Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 213: Feud (Patreon)

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, 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 letting 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. “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’!” says 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. 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.