have to just move at her own pace and when the priestess is ready, the three of them, having already come outside of the burrow to sit in the sunlight of a new day, will be there waiting for her. ¡°Who are you?¡± asks Fresh. The reflection shrugs. ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m you.¡± ¡°Sure¡­¡± says Fresh. ¡°But how come you¡¯re¡­ you know, alive?¡± she asks. The reflection crosses her arms, lifting her nose. ¡°How come you¡¯re alive?¡± she asks. ¡°What kind of question is that?¡± asks the girl in the water. ¡°I¡¯m alive because I¡¯m alive. Why does there have to be a reason?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fresh stares for a moment. ¡°I mean¡­ I guess I was just expecting something more concrete, is all,¡± she replies. The reflection spins around, holding her arms out to her sides as if she were flying. ¡°Do you believe in reincarnation?¡± asks the reflection. Fresh blinks. ¡°Oh, wow, uh¡­¡± she looks around. It¡¯s pretty early in the morning, this is all kind of heavy, actually. ¡°I mean, I guess I have to?¡± she says. ¡°You know, with us being here and all.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± replies the girl in the water. ¡°Just think of me as a reincarnation of you. Or uh, you of a reincarnation of me. I dunno, honestly.¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Fresh. ¡°So how come you¡¯re my reflection?¡± she asks. The girl in the water shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s a living.¡± Fresh laughs. ¡°You know, I worry about you sometimes,¡± says Jubilee, standing in the open doorway. Fresh turns her head around, looking away from the bath towards Jubilee. ¡°Morning, Jubilee!¡± she beams. ¡°I was just talking to myself in the bathwater.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah?¡± says Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s weird. You¡¯re doing a weird thing.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± replies Fresh, nodding once before looking back to the water. The girl there stares back her way, copying her movements as one would expect a reflection to do. Though she can¡¯t really tell if the smile there is as wide as hers is, or if its not just a tiny bit more-so than her own. Fresh looks at the heating-bead on her workbench, trying to figure out the puzzle of the mater. She¡¯s figured out most of it, except for one significant problem. The magical energies produced by the crystal dust just can¡¯t travel through all of the metal to the exterior of the sphere. It¡¯s just too thick, too much metal. Her fingers tap against the workbench as she looks around the room for inspiration. Her eyes wander up towards the ceiling of the basement. Towards the floor of the ground-floor, through which the metal pipes of their heating system run through. Her eyes slowly go wide. - Pipes? Fresh¡¯s gaze shoots down to the orichalcum bar she had made the other day. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± she beams, running to grab some iron bars. Out of those, she makes some iron tubing. Each of the eight pipes that she makes is about the length of her forearm and has the width of the tips of four of her fingers squished together into a point. Ideally, she would dip these into the orichalcum cauldron, to transform them into orichalcum pipes which could perhaps, in theory, perfectly transport magical heat from one location to the other. But, given that they¡¯re delivering this to the actual orichalcum forge, this would be very suspicious of them to do. Instead, she does it the old-fashioned way, and coats the pipes inside and out with liquefied crystal-drakonium paste. It¡¯s a simple construction, the heating sphere. The core of it is a dense ball of crystal-dust, from their mostly depleted stockpile of magical-crystals from the west. This dust is suspended in a glass sphere, full of moonwater. Surrounding this sphere is a second casing that is full of world-tree mineral-water from their pool. The magical crystal-dust and moonwater heat up the glass-core, which then begins to heat the mineral-water. The treated iron pipes stick out of the core in eight directions and then, surrounding that and encasing it all off is one more sphere that holds it all together. By the time it¡¯s all said and done, Fresh has created a massive, heavy and yet surprisingly fragile construction. Fresh stares with pride at the thing she has created. It¡¯s not activated yet, but she knows that the moment she pours some of her soul-points into it, it will start to begin glowing with heat. Best not to test it here though. Their house is made of wood and partially tree, after all. Satisfied with herself, Fresh goes upstairs to tell Jubilee and the others the good news, arriving just in time to see the red-wizard come into the store. Razmatazz Shiny! =) Chapter 367: Red sunshine ¡°None of the stuff has really been helping,¡± says the red-wizard, sitting at their library table. Fresh sits on the other side of it, doing her best to calmly sip a cup of tea that Basil has made for her. It¡¯s a simple fruit tea, but the priestess had brewed it to be extra strong. She had said that the sharp taste helps one¡¯s senses from getting stuck on other things, as it always ¡®shocks¡¯ one back into normality. She doesn¡¯t know if that makes sense, but it seems to be working and it helps her to have something in her hands while she listens to the red-wizard explain. Fresh turns her head, staring out into the library, through the many bookshelves. Rays of orange sunlight come in through the window, beaming through the bookless gaps in the shelving. The glow of the outside world catches the particulate and dust of the room, holding it aloft as if it were suspended in time, as if it were floating in water. Fresh turns her head back towards the red-wizard, who has taken her hat off and sits there on the other side of the table. It¡¯s obvious to her that none of the stuff they have offered so far has been helping. They haven¡¯t really made anything that can really help in any tangible way. It¡¯s all just been busy-work and distractions to give her time to think. Is that a cruel thing to do, when a person comes to you for help? - Perhaps. But Fresh didn¡¯t have it in her to be as kind as a saint, like Basil might have been in such a situation. It turns out that after the night Fresh had arrived here in the central-city to curse the hero, that the high-priestess, the silver-haired woman had not only taken her advice to stop the crusade, but that she also had the red-wizard cast out of the hero-party for being affiliated with the terrible witch at same time. A slight contradiction perhaps, but that¡¯s how it is sometimes. The hero himself, Garnett, the curse had turned into some form of mindless, obsessed entity that did nothing but walk, pursue and hunt, much like Jubilee¡¯s old teddy-bear, that had followed them all over the world. The man had stopped eating, he had stopped talking, he had stopped breathing. The hero, summoned to be a great champion of a new day, had been turned into a cold, rigid, beastly creature that is controlled entirely by its obsessions. - Alive, but not quite all there anymore, like a sunless day, it is in and of itself, perceptible, but wrong. What good is the day if there is no warm sunlight to kiss one¡¯s skin? What good is the hero, if he will fulfill his determined task, but at the cost of everything else? The rest of the party, the priestess and the archer had stayed with him, more or less trailing behind him as he wandered the land like a rabid animal, until eventually, it is assumed that they just got caught in the fray. The red-wizard, of course, had initially been heart-broken by her dismissal from what was the greatest opportunity of her life. But after realizing what would have happened, had she stayed in the hero-party, the hard-working caster actually now holds Fresh as a person who had saved her from a horrible future. The red-wizard truly believes that the witch of the north is some saintly entity, who, despite her own cruelty and betrayal of it, had actually gone out of its way to save her from the dark future ahead. As far as she is concerned, the witch, despite everything, had saved her from the hero. After all, she, the red-wizard, had worked so hard to get to this city. She had dedicated her life, every minute and hour of it, to fighting towards her goal, to find the last of her family, who she had heard were living here, through rumors and whispers alone. Everything was for that single cause, every potion, every monster killed, every action including the betrayal was so she could go to the people who her heart had yearned for. Fresh understands that, in a sense. But there¡¯s a twisted knot here. While she shares these feelings in a sense for her own family, the red-wizard is the person who had really shown her the truth of this world for the first time. She had known before how bad it was, sure. But she had never really seen it in its fullness, until that night, back in the north. Fresh sips her tea again, noticing that her other hand is playing with the nicked spot on the side of her ribs, where the bone had never quite regrown the missing piece there quite right. ¡°Medicine has side-effects,¡± says Fresh, staring down into her tea. ¡°I told you. You were drinking too many potions,¡± she explains. It seems that the red-wizard, in her over-indulgence of their potions back in the north, has indeed caused some kind of bodily damage to herself. But it¡¯s really impossible to say what it is exactly. She doesn¡¯t have any status effects or anything of the sort, but something¡¯s just¡­ wrong with her. Her hair is falling loose, her energy is drained, her once toned muscles are becoming softer and weaker, her sleep is disturbed and full of night-terrors. She shows all the signs of a sickness of some sort, but they are all so vague and unconnected that it could just be anything at all. It might not even be related to the potions, but it¡¯s a strong assumption, honestly. ¡°I know, but¡­¡± The red-wizard rubs her arm, looking across the table. ¡°Isn¡¯t there anything?¡± she asks. ¡°I worked so hard to get here, to see my family again and I don¡¯t want to just¡­¡± she lowers her gaze, staring at the wood. ¡°To just¡­¡± The room is quiet for a moment. ¡°They don¡¯t know yet,¡± she says. Fresh closes her eyes and thinks. She¡¯s just going to assume that she wants to help the red-wizard to move this train of thought along, at least so she herself has an idea. That doesn¡¯t mean that she¡¯ll offer it, though. The potions in the north. Their primary ingredients were moonwater and mushroom-caps. Moonwater is dangerous to drink if it is unprocessed through a spell or a crafting recipe, but all of the potions were made with her magic. The moonwater should be perfectly fine to drink, in that case. ¡­Right? Fresh opens her eyes, staring down at the wooden table herself now, at the collection of fresh dust that has settled on its surface. Their coughee and candy in the west, did it come into contact with moonwater? Their ice-cream in the east, moonwater. Not directly, but through the cooling mechanism, it¡¯s possible that it often came in contact with it. - Is it the moonwater? Is that why she likes making things for people to eat and to drink? She hasn¡¯t been following a passion of hers, realizes Fresh. She¡¯s been poisoning the world, sip after sip, mouthful after mouthful, at the whispering behest of the fountain. A breeze shoots through the house as someone swings the feather-duster down in the basement. The wind blows past her, tousling her hair and blowing away all of the dust that hangs around them. Fresh follows the flowing cloud with her eyes, staring at the rays of sunlight coming in through the windows. ¡°I have an idea,¡± says Fresh, as she stares at the light of the new day that comes to shine in towards her, gently stroking her face with its warmth like the hand of a forgiving mother. She doesn¡¯t feel like she deserves it. But the sun doesn¡¯t seem to care about what she thinks and she appreciates it for that. If moonwater is what makes people sick. Then what about the opposite? What about the sun? Razmatazz New cover art for book 2. Just missing book 4 now. =) Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 368: The highest tower in the land Now, this wasn¡¯t really the original intent for the space, but it seems to be an efficient use of it nonetheless. It is late at night and Fresh is building the telescope platform for their upstairs area. Given that the space upstairs is essentially two stories high, the construction in the middle of the room is planned to be a sort of cylindrical tower with a spiral staircase that goes up to a platform, which itself is just below the roof. On this platform, beneath the hole in the ceiling, which she is going to reopen and install a retractable roofing segment in, this is where the telescope will go. - But also, a cauldron. Well, no, not a cauldron. A cauldron is too heavy, too bulky, too witchy and inelegant for what she desires here. Witch-magic derives very strongly from her feelings for a spell, after all. So by using old techniques, she would achieve old results. No, this is something new, something different. Familiar, of course, in a sense. But different. Instead of a cauldron, she¡¯s planning on making a small, stone fountain. Nothing too much, too large or ornate and intricate. Just something akin to a bird-bath, perhaps. Given that this construct is, of course, a significant feature that she¡¯s adding to the house, not only in terms of scale, but also in weight, Fresh spends the first half of her night marking out areas where support beams need to go on the lower floors. Getting them positioned in a way that they can connect to each other, but also aren¡¯t disrupting the heating system built into the floors is a real challenge and she finds herself running up and down the house for the better part of the night, just trying to find the right spots. On the next day, Shamrock helps her set up the actual beams themselves. Rectangular, treated hunks of wood that she special orders from a lumberyard, which specializes in getting wood from the dungeon. For a significant cost, of course. But she doesn¡¯t want to undertake this task herself. On the next day, after the beams are in place and secured, the crooked house feeling a lot more stable already, Fresh sets to work on the upstairs area. The platform itself is set up in her mind to look like a multi-storied tower of square platforms, which become increasingly smaller with each of the three layers, until it reaches the ceiling. In a sense, it¡¯s a simple task. Four beams to make some legs. On-top of that comes a square floor with some railings. Then, four beams on top of that, and so on. The trick is to set up the lower support beams so that they can support the weight of the beams on-top of them, since they¡¯re not right on-top of each other. On the bright side, the work is made a lot easier not only by her friend¡¯s help, but also by her just being able to fly around the construction site with her broom. Another day passes, the four of them are at the breakfast table. ¡°It¡¯s a death-trap,¡± says Jubilee, looking over towards the half-finished tower that is in the middle of their living space. ¡°That¡¯s what you said about this,¡± notes Basil, tapping against the floor of the raised eating area with her foot. ¡°But here we are.¡± ¡°Here we are,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head and downing their coughee in one gulp. Shamrock reaches over, grabbing some more of the fruit-salad Basil had made. ¡°Here we are.¡± Fresh, choosing to ignore Jubilee¡¯s ¡®death-trap¡¯ comment, beams and bounces around in her chair, excited to work more today. ¡°Here we aaare~¡± she says in a sing-song voice, confident that, for whatever reason, today is going to be a good day. There¡¯s no real proof of that anywhere to be seen, but it¡¯s what she¡¯s decided, so it¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen. It is what it is. ¡°I mean¡­ it is kind of fun, actually,¡± says Basil, playing with the red-string bracelet around her arm. ¡°Once you get used to it and stop being scared.¡± ¡°That I¡¯d live to see the day¡­¡± remarks Jubilee, staring up towards the priestess who is hovering on Fresh¡¯s magic broom. It¡¯s after their closing the store on the next day and the four of them are just winding down, except for Fresh who is working feverishly on the tower. Fresh, sitting on the first of the elevated platforms, rubs her sweaty forehead as she looks over at Basil, who is hovering next to her, several meters off of the ground. ¡°Well, you know¡­¡± says Basil, looking over to Fresh. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten used to the whole thing,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee, staring up towards her. ¡°I¡¯m not talking about the witch fuckery,¡± they remark, pointing up towards the priestess. ¡°I mean that you¡¯d buy some undergarments that don¡¯t look like my grandma¡¯s.¡± Basil yelps, pulling her legs together and the broom shoots off to the side of the room from the sudden movement. Fresh leans down, looking over the edge. ¡°Jubilee, don¡¯t bully Basil. I think her grandma underwear is cute,¡± says Fresh. She thinks for a moment. ¡°Should we all get matching old-people underwear, Jubilee?¡± she asks, considering the possibility. ¡°I¡¯m not bullying Basil,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯m protecting the world from seeing the things that I¡¯ve had to see,¡± they remark, waving her off as they turn away. ¡°No need to thank me. Heroes do it for free, after all,¡± they explain, somewhat melodramatically as they head to the kitchen to get a drink. ¡°- And no.¡± Fresh frowns, turning her gaze to look over towards Shamrock. The two of them stare at each other for a moment, but the man just shakes his head ¡®no¡¯ and keeps walking. She sighs and shrugs and returns to her work, trying to come up with a scheme in the meanwhile in order to achieve her evil ends. Fresh wonders what size Shamrock needs? ¡°Ta-da~!¡± beams Fresh, holding her hands out to her friends who are groggily lurching out of the bedroom together. She was up all night again, working on the tower and now, after about five days of work, it¡¯s finished. Jubilee looks up at the thing, staring at the re-opened hole in the ceiling that light is coming in through. ¡°If a single bird gets in here,¡± they threaten. ¡°You and it are both sleeping outside in a nest.¡± Fresh blinks, her arms still up in the air. ¡°It¡¯d have to be a pretty big bird, Jubilee,¡± she remarks, somewhat confused. Jubilee sighs, shuffling past her. ¡°We still have a basement,¡± says Basil, her voice breaking as she yawns. The zombified priestess makes her way to the kitchen, sparing a moment for her hand to land on Fresh¡¯s shoulder as a congratulations. Though, her yawn doesn¡¯t stop until she gets across the room. Only Shamrock, who is a morning person, seems to have the energy to congratulate her. ¡°Dungeon,¡± adds the man, before turning towards her. ¡°Good job,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s safe?¡± ¡°Is it safe?!¡± asks Fresh, almost sarcastically. She laughs a triumphant laugh, in order to hide the fact that, while her verbal answer is a resounding, stoic ¡®yes¡¯, the answer in her own mind is an echoing ¡®yes¡¯ish¡¯. ¡°It¡¯s probably fine,¡± she relents, feeling Shamrock¡¯s suspicious gaze still digging into her. The man nods, satisfied and goes to get some water. Fresh grabs her broom, sparing herself the effort of taking the stairs up the tower, until she flies to the top of it, looking around at her kingdom and her subjects. The cruel witch of the north, having broken free from the binds of both the terrible fairy queen and the imprisonment of the honorable adventuring slime, now stands atop the highest peak in the lands, watching her subjects toil and slave away beneath herself. Fresh laughs out a malicious, theatrical cackle. ¡°Shut up!¡± barks Jubilee from down below. They roll their eyes, turning back. ¡°- Too early for this shit¡­¡± they mutter quietly, receiving a consoling pat on the shoulder from Basil. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± calls Fresh down from the top of the tower. ¡°I was pretending that I was an evil entity that has total reign over the helpless lands beneath my looming shadow.¡± The three of them stare up towards her, before looking back at the kitchen. ¡°Too early¡­¡± yawns Basil, receiving a heavy hand to hold her shoulder from Shamrock. Fresh frowns, sighing. Her friends just don¡¯t appreciate the value of a good imaginative life-story. She turns around, staring up at the bright sun that shines down towards her, its glow beaming in through the ceiling into her eyes, obscured only by the silhouette of a bird. *Karoo* hoots the pigeon, standing on the edge of the hole, looking back towards her in surprise. Fresh yelps, quickly shooing it away before Jubilee can see it. She doesn¡¯t want to sleep in a nest. At least not by herself. Razmatazz Hello, you, yes, you. Thank you for reading! I know this gets thrown around a lot, but I really appreciate it a bunch <3 Thank you kindly for reading! Please consider rating/reviewing. The higher the story goes, the more readers will join us, which means I can write more for you, because of the extra support I''ll get. ¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï¡ï ^ (RATE HERE!) ^ - Don¡¯t have a RoyalRoad account? - Use my referral link! (Or referral code "RR-EA62-A29A") for 100 FREE XP! - SOME OF MY OTHER STORIES - Dungeon Item Shop Weaponsmith - [A crafting litRPG!] Planetary Orbital Weapon Sin-Eater Respawn Condition: Trash Mob - OTHER JUNK - Open for writing commissions! My website! - Merch for my stories! - (Stickers, pins, magnets!) - - - - - - Chapter 369: The road to home is a circle Voices surround her as she sits outside on the bench, watching groups of people walk by in all directions. It is late in the morning and Fresh is out in the city by herself, having gone on a grocery run. But during her journey, while looking for a new baker to try out, she got lost. It¡¯s not that there was anything wrong with the baker that they always got their stuff from, but it¡¯s just that she wanted to do something nice and to surprise everyone by bringing home something different today. Fresh turns her head, watching another group of adventurers walk past her, on their way to wherever it is that they¡¯re going. She turns her head to the left, watching as a mother drags her fighting child behind herself into what looks like some sort of medicinal practice. Raising her eyes, she looks up towards the barren boughs of the world-tree, towards the bubble that caps off the entire city. One would think that with such a sight, with such a significant landmark like the giant tree, that it would be impossible to get lost. After all, they live at its base, so all she has to do is walk towards it to get back to a place close to home. - Right? Well, the thing is, she¡¯s already had that thought before and somehow, despite doing her best to walk towards the most obvious landmark in the entire world, she feels like she managed to get even more lost. Wasn¡¯t the tree closer before? Did she somehow manage to walk down the wrong street and get even further away from home? Fresh sighs. She¡¯s always causing trouble in some way or another, isn¡¯t she? She gets up, walking over to a city-guard, standing at the corner. ¡°Excuse me,¡± she asks. The man turns to look at her. ¡°How do I get to the tree?¡± she asks, pointing at the giant tree in the middle of the city. He follows her finger, looking at the tree for a second, before turning back to face her, a questioning look in his eye. The man lifts a hand, pointing at it. ¡°Just walk towards it.¡± ¡°I already tried that,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°But somehow I just got further away.¡± The man turns to look at the tree, before turning back her way. ¡°Try again.¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± sighs Fresh, her head drooping. ¡°Thank you.¡± She turns and starts walking towards the tree. The streets all look the same, more or less. But there are some features that stand out. For example, here to her left is a cute shop that sells dolls and toys for children. Across the street from it, a little further down, is an open-faced stall of a man selling some kind of easy to eat street-food stew. She keeps walking, always keeping the tree in front of herself, or at least doing the best that she can. But the roads don¡¯t always just go straight towards it. Sometimes, the street bends to the left because there¡¯s a dead-end straight ahead. Or there¡¯s a sharp turn towards the right, because of a diverging side-road, so she can¡¯t ever actually walk straight directly towards the tree itself. After what feels like half an hour later, Fresh, with sore feet, sits down on a nearby bench and sighs, taking a moment to catch her breath. Wiping her forehead on her sleeve, she looks up to see where she is. Down the street is a toy shop. To the right is a food vendor selling stew and¡­ - There¡¯s a guard standing on the corner, across from her. She sighs. Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock are going to get so mad at her. She still isn¡¯t home yet. Fresh looks around, the slight panic in her heart having settled down into a tepid acceptance of her fate. This is it. She¡¯s just¡­ never going to see her friends ever again. It wasn¡¯t the hero or the fountain or some divine battle that had stolen her life from her, it was her own horrible sense of orientation. Fresh stares up towards the giant tree. She supposes she¡¯ll have to find a new way to make a living. Obviously, since she can¡¯t get back to her home and her friends, that means she can¡¯t get to the dungeon either. So she¡¯ll have to find a way to survive out here, in this part of the city. Maybe she can become a street performer? She¡¯s not really good at dancing or juggling, but she thinks that she can learn how to do it. That¡¯s sort of like running a shop, right? She frowns. - Maybe the city-guard is looking for people? She turns her head, staring at the guardsman on the corner who she has already asked for directions three times now, each time more awkwardly than the last. She gets the feeling that he¡¯s starting to get annoyed with her, so she just decides to leave him alone. Fresh grabs the straps of her bag and keeps marching. She can¡¯t give up so easily. Her friends are counting on her to get back home to them. She nods, steeling herself for the journey to come. The universe hasn¡¯t beaten her yet! Fresh lays draped over the bench, thoroughly beaten by the universe. The sparks of both hope and joy have vanished from her lightless eyes, which resemble those of the sleeping dead. Tears no longer find their way to her face. She¡¯s all cried out. She¡¯s never going to get back home. How long has it been? Hours? Days? It¡¯s impossible to say. She lives here now, out on the bench. The guard doesn¡¯t seem to have a problem with her loitering, for which she¡¯s quietly thankful. The bench is the last thing she has left in her life, the only core of stability in her entire existence. Without the bench, she would have nothing. She would be nothing. She would just be a lost, wandering soul, destined to travel forever, but to never arrive. She herself, the thing that she has become, is not unlike a ghost. ¡°Muldrich,¡± says the guard on the corner, nodding to the guardsman walking past him on his way to work. ¡°Bensen,¡± replies the man, nodding back. Fresh yelps, jumping up to her feet. ¡°Muldrich!¡± she cries, running after the man, who turns to look over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m lost!¡± she says. ¡°Can I follow you back to the store?¡± The two guards stare at each other for a moment, before Muldrich just shrugs and keeps walking. ¡°Sure.¡± Fresh has never felt so much light and joy in her soul as she does when she sees the door to their home come into sight. ¡°Thanks, Muldrich!¡± she beams in relief, making a solemn vow that she owes the man her life. ¡°Sure,¡± replies Muldrich, standing by the door and looking out into the city. Fresh laughs, running inside of the house. ¡°I¡¯m home!¡± she calls, expecting to see her friends running down in a mad dash to greet her with worried eyes and hearts. She expects hugs and pats and even a scolding for being gone for so long, oddly enough, she kind of wants that last one in a weird way that she can¡¯t explain. But nobody comes to greet her. Fresh frowns, looking around the empty store. She goes upstairs, past the library in which the spriggans are chasing each other. Though the house-spriggan doesn¡¯t seem to be having a great time. The healer-spriggan has gotten kind of mean, ever since it got to stage three. Heading upstairs, she sees everyone there in the kitchen. ¡°Hey guys,¡± says Fresh. Basil lifts her gaze. ¡°Oh, hey, uh¡­ that was fast?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Weren¡¯t you going to get some bread?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, turning her back around to show them her bag. ¡°I got the bread!¡± ¡°Huh¡­¡± says Basil. ¡°Weird. That was quicker than usual.¡± Fresh laughs a quiet, sad laugh. But on the bright side, at least breakfast turns out very nice. The new bread is okay. But she¡¯s probably just going to stick with their usual baker from now on. Razmatazz =) Chapter 370: Sunwater Sunlight shines in through the hole in the ceiling. Fresh has opened up the retractable, sliding covering to let in the glow of the outside world. She squints, covering her eyes with her hand for a moment as the unexpectedly bright light of the morning sun blasts through the shield and straight down onto her face. Fresh turns around, blinking a few times as she gets everything ready. Looking over the tower for a second, she watches as Jubilee and Shamrock hustle around the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. The smell of it rises all the way up to her at the top of the tower. Her stomach growls. She shakes her head, returning her focus to the task at hand. Set atop the tower is a small, stone basin on a pedestal. She had carved it out of the rock of the mineral-pool cave, just like she had done with the three bowls that she made for their dishware, shortly after they moved into the house. Though, this new bowl is wider and flatter. It kind of looks like a birdbath. It¡¯s filled to the brim with mineral water from the roots of the world-tree. ¡°So, are you sure that this is safe?¡± asks Basil, standing up atop the tower with her. Fresh turns her head, looking at the priestess. ¡°Uh¡­ no, actually,¡± admits Fresh. ¡°I think it¡¯s like back in the west, Basil,¡± she says. ¡°When we were down in the basement and made that crystal, you know?¡± Basil nods. ¡°It¡¯s safe¡¯ish¡­ probably.¡± The priestess sighs. ¡°You really do cause a lot of trouble, you know?¡± ¡°Sorry, Basil,¡± apologizes Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s just how it is.¡± The priestess shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯ve come to understand that as well.¡± Now, the process of making moonwater is something that Fresh doesn¡¯t even think about that much anymore, since she¡¯s made perhaps a full lake¡¯s worth of the stuff. A container full of water, an item with sentimental value, some witch magic, ta-da! Moonwater. But sunwater? She assumes that it¡¯s the same, really. Though, the problem is, that she can¡¯t make something like sun water, as far as she knows. Witch-magic is based off of moon energy, after all. ¡°- That¡¯s why it¡¯s great that you¡¯re still officially a priestess, Basil!¡± explains Fresh, finishing her rant. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could do this without you.¡± ¡°You think?¡± asks the priestess, playing with the bracelet on her wrist. ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, fairly certain of that. It¡¯s good that Basil hasn¡¯t changed her class yet. If she was something other than a priestess, this likely wouldn¡¯t work. Now, she doesn¡¯t exactly have any proof of that theory holding true, but she feels like it¡¯s true, so, objectively, in her mind, it is. ¡°We¡¯ll just use the same recipe,¡± says Fresh. ¡°But with the sunlight instead.¡± She lifts her gaze to the ceiling, looking at the sun that is shining in very opportunely right now, its rays landing perfectly on the bowl of glistening water between the two of them. ¡°Okay,¡± says Basil. ¡°Do you have your Obol?¡± she asks. Fresh digs around in her pocket, looking for the old Obol she had flying around. Her very first one. But it doesn¡¯t seem to be here. Maybe she left it somewhere else? Hmm¡­ ¡°I have the key for the adventurer¡¯s guild?¡± she offers instead. Basil thinks for a moment and then shakes her head, pulling out her necklace. ¡°How about this?¡± she asks. ¡°It has to be something sentimental, right?¡± Fresh blinks, staring at the shard of broken metal that had belonged to the armor of Basil¡¯s former companion. ¡°Basil¡­ yeah, sure, we can use that,¡± she agrees. The process has never destroyed an item so far, so it should be fine. Basil lowers her head, taking off the necklace and slowly lowering it into the water. ¡°Ready?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°We¡¯ll do it just like back then. But be careful not to touch the water,¡± she warns. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll get weird or not.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± nods Basil, holding her hands out. Fresh lifts her hands too, taking a moment to look back at the warm shining sun and then at the warm glow of Basil¡¯s face and then at finally, at the warm, reflective shine of the water. ¡°Now!¡± The water begins to bubble as the purple aura of Fresh¡¯s magic imbues itself into the metal pendant which has sunk to the bottom of the stone bowl. At the same time, the brighter shine of Basil¡¯s holy magic works its way into the water, covering it like an oily film, until it sinks down, coating the bubbles that rise to the surface, suffocating them, dragging them back down to the bottom of the bowl. The water, unsettled, slowly changes color from its azure, mineral-rich blue to something far clearer, far thicker as the bubbling stops entirely. Medium: Water Strength: 100% If drank: +5% HEALTH Regeneration - 12 Hours +10% HEALTH - 12 Hours +6 to all RESISTANCES + Removes all status effects of types: [DARK][POISON][ICE][WITCH][FEAR] ¡°Oh, wow¡­¡± says Basil, clearly surprised in a calm way. ¡°Uh¡­ hmm¡­¡± ¡°Basil?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Are we going to get kidnapped for this?¡± Basil leans over the tower. ¡°Hey, guys?¡± she calls down to Jubilee and Shamrock. ¡°We made a thing again,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°One of those ¡®we¡¯re gonna get killed¡¯ things.¡± Jubilee sighs, rolling their eyes. They lift their hand with a spatula in it. ¡°Can you at least wait until breakfast is done?¡± they ask. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake.¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± calls Fresh, looking back at what they¡¯ve produced. This is good. Really good. Dangerously good. But then again, isn¡¯t this just item number one-thousand that she¡¯s made of which this could be said? She¡¯s constantly made seemingly trivial things that the others had warned her could in and of themselves cause wars to break out, should word ever spread. So far, this prophecy at least, has remained unfulfilled. Basil reaches in, fishing out her necklace and carefully drying it off with her sleeve, her smile is a little warmer again. ¡°Thanks, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m really glad you¡¯re here.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says Basil, smiling as she looks at the water, her hands wrapped around the necklace. ¡°I sometimes lose myself a little, you know?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Things keep happening and then I wonder if I made the right choices,¡± she explains. ¡°But then, other things happen, like this, and I think that I did.¡± Fresh smiles, looking at the two happy reflections in the water. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go get breakfast,¡± says Basil, turning to go down the tower. The priestess stops, looking over her shoulder at Fresh. ¡°Hey¡­ listen¡­¡± says Basil. Fresh lifts her eyes, looking at her. The priestess seems a little tense. ¡°- Last one downstairs has to do the dishes!¡± exclaims Basil in a fast, breathless sentence. She swipes Fresh¡¯s broom and hovers off of the edge of the tower. Fresh yelps in fear and makes a run for it, sprinting down the tower as fast as she can. But not fast enough. Razmatazz ''The center'' is probably going to be the last arc of the story, by the way. But fear not, we still have a few weeks together, friends. x-x Chapter 371: Morning philosopher So many days have come to pass and not one was like any of the others. Every morning when they get up to have breakfast, like on every other day, the smell of the air, the taste of their food, the directions of their conversations and morning games are always different. The push of the breeze, the shine of the sun, the droplets of rain, which may or may not be falling on that particular day; whether here in the center of the world, at the roots of the world-tree or in the holy, mercantilist city to the north, the stoic, spiritual city on the western mountain or the open, vibrant port of the eastern city, each day is always different than the last, despite the many things that they have in common. It¡¯s an odd thing, to realize and to think about as she stares at the unbroken yolk of her egg. Shamrock had cooked it for her. Days are like repeating patterns, in a sense. She turns her head, looking at Jubilee who is grabbing the salt, like they do every morning. Her eyes turn the other way, certain that they¡¯ll find Basil sipping her tea or making a fuss about Shamrock making a mess while he eats, sure enough, this is true. She turns her head the other way, watching the little house-spriggan run away to hide, before the bigger, meaner healer-spriggan can find it. They don¡¯t seem to get along anymore, ever since the healer-spriggan got to stage three. They really have to do something about that. And, sure enough, she expects to hear one of her friends scolding her for not eating, before her eyes land back onto her own plate. ¡°Eat your egg, before it gets cold,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh smiles and then nods, grabbing her fork and knife. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I was just thinking about how life is a series of repeating cycles. But we fail to notice it because it¡¯s actually several repeating patterns happening next to each other, instead of just one, like the four wheels of a carriage,¡± says Fresh in a breathless ramble. ¡°But we only ever see one spinning wheel and we think that everything is different today. But really, it¡¯s just the same thing that happened a week ago and we forgot because we were distracted by what life is right now.¡± The three of them turn to look towards her. ¡°¡­What the fuck?¡± asks Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. Basil sighs. ¡°Maybe we should go easy on the dungeon?¡± suggests the priestess. ¡°All of the leveling has made me feel a bit woozy too.¡± ¡°The quiet life suits us,¡± says Shamrock. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Yeah, if only we could fucking get a single quiet day in this nightmare world,¡± they argue, pointing at him with their fork. They turn to Fresh. ¡°No philosophy at the breakfast-table,¡± they warn her. ¡°Especially from you. It¡¯s weird, hearing you say more than two whole sentences in a row.¡± Fresh blinks, staring down at the table. ¡°But Jubilee, we eat all of our meals at the table, so¡­¡± ¡°- Is it really a ¡®breakfast-table¡¯?¡± asks Basil, finishing her question for her. Fresh nods. ¡°A mystery of the ages,¡± says Shamrock, picking up his tea-cup to pour its contents into his helmet. Fresh nods. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s only a ¡®breakfast-table¡¯ right now?¡± she suggests. ¡°But then, after breakfast, it¡¯ll just be a table again.¡± ¡°That makes sense to me,¡± nods Basil. ¡°But then, we¡¯re going to have lunch. So it¡¯ll become a ¡®lunch-table¡¯ then, I suppose?¡± suggests the priestess. Fresh nods, holding her hand to her chin as she thinks, a finger tapping against her lips. ¡°Yeah, but then it¡¯s going to be just a table again after lunch.¡± Shamrock sets down his cup. ¡°Until dinner.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± agrees Basil. ¡°Then it¡¯ll be a ¡®dinner-table¡¯,¡± says the priestess. ¡°And then it¡¯s going to be a table again until breakfast,¡± finishes Fresh. Jubilee stares at the three of them. ¡°What the fuck? What are you idiots talking about?¡± They knock on the table. ¡°It¡¯s just a table. Fuck off.¡± Fresh leans back, staring towards the ceiling. ¡°But is it? Is it really?¡± ¡°What? What the hell? What else is it supposed to be?¡± asks Jubilee, clearly confused. Fresh continues to stare towards the ceiling, trying to look deep. ¡°The table, just like us, has limitless potential to be whatever it needs to be at the moment.¡± Jubilee¡¯s chair scratches as they get up. Fresh turns her head, watching them walk towards her. ¡°Give me that!¡± they bark. Fresh yelps as Jubilee tears away the book on her lap that she was reading before breakfast. They look at it. ¡°A philosopher¡¯s take,¡± they say, reading the title. Jubilee looks up at her, shaking the book angrily at her face. ¡°We don¡¯t read avant-garde philosophy in this house!¡± they bark at her. ¡°We¡¯re a functional, normal family!¡± ¡°But Jubileeee~!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°I just wanted you to be impressed by how smart I¡¯ve become!¡± she admits, making a sad face. ¡°I¡¯m already impressed by the fact that you can read,¡± replies Jubilee dryly. ¡°Philosophers are hacks. Who gives a fuck about what some dead rich-kid with an imported coat thinks about life?¡± they say, tossing the book over their shoulder and onto the floor. ¡°You know who reads philosophy? Weak people with no personality of their own who want to feel superior, that¡¯s who.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°That¡¯s certainly a take on life, I suppose.¡± ¡°Shut up and eat your eggs, Basil,¡± barks Jubilee, returning to their seat. ¡°I¡¯ll accept your kooky religion. But nothing more than that.¡± Shamrock lifts a hand. ¡°You fuck off too, Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee dryly, before the man can even ask his question. ¡°What about mine?¡± asks the giant man anyway. Basil puts her hand onto his arm. ¡°I accept your beliefs, Shamrock.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± says the man, lowering his hand and cutting his egg. Jubilee sighs and shakes their head, returning to their breakfast. Fresh shrugs. ¡°So, guys,¡± she starts. ¡°What are we going to do about the spriggans?¡± she asks. ¡°The big one is getting really mean.¡± ¡°Big-slime, little-slime,¡± says Jubilee dryly, abbreviating the phrase. ¡°You see the irony here, right?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee points at her with their yolk covered butter-knife. ¡°Basil, I swear to whatever twisted amalgamation of a drunkard¡¯s imagination you believe in, I will cut you with this knife.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°Someone¡¯s cranky today,¡± she says. ¡°I felt you kicking last night. Bad dreams?¡± she asks. Jubilee glares coldly, sighing as they lower their knife. ¡°Yes,¡± they relent. ¡°Me too,¡± says Basil. ¡°Same,¡± says Shamrock. The priestess nods. ¡°It¡¯s probably all of the stress. We¡¯re in a rough spot. It¡¯s only natural for our bodies to react to that,¡± explains Basil. ¡°Anyway, as for the spriggans¡­ should we just give the smaller one some water too?¡± ¡°So that we have a second big one running around here, eating all of our produce?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°No, thanks.¡± They think for a moment. ¡°The big one is only here because of the staff. Let¡¯s just de-summon it. Problem solved.¡± ¡°I mean¡­ maybe¡­¡± says Basil. ¡°But it seems kind of mean? They were such good friends.¡± Fresh frowns, looking towards the house-spriggan that is hiding up on to the tower, watching the spiral-staircase up to the upper floor for any movement. The big spriggan really has gotten pretty mean to it. ¡°Poor guy¡­¡± she mutters. The house-spriggan was here first though, she feels far more protective of it than the healer-spriggan, if that makes sense. Besides, a bully is the last thing they need in their home. ¡°Anyways,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We should maybe put a gate up on the tower,¡± they say. ¡°Last thing we need is for them to have free access to your fucky water.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says Fresh, lifting her eyes to the tower again. That¡¯s a good point, actually. The house-spriggan is gone. She yelps, jumping to her feet, as she sees a tuft of a green leaf sticking out over the top railing, from something that is climbing up to the bowl of sunwater. Running as fast as she can up the stairs, she only gets there just in time to watch the spriggan knock the bowl over, drenching itself in the sunwater. ¡°Pakew¡­¡± mutters Fresh, as the house-spriggan starts to grow. Its stubby limbs lengthen, its chubby, round body elongates and becomes taller, wispier. The green sprout on its head begins to branch out into all directions, large, vibrantly pink blossoms growing from its crown. Fresh blinks, looking at the creature that looks at its new body. She leans over the tower. ¡°Guys. I think we created a new kind of monster.¡± Her friends don¡¯t seem too worried. The only movement she sees is Jubilee¡¯s serious eyes glaring her way, as their hand points towards her still uneaten egg. She turns towards the springen. ¡°You look very pretty,¡± says Fresh, shrugging. ¡°I like your flowers.¡± ¡°Spakew!¡± Razmatazz Breakfast chapters are always my favorite ones. I love the way they all play off of each other during talks. x-x Chapter 372: What goes around ¡°Delivery is all set up,¡± says Jubilee, coming back inside of the house. Basil looks up from the counter, looking over towards them. ¡°That was fast.¡± ¡°They¡¯re all business,¡± replies Jubilee, shaking their head. They had been outside at the orichalcum forge, making arrangements for the heating sphere to be picked up. ¡°Didn¡¯t even get past the front desk, it was in and out,¡± they explain. Basil nods. ¡°It makes sense. They¡¯re a high profile, professional operation. I¡¯d be surprised if they just let anyone inside.¡± ¡°Unlike us,¡± says Jubilee, flicking the top of Fresh¡¯s head lightly. She¡¯s slumped over the counter. ¡°What the hell is your problem? Don¡¯t lounge around during business hours.¡± Fresh groans, letting out a long, tired sigh. She rolls her head over the counter, lifting her gaze to look at Jubilee through her blurry eyes. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± she apologizes. ¡°I got the goo. I think.¡± Jubilee narrows their eyes. ¡°You better fucking not,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯ll replace you with a spriggan if you get sick.¡± ¡°Spakew?¡± asks the once house-spriggan, now transformed into a Jubilee-sized variant covered in growing stems and cute blossoms. It is now apparently a creature that the system refers to as a ¡®springen¡¯, which is odd, because that¡¯s not something that exists. But, here it is. ¡°I said ¡®spriggan¡¯,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Not whatever the hell you are.¡± ¡°Spakew¡­¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± cries Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t be mean to our friend!¡± She winces, her own whiny and loud voice making her headache worse. They raise an eyebrow. ¡°- To our what?¡± They turn their head, looking at the door. ¡°Fuck off, Muldrich,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Muldrich wasn¡¯t pleased by this latest development of the spriggan transforming. Obviously, it¡¯s impossible to keep a secret, so they just said that it ¡®just kind of happened by itself¡¯ and that they had nothing to do with it. Dungeon-magic and mineral-rich water will do some wild stuff, apparently. His displeasure of the incident was evidenced by the cold, stoic look on his face. Sure, that look is always there and sure, the man had said nothing about it at all, but still, Fresh is sure that he¡¯s wary about it. After all, a wild spriggan that gives no experience points is one thing. But a whole new type of monster? Coming to life inside of their home? It¡¯s a little suspicious. Thankfully, the springan is very polite. The creature waddles over to Muldrich, holding up a wooden ¡®hand¡¯ with a bright pink flower with large, flat petals towards him as a gift. ¡°No, thank you,¡± says Muldrich, narrowing his eyes even further as he turns to stand back straight at his post outside. Fresh groans. Her head is killing her today. There doesn¡¯t seem to be a reason as far as she knows. She slept well, she¡¯s been eating healthy, she hasn¡¯t over-trained or been overworked, she¡¯s drunk all of the water that Basil has been nagging her to drink. But, sometimes in life, you just get a headache. It¡¯s what the universe has decided to be just and fair. ¡°Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°Take this thing away and bury it where I don¡¯t have to look at it.¡± ¡°Say ¡®please¡¯,¡± says the man. ¡°Please jump in a fire, but before you do it -¡± Jubilee snaps their finger, nodding their head to her. ¡°Take out the trash.¡± ¡°Rude,¡± says the man, picking up Fresh. She hangs there, sighing. Jubilee is just being mean because they¡¯re worried about her. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s just a headache. But it¡¯s cute that you¡¯re always worried about us.¡± A sharp ringing shoots through her head as the headache returns with a new pulse. ¡°Do I ever sound worried?¡± they ask, waving her off as Shamrock carries her upstairs. ¡°I already found your replacement,¡± they say, pointing at the springan. ¡°Spakew!¡± cheers the springan in joy. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Get to work!¡± they yell at it. The springan yelps in fear and grabs a broom, running off to sweep the store. Fresh gasps. ¡°Shamrock! Jubilee really did replace me!¡± she says in shock, turning to look at the man. Being carried over his shoulder is really nostalgic at this point. Plus his new armor isn¡¯t as sharp or as jagged as the old witch cultist¡¯s armor, so it isn¡¯t as painful either. ¡°The moon is almost here,¡± says the man, walking past the landing to the library. Fresh frowns, looking at the healer-spriggan sitting by itself at the table. It looks over towards them as they walk by. She waves to it, before they vanish upstairs and it falls out of her sight. It looks a little lonely, sitting there by itself. ¡°Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh, her fingers tapping against the man¡¯s armor. ¡°Can we be friends after the whole moon thing too?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± replies the giant, not skipping a beat. ¡°Neat,¡± beams Fresh, rubbing her eyes. She yawns, looking down at her hands a moment later. There¡¯s a black smear on her fingers. ¡°I got the goo¡­¡± she mutters to herself, looking at her hands. ¡°Yes,¡± says the man. ¡°So do I,¡± he adds on and Fresh can hear the slime sloshing around inside of the armor. She laughs, but it hurts her head, so she tries not to laugh. But that just makes her laugh more and then it hurts even more. But at least it¡¯s fun, so that¡¯s worth something, right? And so, the horrible witch, haven been poisoned by the terrible ¡®goo¡¯ has once again, in her weakened state, been captured by the honorable adventuring slime and is sentenced to spend the rest of her life in solitude, confined to a small space in which nobody might ever see her again. At least until that evening, when Basil comes into the bedroom to bring her some soup to help her feel better. Razmatazz -) Just some short chapters for a little bit. Enjoy the comfy slice of life while it lasts. We have a lot of ground left to cover afterwards =) -) All of my image links broke again. I''m going to cry lmao. I just fixed like 700+ chapters of my signature and now it happened again Chapter 373: Sick day It¡¯s hard to say whether the day is beautiful today or not. Fresh lays on her back, feeling the soft grass moving beneath herself as it sways, together with loose strands of her hair in the gentle breeze of a new morning. Her head is still aching and sore, but she feels like it¡¯s doing her some good to be out in the fresh air. She closes her eyes and sighs in relief, her spread out fingers curling together from lack of tension in her muscles. ¡°Thank you, that¡¯s enough for now,¡± says Basil. ¡°Spakew!¡± replies the springan. The three of them aren¡¯t actually outside-outside, rather, they¡¯re on the farm. Basil had told her that some fresh air will help her head and that it¡¯s better than lying alone in bed all day, so Fresh agreed, following the wisdom of the wisest priestess in the land. In order to help the plants and the mushrooms grow stronger, Basil has found a use for Fresh¡¯s magical feather-duster and for the springan, who is now a more useful helper than before. ¡°The wind helps the plants grow stronger,¡± explains Basil a second time, feeling Fresh¡¯s curious gaze turn over towards her again. She lifts up a droopy vine that is growing along the wall of the space. ¡°Without any wind, they get weak and saggy,¡± says the priestess. ¡°But if they have to hold up on their own every now and then, it strengthens the fibers and they get tougher.¡± Fresh nods. That makes sense. It also sounds like a good life-lesson. The springan laughs, waving the feather-duster again. The gust shoots through the room, filling the space with a peaceful rustle as a thousand leaves, ferns, vines and branches sway in the gust. ¡°Don¡¯t over-do it,¡± says Basil, lifting a finger to scold it. ¡°Too much is bad for them too.¡± The springan nods, giving Basil the feather-duster and receiving a pat on its flowery head in return. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, rolling her head to look back towards the priestess standing next to her. ¡°Yes?¡± Fresh blinks, wondering if this is a rude thing to ask so directly and so early in the morning as well. ¡°Do you think it matters anymore?¡± she asks anyway, putting the question out there. Basil stares down at her for a moment, before looking around the farm. In the last few weeks, the farm has really grown. The barren patches of dirt that had nothing but mushrooms are now sprouting like hills in a richly nourished forest floor. The entire area that had mostly been loose dirt is now covered in grass and flowers. The walls are covered in ferns and roots and vines. By all accounts, Basil¡¯s efforts to regrow the farm, in order to be able to create a reliable supply of food for the city and its people in need, have been a complete and total success. But, well¡­ - Will the city even need food in a week from now? A month from now? Two? Will they? Fresh supposes in that regard, the same question could be asked about everything they¡¯re doing. She had spent nights working on the heating-sphere for the orichalcum forge, for example. But honestly, why? What¡¯s the point? ¡°It does matter,¡± replies Basil, holding a finger under one of the springan¡¯s blossoms to look at it more closely. ¡°It makes me happy, you know?¡± asks the priestess, turning back to look her way. ¡°It makes me feel better.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. She supposes that makes sense. After all, just about everything she does is because of that too. Sure, often the things she does end up making people happy, but the real reason she does a lot of it is because the sight of them being happy makes her happy. It¡¯s really just a selfish act most of the time, in truth. Basil bends down, helping her to get up and then dusts her off. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you back to bed.¡± ¡°Can I just sleep here?¡± asks Fresh, yawning loudly, despite it still being the morning. ¡°On the ground?¡± asks Basil. ¡°No. Come on,¡± she says, dragging her along. Fresh sighs, letting herself be dragged away by the priestess as the springan stands behind them and pushes against her to help keep her moving. A hand squeezes her wrist. ¡°We¡¯re going to be okay,¡± says Basil, rather out of the blue. Fresh stares at the priestess for a moment, but then nods, letting herself be taken away. The world might be ending, but as for them, they¡¯re going to be okay. Somehow. ¡°What¡¯chya reading?¡± asks Fresh, laying in bed. Jubilee, sitting with crossed legs and leaning against the backrest on the far side of the bed, looks over their shoulder towards her. ¡°Book.¡± Fresh blinks, sitting up and worming her way forward on her belly. ¡°What kind of book?¡± she asks curiously, crawling on her stomach towards Jubilee. Jubilee rolls their eyes, holding a hand out to block her from approaching as they turn back to their reading. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t interest you. It has words.¡± ¡°I like words!¡± argues Fresh, slipping past Jubilee¡¯s hand and then spinning around onto her back, laying her head on their lap and looking up towards their face and at the book. ¡°Words are my favorite!¡± ¡°¡­Do you mind?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°No, it¡¯s okay, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°You can keep reading.¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Don¡¯t get any of your goo on me,¡± they warn. Fresh pulls her blanket up, laying sideways over the entire row of beds as she nuzzles the back of her head into Jubilee¡¯s lap. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be in here with me for too long if you don¡¯t wanna get sick,¡± she says, yawning. ¡°I don¡¯t get sick,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Oh. Okay,¡± replies Fresh, feeling a new sleep come over her. Jubilee is such a good friend, worrying about her all day like this, even at risk of getting sick themselves. Fresh sits at the library table. Today and yesterday have just been nothing but days of lounging around. One of the perks of being sick. Sure, in one sense, she misses having work and being busy all day. But on the other hand, being able to just relax all day and being pampered by her friends is nice too. ¡°Three,¡± says Shamrock, moving his game-piece over the fields of the board-game. Fresh frowns. She¡¯s about to lose her lead. The man has almost caught up with her. She lifts her gaze, staring at the bowls of snacks on the table. His is almost full, whereas the three of theirs are already down to slim pickings. Shamrock not only takes games seriously, but he¡¯s also somehow very good at them. She grabs the dice, getting ready to roll her turn. ¡°P- pakew?¡± asks a voice to the side. Fresh turns her head, looking at the springan and the healer-spriggan. The two of them haven¡¯t really hung out anymore, not since the healer-spriggan had bullied it so often and especially not since the smaller creature¡¯s transformation. The healer-spriggan holds out a big flower with its two stubby arms to the springan, its former friend and playmate. The springan, on its way upstairs to do whatever it is that springans do, turns to look at the offering for a moment and then, without a word or any other reaction, just keeps walking up the staircase, leaving the healer-spriggan standing there by itself, its hands still held out. ¡°Ouch,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°The heart is a treacherous thing, isn¡¯t it?¡± asks Basil, sighing and shaking her head. The healer-spriggan lowers its head and the flower. Feeling itself being watched by the four of them, it slumps off to go downstairs by itself. ¡°Oh no¡­¡± says Fresh. ¡°Poor guy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what he gets for being a dick while being poor and ugly,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± says Basil. ¡°Maybe it was trying to learn from your success?¡± she suggests. ¡°Watch it, Basil,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°With looks like mine, I can afford to act however I want and get away with it,¡± they say, taking one of the priestess¡¯ orange fruit pieces, despite it not being their turn. Basil sighs. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s just because everyone has pity for you and you don¡¯t even realize it?¡± ¡°The only one who is pitied here regularly is your sad ass,¡± remarks Jubilee. The two of them devolve into one of their usual fights and now Fresh just sighs, shaking her head. Shamrock¡¯s finger taps against the table. ¡°Roll.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks, turning to look at the very serious looking man. ¡°Roll,¡± he repeats. ¡°Shamrock, do you just want my snacks?¡± she asks warily. ¡°Roll,¡± is all that the man says, his finger only tapping once this time, but with enough force to send a slight rattle through the table. Shamrock takes games very seriously. Fresh rolls the dice, deciding that it¡¯s in her best interests. Besides, despite how scary Shamrock can be, playing games with him makes her happy. She rolls a six and sighs in relief, safe for another round. Chapter 374: Household oddity Fresh slides the tarot card out of the stack, setting it carefully down onto the spot it belongs at on the table. She stares at the card¡¯s back for a moment, before lifting her eyes towards the customer. ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asks. ¡°It could be bad.¡± They nod in return, wide eyes nervously staring her way. Fresh nods back, flipping over the first card. - The fool. ¡°You¡¯ve made a mistake somewhere along the way,¡± she says, looking at the drawing of a suspiciously familiar looking girl on the card. ¡°But being a fool also has its upsides, you have the right attitude towards life, even if everyone around you doesn¡¯t always recognize that.¡± She lifts her hand to the next card. ¡°It also signals a new start. When starting something new, we¡¯re always a fool at that thing.¡± Fresh places down the next card, flipping it over. - Death. The card is covered in skulls, the grin of each of the depictions laughing as wildly as the face of the girl on the last card. ¡°P- pakew¡­?¡± asks the healer-spriggan nervously, its stubby hands covering its mouth. ¡°The card of death doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re going to die,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It means that something will die. An old feeling, a lost memory, a lost chance,¡± she explains. ¡°But remember, that death isn¡¯t the end.¡± The healer-spriggan kicks its legs nervously. Fresh moves her hand to the third and last card, flipping it over. ¡°The sun,¡± she says, tapping against the card which has a depiction of a sun at the top of it, shadowing over the silhouette of a man in regal armor. She slides it towards the death-card, placing them together and then moving the two of them beneath the fool-card. She stares at them for a second, piecing the puzzle together in her mind. ¡°The things that have brought you here, they have come to an end,¡± she explains, pointing at the first two cards. ¡°But with the ending of that night, a new sun arises, a new day.¡± She nods in relief. ¡°You¡¯re going to be fine.¡± ¡°Pakew?¡± asks the healer-spriggan. Fresh nods. ¡°You were a jerk. Do better next time, okay?¡± she asks. ¡°Then everything is going to be okay somehow.¡± ¡°Pakew¡­¡± nods the healer-spriggan, getting up. It places a spriggan-seed in front of her as payment and then wobbles off, apparently lost in thought. Fresh stares around the room for a moment, checking that she¡¯s alone, before pulling the fourth and last card of the reading from the top of the stack. - The hanged man. She gasps, quickly setting it back into the stack and shuffling the cards around. It¡¯ll be fine. None of this is real anyways according to Jubilee, right? ¡°It¡¯s a rock, Basil,¡± sighs Jubilee. Basil sits at the table, holding onto the peridot stone that Fresh had gifted her while she was sick a few weeks ago. ¡°It helped me feel better,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Don¡¯t just throw away every possibility just because you¡¯re small-minded.¡± Jubilee places their hands together in front of themselves. ¡°Basil. It¡¯s a rock.¡± ¡°- And you¡¯re just meat,¡± counters Basil. ¡°But here you are, making a fuss before sunrise.¡± Jubilee lifts a hand, pointing at her. ¡°I¡¯m not making a fuss. I¡¯m calling you stupid.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care what you have to say,¡± replies the priestess. ¡°It helped me feel better. Stop always tarnishing everything that I believe in.¡± ¡°You believe in the dumbest shit though,¡± says Jubilee, lifting an eyebrow. ¡°Yes,¡± replies Basil. ¡°Like believing you could ever be a nice person.¡± ¡°See?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Dumbest shit.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t bully Basil. I¡¯m going to cry if she leaves because you¡¯re being mean,¡± she says, turning a nervous look towards the springan, which is basking by the window. Jubilee turns towards her. ¡°In the last year, I don¡¯t think there hasn¡¯t been a day you didn¡¯t cry.¡± Fresh puffs out her cheek in a display of dominance as retaliation, but Jubilee doesn¡¯t seem to be impressed. She forgot that that only works with Shamrock. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him scooting his chair back a few inches. A rattling sound comes from the stove as their water begins to boil, shaking the lid on the pot. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± she says, getting up and walking towards the kitchen. Moving around the table, she stops by Jubilee, bends down and plants a kiss on their forehead, before walking off to the kitchen. Fresh blinks, looking at Shamrock for guidance for a second, before turning back towards the two of them. ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± asks Jubilee, wiping their forehead with their arm. Basil rattles around with the cups, pulling out their morning tea. ¡°I just wanted to show you that I care,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Even if you are a jerk.¡± ¡°Aww~¡± Fresh clasps her hands together, feeling a little jealous. Jubilee lets out a disgusted noise. ¡°It¡¯s bad enough that I have to deal with you peoples¡¯ constant touching and hugging every day,¡± they say. ¡°But this is a step too far. I¡¯m drawing a line here.¡± ¡°Jubilee!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°Can I kiss your forehead too?¡± ¡°No,¡± they snap. Shamrock lifts a hand. ¡°No!¡± barks Jubilee, pointing at him next. Shamrock lowers his hand. ¡°Stick to your rocks, you degenerates! And leave me out of it,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes and leaning back on their chair. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake.¡± Fresh frowns, looking at the peridot stone Basil left lying on the table. She reaches over and picks it up, examining it, trying to remember what the salesman had told her about it. She gets an idea. Fresh stares at the bottle of sunwater in her hands as she swirls it around, catching the rays of the morning light in the suspended liquid. A pair of heavy, metal boots make their way downstairs. Shamrock. She turns her gaze towards him. ¡°Here,¡± says the man, having returned from the errand she asked him to go on. He holds out his hand, dropping a small, green rock into hers. More peridot. ¡°Thank you, Shamrock,¡± beams Fresh. She didn¡¯t want to use Basil¡¯s for this, so she asked Shamrock to go to town to buy a new one somewhere. ¡°So, you don¡¯t think this is weird, right?¡± she asks, showing him the sunwater. As a member of the witches¡¯ sect, he, like herself, holds the moon to be a more potent symbol than the sun, which itself is more of a subject of veneration for the holy church. ¡°No,¡± exhales the giant man, his chestplate lurching. He points at the sunwater and then towards the moonwater. ¡°Two hands. One body,¡± he explains, striking against his chest. Fresh nods, supposing that she feels this way too. The moon and the sun are different, but they belong together. She drops the bright-green stone into a mortar and then smashes it with the pestle, grinding it up into a fine powder, which she then pours into the sunwater. Fresh corks the bottle and then gives it a good shake. Fresh stares at the potion for a second. That¡¯s a pretty high price to pay, an attribute change? That¡¯s basically changing your class, but not even to something general like holy-magic. Rather, it changes it down to a sub-attribute branch of holy magic. Will the red-wizard want to drink this? Even if it means perhaps saving herself? Fresh isn¡¯t sure. She doesn¡¯t even know what kind of magic the red-wizard has, now that she thinks about it. It¡¯s neat though. The healing is almost secondary, compared to the concept of a class-changing potion. ¡°And this?¡± asks Shamrock. He pulls out another rock, a black onyx. Fresh blinks, staring at him for a second, before looking at the water. Is this another one of those bad ideas that she shouldn¡¯t be looking too deeply into? ¡°Let¡¯s find out,¡± says Fresh, grabbing the rock from Shamrock and taking a new bottle of sunwater. Don''t mind me, just reminding you that you can listen to this story on Audible for ''free'', if you have credits. =) Razmatazz Don''t mind me, just reminding you that you can listen to this story on Audible for ''free'', if you have credits. =) Chapter 375: So-so Fresh sits at the edge of the cut-off space, the glow of the entrance to the farm washing over her face as she sits there and stares at it. Lifting a hand, she pokes her finger into the mist. It just feels kind of cold, honestly. Well, no, not even cold. It¡¯s just like walking through fog. It¡¯s a little damp and the consistency of the air feels different because of the moisture. It¡¯s magical, of course. But anything more exact than that is really hard to say. What does that even mean, ¡®magical¡¯? Obviously there is some sort of¡­ spatial or dimension-based wobbly-woo going on with the cut-off spaces. In the dungeons, despite there only ever being ¡®one¡¯ of every dungeon, every person is allowed their own unique instance of it. In the adventurer¡¯s guild, this is the same principle in action as well. But that doesn¡¯t seem to be what¡¯s happening here, with this secret portal to ¡®the farm¡¯. This is just one, singular cut-off space that leads to an area by the dungeon. But why is it here? For what purpose? Basil had told her that magical scholars, priests and lore-masters from all over the world had studied the dungeons and the cut-off spaces, some devoting their entire lives to the cause, only to find a fruitless tree waiting for them at the end of their years. The priestess had said that the gods made these magical doors and to try and understand them was a fool¡¯s errand in her opinion, because they simply aren¡¯t here for people to understand. The gods put them here for people to use, not to understand and there is a significant difference between those two things. Fresh tilts her head, tracing with her finger through the fog. Still, it could be interesting if she could learn something about this magic, anything at all, really. Surely there is a potency to be harnessed here? Some kind of magical residue or something that can be used? She racks her brain, but doesn¡¯t seem to be able to come up with anything on the spot. Maybe this is one of those conundrums that just needs to be slept on for a few days? That¡¯s assuming there is anything to be found here to begin with. It could just be that, for all of the mystery and magical intrigue behind these magical doors, that the simplest answer is that there is no real magical principle to be harvested or learned from them. They might just exist because they exist. It is what it is. ¡°So,¡± says Jubilee, staring across the table, their hands folded there. They raise an eyebrow. ¡°So¡­¡± says Basil, her eyes closed as she nods once. Fresh blinks, looking at them. ¡°So,¡± is all that Shamrock says. ¡°So what, guys?¡± she asks, not sure what it is that they¡¯re doing. Jubilee points at the black, bubbling potion in the center of the table. ¡°So, what the fuck are we going to do with this swill?¡± they ask. Fresh looks down at the potion she had made yesterday, together with Shamrock. It¡¯s a simple thing, made up out of nothing but a black onyx stone and some sunwater. Fresh follows their finger, staring at the bottle. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°What the fuck do you think I mean?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°You made a potion that literally turns people into monsters.¡± ¡°We thought it was a good idea,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Right, Shamrock?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± nods the man. ¡°But what does that even mean?¡± considers Basil. She scoots the other bottle towards herself, the one made with the ground up peridot stone. ¡°This one changes your attribute to ¡®light¡¯, which is fine, I suppose.¡± She lifts the bottle up. ¡°I knew a few others from the church who have that sub-attribute. It¡¯s great for people who want to, how would you say it?¡± she asks, looking at Jubilee. ¡°- Do ¡®less healing and more blasting¡¯.¡± ¡°I wish we had gotten one of them instead,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Sound like some fun people for parties.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not,¡± replies Basil, setting the bottle back down. ¡°Half of the inquisition has the sub-attribute light. They don¡¯t have parties,¡± she says, shaking her head. ¡°So what¡¯s the problem?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°No problem,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°At least not one that I¡¯m worried about anymore, considering the scale of problems that we usually produce.¡± ¡°But it is unusual,¡± says Basil. Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Unusual?¡± ¡°Unusual,¡± repeats Basil, nodding. She pokes at the onyx-potion. ¡°Changing your attribute to ¡®monster¡¯, what does that even mean?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°I guess it means what it says?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± replies Basil. ¡°But that¡¯s the thing. There is no sub-attribute called ¡®monster¡¯. Not that I know of, at least.¡± Shamrock raises his hand. ¡°It¡¯s different,¡± says Basil. ¡°You can change your class from a wizard to a priest and you¡¯d change your attributes accordingly. But being a ¡®monster¡¯ isn¡¯t something you can choose. It¡¯s something you¡¯re born as or not.¡± Basil looks over towards Jubilee. ¡°Apart from a few exceptions.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Fresh thinks for a moment. ¡°I guess it¡¯s just my magic being weird again?¡± she guesses. Basil sighs, sliding the potion over to Jubilee. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s the case as well.¡± ¡°But other than that?¡± asks Fresh, looking hopefully for some praise. ¡°The healing effect?¡± The priestess and Jubilee look at each other for a moment, nodding, before turning back to her. ¡°Half a year ago,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯d whack you over the head and call you a dumb-ass for making this,¡± they say. ¡°Do you realize what this is?¡± they ask, holding up one of the potions. ¡°A potion that can cure literally every ailment in an instant?¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°Powerful people have been murdered for things way less interesting than this.¡± ¡°Gods, even,¡± says Basil. Jubilee rolls their eyes. Fresh shrugs. ¡°So¡­¡± ¡°- The usual,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You made a thing that we may or may not get murdered for. But that¡¯s fine, we¡¯ll just put it on the murder-pile with the rest of the stuff.¡± ¡°It¡¯s worked out well so far,¡± says Basil, leaning back. ¡°Has it though?¡± replies Jubilee. Basil stares their way for a moment and then turns to look out of the upstairs window. Fresh shrugs, pretty sure that it has. Though, to be fair, the murder-pile is getting pretty big these days¡­ Chapter 376: The cake ¡°You¡¯re moving in on my territory,¡± warns Jubilee, turning their head towards Basil. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t make such a fuss about it,¡± replies the priestess, shuffling past Jubilee. ¡°I just want to make something.¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s my turn to make breakfast today, Basil,¡± they reply. ¡°Get lost.¡± Basil sighs, bending down to grab some flour from the sack. ¡°I¡¯m not making breakfast. I¡¯m just making some stuff.¡± ¡°Uh huh and for what?¡± asks Jubilee. Basil pours a scoop full of flour into a bowl in her other hand. ¡°To eat,¡± she says, dryly. ¡°Uh huh,¡± says Jubilee again, their voice growing sharper. ¡°And when?¡± ¡°In about thirty minutes, actually.¡± ¡°So, at breakfast time?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not for breakfast,¡± says Basil. Jubilee places their hands together in front of their face, pointing their fingers towards the priestess. ¡°Basil.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± They stare the priestess down. ¡°You¡¯re fucking with me right now, right?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Basil blinks. ¡°Why do you always have to be so crude?¡± She turns to look over towards the window. ¡°The sun isn¡¯t even up yet.¡± ¡°You¡¯re making something to eat in half an hour, at breakfast time, while I¡¯m cooking breakfast for us literally right next to you?¡± Basil sighs, grabbing some eggs. ¡°I¡¯m not making breakfast. I just told you.¡± Jubilee places their hands on their hips, leaning in towards Basil. ¡°Basil. I¡¯d slap you if I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d be into it.¡± Basil rolls her eyes. ¡°Please. As if you could reach.¡± ¡°Unfortunately,¡± starts Jubilee. ¡°The places I can reach you¡¯d probably enjoy more.¡± Basil gasps, the shell of the egg in her hand cracking as her finger squeeze it too hard. She turns her head, shooting Jubilee a scornful look. But then the priestess stops and just lifts her nose, looking back to her work as she opts to take the high road, apparently. Fresh, having watched this scene unfold from the middle platform of the tower, turns her head over to Shamrock who is sitting there with crossed legs, a sketchbook in his lap. The two of them shrug at the same time. ¡°Left,¡± says Shamrock. The springan, standing between them, lifts its arms and spins a few degrees towards the left. The man nods and continues to draw. ¡°Shamrock,¡± asks Fresh, looking at the man¡¯s work. ¡°Isn¡¯t it kind of grim to make a murder-manual for the springan?¡± she asks. ¡°I mean¡­ there¡¯s only one, you know?¡± she asks, looking at the flower-blossomed creature. ¡°For now.¡± ¡°For now?¡± asks Fresh, tilting her head. ¡°For now,¡± repeats the man, continuing his sketching of the creature. It just seems excited that the man wanted to draw it at all. The fact that this is for an item that will teach people how to kill it more efficiently doesn¡¯t seem to be much of an issue. ¡°The future is uncertain.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She turns her head, watching the other two downstairs continuing to make a fuss about what is and isn¡¯t breakfast. The table is set. A loaf of fresh, steaming bread sits in the center of it, surrounded by a rather generous spread of eggs, creams, oils, cheeses and slices of meat. It all smells great, really. Breakfast is always Fresh¡¯s favorite part of the day. They all get to sit together and they get to talk with each other and they get to eat a lot of exciting, wholesome things. It¡¯s a stark contrast, honestly, how well they eat in comparison with what she assumes some of the more gaunt faces of the people she sees outside are able to. But her own family is fed and sheltered; that is what matters most to the horrible witch. Together with the usual smell of their hearty meal, is something else. Something lighter and cleaner than the smell of the fried eggs or the heavy, steaming bread. It¡¯s almost sweat, almost a little zesty. Jubilee and Basil sit across from each other. Jubilee with their head in their hand, their other hand tapping against the table in annoyance, while Basil sits there with crossed arms and closed eyes. ¡°Okay. So,¡± relents Basil. ¡°I may have made it for breakfast.¡± Jubilee sighs and the priestess opens an eye, staring their way. ¡°I wanted to do something special too though,¡± she says. ¡°For the occasion.¡± Fresh stares between the two of them and then down towards the short, but very wide cake that Basil had baked. It¡¯s a simple thing, with a light, fluffy dough and a hardened, sour, white glaze on top. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Jubilee, giving up the fight. ¡­Occasion? Fresh isn¡¯t aware of any occasion. Today is a normal day like every other day, isn¡¯t it? She looks up towards the ceiling, racking her brain as Shamrock begins to set his plate full, ignoring the awkwardness in the room as if he were entirely indifferent to it. - Wait. Didn¡¯t Jubilee make a cake the other day too? She blinks, lowering her gaze towards her friends who are still locked in a somewhat tense stalemate. ¡°AH!¡± she gasps, realizing. ¡°It¡¯s our anniversary!¡± The two of them look her way. She donks herself on the head. ¡°Man, I completely forgot,¡± says Fresh. She sighs and crosses her arms, shaking her head, let down in herself. Of course it makes sense that Jubilee made the cake the other day. It had been one year since they met and now, a few weeks later, Basil has made hers. How could she be so naive? Jubilee¡¯s cake was made one year after their meeting and Basil¡¯s one year after theirs. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡± asks Jubilee, listening to her explanation of her understanding of the situation. ¡°You idiot,¡± they say. ¡°That¡¯s not what¡¯s happening here.¡± They roll their eyes. ¡°Sometimes, I wonder how you remember to breathe.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Wait, it¡¯s not?¡± she asks. That was the only explanation that made sense to her. She scratches her cheek. What else could it be? Seeing her confusion, Basil, having done her best to hold down a quiet laugh at her helplessness, leans over and explains. ¡°Actually, it¡¯s a birthday cake, you know?¡± Fresh jumps up and screams in distraught horror. She¡¯s the worst friend ever. Of course her friends have birthdays too. But she somehow had never managed to think about it. - The cake is very good though. Chapter 377: Day to day concerns Fresh pops her head out of the hole in the ceiling, looking around the city. She stops, a dozen pairs of eyes looking her way from all around herself. Slowly, Fresh¡¯s eyes wander to the birds that have nested themselves on top of their roof. She yelps, ducking back down as the flock flies off, startled because of her sudden disturbance. She blows her tongue, getting the feather stuck on it out of her mouth. ¡°Jubilee!¡± she calls down from the tower to Jubilee, who was on their way downstairs to the library. ¡°There are birds on our roof!¡± Jubilee stares up at her from the staircase and then, without saying a word, walks away and down the stairs. Fresh frowns, turning back the ceiling. The birds, trapped inside of the shielding bubble around the city, have been rather confused for a while. At first, they had simply settled into the boughs of the world-tree, where they had hidden for the harshest parts of the winter. But now, given that the cold is starting to fade away and that the light of the sun seems to be shining through the shield more and more into the city, the poor creatures had tried to fly away, unsuccessfully bouncing into the shield by the hundreds. Eventually, they seem to have learned that they¡¯re stuck inside and have now adapted, finding roosts on the roofs of houses and on the inner walls of the city. Fresh slides the door to the ceiling back open, popping her head outside a second time to look. The birds are gone now. Honestly, it¡¯s a great view from up here. This is pretty high up, relatively speaking, so she can look all around the marketplace. But doing so isn¡¯t really a joyful experience. It seems that the energy of the people really does seem to be running low. The once vibrant and bustling street market is now only sparsely trodden. The stalls that are still remaining open are full of tired faces and the merchants who do manage to have a little more energy try unsuccessfully to call in the few stragglers who are going through the market. People are running out of money, food and now, finally energy. They¡¯ve noticed it in their own business as well. Their number of customers has been dwindling for weeks. With every passing day come one or two faces fewer than each of the days before. There had been a short boom again, during the ¡®Veli incident¡¯, but after that, it all died down again. Fresh sighs, swiping away some dirt from the rim of the opening. Times are tough. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re taken care of.¡± ¡°We are?¡± asks Fresh, looking at them. This is the first she¡¯s heard of this. Jubilee shakes their head, staring at her with a questioning look. ¡°You do remember making the heating element for the forge, right?¡± they ask. ¡°The orichalcum people? It was barely a week ago?¡± ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± says Fresh, her eyes wandering idly towards the ceiling. ¡°Whatever happened with that?¡± ¡°What happened is that we¡¯re taken care of,¡± says Jubilee, pouring themselves another cup of coughee. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the details.¡± ¡°Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Are we rich?¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°You do also remember us giving away a house back in the west, right?¡± they ask. ¡°Literally only half a year ago?¡± ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh. Jubilee holds their arms out to their sides, gesturing around at everything around them. Fresh supposes that is the summation of their answer to her question. ¡°Still,¡± says Basil. ¡°There are many out there who are less fortunate than us.¡± ¡°¡¯Fortune¡¯ my ass,¡± barks Jubilee at the priestess. ¡°We¡¯ve been working our asses off for a year with about four days off in total!¡± ¡°Sure,¡± says Basil. ¡°That¡¯s true. But at the same time, we¡¯re still lucky.¡± ¡°Fortune favors the bold,¡± says Shamrock, stirring a pot. Today, they¡¯re having pudding. ¡°The farm is ready for a harvest,¡± says Basil. ¡°I¡¯d like to gather everything into a cart and bring it to the city to donate,¡± she explains. ¡°Things are getting rough outside.¡± Jubilee waves her off. ¡°Donate?!¡± they bark, aghast. ¡°Everything outside of these four walls is not our problem.¡± ¡°It will be,¡± replies Basil. ¡°When people see how pudgy you¡¯ve gotten and a mob forms in front of our door.¡± ¡°First of all, take a look in the mirror,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°You¡¯re so wobbly, that I¡¯m surprised Shamrock hasn¡¯t made a move on you yet.¡± Basil clears her throat, glaring at Jubilee. ¡°Secondly, we have an armed guard at the door, so, again, not our problem,¡± repeats Jubilee, leaning back on their chair. ¡°Surely you see the wisdom in having a kind reputation amongst the people?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Especially now that things are going to get tight?¡± Basil shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s the same exact thing you wanted to do with Muldrich. How is this different?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, but I¡¯m still against it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°You don¡¯t actually want to do it because it¡¯s pragmatic, you just want to be nice and you¡¯re using that as an excuse that I¡¯ll buy,¡± they say, almost sounding disgusted by it. ¡°Did it work?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee sighs. ¡°Fine. Whatever. But I¡¯m not helping.¡± ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± replies Basil. ¡°It would be more surprising if you ever did do anything helpful.¡± ¡°Watch it, Basil.¡± Fresh sips her coughee, smiling as she watches the two of them go at it again. Winter might be drawing to a close in some sense, but in reality, things are only going to get worse from here on out. The spring might be soon to come, but she has the feeling that the kind, gentle warmth and joy she felt a year ago, during her arrival here, will not be mirrored in the world she finds herself now passing through. So much has changed. Fresh stares down at her cup, looking at the very long strands of hair that dangle down, hanging from her own face. Didn¡¯t it used to be a richer shade of gold? She recalls getting excited about it. But now, looking at it, it looks as pale and sickly as her always cold and clammy skin does. Almost tending towards a tinge of green, in fact. She really does seem to be becoming physically more ¡®witchy¡¯ by the day. The bags under her eyes are growing as well, but, on the bright side, next to them she sees the grooves of deep laugh-lines having been formed in such a short time. Fresh sips her coughee. Maybe it¡¯s not all so bad. Chapter 378: We’re not so bad in our own personal opinion Fresh hums as she works, spinning a metal cylinder around inside of another bigger one, in order to let the grooves in the metal lock into place with each other. She¡¯s setting up the big telescope, upstairs on top of the tower. ¡°I still think it¡¯s a waste of time,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh turns her head, looking at them, sitting on the railing of the upstairs platform, indifferent to her warnings that it¡¯s unsafe. They aren¡¯t helping her build the telescope, but they¡¯ve nonetheless decided to stay up late and to keep her company as she does so, which means just as much to her, in all honesty. ¡°If you wanna look at the stars, you can do it like that.¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°But you like telescopes, Jubilee?¡± she asks, returning to her work. ¡°I know you do.¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± replies Jubilee, sighing. Fresh smiles. She knows that Jubilee was actually just making an argument just for the sake of talking. They¡¯re actually for the telescope idea as well. ¡°Honestly, we should probably have Shamrock just throw you up to the top of the tree,¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°Like he did during that boss fight with the stone-giant.¡± ¡°I¡¯d need my broom,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t think that even Shamrock is strong enough to throw me all the way up there,¡± says Fresh, looking up and out of the ceiling towards the world-tree which towers up towards the sky. There is a small clapping sound as Jubilee places their hands together. ¡°Which brings me to my next point -¡± ¡°- Why don¡¯t I just fly up with my broom and look outside of the shield?¡± asks Fresh, knowing what Jubilee¡¯s question is already going to be. They nod, raising an eyebrow, apparently surprised that she had cut them off. Fresh turns back to her work again, bending down to carefully grab a large, glass lens with a half-spherical curvature, which she had pre-made and starts to fit it into the cylinder. It¡¯s quiet for a while as she works. It takes a minute or so until she gets the glass to sit just right. The lens has to be perfectly set, otherwise the view through the telescope will look distorted from the other end. But, having finished this step, she has no escape anymore. So, Fresh sighs now and turns her gaze towards her friend. ¡°I¡¯m scared, Jubilee,¡± admits Fresh. ¡°What if there¡¯s just¡­¡± She stops, rubbing her arm. ¡°What if there¡¯s just nothing left?¡± Jubilee nods. ¡°That is the likely case, if you ask me.¡± Fresh frowns. ¡°What if it¡¯s my fault?¡± Jubilee nods, pointing at her lazily with a finger. ¡°That is the likely case, if you ask me,¡± they repeat. Fresh looks down at her work, racking her brain about what step is next in the process. But she got distracted and now her mind is wandering somewhere else entirely. Fresh lets out a frustrated groan, rubbing her forehead and tired eyes as she sits down on the floor, leaning over to rest her head on the side of Jubilee¡¯s leg. ¡°¡­What if it happens here too?¡± she asks, not bothering to look up, knowing that, in all likelihood, it will. A hand finds its way to her shoulder. ¡°That is the likely case, if you ask me,¡± says Jubilee, a third time. ¡°¡­Jubilee?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Are we evil?¡± The hand squeezes her shoulder. ¡°You bet your pale ass we are,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We even have vampires on the run. Those gangly fucks.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± She supposes that much is obvious, though she just didn¡¯t want to hear it. ¡°I guess it makes sense, with me being a witch and you being a demon and Shamrock being a monster and all,¡± she says, not thinking about it. Only after saying it however, she catches herself, too late as always. Fresh turns her head to look up at Jubilee, afraid that she has offended them. But instead, they¡¯re fighting down a tired laugh. ¡°Now we just need to get Basil to change her class,¡± they reply. ¡°Maybe we can get her into necromancy?¡± suggests Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯d have a full set then. Really look the part, you know?¡± ¡°Plus, she can revive us after we die then,¡± notes Fresh. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°¡¯Revive¡¯ is a relative term,¡± they explain. ¡°Your body might come back, but the rest of you sure isn¡¯t gonna.¡± ¡°Can necromancers make ghosts?¡± suggest Fresh. ¡°Maybe we could all become ghosts instead of dying then?¡± Jubilee shakes their head. ¡°Are you suggesting that we make a suicide pact?¡± ¡°Huh? Oh, wow. That¡¯s uh¡­ that¡¯s dark, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, turning to look at the unfinished telescope. ¡°I guess we already did, though.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s life,¡± they say, yawning. ¡°It is what it is. The world is ending, we¡¯re all gonna die. Who gives a fuck anymore?¡± They make a show out of extending their yawn. ¡°That¡¯s life,¡± nods Fresh in affirmation, resting her head back against their leg. ¡°It is what it is.¡± She stares at the telescope. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± they ask. Fresh stares idly. ¡°Can we just do it so¡­ you know, everybody except us dies?¡± ¡°Stop, you¡¯re going to make me like you,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Joke¡¯s on you,¡± smiles Fresh. ¡°You already admitted that you did. I remember. There were two likes mentioned, actually.¡± ¡°Shut up, goo-brain. Get back to work,¡± they say, poking her head. Fresh sighs, getting up and doing just that. ¡°You¡¯re always living in some weird fantasy in your head. Honestly.¡± Fresh continues her work on the telescope. ¡°Hey, Jubilee?¡± ¡°Do not,¡± replies a tired Jubilee. Fresh shrugs, disobedient as always. ¡°I like-you-like-you too.¡± ¡°Understandable,¡± they reply. ¡°I¡¯m pretty great.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± smiles Fresh and both of them turn to look up towards the night-sky that somehow, despite the impossibility of it, seems to be closer down towards the world than ever before. ¡°Hey, Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh. It is the morning of the next day and the man sits at the breakfast table, the springan on his lap. ¡°Yes?¡± Fresh looks over her coughee towards him. ¡°So, what¡¯s in the south?¡± she asks. ¡°Like, really-really?¡± ¡°The realm of the dead,¡± replies the man. Fresh nods. ¡°Sure. But, what does that mean?¡± she asks. ¡°Is it like¡­ another world?¡± Fresh looks around the table. ¡°Are the other witches ¡®alive¡¯ there, or are they just kind of¡­ I dunno¡­ abstractly existing or being dead?¡± she asks, noticing that Basil hasn¡¯t objected once to any of her pre-breakfast questions. The priestess just seems to be looking at her tea, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Shamrock shakes his head. ¡°I can not say,¡± replies the giant man. ¡°¡¯Cause you don¡¯t know?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yes,¡± is all that he says. The table is quiet for a moment, the silence only broken by Basil taking a sip of her tea a moment later. ¡°They found it preferable.¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, thinking. ¡°What do you think is up with the south these days?¡± she asks. ¡°Do you think the other cities got ¡®southed¡¯ too?¡± ¡°I can not say,¡± he says again. The leaves on the springan¡¯s head moving from the heaving of his chest. It seems excited about this, bobbing around. ¡°Mm¡­¡± nods Fresh, taking a sip of her coughee. Her stomach growls as she smells breakfast being cooked across the room by Jubilee. ¡°I was just thinking that¡­¡± ¡°- That the dungeons are connected?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Mm,¡± nods Fresh, surprised that Basil had read her mind on such an abstract idea. ¡°We can¡¯t,¡± says the priestess, not looking up from her tea. Fresh¡¯s idea had been to go down to level one-hundred of the central-dungeon and to just take the tree-root passage away from the center, down towards the south. Surely, that could be an alternative to staying here or to going to one of the other cities, whose fate is entirely unknown? Sure, it would mean entering the spirit world, which is a one way trip in the south, apparently. But choosing to go there willingly must be preferable to normal, everyday death, if the other witches had chosen it, right? There must be a reason for them having done that? ¡°We made this mess,¡± says the priestess. ¡°We have to see it through to the end, or what will it all have been for?¡± ¡°For us, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s for us. It¡¯s so we survive.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°By going there, we won¡¯t achieve that,¡± she explains. ¡°I¡¯ve thought this through too,¡± says Basil, looking at the two of them. ¡°Our best chance is here. Right in the middle of the mess we¡¯ve made.¡± Fresh turns to Shamrock who nods. ¡°I agree,¡± says the man. ¡°I once turned back from there,¡± he explains. ¡°I will not go now,¡± he says, exhaling loudly. ¡°Not before the moonfall.¡± ¡°Poetic fuck,¡± says Jubilee, noisily setting down a plate of pancakes in the center of the table. ¡°We¡¯re not going anywhere. If we have to cut the fucking world-tree down to do it, we¡¯re staying right where we are. If the world likes it or not.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± says Basil, reaching over to grab her pancakes. ¡°Yes,¡± nods Shamrock, allowing Basil to take hers first. ¡°Mm,¡± notes Fresh in agreement, not skipping a beat. It was an interesting fantasy to entertain for a minute before breakfast, but if the world has to go in order to keep her family safe, that¡¯s just what it¡¯s going to have to be, if the world likes it or not. It is what it is. Razmatazz Best friends forever! ...Forever... Chapter 379: Don’t worry about it ¡°This is a terrible idea,¡± says Basil. ¡°Yeah,¡± agrees Fresh, her hands hovering above the crystal-ball. ¡°But I really wanna find out too, Basil,¡± she notes. The priestess frowns, playing with the red string on her hand. ¡°Some things are better left untested, you know?¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°What kind of life is that though?¡± she asks, focusing on the crystal-ball. ¡°What happens if I die and then I get sad because I didn¡¯t actually get to be the person I wanted to be?¡± she asks, looking back up again. Basil and Jubilee are exchanging one of their looks. The priestess turns back towards her. ¡°Still¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, Basil!¡± assures Fresh. Jubilee scoots their chair forward. ¡°Yeah, Basil. Don¡¯t be such a baby,¡± they say. ¡°Embrace death, like the rest of us have.¡± ¡°The end is us and we are the end,¡± says Shamrock. Basil crosses her arms. ¡°Nobody is embracing death at the breakfast table,¡± argues the priestess. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that this is unsafe.¡± ¡°Of course it¡¯s unsafe,¡± says Jubilee, placing their elbows on the table as they hold their head in the hands. ¡°That¡¯s the fun part.¡± ¡°That you of all people would have had such a change of heart,¡± notes Basil. ¡°A few months ago you¡¯d be on a warpath if you saw this happening.¡± Jubilee shrugs. ¡°Time has healed my wounded heart. Dunno what to tell you.¡± Basil rolls her eyes. ¡°Oh, please. Come off it.¡± A large, metal hand reaches over and grabs Basil, pulling her back towards its source. ¡°It will be good,¡± says Shamrock, pulling Basil closer and shielding her from the crystal with his forearm, just to be safe. She sighs. ¡°Fine. But I want it to be noted that I objected to this. This is a terrible idea.¡± ¡°Your objection has been noted,¡± says Jubilee, nodding. ¡°Do it.¡± ¡°Yes, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, lifting her fingers to the crystal-ball and focusing on the thing that it shows her. Jubilee had asked her to explain her abilities and curses to them in explicit detail this morning, perhaps hoping to get a better gage of their standing in terms of the power-scale of the world. After hearing her explain a few different things, Jubilee had an idea, seeing something straight away that Fresh had missed. The crystal-ball glows alight as Fresh focuses. Light flashes through the sphere as the image inside of it seems to be traveling, flying across the landscape like a bird. The view soars down into the dungeon, pushing through the entrance until the view lands on a single spriggan, standing there and bouncing on its feet, waiting for an adventurer to come into the first floor of the dungeon. ¡°Wow. It really does let us see things,¡± says Basil. ¡°Told you,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Did you know about this?¡± asks the priestess. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°I mean, yes?¡± they say. ¡°But honestly, I was so burnt out on fucky witch shit that I didn¡¯t think twice about it.¡± They turn to Fresh. ¡°You know what to do.¡± ¡°Yes, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, lowering her hand and grabbing the cursed dagger from the table, her free hand still hovering above the sphere. She gulps. The image of the spriggan in the crystal-ball stops bouncing on its feet, standing there for a second and then the vision inside of the crystal erupts as the spriggan flies wildly into the air, propelled by an unseen force. Black goo splashes out of it in all directions as it soars, smashing against the ceiling of the dungeon and then, a second later, its empty skin falls down to the ground in a mushy heap. ¡°Grim,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I¡¯ll never get over how fucked that is to look at.¡± ¡°It worked though,¡± says Basil, surprised. Shamrock nods. ¡°Direct confrontations are not Perchta¡¯s way.¡± ¡°Yeah, indirect ones though, fuck¡­¡± says Jubilee, watches the black smears run down the inside of the glass crystal until the image begins to fade, leaving nothing left on this side. So it¡¯s true, Jubilee¡¯s plan worked. The crystal-ball displays images of places and things and given that the only range constraint on her ¡®malediction¡¯ curse is the target having to be within her line of sight, the curse works even over this distance, even outside of the dungeon¡­ Basil tilts her head, leaning against Shamrock. ¡°No experience-points though.¡± ¡°Figured,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Same shit as when you¡¯re in a different section,¡± they say. Basil nods. Monsters in a dungeon always give experience when killed, even by a party member. But the condition is that you have to be in the same ¡®section¡¯ of the dungeon as the fight in order for it to count. ¡°So, who do we kill first?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Uh, nobody?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°That¡¯s not what we do.¡± ¡°I mean, it kind of is,¡± replies Jubilee, shrugging. Basil shakes her head. ¡°We¡¯re not killing anyone. We¡¯re not assassins.¡± Jubilee raises an eyebrow. ¡°I mean, I guess not specifically.¡± They look back at the crystal. ¡°We sure as fuck could be though.¡± They think for a moment, pointing at Fresh. ¡°Hey, can you point that thing at the hero?¡± The table is quiet. All of them look at Jubilee. ¡°What? You fucks. It¡¯s a great idea,¡± they explain, tapping a finger against the table. ¡°It is¡­¡± agrees Basil reluctantly, looking back towards Fresh. ¡°We really should know what the enemy is up to. It¡¯s folly that we¡¯ve been so negligent.¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°Not until tomorrow, guys,¡± she replies, rubbing her arm. ¡°The crystal only works once a day.¡± Jubilee nods, getting up. ¡°Guess what we¡¯re doing tomorrow?¡± Fresh looks towards the ceiling, a finger scratching her cheek. ¡°I guess we¡¯re having breakfast together like every day and then we¡¯re opening the store?¡± ¡°That too,¡± replies Jubilee, reaching down and grabbing her flying broom. ¡°Okay. Next idea.¡± ¡°Next idea?¡± asks Fresh, taking the broom from them. ¡°Next idea,¡± repeats Jubilee, nodding. ¡°Remember the whole ¡®grim powder¡¯ thing?¡± ¡°¡­Yeah?¡± replies Fresh cautiously. Exploding had hurt a lot. A finger points her way. ¡°Guess what we¡¯re trying out next?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Shamrock,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Get me a bottle of some fucky witch-water from the basement and some of Basil¡¯s poison mushrooms.¡± Fresh lifts a finger, repeating herself, surprised at Jubilee¡¯s change of heart. ¡°Uh¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®uh¡¯ me, goo-brain!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re practicing murder today.¡± Fresh frowns, lowering her hand. ¡°Yes, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°Can we get some breakfast first though?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯m starving.¡± Basil sighs, getting up. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡± ¡°Thanks, Basil,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We can use your cooking to help practice killing people too.¡± The priestess makes a show of rolling her eyes as she walks past Jubilee. ¡°You mean a lot to me too,¡± she says. Jubilee shakes their head, gesturing all around themselves at once, not having a response to that, before turning back to Fresh. ¡°After this, there¡¯s something else I wanna try too,¡± they say. ¡°Remember Shamrock¡¯s old bone sword?¡± they ask. Fresh nods. Jubilee taps the table. ¡°The effect. The one that stops holy magic from healing things. I want it.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°For what, Jubilee?¡± ¡°We¡¯re gonna take care of some stuff,¡± they say, narrowing their eyes. Chapter 380: I am in my good place ¡°You still don¡¯t get it, do you?¡± asks the voice. Fresh floats there, upside down, her arms crossed as she glares at the entity, which has once again summoned her to it in her deepest dreams. She furrows her brow. ¡°I think you¡¯re the one who doesn¡¯t get it,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get a good night¡¯s sleep. We¡¯re opening the store early tomorrow morning, you know?¡± The water all around her churns and swirls, her body drifting around inside of the current. ¡°Are you delusional?¡± asks the voice of the fountain, whispering into her ear. ¡°Are you really some kind of moron?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Fresh, plainly, turning her head to look towards the source of the voice. But as her gaze turns to it, it draws away, the silhouette pulling back into the darkness where she can¡¯t see it clearly. ¡°So go away and let me get my sleep. I need it.¡± The water begins to bubble, the voice begins to hiss. ¡°Why don¡¯t I just take away your powers and kill your friends?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know?¡± asks Fresh, shrugging. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go spend those coins you collect on some people who¡¯ll pretend to like you for a day?¡± she asks coldly. ¡°It¡¯ll do you some good.¡± Her body twists as the raging waters of the black ocean compress against her like two fists, pushing the halves of her body in different directions. ¡°You¡¯re not going to do anything,¡± says Fresh a moment later as her ¡®body¡¯ pulls itself back together. She floats there, unimpressed. ¡°If you were, you would have already. You need me,¡± she explains, turning on her side, resting her head in her hand as she ¡®lays¡¯ there, suspended in the water. ¡°And for how long do you think this is going to last?¡± it asks. ¡°We¡¯re almost done. I won¡¯t need you anymore after that.¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯m through with you too,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m really grateful that you let me have this life,¡± she explains. ¡°But you¡¯re such a dick and I¡¯m not gonna put up with it anymore.¡± The water churns. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°You heard me,¡± replies Fresh, channeling her inner Jubilee. ¡°Why can¡¯t you just be nice?¡± she asks. ¡°We don¡¯t have to be friends. But I really want to like you, you know?¡± she asks. Fresh taps her finger into her palm, looking at a loose coin that is floating past herself in the distant water. ¡°Besides. I paid you for this. So I think it¡¯s fair to expect better service than what you¡¯ve offered.¡± ¡°- Is this a game to you?¡± asks the fountain. A crushing pressure seems to be mounting in the water. ¡°You killed them. All of them. Millions more still will die before we¡¯re done,¡± it hisses. ¡°Because of you. Mothers, fathers, children, saints, the loved and the sacred, all of them have been made quiet,¡± explains the voice, floating ever closer towards her from behind until she can hear it breathing down her neck. ¡°So what makes you think you¡¯re safe from me?¡± Fresh spins around, lifting a finger and quickly tapping it against a nose. ¡°Boop!¡± she says in delight. The entity quickly retreats and she laughs. ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± says Fresh plainly, her voice echoing around the black-water. ¡°I¡¯ll do it again,¡± she says, holding her arms out to her sides and humming as she spins around in an odd sort of pirouette, a wide smile on her face. The ¡®killing everyone¡¯ thing, she means. Not the ¡®booping¡¯ part. Though, she¡¯ll do that again too, if she gets the chance. ¡°- And again and again and again and again -¡± Fresh spins around, her arms outstretched, her ¡®fingers¡¯ moving through the water, creating a swirl of loose particulate around herself which floats adrift like the spirits of a million departed souls. ¡°- and again and again and again -¡± she goes on and on, spinning and chanting over and over, until she comes to a stop. The horrible witch smiles a warm, kind smile as she thinks about the thing that will bring her the most joy in this whole world; waking up in a few minutes surrounded by her friends in a warm bed. She¡¯ll have a few minutes before they wake up, so she¡¯ll secretly cuddle them and pretend it had happened ¡®while she was asleep¡¯ and then after a while, they¡¯ll get up and have breakfast and they¡¯ll open the store and work together and they¡¯ll have fun conversations and tasks and they¡¯ll face difficult challenges and troubles. But they¡¯ll do so together! Together¡­ She¡¯s never going to go back, she¡¯s never going to be so alone and sad and cold ever again. Never. NEVER. Fresh beams, spinning once more. This is the best! ¡°- and again and again and again!¡± She stops once more, her arms still outstretched as she looks over her shoulder towards the entity, watching her. Fresh smiles. ¡°But you already knew that. We¡¯re really not so different, right?¡± she asks, tilting her head, a strand of flowing, sickly greenish blonde hair flowing past her eyes in the water, barely obscuring the vision of the person she sees suspended in the distance. ¡°- Perchta?¡± The entity, the silhouette barely visible in the water, a body, a face that looks much like her own, a reflection, narrows its eyes. ¡°Get back to work.¡± Fresh wakes up, staring at the ceiling. She can feel the warmth glowing over her face, not from the shining sun that barely peeks in through the window, hanging above the suffering city outside of their four walls. But rather, from the fantastic night¡¯s sleep she just had. Fresh stretches her arms and legs out, wiggling her toes and fingers, her lower back pops in a deeply satisfying way. Cautiously looking around that the others are still asleep, Fresh, despite the wetness of the mattress from her latest fountain-dream, carefully and quietly turns herself sideways, gently throwing her arms over Jubilee, lifting her legs so she¡¯s draped over Basil and Shamrock, so that they all lay in one big heap like a den of feral animals in the deep forest. The horrible witch beams in delight, closing her eyes again. Today is going to be another great day. She¡¯s going to make sure of it, no matter what it costs anyone else. Because everyone else outside of these four walls of theirs, simply doesn¡¯t matter. Not in the same deeply meaningful way that her family does. Not anymore. Not to her. Except perhaps to serve as customers to keep their business moving. They, as people, are essentially irrelevant for her happiness. She doesn¡¯t want them to suffer or to die or anything like that, but, she¡¯s just at a place where she¡¯ll choose herself and her family over them every single time, without fail. This family of hers, this strong feeling is the difference between herself and the fountain, who is perhaps the theoretical end result of her personal and spiritual development, had she festered in her loneliness forever just like she had done so in her old life, just in a world like this instead of that other one. But now, she feels the thing that Perchta, the fountain, doesn¡¯t have. The thing that keeps her on track and on focus every day. She feels love inside of herself. True, deep, warm love for her family. It feels stronger than anything she has ever known. Fresh wiggles herself snugly into place, feeling Basil¡¯s arm flop around and strike her as she has one of her odd dreams. Today seems like a good day to see what the hero is up to and to deal with the whole red-wizard situation. But first, a few more minutes of sleep. The world isn¡¯t going anywhere. At least not right now. Razmatazz What? Yeah. Fresh isn''t just good at mental health, she''s basically the world champion of it. Why do you ask? Everything is fine. Stop worrying about it. Sheesh, you''re breaking my heart, reader. x-x Chapter 381: We’re running out of time Fresh sits down by the front door, leaning backwards, her palms resting on the stoop as her eyes wander up towards the world-tree, towards the bubble above and around the city. It is early in the morning and they¡¯re already open for business, but nobody is coming today by the looks of it. The point has just about been reached, where the general population has been forced to tighten their belts yet another notch, down to their showing ribs. Occasionally, someone will come in to buy their medicine out of necessity. But all frivolous purchases seem to have just stopped entirely. She wonders, this happened within a span of a month, give or take. What must the situation have been like back then, ten years ago, when the city was shielded off for over a year? Fresh sighs, her shoulders drooping. ¡°Times sure are tough these days, huh?¡± she asks. Muldrich, standing next to her, by the door, doesn¡¯t respond. The man just continues to stare out into the quiet city. A gentle breeze pushes past them, tousling her hair. ¡°Muldrich, do you think things are going to ever be okay again?¡± she asks, tilting her head as she stares up towards the tree, not sure if she sees a hint of something green on one of the bare branches or not. Muldrich doesn¡¯t respond, just sticking to his duty of guarding the city. What a professional. ¡°I think so,¡± says Fresh, answering her own question. ¡°I guess.¡± She looks around at the streets. People sure used to be a lot brighter and energetic when they arrived here. It¡¯s surprising how fast faces can change like that. Smiles, warm feelings, security, safety and sanctuary, all erased in a matter of weeks and replaced with colder, tighter, more plain expressions. The winter has come and gone and taken with it many things from the world, including the light of many eyes that still live upon this ground, just now in a darker state than they were before. ¡°It might take a while. But I think things are going to be good again,¡± she explains, not sure why she thinks that, exactly. The girl lowers her eyes, staring at the ground for a moment as she thinks about that. ¡°I think¡­¡± She narrows her eyes, thinking about what she¡¯s thinking. ¡°I think that things were good before, so that means they¡¯ll be good again later too, you know?¡± she asks, scratching her cheek. ¡°I guess it doesn¡¯t make much sense when I say it like that, but¡­ hmm¡­¡± Fresh tilts her head, looking at a strand of long hair, dangling down from her forehead. ¡°I want to believe that it¡¯s going to be like that, you know?¡± she asks again, smiling. ¡°It¡¯s important to have something to believe in when times are tough and I think that I believe that things are going to be happy again. Somehow,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°I don¡¯t really have proof for it. But it just has to be that way, you know?¡± she asks a third time, receiving no response. ¡°It¡¯s important to keep the faith.¡± Fresh smiles, leaning back on her palms again as she lifts her face towards the sky, feeling the sparse rays of sunlight that manage to find their way down through the shield, feeling them warm her face. She sighs. ¡°I should get to work soon,¡± admits Fresh. ¡°Though, I guess there aren¡¯t going to be many customers for a while, Muldrich.¡± She turns to look at the man. ¡°I think it¡¯s neat of you,¡± says Fresh. ¡°That you take your job so seriously. It¡¯s nice to meet someone who''s passionate about their work too.¡± Fresh gets up, dusting herself off. ¡°If things get too tough, we have food to spare, okay?¡± she asks, looking at the man as she turns to go back inside. ¡°You and your family are still invited for dinner, if you ever want it.¡± ¡°No. Thank you,¡± says Muldrich, saying his first words of the morning. Fresh smiles, heading inside. She would have been surprised if he had said anything else. ¡°Will¡­ will it really help me?¡± asks the red-wizard, looking at the bottle of sunwater that Fresh holds in her hands. ¡°It will,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m confident. But, there¡¯s a price.¡± The red-wizard nods, thinking about it. The woman, whose face was once hewn from thick, pliant skin, now looks gaunt and pale. Her cheeks cling to her bones and her eyes seem deeply tired, as if she was simply never rested enough, despite how much sleep she was getting. The sickness is taking her. ¡°I¡¯ll still be able to use magic though, right?¡± asks the red-wizard. ¡°It¡¯ll just change my attribute to something else?¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Do you have to earn money for your family still?¡± she asks in return, looking at the woman who was once muscular and energetic. She seems frailer now, older. The strong legs, once akin to an anqa¡¯s, barely seem to be able to keep her frame upright anymore. The red-wizard nods. ¡°Things are tough now. I just got here and I don¡¯t know how else they¡¯ll make it if I can¡¯t help them.¡± Fresh clasps her hands together, lowering her head. ¡°You love your family?¡± she asks. ¡°Of course I do,¡± replies the red-wizard. ¡°I¡¯d do anything for them,¡± she explains. Fresh smiles, nodding. She understands that feeling. Her feelings towards the red-wizard have been solidified and shown to be true now. Yes, the caster had done her and her own family wrong. But she had done so for the same reasons that Fresh does everything too. While she can¡¯t forgive her for putting her own family in danger, she understands that she did it to find and help her own. Does it balance out? Likely not. But, she understands that it doesn¡¯t matter how it balances out. It is what it is. Fresh slides the potion over towards the red-wizard. ¡°I don¡¯t know how it will feel to drink. It might be weird,¡± she says. ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll be able to get back to work quickly?¡± asks the red-wizard hopefully. ¡°Well¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°If your attribute changes. I think you¡¯ll probably get new spells and lose your old ones?¡± she guesses. ¡°You might need to readjust for a while, honestly,¡± she admits. ¡°I have no idea what will happen, exactly.¡± The red-wizard stares at her for a moment and then nods, taking the potion and getting up. ¡°Thank you,¡± says the caster, rising to her shaking legs. ¡°And for what it¡¯s worth¡­¡± says the wizard, grabbing her hat. ¡°- I really am sorry.¡± Fresh nods, smiling. ¡°I know. Go eat something before you drink it, okay?¡± she asks. ¡°Otherwise it might give you the goo.¡± The red-wizard nods, tucking the potion away and going downstairs to leave. Fresh sits there for a moment at the library table, turning her head as a pair of boots walk out from behind the shelves. Basil. The priestess walks up behind her, wrapping her arms around her, over her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m very proud of you,¡± praises Basil. ¡°That was a very mature way to handle it.¡± Fresh leans back, rubbing the back of her head against Basil¡¯s stomach. The truth is that she didn¡¯t do it to be nice to the red-wizard or to be mature about it. She did it because she knew it would make Basil happy. Well, that and because of that other reason. But best not to think about that right now. That¡¯s a problem for the future. It¡¯s funny, how the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fit together in her mind. But anyways, she has to be a good friend, after all. What kind of horrible person would she be if she made her friends sad? Midnight winds press in through the open upstairs windows, the unusual draft moving both her hair as well as the chicken-patterned drapes. She exhales, the glow of the crystal-ball washing over her from below as her fingers spin around the glass sphere. Five pairs of eyes, her friends, the spriggan and the springan, watch her curiously from across the table as she pushes her magic into the crystal-ball, thinking in her mind about what she wants to see most right now, the hero, Garnett. - Where is he? What has become of him? The glass sphere shakes atop its pedestal, the magical energy moving through it becoming more and more unstable as the image inside of it grows darker. It grows as dark as the night outside the open window and then a shade darker still. Fresh exhales, staring at the glass as the vision comes into focus. A large, giant tree comes into focus from the distance. A shield, covering the city comes into focus as the view pans eastward, towards the outside of it. The vision rises, rises, rises like a bird flying high into the air until it comes to a stop and then it pans down towards the ground, towards a spot just outside of the city. There, unmoving, quiet, still, stands the silhouette of a man in metal armor, doing nothing else but staring towards the bubble surrounding the central-city. He doesn¡¯t breathe. He doesn¡¯t move. He doesn¡¯t pace or patrol or shout or try to find a way in. There is no sign of a camp or of a journey. He just stands there, waiting, staring, frozen. Unable to make a move until the shield has fallen, he simply stays put, like a statue, steadfast outside in the elements for days, weeks, months. The man stands in the spot that he has likely stood in for countless nights now, unmoving. And all around him, the entire world, everything from the grass to the trees to the sky itself is just¡­ lightless. It is as if a smear of black ink had been painted over the entire world. Something creaks as he lifts his head. Whether the sound is from his rusting armor or from his stiffened bones is impossible to say. The hero, Garnett, stares up towards the sky from where they view him, gazing back as if he could see them watching him. The crystal-ball shatters. Chapter 382: All good things Fresh stands there, downstairs in the store, her hand resting on the empty shelf that needs to be restocked. This was the shelf for vitamins. She turns her head to the side, staring at Basil¡¯s section, which is still full of medicine, despite the price-tags having been struck through several times and reduced to be more affordable. It isn¡¯t even about making a profit anymore. Fresh is sure that Basil is just trying to find a way to express a kindness for the people of the city. ¡°We¡¯re going in a minute,¡± says a voice from behind her. Fresh turns her head, looking at Basil and Shamrock who are standing there, carrying down bags of produce, vegetables and medicine from upstairs that they want to distribute to the people of the city for free. She blinks, looking at them. She supposes that this is the same as well. Of course, food and medicine might perhaps mean little, in the grand scheme of things. Given their past history, the chances for this city¡¯s survival are slim to none, to be honest. All four of them have chosen their own family¡¯s survival over that of any and everyone else. But that doesn¡¯t mean that they¡¯re monsters, right? Fresh watches Basil lean out of the door, handing Muldrich a small bag of food and medicine for his family. The man initially denies it, as always. But Basil starts fussing with him like a mother hen until even the stoic, quiet man has no choice but to relent and to accept her offering of a kindness. Fresh turns back to the shelves. They¡¯re getting a little dusty, actually. She looks over towards Shamrock¡¯s murder-manuals. The man hasn¡¯t bothered writing any new ones in days because the shelf is still stacked full of the old ones. She turns her head, looking at Jubilee¡¯s section of the store. All of the socks and clothes and scarves are still there, untouched, except for Jubilee, who is standing there, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric items and throwing them onto the heap of donations. Feeling her watching, they turn their head towards her. ¡°What?¡± they ask sharply, turning back to the shelves. ¡°We gotta clear out the old inventory. It¡¯s a waste of space. Winter¡¯s over.¡± Fresh smiles, returning to her work. ¡°Sure thing, Jubilee,¡± she says. It¡¯s true that winter might be over. But the cold and the chill are both still present in the world, especially given the emptiness of so many stomachs. But the reality is, that Jubilee is just pitching in as well. Perhaps it¡¯s all just an empty gesture, perhaps it¡¯s all just appeasement for their own consciousnesses. But it¡¯s still a nice way to spend the morning. As for the hero, for what they saw last night, it¡¯s perhaps what has triggered their sudden bout of charity. It¡¯s hard to pretend that everything is fine and that everything is going to be like it has been the entire time with something like that staring them down. The vision of the hero, waiting outside of the city for them specifically, waiting outside in a destroyed wasteland of a world, is as sure a sign as any that the end is just about here. This can¡¯t last forever, after all. ¡°It was a lot of fun,¡± says Fresh beneath her breath, still watching her fingers run over the shelf, feeling a deep sense of melancholy. She doesn¡¯t want it to be over. She wants to keep running the store with her friends. She wants to keep exploring the world and finding out about new places and things. She wants to do this over and over and over forever. It, this last year, has been full of so many fun and exciting things, but also sad and terrible things. But both of these have allowed her to feel. To feel sensations powerful in ways she had never felt anything in her life before this one, feelings that are both good and bad. She doesn¡¯t want it to stop. - A piece of clothing flies against her face, the thick socks slapping against her nose and then falling down and wrapping over her arm. Fresh blinks, looking at Jubilee and then down at the socks dangling off of herself. ¡°Get your shit together,¡± they bark. ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to look at that sour face of yours all morning.¡± Fresh frowns, scrunching her sour face together. ¡°Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°Can I borrow your mask?¡± ¡°Uh? No?¡± replies Jubilee, raising an eyebrow. ¡°But you¡¯re not wearing it right now.¡± ¡°Correct,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°But you still can¡¯t have it.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± asks Fresh, lifting her fingers up to her face and framing it. ¡°Then I can look as sad as I want and you can¡¯t see i- oooh~¡± Jubilee blinks, staring at her for a moment. ¡°Shut up and get back to work, dumb-ass,¡± they say, rolling their eyes. ¡°You can¡¯t have my mask because it¡¯ll have to touch your gross face,¡± they explain. ¡°Then I won¡¯t want to wear it anymore.¡± Fresh gasps, pointing at Jubilee. ¡°Your face is gross!¡± ¡°Please,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°You look like the ghost of a pile of chicken-shit.¡± ¡°RUDE!¡± gasps Fresh. ¡°Basil! Jubilee is bullying me!¡± ¡°Stop being mean to each other,¡± calls Basil idly, her hand waving out from below the counter as she rummages around for some stuff there. Fresh looks back towards Jubilee, sticking out her tongue. ¡°Stick your tongue out at me again and I¡¯ll cut it off,¡± remarks Jubilee, planting their hands on their hips. Fresh sticks her tongue out further. ¡°Bleeeh~!¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers. ¡°Shamrock! Grab her.¡± Fresh lets out a terrified yelp. With Jubilee on one side and Shamrock approaching from the other, escape seems all but impossible. She isn¡¯t sure what Jubilee did to recruit Shamrock so quickly to their cause, but it must have been potent for the man to head her way in an instant. In a frantic panic, her head shoots left and right, looking for a way out. But she¡¯s trapped like a cornered animal. Something grabs her hand. Terrified, she looks down at the springan, its pink flowered head bobbing beneath her. ¡°Spakew!¡± says the spriggan and then, a second later, everything explodes into a flurry of color. The pink blossoms on its head burst out into all directions, the room filling with the magic of a spell. Thousands of flower-petals fill the air, obscuring everyone¡¯s vision as a wooden hand drags her away through the distraction, bringing her to safety. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Fresh, sighing in relief as she looks down the spiral-staircase from the library. She¡¯s safe for now, thanks to the springan. At least until Jubilee catches her later and tells her that she has to sweep the entire downstairs¡­ ¡°I owe you one.¡± ¡°Spakew,¡± says the springan, sounding almost annoyed as it waves her off and wobbles away into the library, presumably to go to the farm. What a nice creature. Fresh scratches her cheek, turning around to look at the healer-spriggan, who was watching from the side by the shelves. Sadly, it turns back to the shelf and continues digging around. Fresh can¡¯t help but notice in a heartbreaking moment that it¡¯s looking through books on the subject of friendship. ¡°Ouch¡­¡± she says, rubbing her arm. That hurts in an unexpected way. Frowning, she heads over to the healer-spriggan. Maybe it¡¯s time that they had a talk? The poor guy can¡¯t just be sad forever. Chapter 383: Spiritual logistics ¡°- And that¡¯s what you gotta do,¡± says Fresh, patting the healer-spriggan on the head. ¡°Pakew?¡± She nods. ¡°Yeah. For sure,¡± affirms the terrible witch. ¡°Just apologize.¡± Fresh rubs her arm, looking out of the window. ¡°Sometimes friends come and go, you know?¡± she asks, thinking about the fairy, Veli. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean that it¡¯s a bad thing. It¡¯s just¡­¡± Fresh shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s just that sometimes you¡¯re at a place in life where you don¡¯t fit together anymore.¡± ¡°Pakew¡­¡± Fresh smiles, turning back to the healer-spriggan and placing a hand on its head. ¡°Even if you can¡¯t be friends anymore. There are hundreds of spriggans in the dungeon and running around the city,¡± she says. ¡°Why not try them?¡± Fresh shrugs. It looks down to the ground, shuffling with its stubby legs. ¡°¡­Pakew.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s true,¡± agrees Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s scary, I bet.¡± She looks around the room. ¡°But you know? Sometimes you have to do scary things.¡± She gets up from the table. ¡°If you¡¯re always afraid to do scary things and you just always try to live somewhere safe, you¡¯ll never be happy.¡± ¡°Pakew?¡± asks the spriggan, getting up along with her. ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± nods Fresh, scratching her cheek as she looks down at the creature. Bending over, she pulls some of the sprouting leaves on its head away from each other. They had gotten a little tangled up. ¡°We like to think that we¡¯ll be happy if we just stay in a quiet, warm place forever. But that¡¯s just a trick of the bad-thing,¡± she explains. ¡°P¡­ pakew?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh, grabbing the spriggan¡¯s hand and pulling it after herself as they go to the library window. She opens it up and points outside of the house, to the world the healer-spriggan has never actually stepped out into. ¡°See? There¡¯s a whole world out there.¡± She taps her head, looking around the room. ¡°And out of the entire, whole, big world, do you really think that what will make you happy in life is going to really be in here?¡± she asks. She leans down, covering the side of her mouth with the back of her hand. ¡°It¡¯s a trick. What kind of lucky cosmic coincidence would that be?¡± Fresh straightens herself back up, placing her hands by the window and looking out into the world, the kind rays of the sun reaching her face. ¡°I fell for that too, once, you know?¡± ¡°Pakew?¡± ¡°Mm!¡± nods Fresh again, turning back to beam at the spriggan. ¡°But then I tried some new stuff and I found out that I wasn¡¯t actually being who I wanted to be the whole time and that I wasn¡¯t really unlucky or cursed.¡± She shrugs. ¡°I was just lazy and scared and angry and I took it out on myself.¡± She bends down, pressing a finger against the spriggan¡¯s nose. ¡°Just like you did to someone else.¡± She crosses her arms, nodding with a proud smile at her own sage wisdom. ¡°Hurt people hurt. Sometimes others, sometimes ourselves.¡± ¡°Pakew¡­¡± The spriggan lowers its head. Fresh nods her head towards the farm, where the springan is. ¡°When you¡¯re ready, go apologize and then try taking a walk around town by yourself, okay?¡± The spriggan nods and Fresh beams, patting it on the head. She has to go downstairs now, before the others leave without her. She loves their home, of course, but this is just a house. What good is it to be inside of a place like this if you¡¯re all by yourself? The real thing of value she had found outside of the boundaries that she had once set herself. Those four walls, that dark apartment, those were the barriers of a cage she built by herself, telling herself that the world was horrible and cruel and unjust. In truth, those things might be true, of course. But that doesn¡¯t mean that wallowing in the misery of it made it better. It¡¯s the obvious, sensible choice, but it doesn¡¯t mean that it¡¯s the right choice. The wiser minds of the world might disagree and it might be selfish of her to think, but sometimes, a little self-delusion in the other direction, a little less thinking about the world and its problems and a lot of ¡®it is what it is¡¯, all combined with a sense of personal responsibility that forces one to actually try to be happy, instead of just wishing that one is, goes a long way towards achieving a goal of personal happiness. The world might not be perfect and things are going to get even worse. But at least she¡¯s happy. Her family is happy and in the end, what else should really matter to her? Why a fountain? It is late in the evening. The four of them have come back from their outing into the city. In truth, the outing didn¡¯t even take that long. But then, afterwards, they went through the city, looking at the different shops and stores for a while. Business is tight everywhere and they were greeted warmly inside of every open door they entered. The stuff they had to give away was gone before the first ten minutes had passed and then they had to make a quick escape, because people kept coming to ask for more and they were getting pushy. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say. But anyways, that isn¡¯t the issue. The issue is the fountain. Fresh stares up towards the top of the tower, to where the stone basin is that she had made for the sunwater. Now, usually a cauldron would be more up her alley, but during the project, she had the inexplicable desire to make a fountain specifically. - In hindsight, this is mighty suspicious. Is the fountain messing with her thoughts still? Apparently. That jerk. Fresh tilts her head, scratching her cheek as she stares at the tower. So the fountain, from what she has found out, wants to make the world quiet. But why? Something tugs on her arm, the healer-spriggan. She blinks, looking down at it. ¡°Hey, little guy,¡± she says. ¡°Did you take care of that stuff?¡± ¡°Pakew!¡± replies the spriggan, nodding. She smiles, nodding and patting it on the head as she turns back to the tower. The fountain is Perchta. The Perchta from ten years ago. She has figured this out by herself. But that opens a whole new can of worms, regarding spiritual logistics. She herself is supposed to be Perchta, at least the reincarnation of her. So why is Perchta, one, not dead-dead and two, floating in the abyss as a malevolent spirit intent on quieting the world? The answer to the latter question is obvious, sleep. Perchta, like herself in her old life, wants nothing more than to sleep and to never wake up again. But that¡¯s just hard to do when the world is so noisy, she supposes. Fresh turns her head, looking at Jubilee, at Shamrock. If her suspicions are correct, then both of them had at the very least known Perchta, in their former lives, before they all became friends. But what kind of luck is that, that the four of them would cross paths with her reincarnation? It¡¯s beyond luck. It¡¯s either fate or it¡¯s been a set-up from the start. Black-water¡­ She closes her eyes and thinks. But it¡¯s hard to make clear sense of the whole situation with what she knows and what she doesn¡¯t know. Perchta had been alive here, in this world, around ten years ago. Then the hero was summoned to combat some great evil and she, the hero and the entire region of the south were all destroyed in the fight. But why? What was the point? Why did the hero want to go after Perchta? Was it because of the church¡¯s influence over him? Was he really summoned here just to stop her, or was she just in the way of the real hundred-year threat? Fresh opens her eyes, staring across the room. Maybe the hero was never even meant to kill the original Perchta to begin with? After all, why would she be a more special target than the other witches, Gauden or Spiraholle? There¡¯s no reason for her to stand out from them. Why would Perchta, who had ¡®always¡¯ existed, be worthy of summoning the hero? The hero comes every hundred years, together with some grand, existential threat. But this one, this new hero that has come to meet her, is ninety years too early. That means, if she, the original Perchta, was never the original threat, that there was always something else in the world¡­ some other threat that has existed for centuries. Something that she got caught in the way of. Could it be that it was all never really about the witches to start with? That they were just stuck in the middle of something else? ¡°Are you okay?¡± asks Basil, setting down a cup in front of her. ¡°You look a little pale,¡± says the priestess, pulling back her sleeve and feeling Fresh¡¯s forehead with her wrist. Fresh looks at the spriggan, rubbing its own head against her idle hand which lays down on top of its head and then her eyes wander to her friends. ¡°Hey, guys?¡± she asks. ¡°The other heroes. The older ones. What were they summoned here for?¡± she asks. The others look at each other for a moment, before turning back her way. Jubilee sets down their coughee cup. ¡°Evil.¡± ¡°Evil?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Evil,¡± nods Jubilee, snapping their fingers. ¡°Basil. This is a chicken question.¡± Basil sighs, rolling her eyes, taking her seat at the table. Chapter 384: A rising tide They sit there in silence, the sound of Basil¡¯s teacup breaking the quiet of the room as she, holding her palm over its top, slowly wobbles it around on its base, thinking. ¡°Reincarnation,¡± says Basil finally. ¡°The core tenet of the faith is that none of this,¡± she looks around herself. ¡°None of this is a one-time thing.¡± ¡°You mean like¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek. ¡°Like we¡¯ve already had this conversation before?¡± ¡°No. Time always keeps moving,¡± says Basil. ¡°History repeats itself, but time doesn¡¯t.¡± She grabs a small tea-cookie from the bowl in the middle of the table and breaks it apart into little pieces. ¡°Imagine that time is just¡­ a line going forward, forever,¡± explains Basil, drawing her finger across the table in a straight line. She picks up some of the broken pieces of cookie, dotting them here and there along the line. ¡°When we live, we¡¯re here. For a moment,¡± she says, pointing at the first piece of the cookie. ¡°Then we die and we go back to the well of souls,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°But time keeps moving while we¡¯re dead, until eventually, we wake up again and we¡¯re here,¡± she finishes, pointing at the next piece of cookie. ¡°Same world. Same timeline, but at a different spot, as someone or something else.¡± ¡°If you believe in that crap,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I do,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh lifts her hand. ¡°I guess I do too?¡± she assumes, though she still doesn¡¯t know if it applies to her case specifically, being from another world and all. ¡°But what does this have to do with the hero, Basil?¡± Basil gestures to the depiction of the universe she has made on the table with cookie-crumbs. ¡°This is how the gods made the world to be,¡± she explains. ¡°But sometimes¡­¡± Her finger pushes one of the cookie crumbs from its spot to another. ¡°Sometimes something goes wrong and the world isn¡¯t what it should be, according to the will of the divine.¡± ¡°Bullshit,¡± says Jubilee from the side. ¡°- That¡¯s when the gods intervene and send in someone to fix the problem.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°So that¡¯s why. But why every hundred years?¡± Basil shrugs. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me. I think it¡¯s just¡­ what it is, you know?¡± she asks, leaning back on her chair. ¡°A second takes a second, a minute takes a minute -¡± ¡°- A crisis takes one hundred years,¡± finishes Shamrock. ¡°Usually,¡± affirms Basil, nodding. She sweeps the crumbs back together with her hand, collecting them back onto the little plate for her cup. She nods. ¡°There¡¯s just a thing that happens every so often, every hundred years, when something goes wrong. A powerful demon. A witch. A revolution of unheard proportions.¡± Fresh crosses her arms, leaning back. ¡°So the hero really was sent to kill Perchta? Specifically?¡± she asks. ¡°Ten years ago?¡± ¡°I think so,¡± says Basil. The table shakes, the cups rattling. Fresh turns her head, looking at Jubilee who has hit it with their fists. ¡°That¡¯s a crock of shit and you know it, Basil!¡± they bark, lifting a finger to point at her. ¡°Considering that they murdered you, you sure do love fucking carrying the church¡¯s dogma around!¡± Basil looks over towards Jubilee. ¡°I wish you wouldn¡¯t always get so angry,¡± she says. ¡°We can be civil here, you know?¡± ¡°And I wouldn¡¯t be angry if you stopped smearing your ass all over our lives!¡± they snap towards her. ¡°But here we are,¡± says Jubilee, narrowing their eyes. ¡°What happened in the south was fucked and it¡¯s wasn¡¯t because of Perchta,¡± they state. ¡°It¡¯s because you stupid, robe-wearing, incense burning, chanting crackpots!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°The hero wasn¡¯t ever fucking supposed to go after Perchta!¡± Basil crosses her arms. ¡°I¡¯m not going to speak with you if you talk to me like that.¡± ¡°Good!¡± Jubilee hits the table again. ¡°The hero didn¡¯t kill Perchta because that was his job.¡± They point at Basil. ¡°The hero killed Perchta because your damn church told him to!¡± they yell. ¡°You conniving, hypocritical fucks used your own ¡®divine hero¡¯ in a fucking power-grab!¡± Fresh blinks, looking between the two of them. Basil has nothing to reply with, sitting there with crossed arms and closed eyes. ¡°Jubilee? Is that true?¡± she asks. ¡°Of course it¡¯s true,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°What¡¯s the first thing I taught you, when we opened the store together?¡± they ask. ¡°Back in the north?¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, thinking for a second about those frightening days, back in the north. It feels like such a long time ago. ¡°To watch out for the competition?¡± she guesses. ¡°Because?¡± they ask, sharply. ¡°¡­Because they¡¯ll mur -¡± Jubilee drags their thumb across their throat. ¡°- BECAUSE THEY¡¯LL FUCKING MURDER YOU,¡± they yell, taking an unusually loud and sharp tone, even for them. Fresh supposes that this topic must be a very personal area for Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t know why the hero came here ten years ago,¡± they say, sitting back down. ¡°But the church stuck their hands up his ass like he was a fucking puppet and sent him to kill Perchta instead of doing whatever he was actually supposed to do.¡± The room is quiet again and Fresh looks around the table, trying to figure out what to do from here with this information. Nobody says anything for a while, all of them just sitting awkwardly, except for Shamrock, who is nibbling on the broken crumbs of Basil¡¯s cookie. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I yelled at you, Basil,¡± apologizes Jubilee, rather abruptly, crossing their arms and looking away. ¡°It¡¯s hard for me to not take this all personally.¡± ¡°As long as we¡¯re passing around blame, should we talk about the thieves¡¯ guild?¡± asks Basil, apparently not accepting Jubilee¡¯s apology. ¡°I recall hearing about a few hundred lanterns when you escaped the north?¡± she asks. ¡°I wonder how they got those?¡± ¡°Uh? Duh?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Because we sold them to them? Dumb-ass?¡± they say. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Basil. ¡°And should we talk about why you and the thieves¡¯ guild were interested in a witch?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Was it just of the goodness of your heart?¡± she asks, opening her eyes. Basil lifts a hand, wiggling her fingers. ¡°Or were you ¡®puppeteering¡¯ too?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Fuck you, Basil!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°I didn¡¯t know she was a witch when I dragged her off of the street!¡± ¡°¡­I wonder about that¡­¡± suggests Basil, leaning back on her chair. ¡°You¡¯re going too far,¡± hisses Jubilee. ¡°Am I?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Sounds to me like you were doing the same exact thing that you¡¯re saying the church did. Just with someone else.¡± Fresh sits there and thinks, listening to the two of them get into another argument, this one more heated than their usual ones. It¡¯s true, Jubilee had gone far, far out of their way to help her during the initial encounter. She recalls asking them why, back in the dungeon, back when they became friends. She had only received the answer that they ¡®wanted to do it right, this time¡¯. Could it be that Jubilee knew about her? Since they met? Since before they met? After all, she would have never gotten this far, hell, she would have never even managed to survive a week in the northern city without Jubilee. Jubilee, who had forgiven her for snooping in their northern house, without so much as mentioning it. Jubilee who had known Perchta in their past life, before becoming a demon. But she didn¡¯t get her witch class until much later, weeks after they started working together. So, that can¡¯t be possible, can it? It¡¯s possible that it¡¯s all just the whimsy of fate. But¡­ She looks up towards Shamrock, who has managed to stay out of the argument successfully. The man is enjoying his life, eating the cookies and sharing half of them with the healer spriggan. ¡°Shamrock?¡± she asks, talking through Jubilee and Basil¡¯s argument. ¡°You knew Perchta, right?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says the man. ¡°What was she like?¡± asks Fresh, tilting her head. Shamrock looks at the cookie in his hand for a moment, lowering it from his helmet and giving it to the spriggan, who is overjoyed to get another one. ¡°Desperate.¡± ¡°For what?¡± asks Fresh. Shamrock shrugs, exhaling a heavy breath a moment later. The leaves on the spriggan¡¯s head billow. ¡°Some are alive, yet they never find life,¡± replies the man. ¡°She was a recluse,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Quiet. Never left the dark. Not for a lack of trying. You know the type.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± says Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s sad.¡± It sounds just like she herself was, in her old life. Desperate to be alive, desperate to search for a meaning in life, but somehow never finding the strength to search for it and then, even if by some miracle she found that strength on some odd day of the year, it would never lead to any results that could make the coming emptiness of the next day easier. ¡°Monsters took a liking to her,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°It was a whole string of symbolic bullshit, you know?¡± they ask. ¡°The wild-hunt,¡± finishes Shamrock. ¡°For her, and her alone, the monsters left the dark.¡± ¡°Was she bad?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Bad for business, yeah,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Hard to run a shop peddling holier than thou nonsense for a monthly fee when someone is living next door offering it for free.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Perchta set up shop in the southern dungeon,¡± explains Jubilee. ¡°People, monsters, everyone went down to see her,¡± they explain. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because she was a witch?¡± suggests Jubilee, shrugging. ¡°It was a bunch of fuckery, like yours,¡± they explain. ¡°Despite being an absolute social reject, Perchta had a way of drawing people to her,¡± they say, looking at her. Fresh laughs. That¡¯s kind of a sad and familiar story. ¡°Did she ever leave the south?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± says Basil, apparently willing to speak again. ¡°She was everywhere, really. The north, the east, the west.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°- The center?¡± she asks. ¡°The center,¡± nods Basil in affirmation. Fresh looks around the house, staring at the oddity that it is. The pipes in the floor¡­ the connection to the dungeon through an unusual portal¡­ ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°This was hers,¡± they say, looking around with her. ¡°Is that why you bad-talked it so much when we moved in?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Shut up, Basil,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°It was like moving into a grave, okay?¡± they ask. ¡°I shudder to think of the cosmic fuckery that had to happen to get us here. What are the fucking odds?¡± Shamrock nods. ¡°Out of all the houses in the city.¡± ¡°The east too,¡± affirms Fresh. ¡°The pipes in the shower were hers.¡± ¡°Yup,¡± says Jubilee, leaning back. ¡°Time might be a straight line, but it sure has a way of going in fucking circles,¡± they note. ¡°Mm¡­¡± says Fresh, thinking for a moment. ¡°Hey, guys? I think the black-fountain is Perchta,¡± she explains. ¡°Like, the old Perchta.¡± ¡°¡­Dead Perchta?¡± asks Jubilee, lifting an eyebrow. ¡°Dead Perchta,¡± affirms Fresh, nodding. ¡°Well, you know, ¡®dead¡¯,¡± she finishes, shrugging. The three of them look her way, before turning back towards each other. ¡°Is this bad?¡± asks Basil. Jubilee gets up. ¡°Basil. Moon book.¡± ¡°Sure thing,¡± replies Basil, running past them to go down to the library. Shamrock gets up as well, looking over towards the window. ¡°Guys?¡± asks Fresh, looking at her friends who seem to have realized something that she hasn¡¯t. ¡°Perchta was a lot of things,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I liked her. But she had a tendency for dramatics. If she¡¯s going to make a move, it¡¯s going to fucking happen during the biggest fucking theatrical moment of the century.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve noticed,¡± says Fresh, rubbing her arm and laughing nervously. It¡¯s true, the fountain does love to make a show¡­ She herself also has a tendency towards over-exaggeration, perhaps there are really strong similarities between the two of them? Perhaps she really is some sort of reincarnation of the witch? Shamrock opens the window and looks outside. ¡°I found it!¡± says Basil, running back upstairs with an open book in her hand. She lays it down on the table. ¡°It says¡­¡± her fingers run across a moon-chart, pointing at a specific image; the picture of a total eclipse. ¡°It says¡­¡± Basil blinks, holding onto the edge of the table as she wobbles on her feet. ¡°Uh¡­ oh¡­ wow. I don¡¯t feel so -¡± The priestess falls over. a small green stone flies out of her pocket and rolls across the floor. Fresh barely has time to react, trying to catch her before her own legs give out. The world spins, her eyes go dark and they all fall over at the same time. The last thing that she sees are the silhouettes of a spriggan and the springan, standing off to the side of the room, holding hands and watching them as a bowl of cookies falls off of the disturbed table. Razmatazz Hello, I want to thank you all for being so patient all of this time. It''s really been a while, huh? Well, I just wanted to to know that you officially have my permission to worry about it now! *-* Chapter 385: Full circle The strange girl lets out an excited yelp, hardly able to contain herself. ¡°Ah~!¡± she cries in excitement. ¡°I can¡¯t wait!¡± she says, humming to herself as she walks around the room. The pitter-patter of stubby legs, together with the rustling of foliage fills the space. Fresh groans, coming back to wakefulness. She feels deeply nauseous and the world still seems to be spinning, despite the fact that she¡¯s laying on the floor. She lifts her gaze, looking up through the blurry vision at the sight of a stubby silhouette, walking around ahead of herself, together with another. The springan, slender and elegant, hums with a girl¡¯s voice as it works, preparing something in the stone fountain, atop of the tower upstairs. The creature stops bobbing around on its feet, its humming stopping, as it turns around to look at her, perhaps having felt her watching it. The springan tilts its head, the blossoms hanging at an angle. ¡°Hi, Fresh!¡± says the springan, ringing out with a familiar voice, before it turns back to its work, starting to hum again. The moonlight shines in through the opened slot in the ceiling, coating them all with a sparse glow. ¡°Bring me the other stuff,¡± says the springan. The healer-spriggan nods and runs down the tower to grab what was pointed out to it, sparing only a moment¡¯s glance towards her as she lays there. Fresh blinks, trying to straighten her vision of the world out. Were they poisoned? In fear, she looks around, sighing in relief a second later as she sees her friends sitting downstairs in the kitchen, leaned against the cabinets. They¡¯re still breathing. ¡°Peridot,¡± she says, turning back to the springan, whose voice she has now recognized. The springan, Peridot, looks over her shoulder. ¡°Hi! Did you sleep well?¡± she asks, returning to her work in the fountain. ¡°I may have put a bit too much mushroom powder in those cookies. Sorry about that.¡± Fresh tries to sit upright, but fails. Her arms are tied behind her back and her feet are tied together. ¡°What is this?¡± she asks. ¡°What are you doing? Let me go!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± says Peridot. ¡°Just relax. Everything is gonna be fine.¡± The springan taps the stick that she¡¯s using to stir the fountain-water against the stone basin a few times. The healer-spriggan runs back upstairs, out of breath from its sprint, giving her the materials that she asked for. ¡°Took you long enough.¡± ¡°P- pakew¡­¡± Peridot takes the bag, that Fresh recognizes as crystal-dust, from their collection of materials in the basement and begins sprinkling it into the sunwater. ¡°Don¡¯t mess with that!¡± snaps Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t fuss,¡± says Peridot. ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine,¡± says the springan. Moonlight shines in through the gap in the ceiling as the clouds part. ¡°Well. For me.¡± Fresh narrows her eyes, trying to get up. But she¡¯s bound tight. ¡°Peridot! What did you do?!¡± she asks, struggling. ¡°Why did you poison me and my friends?!¡± Peridot turns around. Fresh winces, coughing, her face tearing up as the wooden leg pulls its back out from the side of her neck. She yelps as a stubby hand grabs her hair, pulling her head upward. ¡°Your friends?¡± asks Peridot incredulously. ¡°Are you serious?¡± she asks, yanking her hair to turn her head to look down off of the side of the tower. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you this whole time. Do you think that I actually believe that you deserve to have friends?¡± ¡°Huh?! Ow!¡± Peridot yanks her back to the side, dropping her head down as a strand of hair rips out of it. ¡°Every day they¡¯re fighting about something. Every day, somebody is sad about something,¡± says Peridot, walking back to the fountain. ¡°Do you have any idea how often I sat with Jubilee, who was worrying alone in the library?¡± asks the girl. ¡°How many times I ran after Basil, when she went to cry in the bathroom, because you¡¯re manipulating her?¡± asks Peridot. ¡°How many times I went with Shamrock to fight in the dungeon, while you were lounging around in bed in your underwear?!¡± she yells. ¡°You¡¯re not their friend! You¡¯re just¡­¡± It returns to its work. ¡°- You¡¯re just the worst. I used to think that you were great.¡± Peridot swings her arm out, spinning the telescope around. ¡°But now after being stuck with you, I finally see what they¡¯re all too afraid to say,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯re just the worst.¡± ¡°Peridot!¡± yells Fresh. ¡°What happened to you?¡± she asks. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± ¡°The fountain is replacing you. Consider your contract terminated,¡± replies the springan gleefully, stirring the potion that it¡¯s making. ¡°Once you¡¯re gone,¡± it says. ¡°I¡¯m going to be taking your place and I¡¯m going to be a much better friend than you ever were.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how it works!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°You can¡¯t just make someone be your friend!¡± ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± relents the springan. ¡°But the fountain can.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just using you, Peridot!¡± says Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s going to destroy the world and you with it!¡± Peridot giggles. ¡°No, see,¡± she says. ¡°It promised that after this is all taken care of, that me, Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock can go back to our old world,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯ll let me take them back and keep them!¡± says the springan gleefully. ¡°I¡¯m going to make them happy!¡± exclaims the girl excitedly. ¡°I¡¯m going to do all of the things that you¡¯re too STUPID to do for them. I¡¯m going to let them have my body and my heart and I¡¯m going to live the life of love that you stole from me!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± protests Fresh. ¡°Peridot! I warned you about that apple!¡± ¡°SHUT UP!¡± yells Peridot, glaring at her. ¡°You killed my brother!¡± ¡°You hated him!¡± Peridot turns around, clutching the long stick that she¡¯s been using to stir the cauldron. Several cracks fill the room, shooting through her skull. (Peridot) has hit (Fresh) for {2} damage with her [Stick] (Peridot) has hit (Fresh) for {1} damage with her [Stick] (Peridot) has hit (Fresh) for {3} damage with her [Stick] Fresh winces, a ringing fills her ears, her face red and bleeding a little from where the stick whipped her just around her eyes. ¡°I wish the fountain could just do it now,¡± hisses Peridot, raising her arm again. ¡°I wish it could just take over my friends now, so that they could just¡­ tear you apart,¡± she says. ¡°But, a woman¡¯s work is never done, right?¡± she asks, lifting the stick again into the air, narrowing her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m a good friend. Not like you. So I¡¯ll do it for them.¡± ¡°- Pakew¡­¡± says the healer-spriggan, grabbing Peridot¡¯s arm and stopping her from hitting her with the stick again. Peridot hisses, yanking her arm free and turning away, going back to the cauldron. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to get out of this body,¡± she says. ¡°The worst part is that you didn¡¯t even realize it. How anyone as dumb as you got this far is beyond me,¡± says Peridot. Fresh closes her eyes, thinking for a moment as she tries to clear her head. She needs a plan. The cursed apple¡­ the name of the curse did reference something about plants or a garden or something, didn¡¯t it? And the house-spriggen, now the springan, Peridot, didn¡¯t give experience points when killed. That¡¯s something that only happens with real people. The crystal-ball¡­ she had seen a vision of herself walking through the fair with a familiar girl, hand in hand. She had thought it was Basil, but looking back on that vision, during that day at the festival, she was holding Peridot¡¯s hand while they were walking. She really is an idiot. ¡°Why did you help me yesterday?¡± asks Fresh, her vision blurred. ¡°Help you?¡± asks Peridot in disgust. "I was getting you away from my friends.¡± Fresh struggles, trying to break free. She should have seen this coming. All of that reading, all of that training and leveling up and for what? She¡¯s still just as dumb and useless as ever. The fountain atop the tower begins to bubble and to froth, water splashing out in all directions as the direct moonlight lands down through the hole in the ceiling, shining into the sunwater. ¡°Ah~¡± says Peridot excitedly. ¡°I think we¡¯re about ready.¡± She turns to the healer-spriggan. ¡°Go get a cup and some mineral water from the basement.¡± ¡°Pakew¡­¡± says the healer-spriggan, running downstairs again a second time, sparing a sad look her way as it passes. Peridot sighs in relief, lifting her hands to play with the blossoms on her head as if they were strands of long hair she were setting right. ¡°I¡¯m so excited,¡± she says, smiling. ¡°I hope it hurts. I hope it hurts a lot,¡± she says gleefully, watching the healer-spriggen run to the kitchen, pulling a chair over towards itself to climb up onto the counters to get a glass, before making its way to the basement. ¡°I hope you lay here kicking and screaming for the next few hours,¡± she says in delight. ¡°Because I¡¯m going to sit here and watch.¡± ¡°Do you really think the fountain is going to hold up its end of your deal?!¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Peridot! You saw my memories! You know that you can¡¯t trust it!¡± ¡°I SAID SHUT UP!¡± yells Peridot, lifting the stick with both hands and pressing it down into her back. Fresh clenches her teeth together, fighting down a scream. (Peridot) has stabbed (Fresh) for {7} damage with her [Stick] She rips the stick out. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you¡¯re such a weak piece of trash,¡± says Peridot, grabbing her hair a second time. ¡°If you had more health, I¡¯d shove this stick right down your throat and twist it until your stomach tied into a knot.¡± The springan lets go of Fresh, looking back over the tower. ¡°I hate you so much, I can¡¯t stand it.¡± The sound of small footsteps comes back into the room as the healer-spriggan returns from the basement with the final materials for the ritual. Fresh continues to try and fight her way out of her binds, but they¡¯re done too tightly. She isn¡¯t strong enough to break free from them. She looks over the tower. Her friends are still asleep. ¡°Pakew,¡± says the healer-spriggan, handing Peridot a bottle of water from the roots of the world-tree. She snatches it, returning to the fountain, slowly pouring it into the basin. Fresh lifts her eyes, looking past the healer-spriggan towards the stone fountain. Her eyes go wide as she sees a glint, shimmering in the moonlight. The healer-spriggan quietly drops something behind its back. Fresh crawls forward, sliding it beneath herself with the side of her arm. ¡°I can¡¯t just kill you, obviously. Since you can respawn,¡± says Peridot. ¡°But I can once we get rid of that class of yours,¡± she says. ¡°Magic is so convenient, isn¡¯t it?¡± she asks. ¡°It¡¯s the one thing I¡¯ll be sad about, since we¡¯re going to leave this world. But that¡¯s fine,¡± says Peridot, humming to herself. ¡°As long as I have my friends, I¡¯ll be happy, even without magic.¡± She takes the glass, carefully dunking it into the basin of bubbling water, holding it up towards the moonlight to look at it. ¡°Finally¡­¡± says Peridot. ¡°A new life¡­ I¡¯ve been waiting for so long,¡± she says excitedly, her voice cracking. ¡°I¡¯m finally going to be happy!¡± Peridot beams, turning her head towards her. The springan turns towards her, bending down with the glass in her hand. ¡°Bye, Fresh,¡± says Peridot, lifting the glass. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to never talk about you,¡± beams Peridot. ¡°Hopefully they won¡¯t remember y -¡± Glass shatters, water splashes everywhere in an instant as a loud noise fills the room. Peridot yelps, the water of the potion splashing over her body and petals. Fresh ducks out of the way, wincing, opening an eye to carefully look at the healer-spriggan who is standing in front of her, blocking her from the splashing of the water. Her eyes drift to the side, catching a glimpse of a crossbow bolt, embedded into the body of the telescope, having flown through the air from below. Peridot screams, writhing as both the glass and the water go into her eyes and mouth. A pair of boots run up the stairs of the tower and Fresh barely has time to try and get up, before a pike slashes just past her, pinning the healer-spriggan, Peridot, to the floor of the tower. Black-water flies out of her mouth, her body spasming, the flowers on her head wilting and falling off as she turns her gaze, a stubby hand and a pair of cold, desperate eyes reaching out down towards the three sleeping figures below. Fresh watches as the healer-spriggan too shakes and then falls down dead, the magic of the potion having destroyed it from the inside-out. ¡°No!¡± she yells, turning her gaze up towards the guardsman, Muldrich with fear in her eyes. He twists the pike, making sure that Peridot is dead, before turning back towards her. ¡°Witch of the north.¡± ¡°¡­Muldrich¡­¡± says Fresh, somewhat awkwardly. ¡°Did you change your mind about dinner?¡± she asks, sniffling and rubbing her face into her shoulder. The man picks her up by the scruff of her collar, lifting her to her feet. A coin that she had hidden beneath her shoulder falls down to the ground. ¡°No,¡± is all that he says, cutting the straps on her hands free. Razmatazz Happy fun adventure time with old uncle Razzmatazz! *-* Chapter 386: What was beneath our feet this entire time Fresh sighs in relief, a sting running through her warm body as she lets her shoulders droop and relax. ¡°I said hold still!¡± fusses Basil, taking an unusually sharp tone with her. Fresh stiffens up, not daring to move an inch anymore, until the priestess is done. ¡°Sorry, Basil,¡± apologizes Fresh, feeling Basil digging around in the bleeding wound on her shoulder, in an attempt to dig out all of the splinters still stuck in there. It hurts, of course. A lot. Actually, it really, really hurts and that¡¯s not accounting for the red streaks whipped across her face, which also really, really, really hurt. But an overwhelming sense of relief and some healing magic go a long way to allowing her to feel better already. ¡°Are you okay too?¡± she asks, looking over her shoulder. Basil places a hand on her head, ¡®gently¡¯ turning it back forward and down onto the table. ¡°I said hold still,¡± repeats the priestess. ¡°Sorry, Basil,¡± says Fresh again, doing her best to stay still as Basil continues to try and patch her up. Though, she supposes that Basil would have an easier time focusing on her task if the situation were literally anything else than what it currently is. ¡°Why are you still here?¡± asks Jubilee, looking at Muldrich. ¡°Go away. Good night.¡± ¡°Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, her head laying on the table. ¡°He knows,¡± she says. But she knows that Jubilee already knows that he knows. ¡°Yeah, I bet he fucking does,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Which begs the question of why he¡¯s still here?¡± they point to the staircase. ¡°The front door is down there, Muldrich. Don¡¯t make me kill you.¡± ¡°Jubilee~!¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°Muldrich saved us. Don¡¯t be mean.¡± ¡°That¡¯s his fault,¡± says Jubilee, looking back her way. ¡°Not my problem.¡± Muldrich meanwhile, stands there, entirely unimpressed and unphased, as quiet and resolute as always. ¡°How long have you known?¡± asks Basil, taking Jubilee¡¯s place as the person to drive this conversation, given that they¡¯re not really in the mental state to do it right now, apparently. ¡°Always,¡± replies Muldrich. ¡°Ah, fuck me!¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Were we that obvious?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Muldrich. Fresh nods, not daring to lift her head from the table a third time. ¡°I mean¡­ it¡¯s not like we ever changed the store¡¯s name, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°And I guess you and Shamrock are pretty conspicuous.¡± ¡°Go to hell,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°How are we conspicuous? You two are the ones with stupid names.¡± ¡°In hindsight,¡± notes Basil. ¡°We could have all perhaps tried to be more subtle.¡± ¡°We could have tried to be subtle to begin with,¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°So? What the fuck is this?¡± they ask, turning to Muldrich. ¡°Does everyone else know?¡± ¡°Everyone knows,¡± replies Muldrich, shrugging. ¡°In the central-authority.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°I mean, think about it,¡± says the priestess. ¡°The four of us came into the central-city literally the day the outside, well, you know.¡± She shrugs. Fresh twitches, feeling the priestess pull a long splinter out from her back. ¡°We¡¯re in a city full of the world¡¯s best scryers, sages and mystics and we didn¡¯t even bother to change our names or hide your mask.¡± ¡°Leave my mask out of this, Basil,¡± says Jubilee. Fresh lifts a finger, trying and failing to scratch her cheek with it, since she can¡¯t lift her head. ¡°Honestly, we could have just put up a big ¡®witch here¡¯ sign.¡± ¡°Lessons learned,¡± says Shamrock, sitting there, playing with a small, green leaf. ¡°Next time.¡± ¡°Fucking hell. So that¡¯s why you¡¯re here,¡± they say. ¡°It was never about the fucking spriggans.¡± Muldrich shrugs. The room is quiet for a while, except for Fresh¡¯s yelping and Basil¡¯s fussing as the priestess continues her painful work. ¡°And now?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The central-authority would like a word,¡± says Muldrich. Jubilee sighs. ¡°About what? Do they want another percentage of our fucking sales?¡± they ask. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you all myself before that happens.¡± ¡°Jubilee! Stop threatening Muldrich,¡± scolds Fresh. ¡°Survival,¡± replies Muldrich. ¡°They want to bargain.¡± Jubilee waves him off. ¡°It¡¯s over, Muldrich. Nobody is getting out alive anymore,¡± they explain. Jubilee lets out a snarl as a hand grabs the front of their collar, lifting them up. Shamrock grabs Muldrich¡¯s arm at the wrist. The guard stares at Jubilee, having taken an unusual step outside of his stoic demeanor. Fresh frowns, but sees that the situation is still under control. He has a family, after all. What a tough spot. ¡°It¡¯s not over yet,¡± remarks Fresh, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. The sideways dangling thing falls right back where it was only a second later, obscuring her vision again. ¡°We¡¯re not doing what the fountain wants anymore.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± replies Jubilee, dryly. Their boots touching the ground again. They swipe Muldrich¡¯s hand away, dusting themselves off. ¡°That¡¯ll work great until the inevitable mind-control.¡± ¡°No. We¡¯re safe from that,¡± replies Fresh, shaking her head, squishing her cheek against the table. She lets out sharp yelp as Basil quickly pulls out a longer splinter. ¡°Sorry,¡± apologizes the priestess, pressing a padded cloth against the bleeding wound. Jubilee turns her way. ¡°Just because you like to think it¡¯s going to be like that, doesn¡¯t make it true, goo-brain,¡± they say. ¡°Are you mixing up reality with your daydreams again?¡± ¡°No. It is, Jubilee!¡± says Fresh. ¡°Uh¡­ Basil, can I move?¡± ¡°No.¡± She frowns. ¡°Can you get the thing out of my pocket then, please?¡± she asks. Basil obliges, digging into the pocket of her robe and pulls out something heavy, handing it to her. ¡°Thanks, Basil.¡± Fresh holds out the thing that the healer-spriggan had given her, the thing it had slipped to each of them while they were asleep. It must have made them in the basement, when it went down to get the other materials for Peridot. The pinkish coin, embedded with the face of a horrible witch, shimmers in the light of the morning sun, which is just starting to dawn outside of their windows. Jubilee sighs, digging through their pocket. ¡°I hate you,¡± they say, dryly, sounding almost annoyed at this turn of events. They glare towards her. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have thought of this sooner?!¡± ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh, sitting upright. ¡°I didn¡¯t think of it at all, Jubilee,¡± she explains. ¡°It was the spr- Ow!¡± ¡°Sit still!¡± hisses Basil, getting angry now at her fidgeting. ¡°Sorry, Basil¡­¡± relents Fresh, sure she herself is about to start crying now. That one hurt. ¡°I¡¯m almost done,¡± sighs the priestess, softening her tone. Fresh purses her lips, puffing out her cheek, which causes her head to rise up off of the table. ¡°You guys yelled at me for messing with the cauldron,¡± she argues, looking at Jubilee and doing her best to look at Basil. ¡°Yeah?¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Because you weren¡¯t doing anything productive, dumb-ass.¡± They roll their eyes. ¡°Mulligan -¡± ¡°- Muldrich,¡± corrects Fresh. ¡°- We¡¯re not taking any shit from anyone,¡± warns Jubilee. ¡°If one snotty noble makes a face, we¡¯re tearing this place down.¡± ¡°No, we¡¯re not,¡± interjects Fresh. ¡°Shut up, goo-brain!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°Basil, if you¡¯re gonna stitch her shut later, make sure to sew her lips too.¡± ¡°Mm¡­ it doesn¡¯t look that deep, honestly,¡± says Basil. ¡°There¡¯s just a lot of fragments and stuff. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll need stitches.¡± ¡°No, guys,¡± says Fresh. ¡°We don¡¯t have to do that anymore,¡± she argues. ¡°We¡¯re safe from the fountain. We can just, I dunno, live here?¡± she suggests. ¡°It¡¯ll probably be fine?¡± Jubilee glares her way. ¡°Are you stupid?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°But we¡¯re still friends, right?¡± ¡°How exactly are we supposed to just ¡®live here¡¯ when everyone with a drop of noble blood knows about us?¡± they ask. Fresh blinks, staring for a moment, considering her options. ¡°I want to shrug and say that we¡¯ll just live here like we¡¯ve been living here for the last few months,¡± says Fresh. ¡°But I think Basil is going to hit me if I move again.¡± ¡°Correct,¡± warns Basil. Fresh laughs a sad, quiet laugh, letting her face stay glued to the table. ¡°Mhm,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°And then?¡± ¡°And then what? That¡¯s it,¡± says Fresh. ¡°That¡¯s your great plan?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Just¡­ live here forever? In a giant egg? Until we all die?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Fresh, very dryly. ¡°I¡¯ve heard worse plans,¡± says Basil. ¡°Somewhat anticlimactic,¡± notes Shamrock. ¡°Anticlimactic is good though,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°I like the quiet life.¡± ¡°Same,¡± says Basil. ¡°It¡¯s grown on me,¡± throws in Shamrock. Jubilee stands there with crossed arms, not saying anything. They turn their head, looking at Muldrich. ¡°That¡¯s not gonna work, is it?¡± ¡°No,¡± replies Muldrich plainly. ¡°Muldrich!¡± argues Fresh. ¡°Come ooooon~¡± ¡°No,¡± repeats Muldrich. She puts on her best begging face. Shamrock can never resist this one. It¡¯s infallible. ¡°Pleeeease?¡± Muldrich shakes his head. ¡°No.¡± Basil rubs her other shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s his call.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± says Muldrich. ¡°Oh. Then, whose is it?¡± asks Fresh, blinking. ¡°You need to speak to the central-authority,¡± says Muldrich. ¡°There¡¯s a problem.¡± ¡°A problem? What the fuck kind of pr¡­¡± Jubilee is quiet for a moment. ¡°¡­Shit¡­¡± they mutter, realizing something. Jubilee turns their head, looking their way. ¡°Pack your bags.¡± Fresh tilts her head. ¡°Huh? What?¡± ¡°We¡¯re moving.¡± ¡°Moving¡­?¡± asks Fresh, surprised. Even if they have been ¡®caught¡¯, this is rather abrupt. Especially considering how relaxed everyone is about it. Though, they might just be too terrified of the horrible witch to do anything about them being here, even if they know about it. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere left to move, Jubilee,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t see why we can¡¯t just stay here? The shield is fine.¡± Basil presses some fabric padding against the wound, starting to bandage over it. ¡°No. It fucking isn¡¯t,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°You idiots!¡± they snap, looking at the three of them. ¡°Why the hell do you think we were in the other cities?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ to, you know¡­¡± Fresh lowers her voice. ¡°- Poison everyone¡­?¡± she says, hoping that Muldrich doesn¡¯t hear her. She doesn¡¯t want him to think less of her. ¡°Good guess. But wrong,¡± replies Jubilee dryly, turning their head towards the window, looking out through it. ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh stares for a moment, following their gaze. Basil presses down on the bandage, tying it off, having wrapped it around beneath her underarm a few times. ¡°It wasn¡¯t about the people of those cities,¡± says Basil, catching on now too. ¡°It never was.¡± Fresh¡¯s eyes stare out of the window, out towards the base of the giant tree which towers over the world; the source of ambient magic in this region, the source of power for the shield that keeps the central city safe. ¡°The tree,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°The roots, spread through the world, now wither.¡± Jubilee snaps their fingers. ¡°Bags! Let¡¯s fucking go people.¡± Razmatazz =) Chapter 387: Right before our eyes The four of them walk up the street, rising around the bend of the giant tree as they head along the crooked path towards the castle, which sits upon the massive roots of the world-tree. Fresh lets her hand run along the wood of the giant thing as they walk alongside it. She lifts her eyes, staring up towards its crown, which hangs monumentally high above their heads. It¡¯s dying, huh? The girl frowns, lowering her gaze as they keep on walking. Somehow, this is¡­ sad. Well, obviously it¡¯s sad. But it¡¯s sad in a more numbing way than the other times that she¡¯s been sad before. Her flying broom is slung over her shoulder, her hat dangling off of the end of it. No point in pretending anymore, after all. For how long has this thing, the world-tree, been growing here? Centuries. Eras. It was a beautiful, natural symbol of hope and strength for the world and its peoples and, just like that, in her pursuit of personal happiness, the horrible witch has taken this from them too. According to Muldrich, most people don¡¯t know. But the casters who had been atop the tree, during winter, weren¡¯t actually there to drop snow and rain on the world. That was just a cover, to explain their presence up high on the tree to the people of the city. In reality, they were studying it, looking at every branch and twig in the hopes of finding out not only what ails it, but also to find out what might make it better again. But it seems that, after weeks of study by the best minds in the entire city, the only result that has come of it is one tending towards hopelessness. The tree is a lost cause. It¡¯s only a matter of time until spring comes in full bloom and the people begin to realize why it isn¡¯t blooming in vibrant green hues once again, like it had done for the springs of so many generations now come to pass. Something bumps into her shoulder. Fresh looks, lifting her eyes from the road to see Shamrock, his fist pressing lightly against her from the side. He nods. Fresh does her best to smile back at him as they keep walking. Everything was calculated for this purpose. Their presence in the cities was to kill off the roots, stretching all across the continent. It was never about the other cities or their people. The only real way to kill the tree is to destroy the roots, otherwise its powerful magic would have sustained it through just about any attack, even from a pseudo deity like Perchta, the fountain. The central-city would have been untouchable. They walk past a large, very expensive looking side-street. At the end of it is a grand, walled complex, that Fresh recognizes as the orichalcum forge. The fact that she had arrived in this world during spring, even. It wasn¡¯t just a kindness from the fountain or a coincidence. It was planned exactly so that by the time the poison started working, the black-water, by the time the leaves and branches started to wither and rot, nobody would notice quick enough because it was set up to happen at the same exact time as the fall of winter. It was all a set-up from the very start. ¡°Market saturation, huh?¡± mutters Fresh beneath her breath, recalling the words that the fountain had once spoken to her, back in the north. She should have known better. But this changes nothing. Fresh straightens herself upright, pulling her shoulders back as they walk into the courtyard of the castle, the one she had flown above during her arrival here to curse the hero. Her priority is still to survive together with her friends, no matter what the cost. She¡¯s sad about the tree, just like she¡¯s sad about all of the people who had to pay the final price for their survival. But she¡¯s still going to continue to choose her friends and she¡¯s still going to continue to do so, no matter who, or what else, has to go. Outside of the castle gate are several ornately armored guardsman with pikes who block the way. Seeing them approaching, they first continue to stand there, but then, after staring for a moment, disperse again in an orderly fashion, standing to the sides of the path as they walk through without a word. Fresh turns her head, looking at one who is the same stature and size as Shamrock. The guardsman stiffens up like a statue. She blinks, scratching her cheek with her free hand as they keep walking. ¡°They seem a bit jumpy,¡± she remarks. ¡°Wow. I wonder why?¡± asks Jubilee sarcastically. ¡°Dumb-ass.¡± She looks at them for a moment and then nods. ¡°Mm.¡± The castle courtyard is just like she remembered, except for one section of wall to her left, which looks like it had to be rebuilt. They walk up the small staircase, walking over the platform where the hero once stood, so many nights ago, and enter into the large pair of ornate doors. Fresh only has a moment¡¯s time to look at the lonely, empty tower, jutting out of the left side of the castle, before they head inside. She floats behind them, sitting sideways on her broom. ¡°This place sure is big,¡± notes Fresh. ¡°It''s a castle,¡± says Basil, as if that were the answer to her statement. Which, in fact, it is. Fresh nods, supposing that it makes sense for a castle to be big. The hall that they¡¯re in is ornate and large and Fresh honestly isn¡¯t even sure what it¡¯s for. It looks like a giant ballroom, but there¡¯s just nothing here. It¡¯s just one big empty room with a ceiling higher than most houses that she¡¯s seen. The regal curtains, covering the stained glass windows, could be draped over entire ships. At the end of the room is another door, larger, as ornate as the many windows and the decorations of the palace that they seem to find themselves inside of. ¡°They¡¯re waiting for you inside,¡± says Muldrich, stepping to the side and standing by the door. In an odd moment of d¨¦j¨¤-vu, Fresh can¡¯t help but think that he looks exactly like he does when he¡¯s standing outside of their front door. ¡°Thank you, Muldrich,¡± says Fresh, turning to look at the giant door. Shamrock grabs the handle, pushing it open. The hinges creak as the massive construction swings open, revealing what looks like some kind of throne-room on the other end. ¡°Fucking politics,¡± sighs Jubilee, seeing the room. They lift a hand, shaking their fist. ¡°Get the fuck down from there, you ego driven shit-heads!¡± they bark as the very first thing, to greet the nobility of the land. It¡¯s an ornate chamber with a set of stairs leading up to an elevated platform. There, sitting on several different chairs, that one could call ¡®thrones¡¯, given their position and pageantry, are six different people, looking down their way. Most of them Fresh doesn¡¯t recognize immediately, but that one there, the second from the left, she notices is the orc from the orichalcum forge. The one who had ordered the heating element. In the middle right is someone too, some elven man. She feels like she¡¯s seen him before, but she can¡¯t really place where¡­ ¡°AH!¡± yelps Fresh, realizing. ¡°You¡¯re the rare-wood staff guy!¡± she exclaims, pointing at him. Basil grabs her hand, lowering it back down. ¡°It¡¯s rude to point,¡± she whispers. The man, sitting on the elevated platform, waves. Fresh remembers him. He asked them to repair his rare-wood staff once, back in the west. Of the six people there, she definitely knows two at least. No, wait¡­ Another man lifts a hand in a listless wave. She recognizes him. He¡¯s vaguely familiar. He has a very fancy mustache and well-kept, black hair. But¡­ Fresh narrows her eyes, trying to recall who he is and then screams. ¡°BOB!¡± she yells in shock, surprised that she could even remember his name. ¡°Stop pointing,¡± whispers Basil, pulling her arm down again. ¡°¡­Bob?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Wait.¡± They look back to the man. ¡°From fucking ¡®Bits and Bob¡¯s¡¯?¡± they ask, turning back to him. ¡°FUCK!¡± they exclaim, realizing something. ¡°Welcome. Perchta,¡± greets the man. He¡¯s the shopkeeper who Fresh had sold her very first mushroom cap to, back in the north. ¡°Thank you for finding the time to see us. That¡¯s not my real name. You understand.¡± ¡°We got fucking played,¡± hisses Jubilee. ¡°Shamrock.¡± Shamrock steps forward, pushing Fresh and Basil to the side as he stands next to Jubilee, blocking anyone from the stairs from coming down towards them, as they warily look around the room. His hand rests on his sword. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Everything is fine,¡± assures a familiar voice. ¡°We¡¯re not trying to start a fight.¡± Jubilee tenses up and so does Fresh, the hairs on her neck standing on end as she lifts her eyes to look at the woman sitting in the middle of the group, lowering her hood, revealing long streaks of dusty blonde hair that fall down, covering the patchwork burn scars over her face. The barkeeper from the north. Jubilee¡¯s loud swears echo around the room. ¡°Welcome,¡± she says. ¡°Fresh, Jubilee, Basil, Shamrock,¡± she says. ¡°We have a lot to talk about.¡± Fresh stares. It was all a set-up from the very start. Not just from the fountain¡¯s side, not just from the thieves¡¯ guilds¡¯ side, but even from the people of this world themselves. Literally everyone had a hand in the game, somehow. ¡°Did anyone not fucking know about us?!¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± replies Shamrock, his chest heaving. ¡°Get fucked, Shamrock!¡± snaps Jubilee. ¡°You and your fucking jokes¡­¡± They turn back to the people on the thrones. ¡°You snobby fucks get down from there this instant, or we¡¯re leaving!¡± Fresh blinks, leaning downward. ¡°Jubilee? Are we really?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯re merchants, remember?¡± they ask. ¡°We do our deals eye to eye.¡± They shake their head. ¡°Never give someone free power over you.¡± They return their gazes up to the six people, sitting there, who are all looking at each other. The barkeeper sighs, getting up first as she slowly walks down the staircase. Fresh yelps, lifting a hand to point a third time in surprise. But this time, at the elf¡¯s round, growing stomach. Basil grabs her hand, pulling it back down and lecturing her about pointing a second time. It¡¯s rude, after all. Razmatazz Dungeon Item Shop will come to an end on chapter 401 =) We still have some time left together though, friends and my other stories will still go on afterwards! Chapter 388: Chit-chat Soft moonlight shines in through the tall windows of the room, encasing them all. Fresh lets out an excited noise, gasping. ¡°Jubilee! Jubilee!¡± she exclaims, pressing her ear against the elf¡¯s stomach. Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°Will you get away from her?¡± they bark, grabbing her arm and yanking her back a step. ¡°Gods¡­ you have the survival instincts of a slime.¡± Shamrock turns his head. ¡°Not a word, Shamrock,¡± warns Jubilee. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna hear it.¡± ¡°So the ritual worked?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure, because you left.¡± ¡°Of course it worked, dummy,¡± barks Jubilee. ¡°She¡¯s almost as fat as Basil.¡± ¡°Settle down,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°You get angry when you¡¯re scared.¡± ¡°I¡¯m always angry, Basil,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°Have you seen what my life has amounted to?¡± ¡°First hand,¡± replies Basil. The priestess lifts her gaze towards the elf and the others. ¡°What is this?¡± The barkeeper from the north sits down on the staircase, leaning back and exhaling. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how exhausting it is.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± replies Basil. ¡°What is this?¡± she repeats, taking a somewhat sterner tone. ¡°You''re the central-authority?¡± she asks, looking at the group. ¡°We know half of you.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± replies the barkeeper, leaning back. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± she apologizes. ¡°But we¡¯ve been keeping tabs on you, personally.¡± ¡°Hell of a way to do it,¡± throws in Jubilee. ¡°Talk about putting yourself in the middle of things,¡± they say, rolling their eyes. The barkeeper laughs, rubbing her stomach. ¡°Well. You understand. Sometimes an opportunity comes that¡¯s too rare to just pass up, you know?¡± She shakes her head, strands of hair dangling around. ¡°But we like to take care of things ourselves. I¡¯m sure you know, Jubilee?¡± ¡°Nobody said you¡¯re allowed to use my name,¡± they remark. ¡°What about your old one?¡± asks the barkeeper. ¡°I will kill you and your unborn child right here and now if you say it,¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°Jubilee!¡± hisses Fresh, aghast. ¡°That¡¯s pretty dark. Even for us.¡± The barkeeper shakes her head, looking over her shoulder and up the stairs at the other five, who are still sitting there on their thrones. ¡°Are you guys going to come down here, or are you really going to make a pregnant woman sit by herself with a witch and a demon and a slime?¡± ¡°You forgot Basil,¡± remarks Fresh, grabbing the priestess. ¡°- And a corrupt priestess,¡± adds the barkeeper. ¡°¡­Corrupt?¡± mutters Basil beneath her breath. Fresh smiles, latching on to Basil. ¡°It¡¯s official now, Basil! You¡¯re just like us!¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡± asks Basil. ¡®Bob¡¯ and the orc from the forge get up, as does the ¡®rare-wood staff guy¡¯, leaving only one person sitting there who she doesn¡¯t recognize. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± asks Fresh, leaning over towards Jubilee. Jubilee shrugs. ¡°How the hell should I know?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Isn¡¯t this whole thing a surprise because we¡¯re supposed to know all of these people?¡± she asks, looking back up towards the last person sitting on her throne. ¡°What? How the hell should I know?¡± repeats Jubilee. ¡°Hey!¡± They point at the last person to still be sitting up atop the staircase. ¡°Get the fuck down here, you snob!¡± The unknown woman on the throne sighs, getting up, but only after feeling the gazes of the other five on her. ¡°Jubilee,¡± whispers Fresh. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be more polite to the nobility?¡± ¡°If the nobility wants us to be polite, they can lower our tax-rates,¡± replies Jubilee, pointing at them. ¡°Fucking highway robbery!¡± ¡°I thought it was pretty reasonable,¡± remarks Basil. ¡°Didn¡¯t we only pay like six percent here?¡± she asks. ¡°That¡¯s pretty good.¡± Jubilee crosses their arms. ¡°The only reason you think that is because you¡¯re used to be crushed and dominated by an oppressing system of power, Basil. You¡¯ve devoted your entire life to getting stepped on.¡± ¡°It¡¯s called ¡®being a functional member of society¡¯,¡± says Basil. ¡°Why don¡¯t you try it some time?¡± Jubilee glares at Basil. ¡°Why don¡¯t you g -¡± ¡°- Guys!¡± interrupts Fresh, grabbing Jubilee. ¡°The world is ending, remember?¡± ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s talk about that,¡± says the barkeeper. The four of them look at each other for a moment. ¡°Okay. Then let¡¯s hear it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°We don¡¯t want the world to end,¡± notes the barkeeper, getting right to the point. Jubilee nods to her. ¡°Understandable. But it¡¯s out of our hands now,¡± they remark. ¡°Anyways, this is your fault to begin with. Shouldn¡¯t have fucking sent the hero after Perchta, huh? Idiots.¡± ¡°That was before my time on the council and an unfortunate error in judgment,¡± replies the barkeeper, looking at the orc from the orichalcum forge. The man adjusts his collar. ¡°So it is Perchta?¡± she asks. ¡°We¡¯d assumed as much. Especially with you two involved,¡± she remarks, looking at Jubilee and Shamrock. ¡°Dead Perchta,¡± notes Fresh, lifting a finger. ¡°Not me. The other one.¡± ¡°Spiritual logistics sure are a complicated subject,¡± says Bob, stroking his mustache. ¡°Right?!¡± asks Fresh excitedly. Finally, someone who understands. ¡°Oh, Bob. Thanks for buying my mushroom-cap back then!¡± she says. ¡°I really appreciated it a lot.¡± ¡°Just doing my part,¡± says Bob. ¡°Actually, on that note,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°If you don¡¯t want the world to end, then why the fuck have you been helping us?¡± The orc from the forge joins in. ¡°We didn¡¯t know what you were doing.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± says the strange woman. ¡°We just thought you were wandering around and living a quiet life for the most part, so we saw no harm in it.¡± ¡°At first,¡± says Bob. ¡°At first,¡± repeats the barkeeper, sighing. ¡°But then after you moved to the east, then there was the whole thing with the wind-elementals that dragged us into a war.¡± ¡°And the hero,¡± says the orc. ¡°And then the continent-wide dungeon breaks,¡± says the rare-wood staff guy. ¡°And now the world¡¯s ending,¡± says the strange woman. ¡°The wild-hunt has begun.¡± ¡°So really, everything was going fine until you moved to the east and then things¡­ escalated,¡± explains the barkeeper. ¡°Before then, we were perfectly content just watching you. Best not to provoke a sleeping monster, right?¡± she asks. Fresh lifts a finger. ¡°I mean¡­ those weren¡¯t things that I wanted to do, you know?¡± she asks. ¡°I just want to live a fun, quiet life with my friends, but the fountain -¡± ¡°-Perchta,¡± interrupts Jubilee. ¡°- Has been using me and tricking us,¡± explains Fresh. Sure, that¡¯s the truth. But it¡¯s also a half-truth. In a sense, she¡¯s perfectly content with being used and tricked to do horrible things by the fountain, as long as her continued existence together with her family is secured. But she won¡¯t say that to them. ¡°So you¡¯re useful idiots?¡± asks the orc from the forge. ¡°Yes,¡± replies Fresh, not skipping a beat. Is it a lie? No, not really. Is it the whole truth? No¡­ not really. ¡°That about sums it up,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Anyways, I guess we have about until the shield dies down,¡± they remark. ¡°Then the hero is gonna come back. Good job with that too, by the way,¡± they say, rolling their eyes. ¡°You people and your fucking ¡®heroes¡¯.¡± ¡°The hero doesn¡¯t want us,¡± says the strange woman. ¡°He wants Perchta,¡± she remarks, pointing at Fresh. ¡°So I suggest that the four of you leave and head somewhere else.¡± ¡°And I suggest that you buy a rope and hang yourself with it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°But we both know that isn¡¯t going to happen. ¡°Jubilee!¡± hisses Fresh. ¡°You¡¯re being super mean!¡± The elf lifts a hand. ¡°I think it¡¯s fair of us to ask that you don¡¯t get us all killed,¡± says the barkeeper. ¡°I know it¡¯s a big ask of us at this point, but it¡¯s all we can hope for.¡± She points at Fresh¡¯s broom. ¡°The hero is on the east side of the city, waiting for the shield to drop. Why not just take that and fly to the west?¡± she asks. ¡°You¡¯ll outpace him by weeks.¡± ¡°Again,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°None of this wouldn¡¯t have happened if you didn¡¯t, one, kill the old Perchta and two, didn¡¯t summon a new hero, ninety fucking years too early.¡± ¡°Sure, and also none of this would have happened if we¡¯d just have locked you all in a cage from day one and buried you underground,¡± replies the strange woman. ¡°But here we are.¡± Jubilee glares at her. ¡°Here we fucking are.¡± ¡°How long do we have?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Until the eclipse?¡± She looks up at the others. ¡°That¡¯s when it¡¯s going to happen.¡± She crosses her arms. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if we leave. Perchta doesn¡¯t care about us. We¡¯re just who the hero is after.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°But Perchta is still going to want to get rid of the central-city, whether we''re here or not.¡± ¡°Two days,¡± replies Basil. ¡°If the book was right.¡± ¡°Great,¡± nods Fresh in relief. ¡°That¡¯s enough time.¡± ¡°Enough time for what?¡± asks Jubilee. Fresh beams, clasping her hands together. ¡°Jubilee~! I have an idea!¡± Jubilee sighs. ¡°Basil. When we die, can you say a prayer for me too?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± says Basil, placing a hand on their shoulder. ¡°Me too,¡± says Shamrock. Basil nods solemnly, holding out her other hand against his arm. ¡°Hey!¡± shouts Fresh, only somewhat offended. Chapter 389: Midnight workshop There are many things that people look for during their lives. Some of these things are of greater meaning and some of these are of lesser so. Sometimes it¡¯s something simple; a lost item, a lost person, a lost feeling or a spirit of what might have once been a time that has now passed, despite the many hands of howling men, clawing after those forgone days in silent desperation, only for them never to return. Fresh hums as she works, lifting her gaze to look at the body-double of herself that she had summoned, who is helping her with the project. Or maybe she¡¯s helping her? It¡¯s hard to say. The other things that people might search for, during their time here on this plane, are perhaps more abstract and individual. A place to belong. Fresh exhales, wiping her forehead on her sleeve as she stops for a second, looking over at Jubilee, who is sewing some fabric together. Something to believe in. Her eyes wander over to Shamrock, who is holding and pressing down the orichalcum bar against the grating device that she¡¯s made. Something to hope for. Basil is mixing together a concoction in a small pot, ducking around and under the table to pull out dried herbs and mushrooms from all manner of spaces. Her eyes wander away from her friends and up towards the broken bauble-staff, hung up on the basement wall. The staff, which had summoned the healer-spriggan, had through some reverse magical process, been broken in half. Then, sometimes, we find the things that we were looking for and they just don¡¯t turn out to be what we were expecting them to be. ¡­Peridot. Sometimes, the least fortunate simply never find what it is they came here to seek to begin with and the clawing desperation, combined with a shattered, renewed hope¡­ ¡°Jubilee~!¡± complains a familiar voice. Fresh blinks, looking at her double, who is pointing her way. ¡°I¡¯m not working!¡± Fresh yelps, returning to her task, sticking her tongue out at her double, who returns the gesture, pulling her lower eyelid down with a finger. ¡°Stop playing around,¡± scolds Basil. ¡°This is dangerous stuff,¡± she warns, looking over her shoulder. ¡°Take it seriously.¡± ¡°Yes, Basil¡­¡± say both Freshs at the same time, lowering their heads and continuing to work. They have a few different problems at the moment. The first problem is the fading shield. Given that the roots of the world-tree are dead, it seems that it¡¯s only a matter of time until the monumental thing is drained empty of its inherent magic. After that, the city is entirely helpless to whatever the fountain¡¯s whims are. If the hero doesn¡¯t destroy it, in his pursuit of her, then the fountain surely has something else in store for it instead. That¡¯s the second problem. The third problem is that, even if she somehow gets through the shield and manages to lure the hero away in another direction¡­ then what? Whatever it is that he¡¯s become, it¡¯s likely too late to save him, so that means that he just has to go, right? The fourth problem - Fresh sighs, continuing her work. They sure do have a lot of problems. - Is that assuming they somehow keep the city safe from the hero, then what are they going to do about the fountain, about Perchta? There¡¯s even a fifth problem too. That being, assuming all of those things work out, somehow, then what? Assuming what¡¯s left of the world and they all survive¡­ Are they just going to live here, in the central-city, forever? Where people know that she is not only a witch, but that she¡¯s responsible for the destruction all around them? Right now, they¡¯re all fine. But that¡¯s because the central-city is trying to survive at any cost. But what happens when the threat is dealt with? Will they be safe? Or will they be conveniently disposed of one night, while they¡¯re all asleep in their beds? Should they just¡­ leave? She has her flying broom. What if she just makes another one or two of those and they just¡­ leave. The four of them could just fly east, over the ocean. There¡¯s another continent there, right? Sure, it might have gotten somewhat devastated by the whole wind-elemental incident, but surely there is more land and civilization there to work with than here? Plus nobody knows them there. It could offer a real chance for a restart. A clean slate. Then again, how long will that last? The fountain has made its intentions clear. Just because they¡¯re starting here, on this side of the world, doesn¡¯t mean that the other half is safe forever. Sure, it might not be at her hands, given the fact that they¡¯re not really on speaking terms at the moment, but it could just as well find someone else to take care of the other half of the world in her place. No. It all has to be dealt with and taken care of now. Then they can go across the ocean to the other continent. Staying here isn¡¯t an option. ¡°How big is the ocean?¡± she asks, breaking the quiet of the workshop. ¡°Big,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°It¡¯s the ocean, goo-brain.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Basil nods. ¡°Plus there are all sorts of monsters in the ocean,¡± she notes. ¡°Crazy stuff that you¡¯d never see on land.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like it,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Too salty.¡± ¡°I heard it takes a month by boat,¡± says Basil. ¡°With perfect weather.¡± ¡°Wow. That¡¯s super far,¡± says Fresh. Jubilee sets their scissors down, grabbing a set of needles and some string. ¡°Fuck that. I don¡¯t want to deal with those freaks of nature.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a rather harsh thing to say,¡± says Basil. ¡°They¡¯re people, just like you and me.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°¡¯People¡¯,¡± they say, making air-quotes. Fresh points at Shamrock. ¡°Shamrock is people too, Jubilee.¡± ¡°Shamrock is a person, idiot,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Shamrock. The other Fresh shrugs. ¡°So, they have like, cat ears and stuff?¡± she asks. ¡°That sounds fun. What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± Jubilee points at her. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that, is that it¡¯s weird,¡± they say. ¡°Like¡­ what the fuck? Why do they have cat ears?¡± ¡°Not all of them have cat ears,¡± sighs Basil. ¡°Don¡¯t be ignorant. Read a book. Anyways, should you really be talking?¡± asks the priestess. ¡°Given your condition?¡± Jubilee glares at the priestess. ¡°Shut your yap, Basil.¡± ¡°Are you going to make me?¡± asks the priestess, not bothering to look away from her potion. ¡°I would, but you¡¯d like it,¡± they reply. ¡°So let¡¯s just agree to disagree before things get weird.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°Things are already weird.¡± Fresh smiles, looking back at their work. It¡¯s going to be a long night. They have a lot to do and even then¡­ How are they going to stop Perchta? How¡­ She lowers her gaze, stopping her work again. The other Fresh groans in annoyance. ¡°Stop slacking off, me!¡± She gasps, getting a sudden idea. ¡°Be right back!¡± yells Fresh, running upstairs to get the thing she just thought of. Sure, there¡¯s so much else that they need to do, but certainly there¡¯s merit in this new idea of hers too. She sure has had a whole lot of ideas lately. ¡°Hey!¡± yells her own voice after her. Oh well. Fresh grabs the repaired crystal-ball from the table in the library and then heads back to the basement, setting it down on the workbench. ¡°Huh¡­ good idea,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Maybe we can just blast the hero away with a spell from here?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°Oh, that wasn¡¯t my idea,¡± she says. ¡°But it¡¯s a good one too.¡± ¡°I have my doubts about that working,¡± says Basil. ¡°What was your idea?¡± ¡°This!¡± Fresh lifts her hands, hovering them over the crystal-ball. ¡°Ta-da!¡± she says, presenting the item to her friends. Her mirror-self gasps excitedly, catching on, but the others look less ecstatic. ¡°Good work, me!¡± ¡°Really? With the fucking ghosts again?¡± says Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Didn¡¯t we put this behind us already?¡± Basil frowns. ¡°I¡¯m still scarred from last time.¡± ¡°Not ghosts, guys!¡± says Fresh, tapping her head. ¡°- Witches,¡± says Shamrock, his chest heaving, understanding her plan. Fresh nods. Witches. They need more information on Perchta, they need a better plan and better logistics and who better to ask than the other witches, the dead Spiraholle and Gauden? Razmatazz Is the plural of ''Fresh'' Freshs or Freshes? I do not know. Chapter 390: The bad place The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. There is something different about this magic, about this spell, about this crystal. There¡¯s something else in the air, as her hands hover above the crystal-ball, the eyes of her friends on her. ¡°Is this wise?¡± asks Basil, playing with the bracelet on her arm. ¡°I don¡¯t know if this is a good idea.¡± Jubilee nods, crossing their arms. ¡°This is a terrible idea,¡± they agree. ¡°But we¡¯re still gonna going for it.¡± They lift a finger, not unclasping their arms to point at Fresh. ¡°Do it.¡± ¡°Yes, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, looking back to the crystal-ball and the dark purple aura swirling around inside of it. Witch magic is one thing. Holy magic is one thing. Glass magic is one thing. But this use of all three of those things combined, glass, holy and witch magics, has led to a situation in which the atmosphere in the basement has simply shifted. Necromancy is its own thing too, after all and while this isn¡¯t exactly necromancy, it borders on close to it. Conventional wisdom suggests that the realms of the dead and the realms of the living are clearly separated for a reason and that it is best to leave them that way. ¡°Shamrock?¡± asks Fresh, focusing on channeling her magic into the crystal. ¡°Can you touch this and think about the other two?¡± she asks ¡°I need someone who knows what they looked like.¡± Shamrock looks at her for a moment and then nods, stepping forward and taking off his gauntlet. A wet, slimy hand sticks out of it, touching the glass sphere. Fresh closes her eyes and focuses. Nothing happens. She opens her eyes, staring at the thing. ¡°Huh¡­?¡± The girl scratches her cheek, looking over her shoulder. ¡°Guys, it didn¡¯t w-¡± Everyone is gone and worse, something has changed. ¡°Guys¡­?¡± Fresh stares around the basement that she is alone down in, but¡­ ¡°¡­Guys?¡± She shudders. Fresh looks around in confusion, until she finally forms into clear thoughts what¡¯s wrong with the world. It¡¯s mirrored. The basement that she was just in is reversed. The workbench with the crystal-ball that she was standing before is now on the far side of the room. Basil¡¯s station, which was by the broken wall in the back, is now by the front. The entire basement has been reversed. She looks down at herself, realizing that she has no coherent body. It¡¯s like when she¡¯s in a fountain dream. She¡¯s just kind of¡­ a thing. A blob. An entity that is vaguely human. ¡°Jubilee? Basil?¡± calls Fresh. ¡°Shamroooock~?¡± No response. Did the crystal-ball do this? Is this¡­ Fresh walks up the staircase, heading up and out of the basement. Despite walking up the stairs, she has the distinct feeling of a lurch every time she takes a step, as if she were heading downstairs, rather than up. Opening the front door to their house by pushing it outward instead of opening it to the inside, she stares out at the odd world before herself. The city is still here, but it¡¯s different. It looks¡­ older. All of the buildings look like they might once have looked years and years ago. The streets that she has come to memorize are reversed and wrong. The dungeon is to her left now, instead of to the right. Everything is flipped around. Her eyes wander up towards the world-tree, which, despite the grandiosity of its sight, is nothing more than a shriveled, wrinkled, wrong husk here. It is a husk of a thing, bent over at a frightening angle, directly overhead, as if it were looming over her and their house. Fresh can¡¯t help but notice that the tree seems to have the oddest thing, a pattern, worn into the wood. It looks like a face, frozen and contorted into a scream that makes no noise, its voice having been quieted by the poison which consumed its body months ago. She shudders, looking around herself. The realm of the dead. The underworld. Something rattles off to the side, down an alley and Fresh turns her head, looking towards the source of the noise. An old, glass bottle clinks and rolls down into the street, coming out from the alleyway. She doesn¡¯t know what¡¯s happened here. But she has to find the other two witches, Spiraholle and Gauden and then, more importantly, she has to figure out how to get out of here again. Stepping back inside, Fresh quietly closes the front door, jiggling it to make sure it¡¯s closed, not wanting to attract whatever is outside. She quickly scoots upstairs and grabs her flying broom, which is thankfully still where she left it. Attached to it, is a strange blob that looks distinguishably like a lantern. Fresh smiles, holding a hand over the odd spirit. ¡°You stuck around for me, huh?¡± she asks quietly, stroking her hand over a rough, jagged metal surface. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Fresh to the spirit of the enchanted lantern, placing her leg over the broom and lifting off into the air. The lantern glows, guiding her towards the hole in the ceiling for the telescope. She slides it open and flies out into the sky, sparing one last glance down towards their house. Something has opened the front door. The hairs on her neck stand on end, as she feels not just one, but many pairs of eyes watching her, as she hovers there, above the city and below the looming shadow of the world-tree that looks as if it were trying to crash down onto their home, to crush them in one final act of defiance that it never managed to fulfill. Fresh stares up towards the contorted ¡®face¡¯ in the wood and then turns the broom towards the direction that the mirrored south ought to be in, shooting off and over the wrong landscape. It¡¯s going to be a long flight towards the southern region of the world. Time is running short. In less than two days, the shield is going to fall and Perchta will make her final move. She needs to find Gauden and Spilleholle, she needs to get back to her friends and she needs to, most importantly, make sure that the place she and her family live in never looks or feels like the place she finds herself in now. As she flies off and away from the central-city, something screams from behind herself, from below, from the many rows of houses. She doesn¡¯t turn around to look at what it was. But it certainly didn¡¯t sound like anything close to a human. Razmatazz New experimental story! Chapter 391: Journey through the underworld Fresh flies across the landscape, leaning down against the front of the broomstick, holding on as tightly as she can, as she shoots through the colorless night, guided by the glow of the lantern. She looks down at her hands, which fearfully clutch the shaft of the broomstick. The color has faded from them, just like it has from her sleeves, from the forest beneath herself, the trees of which are now all wrong. The straight, healthy pines that usually surround the city are now odd, crooked things that have twisted inwardly and around each other in some unnatural fashion, now more closely resembling a field of giant brambles, rather than a lush pine forest. But they too, like the odd blackness of the starless night itself, are colorless. The dead wood, covered in thick, pungent needles, is an odd tone of ashy gray, that the light of the lantern does little to alleviate. Fresh can¡¯t help but feel, the longer that she stares at the many trees beneath herself, that they¡¯re turning and twisting, the forest shifting and changing, as if they were worms embedded into the surface of the ocean floor, waiting for something to swim close enough to grab, to latch onto and to drag down into the darkness below. The broom lifts up higher, the lantern pulling away from the forest more and more. But never high enough to go into the sky, into where the clouds ought to be. Lifting her head, she looks that way too, but sees nothing. No stars, no clouds, no moon nor sun. There¡¯s just nothing. It¡¯s hard to pinpoint why, but she has a bad feeling about the sky as well. If she goes up there, she¡¯s not going to come back out again. That ink, that total bleak, lightlessness¡­ it¡¯s more than just darkness. It¡¯s the end, it¡¯s the empty thing that comes after darkness. The broom shoots through the night, the lantern guiding her, knowing which way to go and how to safely navigate this place. Is the underworld supposed to look like this? Obviously, she doesn¡¯t know. But she hopes so. She hopes that this¡­ taint. This odd, spiritual realm, that looks like someone has crushed it with a thumb smeared in black ink, she hopes in a way that doesn¡¯t make much sense, given the damage that she has caused over the world, that this place doesn¡¯t look like it does because of herself. She isn¡¯t sure, but looking down over her shoulder, it almost looks like the trees behind herself, down there where the light can¡¯t reach anymore, it looks like they¡¯re parting blades of grass that somebody is stepping through in pursuit of her. The broom flies faster. The south. The drowned bottom half of the world. From what she recalls hearing and reading about it, it was once, in the very distant past, where the great forest that has swallowed the entire continent originally stemmed from. The deep woods. But, according to Basil, after that ancient war, the fertile ground that covered the entire continent not only gave nutrition for the world-tree to grow, but for an entire forest to sprout up in every section of nature outside of the four main cities. Though, that was a very, very long time ago. After that, the world supposedly became heavier and heavier over the duration of generations, because of the weight of the souls of the people who lived here, until eventually, the physical landmass itself sunk down into the spirit-world. Slowly at first, creating an odd quagmire with sections of forest half-drowned in black-water. Thousands of people left and fled, migrating to the other cities. Used to forest-life, these people were unprepared to live in the larger, more ¡®modern¡¯ cities that the west, east and north were. These people, being entirely unprepared for city life, were often seen as naive or foolish, hence where the mocking phrase of being ¡®from the south¡¯ stemmed from, from the people of the other cities. It¡¯s just an insult, a way to call people who don¡¯t know any better stupid. Worse still, it was said that, because of the merge of the worlds, that things, creatures, restless entities from the spirit-world were starting to rise to the plane of the living. - Demons. The holy church, in order to get this problem under control and to better fight it, began conducting their own experiments on these ¡®undead¡¯ people, going so far as to create their own, in order to learn about the process of demonic transformation. This was Jubilee¡¯s fate. They were one of many. She doesn¡¯t know for sure, but she assumes that the almost supernatural man from the thieves¡¯ guild, Patala, that he is one as well, a demon. There are likely others, many others, who have escaped and managed to keep their heads down low. But she understands now that Patala, in his desire for revenge against the world that wronged him, had found her as his tool of choice to get his payback. Was Jubilee involved in this? Were they part of the plan too? Did they knowingly not only meet up with her, but guided, trained and conditioned her to help fulfill a plan to harm the world that they were a part of? Most likely. But Jubilee, forced to endure her presence for so long, actually really did end up becoming her friend and the entire plan of the thieves¡¯ guild fell apart. Sort of. She supposes that the end result has been just about achieved either way. The goal of the thieves¡¯ guild and the fountain both seem to have inadvertently aligned; the destruction of the world. At least this side of it. The fate of the other half is still unknown. But she hopes that it¡¯s fine. It needs to be, for her escape-plan, after all. Fresh looks over her shoulder, trying to see if anything is still following her. But she can¡¯t make out anything in the murk. The forest stops, giving way to a swampy, brackish landscape. She turns her gaze back forward. The south. She¡¯s here. The broom hovers downward, flying through the trees of the swamp, guiding her now down lower, as there is apparently something in the air that needs to be avoided here. She doesn¡¯t know what it could be, she doesn¡¯t see anything up there. But there is a presence in the air, as if there were really something there in the darkness above the swamp. Her eyes look up, looking through the arched branches of the swamp-wood trees. A giant, yellow eye hovers in the sky, staring back down her way. The body that it belongs to is indistinguishable from the rest of the darkness. Fresh gulps, lowering her gaze, doing her best to look ahead and to not look back up a second time, because she has the feeling that if she does, that there are going to be many, many, many more eyes staring back this time. The broom suddenly shoots to the left, ducking out of the way as a gust of wind swipes over her head. She yelps, clambering down against the wooden shaft to not fly off as the lantern makes a rapid, sharp adjustment to their course, dodging something that she couldn¡¯t see, but could feel. Water splashes. Fresh looks over her shoulder, the wind rushing past her ears. Something disturbs the water behind them, splashing as if running after her. But there is nothing there, at least nothing that she can see. She looks back ahead, focusing on the path through the swamp, doing her best to ignore the sound of the thing that pursues her, the thing with long invisible hands and arms that reaches for her, the thing that she can¡¯t see, but she can feel. It¡¯s been a while now, half an hour maybe? An hour? She can¡¯t tell, her sense of time feels off. She hopes that her friends aren¡¯t worried. The broom begins to slow down, rising up a little higher, just above the tree-line, but no higher than that. Something moves alongside her face. ¡°Hey. We¡¯re almost there,¡± says a familiar voice. Fresh tilts her head, strands of her hair dangling downward, looking at herself. It¡¯s her double, the reflection she always speaks to. Of course, it¡¯s hard to say if it¡¯s exactly the same ¡®person¡¯, given that she looks exactly like herself, but the presence of the girl feels familiar, if that makes sense. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± asks Fresh, trying to raise her voice so that she¡¯s audible through the wind. ¡°Me?¡± asks the reflection. ¡°I live here. What are you doing here?¡± asks the other Fresh, flying alongside her on a broom of her own. ¡°Oh, I wanted to talk to the other witches,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Aaaah, things are getting rough, huh?¡± ¡°Like you wouldn¡¯t believe,¡± she sighs, looking back ahead of herself. ¡°Do you really live here?¡± she asks. ¡°It¡¯s pretty scary.¡± ¡°Eh. You get used to it,¡± replies the reflection. ¡°Once you figure out the rules, it¡¯s pretty easy.¡± ¡°The rules?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Yeah. You know,¡± replies the reflection. ¡°The rules. But don¡¯t worry about it. It looks like the lantern has everything under control.¡± Fresh nods. ¡°Yeah,¡± she says. ¡°So, we¡¯re almost there?¡± ¡°Just about,¡± replies the reflection. ¡°Anyways, I gotta go,¡± she says. ¡°The water stops here.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± The reflection waves. ¡°The water stops here. Good luck!¡± Fresh blinks, the broom, which was faced sideways so she was hovering with her face above the water of the swamp, twists back upright and breaks through the clearing, coming out at the edge of what looks like a small settlement. Fresh sighs in relief, turning her head around to stick her tongue out at thing that she can¡¯t see. The thing that has pursued her since she left the house. The thing, the unseen presence, which stands there at the edge of the water, unable to take a step further for no other reason than because it just can¡¯t. That¡¯s just what the rules are. It is what it is. The broom flies into the settlement. Chapter 392: The smell of smoke ¡°Hello?¡± calls Fresh, looking around the settlement. Stone houses surround her on all sides, built tightly together to form what looks like an outdoor complex of sorts. It is a place of many doorways, but none of them are closed. Rather, every opening is simply carved into the stone and obscured with either what surmounts to a hanging drape of beads or some loose fabric that sways in the odd wind present here. Fat bodied mushrooms grow out of the cracks in the long-untouched rock surfaces in wide spread clusters. Something courses through the stones. It feels like a deep pulsation, a tremor in the rock, like the strike of a heartbeat moving through the settlement. But she can¡¯t really place where it¡¯s coming from. Fresh looks around the area. The air smells sweet, like a fragrant fruit-tinged smoke. But she doesn¡¯t see any reason for it to be so, let alone anybody, apart from the vaguely human-like faces carved into the surfaces of the giant rocks of the buildings. ¡°Is anyone here?¡± she asks, looking to the side. She leans in, peaking in through a doorway. The inside looks like a bedroom with a few beds, but they all seem familiarly undisturbed. In an odd flashback, the sight reminds Fresh of the bed she had seen upstairs in their old house in the north, the one that she assumes was Jubilee¡¯s old bed, by the telescope. It had looked like someone had made it in the morning and then simply never returned to it. Sitting back on her broomstick, she hovers through the settlement, sparing glances into every open doorway. But it doesn¡¯t matter which one she looks behind, there¡¯s nobody here to see. The only signs of life that she can identify are the mushrooms, growing out of the forgotten structures, and that odd rhythmic pulsation, which feels like¡­ a drum? People had once lived here. She assumes this is where the witches¡¯ sect had moved to, after they went to the south, to the spirit world. But¡­ for whatever reason, they don¡¯t seem to be here anymore. The smell of smoke becomes more pungent. The sensation of the drum carries through the air. The flying broom carries her through street after street, moving deeper into the complex, flying her in through one of the large stone doors, which is unnervingly ornately carved into the shape of a mouth, with two stone hands that have been sculpted as if they were tearing it open. The tickling odor in the air becomes stronger still, as does the sensation of the drum. Mixing together with it now, as she moves deeper into the complex, is the sound of a voice, a man¡¯s. It is as rough as the coarse stone of the walls around herself, chanting a tune that feels vaguely familiar. But she can¡¯t quite place it. No words are distinguishable, at least ones that she can decipher. Rather, it¡¯s just a series of throaty, guttural sounds. The closer she gets to wherever the magic broom is taking her, the thicker the smell becomes, the heavier her body seems to feel, the clearer the man¡¯s gravelly voice is. Fresh blinks, trying to hold herself up straight. Her body feels unusually heavy. Was she always this heavy? She tries to lift up her arm, managing, but with a noticeable amount of effort. Instead, she opts to take the easier route and leans down on the broom, letting it carry her weight for a while. What a weird feeling. What a weird place. Is there something in the air? The smoke. She feels kind of funny. The broom rounds a corner and Fresh lifts her head, her chin resting on the broomstick. Having reached the center of the stone temple, she stares around at the ritual chamber that she has arrived at. It is a large, stone-wrought hall, filled with intricate stone carvings of faces and people, humans and elves and orcs and demons and dwarves and everything else conceivable from harpies to mush-mushes. All of the sculptures are piled on top of each other, stacked like a pile of corpses indiscriminately heaped together after a slaughter. Moss and ferns have overtaken the entire structuring, overgrowing it apparently from the inside-out. The broom moves her closer and she spares a glance towards the statues. They aren¡¯t statues of corpses. The faces are all laughing. Hands reach out, grasping on to each other. Stone bodies splay out, touching as many people as they can. All of their faces are painted with dumb, goofy smiles or determined grins that hide a hint of mischievousness, as if they had known what a stranger¡¯s first perception of them from a distance would be. Staring closer however, Fresh realizes that the context of some of their poses is certainly¡­ unbefitting of a workplace environment. But, given the expressions on the statues¡¯ faces, the sculptor seems to have had fun with their work, if nothing else. She clears her throat, looking back ahead of herself, her eyes wandering through the dark chamber, towards the single figure, the single light sitting there at the end of the grand chamber, a figure, hunched over a drum. He vaguely resembles a human, sitting with crossed legs. But at the same time, he is very inhuman. What appears to moss, grass, ferns, mushrooms appear to be growing from his body. Long, green, disheveled growths drape from his arms as if he were wearing a long-sleeved suit of forest-shrubbery. Grass and leaves flow around as his arms continue to drum, as his upper body and head continue to shake and bob to the rhythm of the unusually loud instrument that he hammers against. Colorful, fragrant smoke wafts up from the drum as he strikes it, surrounding him with every impact. Fresh feels an unusual sensation of familiarity with the entity. The broom hovers before the man, lowering itself down to the ground for her to get off of it. Fresh obliges, stepping down onto the floor as the man continues his ritual of drumming and chanting. Lowering her gaze, she realizes that he isn¡¯t hitting against a drum. It¡¯s a large mushroom-cap. With every strike, fine powder shoots up into the air, surrounding his silhouette. It isn¡¯t incense smoke that fills the air. They¡¯re mushroom spores. Her body feels heavy. Really heavy. Just standing upright feels very tiring. Fresh sits down on the other side of the man, finding her legs crossing as well, her palms resting on her knees. It¡¯s just the most comfortable, natural way to sit given the body-load she¡¯s experiencing right now. Her eyes watch the man, who doesn¡¯t seem to let her presence bother him. So she just decides to sit and wait for him to finish. She wouldn¡¯t want to be a rude guest, after all. She studies him. If he was once human, the only hint of that remaining is the vague shape of his gestalt. Two arms, two legs, a head, a torso. But everything apart from that is off. He looks like a section of a deep-forest floor having come to life. Covered in flowers, in moss, in ferns that swing around like strands of long hair, the man continues his practice. Fresh closes her eyes, listening to the shaman chant. This is the witch, Gauden, she assumes. Fresh feels herself floating in some abstract space. But she doesn¡¯t open her eyes. ¡°Sister Perchta,¡± says the man¡¯s voice. ¡°Or, well, no. New sister Perchta?¡± he considers, talking to himself. ¡°I¡¯m Gauden,¡± he explains. ¡°Well. No¡­ maybe I¡¯m new Gauden?¡± The sound of the drumming and the rustling of his swaying body continue. ¡°New Perchta,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°But you can call me Fresh,¡± she explains. ¡°Sister,¡± replies Gauden. ¡°What brings you to our quiet place?¡± ¡°Perchta is still alive,¡± explains Fresh, getting right to the point. Despite feeling the cold stone floor beneath herself, she feels the room spinning at the same time. The girl stays there, sitting completely flat against the rocks, feeling the weight of her own body pulling herself down towards the core of the world. But at the same time, the room itself spins, slowly orbiting around a point of convergence she can¡¯t identify. ¡°The short version is that she¡¯s evil and destroying the world now.¡± They continue to float in silence. ¡°What can I do?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°How do I stop her?¡± ¡°What is a fountain?¡± asks Gauden. ¡°Huh? A fountain?¡± asks Fresh, thinking for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s something that¡­ cycles water around? Like a well, but¡­ with a flow in it? I guess?¡± The drumming continues. Fresh takes a deep breath, her chest pushing outward. The spore filled air still smells nauseously sweet. ¡°What gives a well its power?¡± asks Gauden. ¡°Power?¡± asks Fresh, thinking for a moment. ¡°I mean¡­ I guess what makes a well valuable is its water?¡± she guesses. ¡°Otherwise, it¡¯s just a hole.¡± She frowns. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that I need to get rid of her source of power?¡± she asks, thinking for a moment. ¡°What would happen to her then?¡± ¡°What happens to all of us?¡± asks Gauden. Fresh sits quietly, feeling her upper body moving to the sensation of the drum. She¡¯s having a hard time differentiating, but given the movements of her arms and upper body, she¡¯d swear that she was inhabiting the man¡¯s body right now. She can feel things dangling from her arms. Growth, ferns, vines. ¡°Where is everyone?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I thought the whole witches¡¯ sect was here?¡± ¡°They are,¡± says the man. ¡°Huh?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°But there¡¯s nobody here except you and me and a bunch of mushrooms?¡± ¡°The circle of life.¡± Fresh wants to tilt her head, but finds herself so disoriented that she doesn¡¯t quite know how to do that anymore. ¡°¡­Huh?¡± ¡°What happens to water that doesn¡¯t flow?¡± ¡°It¡­ gets funky?¡± guesses Fresh. ¡°It stagnates,¡± replies Gauden. ¡°In this realm or your own. The rules are the same.¡± ¡°So¡­¡± ¡°What happens to the things in that water?¡± ¡°¡­They¡­ get funky?¡± ¡°Drain the water and the fountain will dry, the rot will wither,¡± replies Gauden. Fresh frowns. ¡°Can you please be less vague?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯m not good at understanding cryptic instructions.¡± Gauden laughs and she finds herself laughing at the same time, though she doesn¡¯t really get the joke. ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± says the man. A finger touches her forehead. ¡°The answer was right above you all along.¡± Fresh sighs. ¡°That doesn¡¯t help. Thanks,¡± she frowns. People sure do like to be cryptic about stuff like this. ¡°Shamrock says ¡®hi¡¯, by the way.¡± ¡°It¡¯s funny, isn¡¯t it?¡± asks the man¡¯s voice. ¡°How these things line up sometimes.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Fate is a strange thing. Sometimes I wonder if the universe isn¡¯t just using us all to play a big, funny game.¡± ¡°¡­Huh?¡± asks Fresh, confused. ¡°It¡¯s time to go,¡± says Gauden. ¡°Don¡¯t come back again. Next time, you won¡¯t be able to leave.¡± He laughs, as if this were the joke of the season, his hoarse voice cracking. ¡°Tell Shamrock to eat some vegetables.¡± ¡°¡­I don¡¯t get it,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Yeah, because you¡¯re as dumb as a bag of rocks,¡± snaps Jubilee. Fresh opens her eyes, looking around the basement of their home in surprise. ¡°It was a good idea,¡± they remark. ¡°But sometimes shit just doesn¡¯t work.¡± ¡°A shame,¡± says Basil. ¡°But I won¡¯t pretend that I¡¯m not a little relieved,¡± remarks the priestess. ¡°The spirit-world is best left untouched. Who knows what¡¯s going on over there?¡± She looks back at the crystal-ball that her hand is hovering over. Fresh realizes that it hasn¡¯t been an hour or longer at all. This is literally the same moment she had ¡®left¡¯ the real world in before. Shamrock¡¯s green hand pulls back from the orb and he slips his gauntlet back on, adjusting it back into place. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to work, people,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Come on. Time¡¯s running out.¡± Shamrock and Basil nod, returning to their stations. Fresh feels a pair of hands grabbing her shoulder, pulling her back to the table. She looks at her magical double. ¡°Hey, guys?¡± says Fresh. ¡°No more ideas,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Work,¡± they say, smelling the air. ¡°¡­What the hell smells like street-guru?¡± Basil sniffs the air. ¡°You¡¯re right, it does smell kind of¡­ incensy.¡± They turn to look at her. Fresh lifts a hand. ¡°I think I died again,¡± she says, looking at her fingers. A piece of moss is there. She yelps, pulling it off and throwing it to the ground. Gross. Razmatazz Hello, this has been our mandatory psilocybin chapter. Now go eat some oranges and get yourself a glass of water. =) Chapter 393: What might come tomorrow ¡°Seriously, you smell,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Go take a bath.¡± Fresh lifts her arm, sniffing herself. ¡°Sorry, Jubilee,¡± she apologizes. ¡°The underworld was kinda grody.¡± ¡°Grody?¡± asks Basil, confused. ¡°Ah, uh¡­ it was gross,¡± says Fresh. ¡°It was all spooky and weird and kind of moldy, actually.¡± She looks around their house, staring at the many flowers and mushrooms growing out of the walls here. She lifts her arm, dusting her sleeve off. It¡¯s still covered in underworld-gunk. ¡°Yuck.¡± ¡°Stop making a mess, go downstairs and wash yourself off, goo-brain,¡± orders Jubilee. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this until you get back,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Will we?¡± asks Basil. ¡°I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s much to talk about, honestly,¡± says the priestess, getting up. ¡°Sit your ass back down, Basil!¡± barks Jubilee after the priestess who heads over to the kitchen, simply ignoring them. Fresh blinks, watching her leave and then just shrugs, turning back to look at Shamrock and Jubilee. After her experience in the underworld, the four of them had gone upstairs to the table, to sit down and let her explain. Jubilee sighs, shaking their head and waving Basil off, before looking back towards her. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out.¡± ¡°But what?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Just go wash yourself off. After that, we¡¯ll keep going with the plan. Nothing much has changed except maybe that we¡¯re adding an extra step.¡± Fresh nods, scooting her chair back and getting up. Basil comes back with a small bowl of leafy vegetables, setting them down in front of Shamrock. The giant man looks down, staring at it for a while. He lifts his gaze towards the priestess, who sits there with crossed arms, watching him carefully. ¡°¡­Thanks,¡± says Shamrock, looking back down at the salad. Fresh laughs, getting up. She really does need a bath. Next time she goes to the underworld, she should bring some soap. Though, best case, she won¡¯t be going back again. ¡°Is this weird?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°Morally, or you mean like¡­ just normally?¡± asks the other Fresh. Fresh puffs out her cheek, leaning back against the basin of the bath as she stares at her double who is also here with her. She looks down at the water, noticing that, oddly enough, she doesn¡¯t have a reflection right now. ¡°I¡¯m over here,¡± says the other Fresh. ¡°I was just wondering,¡± says Fresh, speaking to her reflection who is sitting on the other side of the bath. ¡°If you¡¯re here, then I guess I don¡¯t have a reflection?¡± ¡°Guess not,¡± says the other Fresh, shrugging, placing her elbows back on the stone edge of the bath. ¡°So¡­¡± Fresh tilts her head, her wet hair dangling to the side. ¡°Do you have a reflection?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± replies the other Fresh, pointing across from herself. ¡°She¡¯s right there.¡± Fresh blinks, realizing that she herself is the one being pointed at. ¡°Man¡­ spiritual stuff sure is complicated, huh?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± replies the reflection, her double. ¡°But I mean, if I¡¯m your reflection, then I guess you have to be mine, right?¡± asks the other, scratching her cheek with her right hand and staring up towards the ceiling. ¡°Makes sense to me,¡± replies Fresh, lifting her eyes to stare at the ceiling too. ¡°So, you live in the underworld, huh?¡± ¡°Eh, sometimes,¡± replies her reflection. ¡°Sometimes I live there, sometimes I live here, sometimes I live in a mirror and sometimes I live on the surface of some gunky water when you pass by a puddle on the street and look down at it, because you thought you saw an Obol, but it was really just some garbage.¡± ¡°It was an Obol once,¡± says Fresh. ¡°Once.¡± ¡°Once,¡± she repeats, sighing. ¡°That sounds chaotic,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°I¡¯m glad I just get to live in one place,¡± she says, looking around the basement. ¡°Sort of¡­¡± ¡°Sort of,¡± repeats her double. The two of them sit there for a while. ¡°So¡­ what do you think we should do?¡± asks Fresh. The double shrugs. ¡°I like our plan, actually.¡± ¡°Right?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I think it¡¯s good too. So, I wanted to ask. Were you always my reflection?¡± The water splashes as her double moves, washing her face. ¡°Sure,¡± she replies a moment later, her hair sticking to her nose. Fresh looks towards her. ¡°Even in the old world?¡± she asks. ¡°I mean¡­ whose else am I supposed to have been?¡± she asks, pulling a strand of hair away from her face, which is of course, exactly the same as her own. Fresh smiles, she supposes that makes sense. ¡°Sorry I didn¡¯t look at you for so long,¡± she says. ¡°That was rude of me.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± replies the reflection. ¡°I get nervous when people look at me, you know?¡± asks the girl from the mirror. Fresh blinks, looking at her and laughs. ¡°So, do they accept Obols on the other continent?¡± asks Fresh, looking at the heap of money. ¡°Yes, but no, but yes,¡± replies Basil. ¡°They have their own currency, but around the harbors, Obols are still good for trading.¡± ¡°Not anymore they aren¡¯t,¡± says Jubilee, butting in. ¡°Obols are only worth shit because there was an economy here on this side of the ocean to trade with. No cities, no economy,¡± they say, taking an Obol and flipping it over their shoulder, throwing the ten-thousand denomination coin to the ground as if it were worthless. ¡°There¡¯s still this place,¡± argues Basil. ¡°Yeah? For how long?¡± asks Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°Assuming, best case, that the central-city survives and we high-tail it out of here, then what?¡± they ask. ¡°If those inhuman freaks survived the whole wind-elemental incident, they¡¯re going to be out for blood and there¡¯s going to be exactly one place left to get it,¡± they say, looking around. ¡°Good thing we¡¯re moving.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°Do you think we can find a place to stay for longer than three months at, next time?¡± she asks. ¡°Ooh!¡± says Fresh excitedly. ¡°I¡¯d like that! We could do six months!¡± ¡°How about a year?¡± suggests Basil. ¡°Somewhere sunny and quiet. Heck, let¡¯s get greedy. Maybe two?¡± suggests the priestess, looking at all of their money. ¡°It¡¯s a shame. But we can make new money. But let¡¯s stay somewhere for a little longer, just to finally relax.¡± ¡°Forever,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh gasps. This is the best idea she¡¯s ever heard. ¡°Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Who says that I won¡¯t take my chance to get away from you people when it shows up?¡± they ask. ¡°Please,¡± remarks Basil. ¡°You¡¯d cry the first night you have to be alone and then we¡¯d find you clawing at our front door before the sun is even up.¡± A large, metal hand rests itself down on Jubilee¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Forever,¡± repeats Shamrock. ¡°Fuck off, Shamrock,¡± replies Jubilee, rolling their eyes. ¡°- Forever, Jubilee,¡± says Fresh, lowering herself down, staring with wide, unblinking eyes. Jubilee glares at her. ¡°Why are you touching me?¡± Another hand grabs their long, red ear, pinching the tip of it between its fingers. ¡°Forever,¡± says Basil. Jubilee swipes their hands off of themselves. ¡°Get lost, all of you!¡± they bark. Fresh squishes Jubilee¡¯s face. ¡°Forever.¡± ¡°Forever,¡± repeats Shamrock, holding onto their shoulder. ¡°Forever,¡± chants Basil, pulling on both of their ears. ¡°Forever. Forever. Forever -¡± This goes on for the better part of the next five minutes, until Jubilee manages to finally break free from the hands that bind them, but not from their horrible fate that they seem to have no choice but to endure forever. Razmatazz FOREVER! *Swings boxcutter around through the air* FOREVER Chapter 394: The things we keep inside The mechanical hand swings back and forth, an audible ticking noise filling the basement. Fresh smiles, closing her eyes and listening to the nostalgically familiar sound. ¡°Well, that¡¯s annoying,¡± says Jubilee dryly. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Basil leans over, looking at it. ¡°It reminds me a lot of the stuff back in the west, like the clocks and all of that.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because it is a clock!¡± beams Fresh, holding her hands out to the little thing on the table. A single hand continues to tick around in a circle. ¡°Looks like a heap of shit to me,¡± remarks Jubilee, looking at the pile of bronze and copper. Fresh frowns, puffing out her cheek in defiance. ¡°Rude!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you worked very hard on it,¡± says Basil. ¡°But I¡¯m not sure if this should be a priority right now?¡± she asks, looking around the basement at their other project. ¡°It is,¡± says Fresh, poking the thing and staring at it for a moment. ¡°We need it for Jubilee¡¯s idea.¡± ¡°I take back what I said,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°This is the greatest thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± Basil sighs, lowering her gaze for a moment. ¡°That was fast,¡± she remarks, sounding a little glum. Fresh understands why this whole thing is bothering Basil so much, but it¡¯s just another one of those spiritual conflicts that the priestess will have to work her way through, one way or the other. ¡°Better safe than sorry,¡± says Shamrock, looking away from his work for a moment. ¡°Right?¡± remarks Jubilee. ¡°This is our back-up,¡± they say. ¡°We¡¯re not going out there with our pants down,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°I understand that,¡± says Basil. ¡°I just think that it¡¯s grim, you know?¡± she asks. Jubilee shrugs, looking around the basement. ¡°Basil. ¡®Grim¡¯ is our family name at this point.¡± ¡°That¡¯s kind of edgy,¡± remarks Basil dryly. Fresh gasps. ¡°Can we go to the city and get some kind of official certificate?¡± she asks excitedly, clenching her fists. ¡°Like, some real document that says we¡¯re a family?!¡± ¡°No,¡± replies Jubilee, pointing at her. ¡°Written proof of me having had to live with you people is a step too far.¡± Fresh frowns, rubbing her arm. ¡°¡­That one hurt, Jubilee,¡± she mumbles, looking away to the side. ¡°I¡¯d sign it and frame it and hang it up in the bedroom and everything.¡± ¡°Get a grip, weirdo,¡± sighs Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°You realize the disconnection here, right?¡± they ask, pointing at the clock. ¡°Why it¡¯s weird for you to be sad about this after just making that?¡± Fresh stares at the clock for a while, sighing, her enthusiasm birthed from the completion of the project dampened. ¡°Can I just be sad about both things then?¡± ¡°Sure. Just do it quietly and get back to work,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°Yes, Jubilee¡­¡± sighs Fresh, letting her shoulders drop as she returns to their big project. Fresh is upstairs, staring out of the library window. She¡¯s sitting on the little bench of the reading nook, leaned against the wall as she gazes out over the marketplace. ¡°It¡¯s a ghost town, huh?¡± asks Basil¡¯s voice. Fresh yelps, sitting upright. ¡°I wasn¡¯t slacking off!¡± she swears. ¡°I was just, uh¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± assures Basil. ¡°It¡¯ll be our secret,¡± promises the priestess, holding her finger to her lips. Fresh sighs in relief. ¡°I¡¯m super tired, Basil,¡± she admits, looking over the market-place. The vendors are gone. The stores and stalls are all closed. There is foot-traffic, but none of it is normal. People are being evacuated, the central-authority has opened up the castle-courtyard again for the entire city to flee inside of, given the soon to fall shield. None of them have really slept yet, since this whole process started. ¡°Just a little longer,¡± says Basil, sitting down across from her, pulling her legs in so that she can fit on the other side of the small nook. Fresh squishes herself together too, making some more room. ¡°I guess none of us have slept much, huh?¡± ¡°Are you scared, Basil?¡± asks Fresh, watching some people rush by in a somewhat larger hurry than the others around them. ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡± ¡°I¡¯d be worried if you weren¡¯t,¡± says the priestess. ¡°But we¡¯re going to be fine.¡± ¡°You promise?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°I promise,¡± assures Basil. ¡°After all, we¡¯ve been fine so far, so why would we stop now?¡± Fresh laughs. She¡¯s not sure if it works like that, but she¡¯s glad that Basil is trying her best to be a positive force in the world. ¡°Is everything set up?¡± asks Basil. Fresh nods, pointing at her flying broom, which is leaned against the overgrown bookshelves. ¡°I just got back. It¡¯s funny, you know?¡± she asks. ¡°After all of this time, trying to be secretive and now I just kind of got to fly around the city during the day,¡± says Fresh, looking out over the plaza. ¡°It was nice, actually,¡± she says, scratching her cheek. ¡°It¡¯s become so normal for us to hide and to pretend about who we are that I didn¡¯t even notice how¡­ stressful it is,¡± explains Fresh, rolling her shoulders back. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, Basil,¡± she starts. ¡°I was stressed about stuff I never even knew I was stressed about.¡± Fresh lifts her hand, moving it through the air. ¡°The moment half the city saw me just now, without my hat, I could really feel my back relax and my neck unstiffen. Honestly, I thought I¡¯d get super scared,¡± she explains. ¡°But it was the opposite.¡± Basil smiles. ¡°I understand that,¡± she says. ¡°Secrets are heavy,¡± agrees the priestess. ¡°But they¡¯re like pieces of armor. If you carry them every day, you start to not notice how heavy they actually are.¡± She gestures towards the window. ¡°Then, one day, you let them fall for the world to see and you suddenly realize how much stuff you were actually carrying the whole time.¡± ¡°Wow. You¡¯re really smart, Basil,¡± notes Fresh, amazed. ¡°That¡¯s a great metaphor.¡± ¡°No, not really,¡± says the priestess. ¡°Sometimes I wish I was smarter, you know?¡± she asks. ¡°Maybe then I¡¯d know what to do. I mean, I talk a mean game. But then when it comes down to it, I never have the guts to let that armor fall,¡± she says, looking back out of the window. ¡°Mm¡­¡± says Fresh, staring back out of the glass too. She pulls on a strand of her hair, thinking about how to handle this. Surely it¡¯s something that they have to talk about eventually. She doesn¡¯t want her cherished friend to just have to stay locked away forever with her feelings, as the only one in their family. Should she just tell her that she knows? Would that help her just to talk about it? Or will that make her feel pressured? Fresh stares at her own frowning reflection, who just shrugs back at her, not having the answer either. Feelings sure are complicated. Even if it is true and Basil really does like her in a way past the ¡®normality¡¯ of their friendship as members of the group, then what? Does she reciprocate those feelings? Does she feel the same way? If she does, would that make things weird in their group? In their home? In their future together? In a sudden moment of clarity, a cold shock running through herself, Fresh now understands why she has always been playing dumb around Basil, regarding the topic of Basil¡¯s feelings this entire time. Why she has never thought about it and her own feelings on the matter, always pressing it out of her mind. It¡¯s because she¡¯s just scared that the outcome, either way, could jeopardize their life as a family. It could jeopardize her life. What if feelings get hurt? What if something irreparable happens to this precious life that they¡¯ve made? What a horrible, selfish, disgusting thing she is. Even after all of this. Maybe she really will never be better than this? Fresh turns to look at Basil. ¡°Hey, Basil?¡± she asks, her friend turning to look towards her. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± she says. ¡°So just, whenever you¡¯re ready to talk, you can find me, okay?¡± she says. Basil stares at her for a while, realizing something and then looking away, playing with her red-string bracelet. ¡°Did Jubilee tell you?¡± she asks, her eyes wandering out of the window. ¡°Huh? Oh¡­¡± Fresh¡¯s fidgets with her long strand of hair. ¡°Yeah, we talked about it a little after I cursed the hero,¡± she admits. ¡°But I didn¡¯t believe it at first.¡± ¡°Neither did I,¡± sighs Basil, shaking her head. ¡°Life is funny, what it does to us, isn¡¯t it?¡± Fresh nods. That was kind of a confusing answer. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Listen,¡± says Basil. ¡°The truth is, well, I -¡± Somebody screams outside. The two of them turn their heads to look. People are starting to run at full sprint now, heading towards the castle. Fresh jumps up to her feet, grabbing her broom. ¡°Basil! Go get the others!¡± she says. ¡°On it!¡± replies the priestess, jumping up and running downstairs. Fresh hops onto her broom, looking out of the window, staring at the giant shield around the city that is starting to dim and falter, shuddering as the magic comes apart, at least a full day too early. She kicks off, flying over the shelves of the library and then upstairs over the now empty tower and then out through the hole in the roof. The broom rises up into the air as she looks around for the problem and then, she sees it, standing off in the distance. The broom shoots towards him, but not fast enough. The man turns around, looking at her from the shadows, a ripple shooting up through the shield from the ground up. ¡°Small world, isn¡¯t it?¡± asks Patala, the man from the thieves¡¯ guild, looking over his shoulder. The shield begins to tear apart and fade away. Razmatazz Ah, so close. Maybe next time? Chapter 395: The pieces that fit ¡°What are you doing?!¡± yells Fresh at the snake-like man. Patala shrugs, lifting his arms and stepping out back through the tearing seam that¡¯s rising up through the shield. ¡°Oh, you know,¡± replies the man coyly. ¡°Just getting some fresh air.¡± He laughs. This is bad. ¡­Sort of. Sure, the shield was going to fall anyway. But that was going to be tomorrow or maybe even the day after. They needed that time to prepare, technically speaking. She looks around the area, people are running away, the citizens of the city are evacuating towards the castle and though she can¡¯t hear it or see it, she¡¯s sure that the hero, the time-frozen entity that he has been these last few weeks, has now begun moving; a statue come to life. Her eyes wander back to the spot where the man was just a moment ago. But he¡¯s gone now. Of course something like this would happen, just before the end. Fresh stares for a moment longer, watching the shield tear itself apart, the crack running all the way up towards the highest branches of the world-tree, the dome starting to fade away. Her hands loosen their grip on the broom, her shoulders drooping as she lets out a relieved sigh. Oh well. It¡¯s fine. - Probably? It¡¯s not like they hadn¡¯t prepared for this exact scenario. It¡¯s just that she was expecting them to have more time. A few hours at least. It¡¯s a good thing that she has friends who are a lot smarter and perceptive than herself. Especially Jubilee. Fresh tilts her head, watching a lanky, cloaked figure shoot back out of the shadows, flying backwards together with a spire of dagger-like glass that chases after him, pushing him out of the darkness that he had vanished into. ¡°Patala,¡± says Jubilee, rolling their shoulders back and cracking their neck as they step out from the alley. ¡°Jubilee,¡± replies the snake-like man, catching himself, his escape having been cut off. Jubilee bends down, grabbing some dirt from the ground, not taking their eyes off of him. ¡°I knew you couldn¡¯t resist being a dick one last time before the end,¡± they say. ¡°Shield was gonna drop in a day anyways.¡± ¡°What can I say?¡± asks the man, dusting himself off. ¡°I have a pro-active life philosophy,¡± he hisses, looking over his shoulder at Shamrock, who has come out on the other side of the street. Jubilee snaps their fingers, a new shard of glass shooting out straight towards him. The man vanishes, appearing next to Shamrock who lurches forward, making a grab for him and missing as the man slithers down through his closing arms, sliding away a few steps to the side. Jubilee looks up towards her and nods. Fresh nods back, flying off through the hole in the shield. She doesn¡¯t want to leave her friends to deal with the man, but she knows that they¡¯ll handle it and most importantly, they¡¯re expecting her to handle her part in the mean time. Fresh flies out through the shield, out into the outside world for the first time in months. It¡¯s kind of depressing, in a way. The thing about the outside world is that¡­ well, it¡¯s that is has changed. As they once saw through the crystal-ball, while observing the hero from above, the grasslands are dead. The forests are dead. The waters of the rivers, the lakes, the rich topsoil and the high grasses on fertile hilltops, everything is encased and covered in a viscous, black smear that has suffocated the landscape. Fresh looks around herself, staring at the surface of the world that is simply faded and colorless. It¡¯s as if the light of the current cloudy day simply couldn¡¯t reach anything anymore. Not the rocks, not the grass, not the dirt, nothing. It¡¯s all just dead and entirely unmoving. It¡¯s all suffocated by a covering blanket of night that can¡¯t be washed away by the brightest rays of morning sun nor the heaviest of rains. A dot in the landscape, a thing off in the distance breaks the stillness of the scene. Fresh hovers in the air, watching him move. A single suit of armor, his sword dragging behind himself as he lurches towards her. The hero, Garnett. Or at least what remains of him. This curse, this thing that she had done to the hero, to make him like he is now, it was never just about stopping him, so that he couldn¡¯t destroy the fountain¡¯s plans. That¡¯s just the image that Perchta, the theatrical spirit of the fountain, was selling to her. She still remembers the intense dream that she had back in the north. The vision of the fountain screeching in rage and anger when it became apparent that a hero was going to be summoned. That was all just an act to make her afraid, to make her believe, to make her cooperate. It was a sword to dangle over her head. It really has been a set-up from the start. It doesn¡¯t matter which party she looks at, the people of this world, Jubilee, the thieves¡¯ guild, the fountain, everyone, literally everyone has had their finger in the mix, trying to push things their way from the start, from her very first day in this world. In actuality, he, the hero, is just the clean-up crew. That¡¯s why the fountain didn¡¯t just have her kill him outright. Because it wanted him around to get rid of her, after her purpose had been fulfilled. Fresh sighs. This world really is cutthroat, no matter which way you look at it. Ever since day one, it¡¯s been a fight for survival, for people looking to one-up each other. Here, in this place, in this central-city, things were different. It was nice here. She looks over her shoulder. Well¡­ It was. Before they had arrived. Before they had quite literally brought the problems of the outside world into paradise. She supposes that now, after this year and then some weeks, that she and they themselves are no better than all of the other people in this world, dominated by the presence of the bad-thing. They¡¯re just as desperate and greedy as they all are, there¡¯s no point in denying it. But she supposes that there¡¯s still a difference between them all, a thing that clearly separates them. They¡¯re stronger than everyone else. Maybe not in pure terms of levels. On that basis, many of the people in this city are a titanic force that still must be reckoned with. But in their own individual ways, they¡¯re stronger. Fresh looks back at the approaching silhouette of the true hero, the summoned hero Garnett, who is nothing more than a shell filled with nothing but violent, mindless purpose. She doesn¡¯t regret it, what she did to him. She did it for her family, after all. Her eyes wander towards the north, towards the east, towards the west. She doesn¡¯t regret any of it. She¡¯d do it all again if she could. Even knowing now what waits for the world and everyone they had met in it. Knowing all of it, she¡¯d do it again and again and again. The broom shoots forward as she flies to meet the man in the middle of the black-water drowned landscape, so that he doesn¡¯t destroy the city outright. It¡¯s about time too, for them to make their move. If Basil¡¯s prediction and lore is correct, then the gods, the things that sit opposite of Perchta, the fountain, in the cosmos, will make their move now, now that the time is right. The world hangs on the precipice of destruction. This is the final advent and these are the only times in which the essences of the things that are holy and good ever intervene in the mortal world. The gods only ever show themselves when things are at their most dire. A blur of color flashes beneath herself, dashing across the landscape in a splash of unusually vivid crimson, contrasting the black ink that coats the world. A red blur runs down along the ground on well trained legs adorned with enchanted, hovering boots that let her move without ever touching the black-water. If Fresh didn¡¯t know better, she¡¯d say that they¡¯re a manipulation of their own weight-reducing boots from the west. She squints, not surprised to see the red-wizard here. She was expecting her, after all. Actually, those really are a pair of her boots. Everyone is a player in the game. Fresh shakes her head, watching as it all comes together, exactly as Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock had put together. She¡¯s really glad to have them. On her own, she really would have been lost from the start. The red-wizard makes a bee-line towards the hero, a leather satchel flapping against her leg as she runs, not sick, not injured, not unhealthy, not anything. The woman looks over her shoulder as she sprints with gritted teeth, pushing as fast as she can to reach the hero before Fresh can get close enough, before the man mindlessly strikes and destroys everything. Fresh decides to let her. After all, the red-wizard has worked so hard to get here. She¡¯s played so many roles and people, why not let her have this? It would be mean not to. She¡¯s worked hard. She¡¯s earned it. Plus, most importantly, it¡¯s vital for the theatrics of the moment. It¡¯s important for the things that are watching them. Her eyes shoot towards the sky and while she can¡¯t see a single soul, entity, or creation of divinity watching them, she¡¯s sure that they¡¯re there. However they might look, however they might be manifested into existence, the things above, the gods and Perchta are all watching, they¡¯re hoping. Fresh smiles. - They¡¯re praying. She pushes the broom forward, shooting towards the red-wizard and the hero. A surge of unusual wind presses against herself, coming from seemingly nowhere in an instant and pushes Fresh backwards. The broomstick pulls up into the air, the otherworldly gale holding her back as the red-wizard runs on ahead entirely unhindered, as if the surge were avoiding her entirely. Fresh grabs onto the broom, pulling it steady to fight the unnatural storm that has seemingly come out of nowhere to slow her down. Fresh beams. ¡°It¡¯s important to have something to believe in, isn¡¯t it?¡± she asks the sky, tilting her head. She has to make a mental note to tell Basil that the gods are really real, for real. She¡¯s sure the priestess has come to pass over her crises of faith in many ways, but she¡¯ll certainly be glad to hear it from her anyway, she¡¯s sure. A great tremor shoots through the world, the ground cracks, a split running through it from one end of the horizon towards the other, the world shaking as things are set to motion. Fresh pushes forward again, flying after the red-wizard who has crossed most of the way now and stands before the hero. The red-clad woman hovers along-side the quiet entity that ignores her as it just marches single-mindedly towards Fresh. The red-wizard frantically reaches into her bag, pulling out a glass vial, a potion. Fresh clutches her face. ¡°Oh nooo~¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ve been deceived!¡± she croons dramatically. She carefully opens a single eye to watch as the red-wizard pours the potion into the hero¡¯s helmet. A wicked smile cracks on the lips of the horrible witch as she looks up towards the sky, towards where she perceives the smug faces of many gods to be staring her way right now, certain that the horrible witch has been beaten and outmatched and honestly, by herself she certainly would have been. But maybe that¡¯s the folly of the fountain, of the gods. They¡¯re only afraid of the terrible witch. They apparently didn¡¯t even bother to consider her friends, her friends who made this plan and so far, their plan is working perfectly. Razmatazz ALL ACCORDING TO KEIKAKU Translator''s note: (Keikaku means plan) Chapter 396: A slow turn ¡°Ah~¡± Fresh clutches her hands together next to her face, looking at the world around herself. A color comes to surround them all, herself and the entire city, just on time, just as expected. A chilling hue, indistinct of the color of the hero, who has stopped moving, indistinct of the color of the wizard, who stands there at his side, ready for a fight that Fresh still hasn¡¯t brought to them, makes its way towards them all and as for that fight, well, see, the thing is, the fight is coming all on its own. Fresh doesn¡¯t have to do a thing. The color of red fills the horizon, surging towards them now that the shield of the world-tree has fallen. A crimson flood crashes across the landscape like a tidal wave, the roaring waters coming to consume the last island in the entire world. - The wild hunt. The horrible witch holds her arms out in delight, spinning around and around in the air, listening to the cries that come to drown the world. Wretched, horrible screams of hundreds of thousands of clawing, dead, twisted things and many other noises fill the air; screeches of kobolds and zombies and the gnashing of vampires and the howling of wolves and the thrashing of leviathans and giants, whose silhouettes dot the crimson fog, towering through it as black, indistinct shapes of living mountains. There¡¯s even a few angry mush-mushes and goblins squeaking in there too. Every monster from every dungeon has come to make their final onslaught, led from three sides by the dungeon-masters of the north, west and south. That of course, leaves one last dungeon. One last point of entry, one last point of assault for the members of the wild-hunt. Fresh turns her head around, looking towards the central-city behind herself, towards the dungeon at the base of the world-tree. The gate of the central-dungeon has now begun to glow red, the attack happening from inside of the walls as well as outside of them. By all accounts, it¡¯s a perfectly coordinated scheme from Perchta, the fountain. Everything has come into play. The world-tree is withered from the inside out, the outer cities are destroyed, the central-city is next to defenseless, but even to surmount what little resistance they could offer, there¡¯s the booby-trapped dungeon inside of the walls too. Plus, on top of that, the hero himself had been corrupted to not only aid the onslaught, but to dispose of any useful ¡®tools¡¯, like Fresh, in the process. But Fresh continues to spin around on her broomstick in joy, humming to herself and smiling, her eyes, not watching the hero, or the apocalyptic army marching towards them all, but rather, they focus solely on the central-dungeon. A giant claw of some grotesque monster reaches out of the gate, the attack starting as the dungeon at the roots of the world-tree is breached. The only problem with Perchta¡¯s plan, is, of course, that she just doesn¡¯t have any friends. Fresh feels kind of sad for her, really. But she herself has some and that¡¯s why Perchta is unfortunately going to be pulling the short end of the stick today. ¡°Right about¡­¡± Fresh leans in, narrowing her eyes. ¡°NOW!¡± Nothing happens. She frowns, clearing her throat. ¡°- NOW!¡± Nothing happens. Fresh sighs, looking around herself for a moment, before looking back at the dungeon, that some horrible thing is crawling out of. Monsters begin to pour out of it, spriggans and harpies march out of the red-glow by the dozens. Fresh points at the giant tree. ¡°NOWIAH!¡± she yelps as an explosion shakes the world. The home-made clock she had made has ticked down to zero. The grim-powder explosive device that she had set up on the branch of the world-tree explodes, fire erupting out into all directions. The massive branch, hanging far above the dungeon-gate, gives way and crashes down into the city with a deafening shattering of stones and wood, sending up a cloud of dust and debris into the air that blasts out of the city with so much force that it reaches her even out here, this far outside of the walls. The entire marketplace plaza is essentially gone. She hopes that nobody was there anymore. But Basil should¡¯ve taken care of that. Thousands of birds fly out of the city all at once, together with the screams of many people, creatures and things. The central-dungeon is sealed, covered in debris, rubble and the mass of the giant branch. Fresh spins around and around. This is the best! Her friends are the best. How could she ever have gotten so lucky, to have such smart and diligent people in her life who care about her? A useless, worthless, dumb, ugly thing like herself? Fresh clutches herself, beaming, the broom stops, pointing back towards the hero. She¡¯s the luckiest person in the entire world! As for the hero, well, actually, he¡¯s not doing much. The red-wizard is shaking him, trying to get some response, now that he¡¯s drunk the healing potion. But now the man isn¡¯t moving anymore like before, nor is he acting like a healed, normal person. He¡¯s just kind of¡­ catatonic. In a way, she feels bad for him, really. The man had never done her any wrong, not out of his own volition at least. Fresh taps her chin, thinking. Garnett really did lose this cosmic coin-toss, didn¡¯t he? Sure, Peridot didn¡¯t like him that much, she thinks¡­? But he hadn¡¯t ever actually seemed like a bad guy. Not that they¡¯ve ever actually spoken more than two or three sentences to each other. Fresh sighs. This won¡¯t do. She needs the man to be responsive and active for the plan to continue working. She stares towards the horizon, watching the red-mist draw in closer and closer, churning and twisting, as if the ruby fog were the physical embodiment of rage. Horrible, twisted faces gnash and lash out of the fog, as if they were all already close enough to bite and tear into. Should she go and talk to him? Maybe she should offer him something? Maybe some token prize, to motivate him? The potion worked, for sure, so the only reason she can imagine that man is acting like he is, is because he¡¯s been suddenly struck with the weight of his past actions, now that control has been returned to his body. He¡¯s probably in shock, actually. The hero is just a man, a boy, after all. Fresh scratches her cheek and then donks herself on the head. ¡°Oh, right!¡± she says, laughing quietly to herself. She¡¯s been having too much fun, but now it¡¯s time to play the part of the evil witch. Everyone needs something to believe in, after all and heck, maybe that something doesn¡¯t always have to be a good thing? Maybe that something can be revenge, maybe it can be greed, maybe it can be grief and longing? But a purpose is important. A goal is important. Something to yearn for, to fight for. Fresh pulls her witch¡¯s hat out of her bag, setting it onto her head and clears her throat. She places her hand by her mouth, letting out a loud, shrill cackle as she flies towards the two of them, unhindered by any gods this time around. Metal rattles as the man moves, lifting his head for the first time to stare at her. Fresh continues to cackle, watching the tremor grow in him. It starts in his chest and then moves to his arms, a tremor born not of fear, but of strained, stressed, blood-pumped muscle and clenched fists. ¡°Some hero you turned out to be!¡± mocks Fresh, gesturing all around them. ¡°I made you hurt so many people. My armies are here. Your sister is my prisoner and you¡­¡± She puts on her best smug smile, leaning down forward to look at him from the flying broom. ¡°- You¡¯re just standing here like a broken doll!¡± She clasps her hands together. ¡°It¡¯s kind of sad, honestly. You¡¯re the hero?¡± she asks, leaning back and cackling again. ¡°You¡¯re just a big old chicken!¡± she says smugly, looking at the man who, having found a healthy, therapeutic dose of rage, seems to have managed to come back to life after all. That look in his eyes, that fire of the human spirit, Fresh smiles as she sees it. The plan is safe. The hero is alive and well and just in time to pick up the fight. But it¡¯s not her fight. She has better things to do than to hang out here. A blade swings out from below, glowing with light. ¡°STOP!¡± yells the red-wizard, clinging to his arm, stopping him from swinging the hero¡¯s sword towards Fresh. The city is just behind her, after all. Fresh cackles again. ¡°You better listen to her,¡± says Fresh, shaking a finger. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want to kill your last party-member too, would you?¡± she asks, waving as the broom hovers backwards. ¡°Oh, Red,¡± says Fresh, looking at the wizard, who is clutching onto the hero¡¯s arm, throwing the entire weight of her body against him to stop him. ¡°Let¡¯s be friends next time, okay?¡± she asks and then flies off back towards the city. That was kind of mean. But it had to be done, in order for her preparation work to be completed. Fresh turns back for a moment to look, just as the red-fog swallows the hero and the red-wizard. She closes her eyes, looking away, as a blast shakes the world, a scar of pure light cutting through the landscape, away from the city and blasting away a tower of red-fog from the east. ¡°PERCHTA!¡± yells a voice. Fresh looks over her shoulder. ¡°Oh, hey,¡± she says, looking at the familiar glowing gestalt that is the eastern dungeon-master. ¡°Wasn¡¯t expecting you here.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going on?!¡± asks the glowing entity. ¡°What happened to the dungeon?! Why is the hero here?!¡± It looks around. ¡°Do you know how much of the hunt just died?!¡± it yells. ¡°THREE-THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND TEN! We have to do something!¡± Explosions ring out outside of the city. ¡°Yeah, uh¡­¡± Fresh scratches her cheek, somewhat awkwardly. ¡°I should probably tell you something,¡± she says, shrugging. She looks around, as if to see that nobody is listening in on them and then waves the dungeon-master in with a finger. She leans in to whisper into its ear. ¡°What?¡± it asks. (Fresh) has stabbed (Dungeon-Master {East}) for {6} DMG Applied status: [Bleeding 3] The creature lets out a sharp exhalation, looking down at the twisted dagger, sticking into its chest. ¡°Per¡­chta?¡± ¡°My name is Fresh,¡± says the horrible witch. The dungeon-master of the eastern dungeon dies, its body violently hurtling through the air, smashing into the rubble below in a twisted, leaking heap. Fresh looks down at it and then stows away the dagger, flying back to the city. That was for Basil¡¯s leg. Chapter 397: The calm before It¡¯s a shame, really. Fresh pushes a brick over with her boot, turning around to watch a group of mounted soldiers rushing past the destroyed marketplace, on their way to fortify the walls of the city. She sighs, turning back to look at the mess. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the sweeping if you do the dusting,¡± says Basil. Fresh laughs, but it¡¯s kind of a pained, saddened laugh. She looks around at the rubble that they¡¯re standing on-top of. This pile of bricks and heaped wood, this used to be their house. - Or maybe it was the neighbor¡¯s? An explosion of blinding light rocks the world, stemming from the east. Fresh frowns, looking around the mess that is the market-place as the shine of an out of place sun dies down. It¡¯s hard to tell what¡¯s what anymore, actually. Her eyes wander towards the shattered, dead, massive branch that lays over the street. The destroyed thing is taller than many of the houses here, not counting the flattened ones, of course. ¡°I think we¡¯re gonna need to do more than that,¡± replies Fresh. ¡°Are you okay, Basil?¡± she asks. Basil nods. ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you,¡± replies the priestess. ¡°Everything is set up.¡± ¡°Mm.¡± Fresh nods back. ¡°The whole hero thing is taken care of too.¡± ¡°The red-wizard?¡± asks Basil. Fresh nods. ¡°Yup. Just like you said.¡± Basil sighs, shaking her head. ¡°When you take care of children for a long time, there are so many things that you learn without even realizing,¡± says the priestess, bending down to pick up an old book from their library. She dusts it off, trying to see which one it is. It doesn¡¯t seem to be anything exciting, so she just shrugs and sets it back down, leaning it against some rubble. ¡°Like faking being ill. It happened a lot, back in the cathedral,¡± explains Basil. ¡°It was an easy way to get out of chores and still get some food.¡± Fresh looks at the priestess for a while. Of course, all of Basil¡¯s wards from the north are likely dead, like everyone else in the outer cities. She very much doubts that the monsters of the wild-hunt have any moral qualms about such things. She knows that Basil knows this as well. But¡­ well, why even bring it up? It would just make them both sad. Best to just leave it be. The world erupts into a flash of light once more, as a powerful, magical energy is released. A shockwave presses through the city. Loose stones tumble down from the ruins around them. ¡°So, when we get to the other place,¡± starts Fresh. ¡°What do you wanna do, Basil?¡± she asks, wanting to change the topic. They have to wait here a while anyway, until their parts in the scheme continue. ¡°Huh? Me?¡± asks Basil, sitting down on what Fresh assumes is a piece of what was once the tower on the upper floor. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ve always kind of just gone places and did the ¡®dungeon item shop¡¯ thing,¡± says Fresh. ¡°But, like¡­ what do you wanna do?¡± she asks. ¡°If we can just start over somewhere else?¡± Basil blinks, looking at her for a moment, before leaning back, resting her palms behind herself and staring up towards the cloudy sky that has still yet to part. ¡°I¡¯ve grown fond of running a store, honestly,¡± she says. ¡°But maybe we could do something less exciting next time?¡± she asks. The priestess counts off her fingers. ¡°We could make tea or toys, or maybe we could sell fruits?¡± The ground beneath their feet quakes as the world fills up with a dazzling light. ¡°Fruits?¡± asks Fresh, thinking about it. ¡°Sure!¡± Basil gestures around herself. ¡°We could get a nice patch of land, outside of the city and we¡¯d plant a whole group of fruit trees,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°And then we could sell them as is or dry them to make teas and snacks and all sorts of things like that.¡± Fresh nods. This is an excellent idea. But there¡¯s a problem. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can afford to buy property anymore, Basil,¡± explains Fresh. ¡°With Obols being worthless now and all.¡± Basil sighs. ¡°I had assumed as much,¡± she replies. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll just join an adventurer¡¯s guild, indebt ourselves and start crawling through some muddy dungeon to repay our dues before we¡¯re sold into debt-slavery?¡± Fresh gasps. ¡°Is that an option?!¡± she asks excitedly, clenching her fists and leaning in towards Basil. ¡°Let¡¯s do that, Basil!¡± ¡°I was afraid you¡¯d say that,¡± says the priestess. ¡°It¡¯ll be great!¡± says Fresh. ¡°We can all work hard together to fight through the dungeon!¡± she explains, clasping her hands together. ¡°Then we¡¯ll be really poor for a long time, so we¡¯re going to have to share a room and a bed and the little food that we have and we¡¯ll have nothing but each other!¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Basil lifts a finger. ¡°I feel like you¡¯re romanticizing our future poverty and hardship a little,¡± she says. Fresh nods. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°¡­Yes?¡± asks Basil. ¡°Yes,¡± repeats Fresh. ¡°It¡¯s going to be the best, Basil!¡± she assures. Basil laughs. ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡± The priestess gets up. ¡°It¡¯s probably about time for us to keep going,¡± she says, playing with her bracelet. ¡°Do you think that Jubilee and Shamrock are okay?¡± asks Fresh, looking out over the ruins. ¡°I¡¯m sure that they¡¯re fine,¡± says Basil, crossing her arms. ¡°Shamrock is Shamrock and Jubilee is too much of a jackass to die.¡± Fresh snorts, holding in a laugh at Basil¡¯s snappiness. Basil frowns. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Jubilee¡¯s really been rubbing off on me in a bad way,¡± explains the priestess. ¡°I guess I¡¯ve lost my manners.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay, Basil,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone.¡± Basil nods. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she says. ¡°Everything is going to be fine,¡± she assures. ¡°You promise?¡± asks Fresh. A glowing eruption of magical energy comes from the east as the hero strikes again. Basil climbs down the rubble. It¡¯s time to get back to work. ¡°When has it ever not been fine?¡± she asks, waving her off. ¡°I promise.¡± Fresh nods, looking around herself as Basil vanishes to move on to the next step of the plan. Patala is taken care of, Jubilee and Shamrock will see to that. The hero is taken care of, she¡¯s seen to that herself. The wild-hunt is taken care of, the hero will see to that. That just leaves the biggest problem in the room, Perchta. Well, that and one or two other things as well, but nothing that¡¯s really worth worrying about. Fresh rises to the tips of her toes, lifting her hands into the air to wiggle her fingers. Something pops in her lower back and she lets out a sharp gasp, lowering herself back down to the soles of her feet. ¡°I must be getting old,¡± she laughs to herself, grabbing her broom and sitting back onto it, as she rises into the air, her eyes wandering towards the sky. Another flash of light erupts, sending a blastwave of magical energy over the horizon. It¡¯s just about time now for Perchta and the other big players to reveal themselves. Fresh sighs. It¡¯s all so much stress and planning, the end of the world. She¡¯d much rather be running their store. - Something quiet and calm, huh? Fresh floats up into the air, racking her brain for what they could sell in their next, new store that fits in these criteria. After all, if there¡¯s one thing she¡¯s learned from this experience, it¡¯s how important it is to prepare for the future. Chapter 398: The rounds Fresh hovers in the air, looking around at the chaos all around herself. People are screaming and running through the streets, flooding towards the castle. Somewhere, nearby, but out of sight, a baby is vehemently crying and not being quieted. She turns her gaze, looking towards the walls of the city. The eastern flank is essentially entirely untouched, barring the brickwork knocked loose by the battle being fought outside of the city by the hero and presumably the red-wizard. Fresh doesn¡¯t know for certain, but she likes to think that, ironically enough, this time the caster didn¡¯t run away from the fight. As for the other walls¡­ Her eyes wander towards the west, where the fog has already reached the walls. The soldiers of the central-city are already well at work, fighting off groups of monsters from the western dungeon to varying degrees of success. Fresh blinks, squinting her eyes together and staring for a moment as something soars her way. She yelps, diving down to the ground just in time as a dragon from the mountain dungeon shoots through the sky, lashing out at the spot she was just at with a gaping maw, full of gnashing, giant teeth, each the size of a full-grown adult human. The ground lights up, down from the alleyways and Fresh watches as a dozen and then some spells fly up into the air, smashing into the dragon¡¯s breast. The creature screeches, falling out of the sky and down into the city, crashing into a row of houses and flattening them as it flails, breathing magical ice everywhere as it tries to get back up to its feet. The northern end of the city seems to have a far more grim task, as the shambling zombies, skeletons and the lurching, lashing vampires of the northern dungeon make their assault. Jubilee and Shamrock should have been back by now, but she hasn¡¯t seen them yet. Fresh hovers back into the air, looking at the spot the fight with Patala had begun. But apart from heaps of glass and destroyed ruins, there isn¡¯t any sign of them there. Somewhat worried, she looks around the area. *Bak* *Bak* ¡°¡­Huh?¡± Somewhat confused, Fresh watches as a chicken runs by down the street, having escaped from its coop. She watches it run past. The chicken stops, turning its head. Their gazes meet and the two of them stare at each other in a moment of familiar tension. *Bak¡­* Fresh lifts her hands, slowly kicking off of the ground. ¡°Hey, little guy. How¡¯s it g- IAH-¡± *BAKAAAAAAW!* The chicken charges towards her with indignant fury in its eyes. Terrified, Fresh kicks her boot onto the ground, pushing herself up into the air. Something grabs her leg and Fresh screams, shaking it as hard as she can as the bird has latched onto her robe with its beak, flapping its wings furiously. ¡°Bad! Bad chicken!¡± she shouts, shaking the chicken off. It falls back down to the ground, flapping its wings angrily, clawing at the stones as it carefully watches her from below. Fresh sighs, turning her head just in time to duck down again as a spell blasts over her head, cast from some alley down below by some unseen person. The witch flies off, trying to find a safer place to be. She needs to find her friends. Her eyes scan the streets as she flies around the city. The east is fairly quiet, apart from the very nervous guardsman on the walls, watching the spectacle of the hero essentially vaporizing the entire landscape. It¡¯s so bright that it¡¯s hard to even see anything. It¡¯s as if the sun itself were sitting just outside of the city. She keeps flying. The north is in much rougher shape. The walls here have been breached and the undead are already in the city. Those people who didn¡¯t run to the center are now either barricaded in their homes, or being eaten on the streets. Fresh lifts her eyes, looking away from the grim sights below herself that don¡¯t disturb her as much as she had expected they would and hovers above a tower that is completely surrounded by zombies, who are hammering against the door. She lands on it, looking around the city. No, it doesn¡¯t look like her friends are here either. Something breaks noisily beneath herself, the door, presumably. Screams come from below. People rush upstairs towards the top of the tower and Fresh gets back onto her broom, flying away before they can get up here and do something troublesome like asking her for help or to fly them away. She has to find her friends. It¡¯s not that she doesn¡¯t want to help everyone, it¡¯s just that she can¡¯t solve their problems while she¡¯s worried about Jubilee and Shamrock. She thinks that¡¯s understandable. The horrible witch heads towards the west. The wall here seems to be holding well, at least on top. The guardsmen who line the walls with long pikes easily repel any creatures and monsters trying to scale it. Strong eyed and armed archers and casters take care of anything trying to fly over it. Fresh hovers downward, tapping a guardsman on the shoulder. ¡°Hey, uh, excuse me?¡± she asks. The man, wide-eyed and terrified, turns around and looks at her, his bloodied pike shaking in his hands. Fresh points down towards the ground. ¡°They¡¯re kobolds, you know?¡± she asks. ¡°They¡¯re digging down beneath the wall,¡± she explains. ¡°You should probably m-¡± The wall collapses, breaking apart. The man vanishes with a scream as do the others around them as a cloud of dust and debris fills the air, obscuring the silhouettes of many stabbing, biting, gnawing creatures below. Fresh frowns, looking towards the south. It looks like her friends aren¡¯t here either. She flies that way, looking around the surprisingly quiet neighborhoods. If she was Perchta, she¡¯d have sent some people down to breach the southern wall, personally. But, looking around, it just doesn¡¯t seem like any of that is happening here. ¡°Jubilee!¡± calls Fresh, cupping her hand by her mouth. ¡°Shamroooock!¡± Nothing. The terrible witch stares around at the empty streets, listening as explosions ring out in the distance. She rubs her arm nervously, hoping that her friends aren¡¯t hurt as she turns her head to look at a familiar street shrine. She supposes that it makes sense that any collection of members of the witches¡¯ sect would be on the southern end of the city. She supposes that they really are all gone though, having moved on from this world and time. On one hand, it would have really been practical to have a bunch of people to help her out at a time like this. On the other hand, it would be annoying. The good thing about there not being a witches¡¯ sect anymore, she supposes, is that there isn¡¯t anyone running after her, hounding her and worshiping her all day, every day. It would be troublesome, if there were people everywhere who knew their faces. Fresh kicks back off into the air, looking at the empty shrine that belongs to a faith that has left this world. Flying back to the center of the city, she lands at the ruins of their house, looking around for her friends, of which there is still no sign. Now what? Fresh rubs her arm. The fight is still going to consume the city for a little while, but¡­ The witch looks towards the still cloudy sky for a moment, but a glimmer catches her eyes, coming from something sticking out of the rubble. Walking over, she picks up the oddity and looks at it. A tarot card from her deck; the lovers. Fresh turns her gaze back towards the sky as the clouds begin to part with unnaturally smooth movements, the vaporous bodies drifting towards the moon to obscure it, contorting and twisting its features into that of a long, crooked face. The world itself shakes, rumbling as a great happening shakes the very foundations of the entire city. Rocks and rubble fall down everywhere from the ruined buildings, tumbling down onto the debris filled streets. Fresh quickly jumps back onto her broom, watching as the world below, the streets, the ground, the grass is all permeated by a thick, gooey ooze that begins to flow up through the cracks. Black-water. The world begins to sink. Chapter 399: Sludge Everything shakes, rumbling and quaking as a gloopy, fetid, wet mass presses itself out from beneath the crust of the world. Thick, viscous black ooze shoots out between the cracks in the paved streets, spraying out through the breaking foundations of the houses, like pus from a deeply infected wound, held under pressure. Fresh flies up a few feet more into the air, looking around at the sinking city around herself, bathed in the light of the witches¡¯ moon. It looks like Perchta is making her move. ¡°Hey!¡± Someone calls from down below. Fresh blinks, looking at the person. A dark-elf stands there on some rocks, waving towards her with both arms. ¡°Help! Please!¡± Fresh tilts her head, looking at the stranded elf. She seems familiar. The witch narrows her eyes, thinking for a moment about who she could be. ¡°Ah!¡± She has a realization, remembering who the stranger is. ¡°Hi!¡± she waves excitedly. This is one of Veli¡¯s friends. She looks around herself, wondering where the fairy is. She hopes that he¡¯s okay. She likes Veli and while it¡¯s sad that he¡¯s outgrown them, she still considers him as someone she cares about. ¡°How¡¯s it going? How¡¯s Veli?¡± asks Fresh, hovering down towards the elf. She looks around, watching as the remnants of their shop and home crumble apart, splashing into the growing stream of sludge that has now consumed the entire street. ¡°The neighborhood¡¯s really gone downhill, huh?¡± she jokes. Fresh blinks. Maybe that was insensitive? She¡¯s always so bad at these things. She hopes the stranger isn¡¯t offended, she wouldn¡¯t want her to tell Veli that she had made some tasteless remark. Suddenly, something grabs her leg. ¡°Hey! Let go!¡± snaps Fresh. The broom wobbles as the stranger yanks on it, trying to pull her down lower. Fresh tries to shake her off, but the stranger is clambering on to the shaft of the broom. ¡°It¡¯s not strong enough to hold two people!¡± yells Fresh, trying to keep her balance as the broom wobbles around back and forth, struggling to stay in the air. ¡°Stop!¡± The dark-elf isn¡¯t listening, grabbing onto Fresh and the broom, trying to pull herself up. Fresh slides sideways, clamping her legs together and locking them together over the top, so that she doesn¡¯t fall off of the broom. She looks down below herself, staring at the black-water only inches from her face. She sees no reflection on the surface of the muck. ¡°Let go!¡± The broom lowers down closer to the sludge and Fresh panics, not knowing what else to do, she grabs the woman¡¯s leg and bites into it as hard as she can. Something screams in pain and she feels something strike her hard against the back of her head. (Fresh) has bit (???) for {5} DMG ! Applied Status: Grappled (???) has struck (Fresh) with her fist for {6} DMG ! Applied Status: Dazed Fresh yanks herself away in surprise, her legs still clamped around the broom, her hands still wrapped around the dark-elf¡¯s leg from when she just bit it. Everything¡¯s a jumble and a second later, there¡¯s a splash. Fresh pulls herself back upright, looking through dizzy eyes as the woman kicks and struggles, spluttering as she swims, her body submerged beneath the water as if the five inches of obscured road were now as deep as the ocean. She screams, splashing and flailing, her hands and arms striking against the rocks of the ruins as she tries to climb up, smashing her fists bloody against broken glass and metal in a frantic terror. Blood sprays everywhere from a cut on her wrist, as she tries to grab onto a broken window. The woman lurches, letting out a wet noise and then, she¡¯s quiet. Fresh covers her mouth, looking as the dark-elf¡¯s head flops lifelessly to the side. Her mouth opens, falling slack as something crawls through it. Small, inky tendrils creep out of her lips like the roots of a black fungus, like a pair of hands, grasping her cheeks so that whatever is behind them can pull itself out of her throat and as her mouth falls open, in that second before she sinks down beneath the surface of the water, Fresh is sure that she can see a single, jaundiced yellow eye, staring out from inside of her throat. The elf-vanishes, sinking away beneath the murk. Fresh wipes her face on her sleeve, rubbing away her tears and rubbing the back of her head for a moment as she watches the water. Deciding it¡¯s best to keep her distance, for obvious reasons, Fresh hovers up higher. She hopes that Veli isn¡¯t going to be sad about this. More importantly, she hopes that her friends are okay. Basil should be fine, given where she is right now. But Jubilee and Shamrock are certainly stuck on the ground, for better or for worse. Should she go outside and take the red-wizard¡¯s flying boots? Jubilee could wear them and then Shamrock, well, he¡¯d have to leave his armor behind. But they could make it work somehow. Fresh frowns, looking towards the east. There isn¡¯t anything there to see. The fighting has stopped. There aren¡¯t any explosions, there aren¡¯t any screams, there¡¯s just¡­ nothing. The hairs on her neck stand on end as she looks around the city, realizing that it isn¡¯t just the east that is quiet. Apart from some smoke, rising to the sky, there is nothing to see anywhere. There aren¡¯t any sounds either, no screams, no fighting, no worried voices or people planning things or talking about this or that, no growls of monsters or quakes of destruction, caused by powerful spells. Not even the wind moves through the city, leaving her surrounded by the total sensation of void, except for the unnervingly loud striking of her heart and the ringing in her still pulsing head. Fresh holds her hand over her chest, trying to slow her breathing down. The black-water continues to rise, reaching the elevation of where their windows used to be on the ground floor and now, as the city is consumed by a lifeless, colorless ocean, Fresh sees something moving beneath its surface. In fact, she sees many somethings. The water ripples and moves, like the body of the real ocean, pushed back and forth by waves. But the disturbances here that she sees aren¡¯t waves. The black-water flows only in one direction, the current of unspeakable things ebbing towards the only part of the city, untouched by the chaos and destruction, until now; the southern end. The things that look like the ripples of a streaming current are long, warped, distorted faces, that appear as if they¡¯ve been grabbed in their eye sockets are being yanked away into the depths, their screaming visages being torn towards a point of convergence by long, gangly, greedy, witchy fingers. Despite the torment on their expressions, the faces of the many, of the every who have been consumed by the black-water, not a single peep can be heard throughout the entire city. The black-water hasn¡¯t just taken the people of this city, the humans and the elves of all kinds and the orcs, it has taken the monsters too. The kobolds, the mush-mushes, the undead, the goblins, anything and everything that could be taken, has been taken and is now being moved to the one spot untouched by the carnage. There¡¯s a reason that the south wasn¡¯t attacked yet. Fresh hovers higher into the air, watching as the flow of souls comes together into a twisted, gnarled mass in one black pool, centered around a single, small, familiar shrine which now that it has been disturbed, now that the fabric and the ornaments have been ripped away by violent forces, appears to be a simple fountain. Each side of the city was attacked by the dungeon from that direction and the dungeon to the south was home to the entity which now makes its move; Perchta. A face appears in the black-water, dozens of houses falling into the sinkhole as it emerges. It is a warped, misshapen thing, like a skull that has been stomped dozens of times over, it¡¯s flattened and squished and its features are broken and wrong, its vocality is the first noise that breaks the deafening silence. It screams, as a thousand lashing tendrils, dotted with another thousand gangrene eyes, shoot out of the cold, empty sludge, thrusting out of its mouth, out of its eyes like worms rising from an unburied corpse. All of them look her way. Razmatazz It''s probably fine Chapter 400: Moonfall The spring of a year ago had brought with it such an energetic, vibrant, flourishing breath of life into her spirit, which had not known such a sensation for a time as long as she could have remembered during those frightening, but oddly exciting days. That verdant season was followed by the hazy, lethargic summer, which had tampered her new excitable, childish energies with a dampening, sweltering, quiet heat, fostering inside of herself a desire to live comfortably; not only by herself, but with those people closest to herself. After that, came the calm, but nourishing season of autumn, in which she finally had started to feel as if she was a thing that belonged not only to the world, but a thing that belongs to people, who in turn belong to herself. The final season, of course, being winter, had painted over all of those new foundations and constructs of her soul, covering them in a quiet resolution to never, ever, ever let go of these new feelings, to never, ever, EVER let them be taken away by anyone or anything, especially by her own self, her old self, by her own bad habits and tendencies, by her previous deeply set desires to punish herself for even just existing. Spring has now come again, a full cycle of seasons having been completed and the thing that is here now, the thing that she is, a person, imperfect, perhaps a bit unwell, mentally, but happy, this person is the final result of what has been the most fulfilling time she could have ever imagined happening. Despite everything, despite how it all looks right now, despite what has happened on the way and what will happen still, Fresh wouldn¡¯t trade it for a single other possible existence in this world or any other. Fresh can¡¯t help but smile as she looks at the monstrous coagulation, made up out of languishing, melted faces, at the creature, the entity that does nothing but scream and lash, at the thousand eyes which look around themselves in a fury, the tendrils whipping and striking out around in all directions, destroying everything in their paths. The water rises higher and higher, slowly starting to swallow the city, slowly rising up towards the castle, set up high atop the roots of the dead world-tree, where the last of the people likely are surviving, barring one or two people stuck on an attic, roof or wall. ¡°Hey!¡± Fresh cups her hand by her mouth, calling out to the entity, Perchta. ¡°I want a raise,¡± she jokes. ¡°This is too much work for one employIEEE~!¡± Fresh ducks out of the way, the broom shooting to the side to avoid the heap of toxic sludge thrown her way by a large tendril. She thought it was a good joke. Shamrock would have liked it. The broom comes to a stop, hovering off to the side as the entity makes its way towards the castle. Perchta, now outside of her usual, quiet, environment, apparently isn¡¯t much of a talker. Fresh shoots to the side as another tendril blasts out of the oozy water beneath herself, ducking and weaving as a mass of the winding, eye-dotted growths suddenly appear before herself. They silhouette her on all sides, as if she were flying through a forest, between the thick trunks of many trees that then try to collapse down on top of herself. Water splashes everywhere as they land back into the murk, the tide rising higher, the entity moving through the city, destroying anything that¡¯s left on its way to the castle. She flies out of Perchta¡¯s reach. Honestly, she herself doesn¡¯t even seem to be the primary target here. Perchta seems to be focused on the people of the city first and foremost. After everything, it¡¯s almost a little insulting, really. The witch rises higher into the air, getting further out of the grasp of the creature. A bright, orange glare catches her attention as something erupts from the east. Sparks shoot out in clear trails, breaking off in several directions. A firework, orange. Fresh sighs in relief, holding a hand against her chest as she feels her heartbeat slow down again. Orange is the good signal. It looks like everyone made it safely outside after all. She was worried there for a while. Relieved, the witch turns back towards the entity, still heading towards the castle. She really owes herself for this, big-time. The question is, does she wait for Perchta to destroy the castle or not? On one hand, it¡¯ll take care of the whole ¡®witnesses¡¯ thing, which is of course, critical for their future survival. But, on the other hand, it is kind of a grim thing to even be considering. Man, she really used to be a lot nicer than this, huh? Fresh scratches her cheek with her left hand, pondering the morality of the situation, but then just shakes her head. What an odd train of thought. Of course, they need the people in the castle to survive, so it¡¯s not really a question, just more of an idle consideration while she¡¯s trying to pass the time. She needs to give the hero some leeway to make his way back, after all. The horrible witch flies back down into the fray, pushing through the mass of tendrils, dotted with eyes that all turn to focus on her. ¡°Hey, Perchta,¡± says Fresh. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± she asks. ¡°I like your eyes! All¡­ uh¡­ well, all of them.¡± The entity screams a wordless, agonized, guttural howl, its massive head, the size of several houses, turns to face her, its mouth twisted and broken, dropping and sloshing in on itself only for more ooze to reform the face a second later. ¡°I was afraid you¡¯d say that¡­¡± says Fresh. A shadow looms over her head. She yelps, the nimble broom flying away as she shoots towards the castle, wanting to get there first. Fresh lands at the gate to the entrance, several of the usual cloaked guardsman there. Fresh gives them a thumbs-up. ¡°It¡¯s great that you guys take your work so seriously,¡± she says, looking around. ¡°Hey, is Muldrich around?¡± ¡°W- who?¡± asks a castle-guard nervously. Fresh frowns. ¡°Do you guys have contact with the city-guard, usually?¡± A guardsman screams, dropping his pike and running away, his cape flowing behind him as he dashes towards the castle. Fresh blinks. That was a confusing response. She shrugs, turning back towards the entity heading their way. The horrible witch lifts her fingers, framing Perchta¡¯s tormented face inside of the box, between her index fingers and thumbs. This should have been enough time by now. Fresh looks over her shoulder, towards the flooded city. He should be here any minute now. It¡¯s about that time for herself then. The witch slings her rucksack down, looking inside of it to see if everything¡¯s still fine. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m going to borrow this, okay?¡± she asks, walking up to a guardsman and yanking his crossbow from his hands. ¡°Thanks!¡± Fresh hums to herself, kneeling down and drawing the bolt back, which is harder than she¡¯d thought it would be. Good thing she did all those push-ups. Fresh smiles, loading in the custom-made bolt. An arrow, tipped with a hollow moon-glass arrow-head, the shaft coated in a thin layer of crystal-drakonium. Well, this has been fun and all. But that¡¯s enough playing around. Jubilee will yell at her if she slacks off during their open hours. Fresh pulls the strap of the crossbow around her shoulders, sets her large, flat-brimmed hat onto her head and gets back onto her broom, kicking off into the air, flying towards Perchta. The central-city was a lot of fun. But she hopes that the other place, the other continent where they¡¯ll be living their next life, she hopes that it¡¯s even more fun. She hopes that this next year to come will be just as rich and exciting and fulfilling as this one that has come to pass. The witch lifts the crossbow, the broom shooting through the ruins of the city. A tentacle whips up towards her and she ducks down, pulling her head down. The broom spins and flies through an already shattered window, the shards just missing her by the skin of her teeth. With her legs clasping around the broomstick, Fresh clambers back upright, adjusting her course and leans against the shaft of the moving thing, as she holds the crossbow out in front of herself. ¡°Hey! Perchta!¡± yells the witch out ahead of herself. The entity turns its face, screaming and lunging towards her as she draws closer once more, its massive maw open, a hundred tendrils rising up on both sides of herself, covering her in a shadow that is so heavy, that to an outside observer, it could seemingly only belong to the falling moon itself. ¡°I quit,¡± says Fresh, pulling the trigger. Her arm kicks back, the bolt shoots from the crossbow, whistling with a sharp screech as it slices through the air. The sky clears in an instant, the cloudy coverage that was there just a moment ago dissipates. Fresh can¡¯t help but roll her eyes, of course. Basil might be right in saying that the gods are real, but Jubilee has a point in saying that they¡¯re huge dicks if they are. A radiant light shines from above, the impossibly strong glow of the sun piercing the veil, as the powers that be make themselves seen, make themselves known, just in the instant that the arrow shatters in Perchta¡¯s mouth. Perchta screams, lashing and flailing, her tendrils pressing into her own face as she tries to scrape out the poison. Fresh reaches back, tapping against the world-tree shielding ornament hanging from her bag. A small bubble of magical energies appears all around herself in that second, as she vanishes into darkness, having flown straight into the creature¡¯s mouth. ¡°YOU!¡± yells a voice from all around herself, the first coherent words that she¡¯s heard. ¡°I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!¡± Fresh stares at the face appearing before herself, a face that looks very much like her own. It reaches out towards her, grasping for her with sickly, wet, black hands that reach for her throat. Flying in, still using her momentum, Fresh ducks through them and grabs the entity. ¡°Perchta¡­~¡± says Fresh, looking at the distraught creature that she¡¯s holding in her arms, the twisted, gloopy, fetid thing that is the result of a soul festering and fermenting in the deepest reaches of misery and self-torment for a full decade. The entity, falling apart, stares at her with haunted, disgusted, furious eyes. Its hands try to swipe at her, to grab her, to choke her, to gouge her eyes out, but the black-water is receding, Perchta¡¯s body is failing because of the purewater-arrow and her limbs are unable to grasp and her fingers unable to claw. Fresh lifts a finger, smiling. ¡°Boop!¡± Her body suddenly lurches as she hurtles towards the ground, her broom unable to fly anymore. Fresh watches as the body of Perchta dissipates, coming apart into a a thousand droplets that splash all around herself, falling with herself as if she were just one of the many, just a splash of water, falling from the sky, just a thing that belongs to the place where she is. Fresh lands in the water, splashing as it begins to recede, sinking back away beneath the ground and then, only a minute later, it¡¯s all gone, as if it never was. The witch lays there on the street, looking up towards the sky that is now as blue and as bright as on every other day, except for one thing. The witches¡¯ moon is still there, the few clouds that remain are still stuck their of their own accord, until the wind might move them and so, now, there is an eclipse with the sun shining in full force, silhouetting the crooked, laughing face of the moon that smiles as if it knew her secret. Fresh smiles too, lifting her finger towards her lips to shush it, before turning her head towards the sky, towards the gods who are watching, towards the entities that have made their appearance not to help the city and its people, but to take credit for her defeat of the evil. That¡¯s just politics, she supposes. It seems that the world below really does reflect the heavens above. It isn¡¯t just cut-throat down here, it¡¯s cut-throat up there too. Fresh gets up, shaking out her wet sleeves and broom. She looks at the poor thing, but it doesn¡¯t fly anymore. With Perchta gone, her patron as a witch, it¡¯s out of magic. That means that her own powers are going to fade soon too. She needs to hurry, before¡­ ¡°Ah.¡± Fresh lifts her eyes, looking towards the man of the hour, the man who has finally arrived. The hero, Garnett. She exhales a long breath, watching as the man silently marches towards her, watching as the people of the city, as the people of the castle stand above on the walls, on the towers, on the ramparts and watch. The witch adjusts her hat, letting out a theatrical cackle, laughing smugly. There¡¯s an image left to impart here, after all. ¡°I¡¯ll tell your sister you said ¡®hi¡¯,¡± taunts the horrible, yet now just about powerless witch. The man in the armor stands there, an unusually powerful wind coursing through the streets, billowing his tattered cape in a dramatic gale. It seems that everyone is prone to theatrics here. Without a word, the man lifts his sword into the air. Fresh reaches down, grabbing her dagger and rushes towards him, knowing that she¡¯s going to lose this fight. It¡¯s nothing personal, at least not for herself. It¡¯s just, you know; It is what it is. The hero swings and the sword cuts through her shoulder, down through her heart. Fresh dies. Razmatazz Tomorrow, we part ways, our journey having come to an end =) Thank you for reading 400 chapters of DIS! Chapter 401: THE END In those beautiful days come to pass, after the happenings in the central-city, after the strange and finally horrible year that befell the heart of the world has come to an end, something new has found its way to the presence of the hearts and minds of those who remain. While it¡¯s impossible to say for certain, rumors have it that a shift has occurred in the survivors of the event. A shift born not only out of a crushing, desperate fear for survival, for both themselves and for their kin, but also stemming from a new sensation, a new yearning that has come with the dawn of the first light of the rising sun, after that horrible day. Another day might come to pass in which people begin to pick up the pieces, begin to survey what¡¯s left, who¡¯s left and after this day, might come a new week, in which they tentatively stretch out their feelers, touching towards the future to consider what it might now hold in store for them and their ilk. It is said, in whispers, that these further days to come might be brighter and lighter than ever before, not because of the bulk of the population, which is now missing, but because those who remain have borne witness to the horrible result of what inevitably comes, when pure survival-instinct, when greed and personal desires all take over, dominating and suppressing any other senses that might belong to such things as human-creatures, elves or orcs. Senses to create things of beauty and of kindness, not just material things, but immaterial things as well. Moments, memories, feelings not in oneself, but in the person who is sitting across the table. There is a reward to these things, a forgotten reward that is only now slowly rediscovered by one person after the other in these days to come, now that the table has been flipped, now that the game has been brought to a forceful end, now that there are simply no pieces left on the board to play with, at least not for another few generations, until the damage of the catastrophe is healed and darkness is once again given a pit to fester inside of. The world-tree is dead and with it slowly too will wither the remaining ambient magic of the world, bringing an end to the era of adventurers, of dungeons and such things and paving the way for a new era of yearning spiritual hunger. Of course, this is all pure theory. Nobody can say for sure if this is really what¡¯s going to happen. But it¡¯s nice to think about. The woman sits by the fire, holding her hands out towards it. A large bag is at her side, filled to the brim with provisions and supplies that nobody could ever really be sure where she got them from. Looted houses, perhaps? Or perhaps she really has renounced those ways, some of them at least, and had really afforded herself an escape plan of purchased and earned provisions and goods. It is said that the human spirit for survival at any cost is what sets them apart from the other races, in a way. In past eras, this was a point of contention, as generations ago, the elves of the deep forests of the world, saw them as more of a plague and a pest because of this particular attribute. Akin to a swarm, they would just spread and spread. For better or for worse however, this human spirit has led them to thrive and to dominate the bulk of most of the world¡¯s populations. At least on this side of it. Slowly, the other races, elves, orcs are being bred out over generations, just as prior races such as dwarves had once been removed from the playing field. Not through war, but through time. This human spirit, this is what the red-wizard, the woman who sits by the fire, carries with herself, for better or for worse. Honesty, truthfulness, integrity, passion, dreams, for some, none of these things matter as much as the simple state of survival ever could. It¡¯s not cruelty, it¡¯s pragmatism, it¡¯s reality. Survival is everything. Nobody wants to die, after all. The red-wizard, having finished her rest, sits back upright, looking over the blackened landscape. She adjusts her hovering boots, throws her bag over her shoulder and, sparing one last glance at the craterous ruins of a battlefield behind herself, separating her from what remains of the central-city, she turns towards the darkness, grabbing a torch from the fire and marches off into the wilderness. Whether she has a goal in mind or not is impossible to say, but given the craftiness and the willpower of the long-term planning woman, it would be safe to assume that she isn¡¯t going anywhere with empty hands. One couldn¡¯t, if they were watching from afar, help but notice that peeking out of her rucksack as she vanishes into the world, is a book. One that is oddly damp and soggy looking, one that could have perhaps been found in the ruins of a structure on the market-place. But that¡¯s all speculation, of course. It¡¯s best not to worry about it. The man in the armor stands there, having taken it off for the first time since he was cursed. A team of priests and priestesses see to his strangely wounded and deeply malnourished body that had only been kept alive by the forces of godly magic. All them tit and tut and fuss around with him, lifting his arms to examine his wounds, before cutting his hair and cleaning his face and washing him down with rags and soap. But the man just sits there in total silence, staring at the ground, unblinking, the loud, boisterous, charismatic individual that he once might have been, having been stamped out by the cruel hand of fate. Horrible things have been wrought by his own hands, which he stares at, yet none of them were really his doing. He was simply a vessel, a thing that was at the wrong place at the wrong time and perhaps it is even fair to say that he had had the cruelest fate of all. Which is, of course, a sort of sad irony that a kinder person wouldn¡¯t want to be present in the world. After all, how mean would that be? To just leave him here like that, after all of the kindness he¡¯s done for them. Even if he doesn¡¯t know. Garnett lifts his eyes, watching as the door opens on the other side of the room and there stands a strange, awkward, gangly looking girl who, while still in the body she has arrived in this world in, now seems to have somehow grown into it more. The house-spriggan was able to respawn, after all and with the fading of Perchta¡¯s magic and a little helping nudge from a spiritually powerful witch and a priestess before that, many things could be wrought. Of course, only with the unspoken help of the gods, who are more interested in selling a divine, holy, protective image to their followers than actually helping them. Peridot and Garnett look at each other and then, crying, rush to meet another in the middle. Strictly in theory, of course. After all, with the horrible witch of the north having been slain by the hero and her minions having died during the battle for the central-city, nobody is alive who could possibly see all of this happening in this clear of a context. The fairy, Veli, sits there on the shattered table, a broken necklace, run out of magic held in his small, but strongly trained hands. The magic of the mountain is starting to fade away. The magic that sustains him to live outside of the natural domain of his kind. He can feel himself draining. It¡¯s exhausting. He feels like he¡¯s falling asleep on the spot. Glass slides across the wood and he lifts his head, looking at the group of familiar faces who surround him, one short. It¡¯s not a pleasant idea. But he has to do this. Not for him, but for them. For the faces who surround him at this table, for the people who have given him themselves and their friendship as the foundation and walls of his home. He can¡¯t just leave them here, like this. Everyone is counting on him. Veli looks at the uncorked monster-potion that he stands before. The one a familiar person had given him, during the catastrophe. The black, onyx liquid bubbles too, as it begins to lose its magic. He has to drink it. Now. Before it¡¯s too late. The fairy nods to his friend, who slowly holds the bottle sideways, allowing him to drink as much as he can. He doesn¡¯t know what being classified as a ¡®monster¡¯ means. But surely it has to be better than dying, right? The young man clenches his fists, closing his eyes as the first, acrid drop hits his tongue. - He¡¯s going to do it for them. A man slithers through the shadows, skulking around a corner in a large palace, leaning against the wall to listen to the conversation that two regally dressed people, one of them, an expecting elven woman, have. They¡¯re speaking about the future of the city, of the continent. After all, now that they are essentially wiped out, there¡¯s nothing left to protect them from the other continents. Something has to be done and fast, if they want to survive. They need a plan, they need help. The man, having died many deaths and returned to life just as often, smiles a wicked smile as he waits for another man to walk past, carrying his two dark-elf children in tow and then spreads his arms out wide as he approaches the two nobles, entering into a conversation that isn¡¯t his to enter. ¡°I just so happen to have a solution for that,¡± hisses Patala excitedly, laughing. The two of them look his way, narrowing their eyes in suspicion. Though, really, again, this can¡¯t be said for sure. It might as well all be imagined. The crystal-ball runs out of magic. ¡°Okay. We¡¯re putting an end to this,¡± says Jubilee. Basil nods, standing next to them. Though, there aren¡¯t many other places to stand. Space is a little cramped up here, after all. ¡°Should I, or do you want to?¡± she asks. ¡°Let me,¡± says Shamrock, the man glibbering and globbing around. He had to leave his armor behind after all, because of weight constraints. Fresh looks down at the crystal-ball beneath herself, the remaining magical energies of which are now entirely depleted. With Perchta¡¯s death, her own magic is gone and so, she has no primary class anymore. The woman who she has become over the course of a year and then some days looks at the glass for a while, staring at her reflection. ¡°Hey,¡± she says, not sure if the woman on the other side can hear her anymore. She likes to think so at least. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Fresh. Her double, the reflection, had gone far above and beyond to act in her stead. Fresh herself, the real Fresh, hasn¡¯t been in the central-city for a while now. It was the reflection, her double, who encountered all of those horrible things. It was the reflection who ¡®died¡¯ in order to sell the image that the horrible witch was really and truly dead, so that nobody would ever go looking for them. The reflection, of course, isn¡¯t really dead. But without the odd, cosmic oddity that is a witch¡¯s magic, she can¡¯t respond either, assuming she can even hear any of this. Fresh isn¡¯t sure, but she likes to think that the smile that she sees there, is just a little brighter than the one on her own face. ¡°Thank you,¡± says Fresh again, not sure which version of herself she¡¯s saying it to, as she hands Shamrock the crystal-ball. The man takes it from her and then leans back, before lobbing it out and over, throwing it as far and as hard as he can. The glass sphere spins, catching the rays of morning sunlight as it spirals downward, falling, falling, falling, until it falls into the deep depths of the dark blue ocean below, vanishing forevermore. - Presumably. ¡°No more witch shit,¡± says Jubilee, dusting their hands and sitting down awkwardly on a basket. ¡°So can I get a new class when we get there, Jubilee?¡± she asks. ¡°Maybe I can really become a healer of some kind now?¡± she considers. ¡°Well¡­ no¡­¡± Fresh shakes her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to steal your part, Basil.¡± ¡°Thank you, I appreciate it,¡± says the priestess, sitting down and leaning against Jubilee. Shamrock wobbles around the small platform and Fresh lifts her eyes towards the giant balloon above their heads, that is floating thanks to the remnants of her magical-crafting, thanks to the crystal-drakonium balloon and just a few, teensy, tiny drops of magical water. After all, it¡¯s not like Perchta was the only source of magic in the world. The sun-water works just fine and it has just as many applications as the moonwater did. Sure, the flying balloon is a little tight, since they had to make the entire thing essentially overnight out of wood from their basement, crystal-drakonium and fighting spirits. But¡­ Basil sighs, swinging the harpy-feather-duster out again, a bottle of sunwater glued to its handle. A gale presses against the balloon, shooting it towards the east, towards the other continent where they¡¯re going to start their lives anew. ¡°Can I become like¡­ an anti-witch?¡± asks Fresh. ¡°The word you¡¯re looking for is ¡®dead¡¯,¡± replies Jubilee, shaking their head. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out. First thing¡¯s first, we have to get there,¡± they explain. ¡°Then we have to blend in,¡± says Basil. ¡°Then we have to work,¡± says Shamrock. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± says Basil, looking around. ¡°Anyways, listen, there¡¯s something that I really want to get off of my chest.¡± ¡°Ugh, really?¡± asks Jubilee, groaning and rolling their eyes. ¡°Yes, really,¡± insists Basil, jabbing them with her elbow. ¡°It¡¯s not fair that we keep this a secret any more.¡± ¡°You better not make things weird,¡± warns Jubilee. ¡°Please,¡± replies Basil. ¡°Things are already weird.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t that the truth¡­¡± says Jubilee, leaning back against the ¡®wall¡¯ behind them. ¡°Fine. Whatever. I don¡¯t give a fuck.¡± Fresh blinks. That¡¯s right, Basil was trying to tell her something before it all happened. Basil has been trying to tell her, tell them all, something for a long time now. Perhaps now, perhaps now that everything is settled and quiet, Fresh is ready to hear the priestess¡¯ feelings. The once-witch gulps, nervously sitting back straight and upright. ¡°I hope this won¡¯t make things awkward between us all,¡± says the priestess. ¡°I really thought about these feelings for a long time and, well, the truth is,¡± says Basil, looking at Shamrock, looking at Fresh for a moment, her eyes looking uncertainly into hers for a while longer. Basil lifts her hand, her red-stringed chicken bracelet jangling in the light of a new day as she lets her grasp fall around another¡¯s hand. ¡°- The truth is that Jubilee and I have been dating since the east.¡± Fresh blinks. ¡°¡­Huh¡­?¡± She looks at Jubilee, who looks her way and nods. The priestess and them hold hands. ¡°HUH?!¡± It¡¯s a long, confusing flight to the other continent. But, they make it there and whatever happens after that, well, it¡¯s just best not worry about it, okay? It is what it is. Razmatazz BONUS: 1 Razmatazz This is a bonus chapter that I have written post-story. Someone had a bad day, so I made this for them The very best cake ever. It can¡¯t just be one that¡¯s nice or one that¡¯s maybe-sort-of-good-enough that her friends will say it¡¯s good so that she doesn¡¯t cry about it. No, it has to be the best cake there ever was. Fresh stands in the kitchen, her hands resting on the counter as she stares down at the surface. Today is a very special day, so she has to do it right. She wants to commemorate it. The once-witch lifts her gaze, staring around the small room that they¡¯re in. It¡¯s home. They had crossed the eastern sea on what Jubilee had called ¡®a horrific deathtrap of a contraption waiting to plunge them into the screaming maw of the ocean¡¯, but Fresh just called it a big balloon. After a time out at sea, a very long time actually, that was full of several very awkward moments on a small platform that they all shared, they finally made it to the other continent in the east. This other continent, coincidentally, Jubilee also calls ¡®a horrific nightmare world that magnifies their deepest regrets about life¡¯, but Fresh thinks that Jubilee is just being a little dramatic. But all of that is neither here nor there. What matters today, most of all, is the cake that she wants to make for her friends. Fresh turns her head, looking at Shamrock. ¡°Shammy, sham, shamaloo,¡± says Fresh, looking at him. The big slime, glibbering across the room, looks her way. ¡°Can we go shopping together?¡± The slime shakes its head. ¡°No sweets.¡± Fresh purses her lips, puffing out a cheek. Shamrock was left here by Basil and Jubilee to keep an eye on her, which she thinks isn¡¯t necessary, but she might be biased. ¡°I don¡¯t want to buy candy, Shamrock,¡± says Fresh. ¡°I want to buy flour and uh¡­ you know, other cake stuff.¡± The slime wobbles, staring at her for a moment. ¡°Basil said no sweets.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not sweets, Shamrock,¡± replies Fresh. She taps her head. ¡°It¡¯s a cake. Cakes aren¡¯t ¡®sweets¡¯. Basil never said anything about us not being allowed to have cake.¡± The two of them stare at each other for a time. ¡°You know?¡± asks Fresh. It¡¯s quiet. The horrific not-witch who probably isn¡¯t that bad, really, looks around the room. Jubilee and Basil are out on business today. Bureaucracy is very different on this other continent. Things are much less cut-throat, but there sure is a lot of paperwork. Fresh leans in, whispering, despite the fact that we¡¯re alone. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a bigger piece.¡± Shamrock exhales, the large slime deflating as it releases a heavy breath from itself. ¡°Acceptable¡± replies the man, turning to wobble over towards a dusty suit of armor that sits neatly stacked in the corner of the room. Given their cramped living conditions, Jubilee had yelled at Shamrock that he can¡¯t wear his armor inside all day because everyone kept bumping into him. Their new house is very cute, but somewhat small. They¡¯ve settled in on the western shore of the eastern continent, in the harbor city. It¡¯s very peaceful here, despite all of the rebuilding that is happening after the destruction caused by air-elementals ravaging the continent. Fresh smiles, cackling deviously beneath her breath. The horrible truth is, she was going to give Shamrock a bigger piece to begin with. He¡¯s the biggest of them all, after all. He needs more food to keep going than they do. But he doesn¡¯t need to know about her wicked, cruel, vile manipulation. ¡°You¡¯re cackling,¡± says Shamrock, as the armor begins to rattle as the slime finds his way inside. ¡°Oh. Uh¡­¡± Fresh clears her throat and then runs over, grabbing his hand. ¡°Old habits, you know?¡± she asks, tapping her head. The helmet of the suit of armor nods. ¡°Come on, Shamrock! Let¡¯s go!¡± says Fresh excitedly, yanking the half-assembled armor off and out through the door. The suit rattles, only half put together, cords of slime holding it all vaguely in place, like several cans tied to a string, as they run outside and go to the market. A lazy spring haze, close to the edge of summer, fills the air. Voices come from all around them as they walk through the street. Fresh¡¯s eyes wander, staring at the various people here who are¡­ significantly different from those of the western world. The woman, who is most certainly, under any and all circumstances, not a witch, fixates on a girl who walks past them the other way down the road with large rabbit-ears on her head. ¡°Don¡¯t stare,¡± says a voice from next to her, Shamrock, and Fresh turns back forward, laughing quietly. ¡°Sorry~¡± she apologizes. ¡°It¡¯s hard for me not to, you know?¡± asks Fresh, looking at a vendor who they pass by. He has large cat ears. While on the western continent live the common races of humans, elves, orcs and, in a past age, dwarves, the eastern continent is home to the Vildt. They are half-species, half one of the latter, primarily humans, and half some other sort of animal. It varies a lot. They have wildly different make-ups. Some of them, like the girl they just passed, only have simple animal features adorning a human body, like the ears of some animals. Others are more deep into the animal side, and carry stronger characteristics. In the west, because of the Church¡¯s policies, the Vildt aren¡¯t allowed to set foot on the continent under normal circumstances. Basil had explained this to her, saying that it¡¯s because of the nature of the various species'' existences being connected to old gods whom the Church doesn¡¯t accept as having been real divine powers, but Fresh didn¡¯t really understand it all. What it amounts to, however, is that humans stay in the west and the vildt stay in the east. There is some trade via the harbors and some political tensions now and then, but that¡¯s about it. Well¡­ ¨C She turns her head, looking at a destroyed ruin of a house, and stops there to stare at it. A while back, a horrific event happened here on the eastern continent. Thousands of powerful air-elementals had left their traditional home, having been lured towards the west by some odd, powerful force. The monsters banded together, pulling into one massive, raging storm of destruction that had leveled significant portions of the continent. Countless people died, homes were destroyed, generations of blood and work were erased from the world ¨C carried off by the wind. Fresh stands there, rubbing her arm. ¨C Something presses against her side. She turns her head, looking at Shamrock, who is standing there with his hand against her shoulder, looking at her. The giant nods his head to the side, down the street. Fresh looks at him and then back at the ruin, before nodding. Shamrock grabs her hand to stop her from getting lost in any weird daydreams, and the two of them keep walking to buy the ingredients for the cake, as very best friends are want to do. Fresh stares at the chicken. The chicken stares at her. ¨C The woman turns her head to the side, looking at Shamrock, who is negotiating with the merchant for the eggs. She couldn¡¯t handle it. It was too awkward because the vendor is a half-chicken vildt. It¡¯s all very¡­ very confusing. She looks back at the normal, full-blooded bird chicken, standing there before her in a small pen, watching her. It knows. *Bok¡­ bok¡­* mutters the chicken quietly, bopping its head around and watching her. Ever since the whole story of theirs ended, chickens have been¡­ more neutral towards her. They''re not exactly nicer; they¡¯re still wary and suspicious. But at least they don¡¯t chase her around anymore, so that¡¯s something. The woman lifts a finger, shushing the chicken. Digging into the pocket of the plain robe Jubilee made her, she digs out some seeds that she always carries with herself, as one does, and holds them out as an offering of bargained peace. The chicken clucks and bops its head around, examining the seeds in her open palm. After a moment of making funny chicken noises, the bird seems to agree with her proposal and starts pecking the seeds from her hand rather than pecking her. The pact is sealed. ¡°Bakaw¡­¡± mutters Fresh under her breath as she smiles and watches the bird eat in fascination. Chicken beaks feel funny. She laughs as it eats the seeds and mimics the noises that it makes. Although, that might be offensive to the vendor. She isn¡¯t sure. But this is why she isn¡¯t allowed to go shopping by herself. They made it. Fresh hums to herself as she whisks a bowl of ingredients together and then pours it into a form, watching the little bubbles rise up to the top of the wet batter. ¡°Bubble, bubble,¡± says a voice next to her. Shamrock. Fresh nods, smiling as she drops a few pieces of fruit on top of the batter and then carefully carries it over to the oven to set inside. Hot air blows out against her face, and she quickly slides the cake in and closes the door. Fresh sighs, content as she stands back upright and adjusts her hair. It¡¯s gotten much longer since then, and she¡¯s just been tying it back in a tail. Well, mostly Basil does it for her. But then she gets to do Basil¡¯s hair, and they make a whole night out of it. But somehow, it always gets undone a little during the day and ends up frizzy until she can take a moment to fix it. She looks at it. ¡°Shamamam?¡± asks Fresh, walking over to the table to sit down. ¡°Did my hair color change?¡± Shamrock looks at her, sliding back out of his armor. ¡°Yes,¡± replies the man. ¡°Oh,¡± says Fresh, blinking. ¡°It used to be more¡­ I dunno¡­ green?¡± ¡°The tinge of Witch Perchta has left you,¡± replies Shamrock, sliding out of his armor and then wobbling over towards the table. The man looks at her. ¡°You are now no one but yourself.¡± ¡°Oh, huh¡­ neat,¡± says Fresh, turning her head to look at the large slime that stands before her. She finds a long, slimy finger pressing itself against the center of her forehead. ¡°The neatest,¡± says Shamrock. Fresh smirks. ¡°Hey, Shamrock,¡± says the woman, leaning in. She holds a hand next to her mouth to hide her words from the universe. ¡°Jubilee and Basil are gonna be back soon,¡± she says. ¡°Wanna surprise them?¡± she asks. Shamrock tilts his head, looking at her and then at the oven. ¡°We are already surprising them.¡± He looks back at her, and the two of them stare at each other. It¡¯s quiet for a time, apart from the roaring flames in the oven and the bustle of the lively city outside of their window. ¡°Wanna surprise them more?¡± asks Fresh. Shamrock stares at her and then nods. ¡°We¡¯re home!¡± calls a voice as the door opens. Basil. The priestess steps inside, looking around. ¡°Oh,¡± she says, smelling the air. ¡°It smells nice.¡± She looks around. ¡°Did you guys bake something?¡± she asks, looking at Shamrock, who is standing there in his armor. ¡°Get out of the way,¡± barks a voice behind the priestess, pushing her out of the doorway. ¡°Excuse me!¡± snaps Basil, offended, looking down at Jubilee. ¡°Don¡¯t push me.¡± Jubilee walks inside past her, taking off their mask and waving the woman off. ¡°Then get your massive tuckus out of the doorway so I can get inside,¡± replies Jubilee. Basil gasps and then crosses her arms, lifting her nose. Jubilee walks in, knocking on Shamrock¡¯s armor. ¡°Speaking of,¡± says Jubilee, looking up at the giant. ¡°We talked about this, you goon.¡± They plant their hands on their hips. ¡°No armor in the house. You¡¯re taking up the whole room.¡± Shamrock looks down at Jubilee and then places a hand on their shoulder. The two of them stare at each other. ¡°What? What the fuck are you doing?¡± asks Jubilee. They turn their head to look back at Basil. ¡°Basil. Why is he touching me?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± begins Basil. ¡°If I¡¯m lucky, Shamrock is going to teach you some manners,¡± remarks the priestess. ¡°Oh please,¡± replies Jubilee. ¡°My lack of manners is exactly what you like.¡± Basil looks back at Jubilee. ¡°As if I liked anything about you, you horrible gremlin!¡± snaps the priestess. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Jubilee rolls their eyes. ¡°You¡¯re singing that song and dance now, but it didn¡¯t sound like it when -¡± ¡°- THAT¡¯S PRIVATE!¡± yells Basil, stepping forward. ¡°Please, as if anything in this house is private.¡± Jubilee turns to look back at Shamrock, grabbing the man¡¯s hand to pull it off of their shoulder. ¨C Now that both of them have stepped inside, the trap springs. A green mass of slime falls down on the ceiling on top of both Basil and Jubilee, and the armor falls forward, grabbing them. ¡°AGH! Get off of me you schmucks!¡± snaps Jubilee, crushed under the weight of the slime and the armor. The suit of armor lifts its visor. Fresh¡¯s face looks out from inside of the armor. ¡°Jubileee~!¡± says the horrific deceiver behind the metal. ¡°I missed you guys!¡± says Fresh, holding onto the two of them. ¡°Basil~!¡± The priestess sighs and then laughs. ¡°We were gone for¡­ five hours? Maybe?¡± The suit of armor nods, the face inside looking beyond tragic. ¡°I thought you¡¯d never come home,¡± sniffles Fresh as the slime glibbers around the three of them. ¡°Really?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Is this never going to stop?¡± they ask. Fresh shakes her head. ¡°You know that when we say we¡¯re going out, we¡¯re coming back later, right?¡± asks Jubilee, pushing the armor off of themselves. But Fresh clings on as if for dear life. ¡°Sure,¡± replies the horrific not-witch of the not-north. ¡°But what if you don¡¯t?¡± she asks, pressing her face closer to her friend. ¡°What if you guys just¡­ get stuck doing paperwork forever?¡± ¡°Do you actually know how paperwork works?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°Actually, wait, no¡­ you might have something there,¡± they remark, thinking for a moment. ¡°My hand is still killing me from all those forms.¡± ¡°Anyway, what smells like it''s burning?¡± asks Basil. The room is silent for a second. Fresh lets out a horrified scream, the suit of armor tumbling over backwards gracelessly as she wiggles out of it like a very sweaty worm, and sprints towards the kitchen. ¡°I told you to wear all of your clothes in the house!¡± yells Jubilee after her. ¡°Underwear only is only allowed for bed!¡± Fresh leans back around the door to the kitchen that smoke is coming out from. ¡°It¡¯s hot in Shamrock¡¯s armor!¡± she cries, tears streaming down her face as she runs to rescue her cake. Jubilee and Basil turn to look at Shamrock. ¡°I don¡¯t wear underwear,¡± says the slime without a care in the world. ¡°Fuck off, Shamrock. You and your shitty jokes,¡± sighs Jubilee, getting up and shaking the slime off of themselves. But Basil laughs. Fresh and the others sit at the table. The cake is¡­ salvageable. It¡¯s cake shaped, being round¡¯ish and it has about the approximate size and shape of a cake. Once one gets past the smell of ash, it even does smell like a cake. As such, a significant number of cake-based criteria have been met and so, Fresh feels secure in calling this cake, a cake. Even if it is a little burnt. ¡°I thought I told you no sweets,¡± says Basil. ¡°It¡¯s not sweets,¡± explains Shamrock. ¡°It¡¯s a cake.¡± The priestess looks at the two of them, the fork in her hand. She stares at the slime and then at Fresh, who is standing there with clasped hands and wide, wet eyes that stare with a deep longing for knowledge. She has to know. Basil, unable to withstand the incredible pressure of this gaze, relents and takes a bite from her slice. ¡°Oh¡­ huh¡­¡± she says, sounding surprised. ¡°It¡¯s actually pretty good,¡± she notes, looking down and poking at the burnt crust with her fork. Fresh beams, all of her life¡¯s dreams coming true in this very moment. ¡°Yeah,¡± not bad,¡± says Jubilee. ¡°Is this dinner?¡± they ask. ¡°Or what¡¯s the occasion?¡± Fresh nods. Today is a very special day. It is one that deserves commemoration in a significant way. She looks at her friends in delight. ¡°Today is Wednesday!¡± she says excitedly. ¡°...So¡­?¡± asks Jubilee. ¡°We have that once a week. Who gives a shit?¡± Fresh can¡¯t help but smile. Another Wednesday, another day like any other. It isn¡¯t a special event or a holiday. It isn¡¯t anyone¡¯s birthday or the marker of some significant moment in life. It¡¯s just a day. It¡¯s just a day like any other, a day that she can spend with her friends. It is a day where she can do simple things, make simple things, and, most importantly of all, be a simple thing. ¨C Plain, and a little imperfect, just like the cake. But that¡¯s what makes it interesting. The goodness of life isn¡¯t dictated by the special moments. They¡¯re just garnish. Fresh sits down at the table with her friends, and they enjoy the rest of their day together. What is good in life is dictated by the whole sum of its parts, the majority of which are, in essence, Wednesdays. Nothing more, nothing less.