Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 98: Guilt

After dropping off the anqa and the cart at the church, Basil apparently sprinted back as fast as she could, as evidenced by her heavy panting by the time she arrives, together with the sweat wicking on her skin.

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 they 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 now. But she seems to be in good spirits and in 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 elf 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. Fresh looks over to Basil who stands behind the counter, the woman seemingly petrified, as she stares down vacantly into the open ledger laid out before her.

Feeling the girl’s eyes on her, the priestess looks over to her, but then looks back away as their gazes meet.

“Please don’t fire me,” mutters the priestess timidly.

Fresh scratches her cheek, feeling somewhat awkward again. The girl gets up and leans over the side of the counter towards the priestess. “We’re not going to fire you, Basil. You’re doing a great job,” explains the girl, 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.

It is quiet.

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, wonder Fresh. “Ah, I just mean that, you know, you’re a good person,” she adds on, raising a finger. “You know, I think it’s easy to tell, because you make people happy wherever you go!” The girl tilts her head, looking up to the ceiling. “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.

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. “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,” croaks the priestess, 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 droops down forward.

Fresh looks around the empty store, with her own arms hanging awkwardly limp at her sides, not sure what to do 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 robe.

“I thought you did 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.

“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 killed.”

“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.

“They told us two to watch you. 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. 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 the only friend I ever had!” cries Basil, looking up at Fresh with an expression of pure, contorted suffering before she starts howling.

Fresh pulls the crying priestess 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, Fresh looks at Jubilee who is standing in the door, leaned against the frame, having watched this entire scene unfold.

Jubilee nods to Fresh and Fresh, with only a tiny nick of her head, nods back.

“It’s okay, Basil. You’re my friend and nothing is going to change that,” reassures Fresh, 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, not sure if she’s lying.