Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 179: Breakfast (Patreon)

Fresh stands out on the balcony of their home, peering through the small telescope that they have sitting out here, as she looks around at 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 and 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 endeavorer, 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.

[ +1 INT ]

[ +1 WIS ]

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 down to wash up, 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 it’s a secret, 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 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,” admits Fresh, 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 scarves 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.