Dungeon Item Shop: Chapter 15

Fresh’s legs feel weak as their next task now stands before them. Her arms strained and shaking from the weight of the loot that she is carrying, as they stand together in front of the door to the adventurer’s guild.

She gulps, remembering the somber atmosphere inside. Will people look at them weird if they walk in carrying a bunch of stuff? Fresh thinks to herself as she looks at the people walking around the square, that she really needs a bag of her own. Looking down to Jubilee though, she realizes 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 them. Again, the sound of the world is cut off directly, as if this space too were distinct from the city. But there is no blue fog or any other separation, it seems that simply the gloomy aura itself suffices to bury the vibrant shade of the mid-afternoon sun outside. This time however, much to Fresh’s relief, the tavern is mostly empty, save for the barkeeper in back, polishing seemingly the same glass as before, together with the haunting voice that causes the hairs on the back of her neck to rise.

Quietly, with her arms full, she hustles after Jubilee who is already up the stairs and they enter into the sealed off room. Fresh sort of understands now. Apparently every party got a key and everyone used the same door, but it always led to a separate space that only they could access.

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 were presumably worth about the same, then they’ve already cleared thirty Obols. Fifteen each. But that wasn’t enough. Fresh’s eyes beam wide as she glows with excitement, but she only notices the world coming closer all of the sudden, as her legs give out from beneath her 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,” says Fresh, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Yeah, dumb-ass, having one single health-point will do that to you. Damn, what must life be like with two health? You must be like a baby faun.”

“I have three,” says Fresh proudly. Not opening her closed eyes. “I leveled up, remember? So I have three now. Again.”

“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 jackoff, what can you make?”

Fresh thinks for a time, letting Jubilee know with an audible ‘Hmm’. The materials were worth fifteen each as raw resources. But she had to do something with them. Anything. That was her obligation. She had to carry her own weight somehow… Mushrooms. Mushrooms… she thinks. 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 had a little, teensy knack for cooking now, apparently. Maybe she could cook them and… no. No… that didn’t feel right.

“Well?” asks the voice, clearly somewhat agitated.

“Wait…” Fresh thinks. Mushrooms were associated with… hmm… witches? Forests. Potions and also some rather racy connotations, that weren’t very helpful right now for her situation. Uh… well, there were alchemists here the figure had said. So potions? Potions… yeah!

“You said the vendors just grind them up to sell to the alchemists? Couldn’t we do that too?”

Jubilee releases her finger, placing their hands on their hips as they bend down to press their masked face into Fresh’s. “You dumb-ass, you think it’s that easy? If it was, then everyone would just do that. 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! Poof!” Jubilee turns around and walks away. “They’ll probably grind up your whole body with the batches of mushroom caps! 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 was unsure of what exactly to feel.

“Do you not get what kind of money flow this stuff involves? You think they’d hesitate to make some two-bit adventurers, who asked too many questions, vanish? It’s for sure happened before,” says Jubilee before looking out of the opaque window. Fresh watches them stand 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.

[CRAFTING: 1] {Hands On!} 

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.