Chapter 134: One Hundred and Thirty – Hoping For a Better Tomorrow

If you want more to read, consider joining my Patreon! Or check out my other original works, Love Crafted (An interactive story about a cute eldritch abomination tentacling things) or Stray Cat Strut (A cyberpunk magical girl story!) Cinnamon Bun  (a wholesome LitRPG!) Fluff (A superheroic LitRPG about cute girls doing cute things!) or Dead Tired (A comedy about a Lich in a Wuxia world doing Science!)

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty - Hoping For a Better Tomorrow

Awen and I slipped into the Exploration Guild like a pair of mice aware that there was a cat waiting just around the corner.

Awen hadn’t seen much of the director, but what she did see was more than enough to spook the usually shy girl. Mathilde was scary like that.

Fortunately, the only person in the entrance hall this time was a grenoil secretary behind the front desk. The young woman looked up as we moved towards her. “We’re just here to deposit a quest,” I said.

“A quest? Do you mean a mission?” the lady asked.

“Ah, yeah,” I said. Quests were something else here. “We had a mission to scout out the location of some flowers and such in the area between Greenshade and Rosenbell. I have samples and a really cool map with flower types on it,” I said.

“The mission was handed from zis guild?” the lady asked.

“Ah, no, not really. We got it from the guild in Greenshade,” I said.

She nodded slowly. “In zat case, I can accept ze mission, but ze rewards will be held until we can confirm zat ze mission’s completion was to ze client’s satisfaction. Zat might take some days.”

“Darn,” I said. “Well, there’s nothing for it. Are there guild places in... Fort Sylphrot? That’s where we’re going next.”

“There is,” the lady said. “I can give you a voucher zat you can present zere. It will add a few days to everyzing, but you’ll receive your due payment in time.”

“That would be really nice,” I said. “I don’t know how much time we’ll be spending there, but it might be a couple of days.”

The secretary nodded. “Very well then, miss. I’ll need you to fill out zis form, and zen I can process your request.” She placed a sheet on the desk before me, then a nice pen with a calligraphy nib next to it.

I thanked her and started putting my samples and the map I’d gotten from the bees onto the desk. Then I started to fill out the form. It was mostly easy stuff, but I had to ask Awen for help with the dates and such. When it was done, I gave it to the secretary and smiled while I waited.

“Ah, Miss,” The secretary said. She looked a little uncomfortable. “I can’t read zis language.”

I took the form and looked it over. My handwriting was a bit sloppy, especially where I had fun drawing little smileys in all the loopy letters, but it was still readable. Then it clicked. I was writing in English, and the common language here was... whatever.

“Oh no,” I said. “I’m so sorry! I forgot I’m using translation magic. Um. I don’t know how to write the local language.”

“Awa,” Awen awa’d for the first time since arriving. “I can help you. I don’t mind being your secretary.”

“Really?” I pulled her into a hug. “You’re the best!”

The second form handed over was a lot more readable, probably. Awen’s handwriting looked neat and tidy, though I had some sort of gimmicky thing turning it to English, so for all I knew it could be totally sloppy.

I thanked the secretary, then waited next to Awen for her to return with a voucher. It was a bit chilly in the waiting room, so I pulled Awen in for some recreational cuddling. She was just short enough that if I stretched onto my tippy-toes I could plop my chin atop her head.

Awen must have been cold too, because she pressed into the hug with a content little ‘awww’ sound.

And then the secretary returned with a grim-faced director Mathilde and a chunk of my good mood evaporated. I pulled back from Awen and faced the director while trying to tamp down my nerves. “Hello,” I said.

“Good morning, Miss Bunch,” she said. “Miss Bristlecone.”

Awen tensed up too. We shared a look and both knew that could be in a heap of trouble. “How are you doing?” I tried.

The director scoffed. “I doubt you’re here for pleasantries.”

“No, we’re just here to hand in a mission. Really, that’s it.”

She eyed us, then looked to the secretary who gave her our report. “So you are. Well, perhaps it’s fortuitous that you’ve come.” Her attention fell onto Awen like a sack of rice falling from the heavens. Awen made herself smaller. “Your parents have hired the guild to find, and return you. There’s a sizable reward on the line.”

“You can’t take Awen,” I said as I pulled my friend back and placed her behind me. I didn’t know how strong the director was, but I had to assume she was around Abraham’s level, which meant... that was bad. Still, Awen didn’t deserve to go back to her parents and I wouldn’t let this woman take her just like that.

“I also,” she continued. “Received a letter, and a bottle of wine, from Abraham, telling me to leave things alone. That Awen was probably in good hands.”

I nodded. “She is! I mean, she almost died a few times, and we were in a lot of danger a few others, but she’s uh, grown a lot. Please don’t take Awen away.”

“I, I don’t want to leave Broccoli,” Awen whispered next to me.

Mathilde sighed. “Why do you always make me feel like some sort of villain, Miss Bunch?”

“Um.”

“No, nevermind that. I suppose it comes from being what you are.”

“A, um, perfectly ordinary girl?” I tried.

She didn’t look amused. “A Riftwalker. And a troublesome one, at that.”

I felt a chill running down my back. My mouth worked, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’ll be watching your career with interest,” Mathilde said. “Your sort tends to burn bright. I just hope that fire doesn’t start an inferno, or that it doesn’t get doused too early.” She shook her big froggy head. “You two be careful. Bad times are stirring up.”

I swallowed. “We’ll do our best to make them better,” I said.

You are reading story Cinnamon Bun at novel35.com

She huffed, then made a dismissing gesture with a hand. I didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling Awen after me, I skedaddled half-way out the room, then ran back to get my backpack.

On reaching the outside of the guild, we found an impatient Amaryllis tapping her talons on the ground. “About time,” she said.

“Amaryllis!” I said before crashing into her with a hug. “Director Mathilde almost second-kidnapped Awen, and then she found out I was a Riftwalker.”

Amaryllis stared at me. “And she let you go? Both of you?”

We nodded.

“Then she’s an idiot. Let’s not spit in fortune’s eye.” The harpy pushed me off, then started fixing her feathers. “I have arranged for teleportation over to Fort Sylphrot this afternoon. That leaves us nearly five hours before it’s time to leave.”

The change of subject caught me flat-footed, but my mind caught up soon enough. “Okay? So we get lunch and wait?”

“World no. You don’t teleport on a full stomach. I was thinking, rather, we go do a little bit of shopping. Nothing too extravagant. Your clothes are... nice enough, I suppose, but they’re ill-suited to the more prestigious Fort.”

I nodded, a grin coming on strong. “That sounds nice. I’ve been wearing the same panties for two weeks now.”

Awen stepped away and Amaryllis looked at me as if I’d just gotten on all fours and started licking the pavement.

“I have Clean!” I defended myself.

“Disgusting,” Amaryllis said. “Come. We’re buying you a wardrobe.” She hugged Orange (who had gone with her so that she wouldn’t be alone) close to her chest and stomped off with a huff.

“Where am I going to put it?” I asked.

“If you can’t even fit some unmentionables in your backpack then you need to relearn how to pack,” said the harpy who didn’t carry a bag because she had a banking ring.

I protested the entire way down to the main road, but my protests fell onto deaf ears, and Awen was too busy breathing hard from the walk to leap to my defence.

Amaryllis led us across a boulevard and into a shopping district with a few stores. “You’ll need something suitable for presenting yourselves in polite company. Don’t worry. I’ll be stowing it myself. World knows you’d find a way to lose it between now and this evening.”

My curiosity was piqued. “What is harpy fashion like?”

“High fashion? I have no clue. I’ve been gone for over a month, so all I know is likely outdated. But there are some staples that are always respectable. Usually lighter clothes, flowing pants that are very loose fitting, with some sort of large scarf or pelt to ward off the cold.”

“Do you wear skirts?” I asked. “I’m not too fond of pants.”

“We can fly, at least short distances,” Amaryllis said. “It would be the height of impropriety to wear a skirt. Not to mention the wind around most of the cities and estates around the Nesting Kingdom. You’ll just need to get used to pants.”

I shrugged. “When in Rome,” I said.

“Where’s Rome?”

“Ah, nevermind.” I waved the question off. “So, what about colours?”

“When I left, the trend was to wear darker colours. Blacks, greys, browns. I don’t think that has changed so soon. No patterns. Those were left behind last winter, and I won’t have you looking like more of a bumpkin than you are.”

“I’m okay with anything, I guess,” I said. “As long as it’s not revealing or uncomfortable.”

Amaryllis grinned at me. “Usually you’d be trying to wear less, not more. At least, that was my sister’s advice when it came to catching a beau. Trust me, she would know. The woman goes through bachelors faster than most outgrow a batch of feathers.”

I snorted and followed her into the first shop on the road. “I’m not looking for a beau,” I said. “What about you, Awen?”

“M-me? Awa, no, no I’m not looking for any boys.”

I nodded. “See. Bunch of celibate old prudes is what we are.”

Amaryllis shook her head and surveyed the shop. For the most part, clothes in this world, at least, in the very few shops I’d seen, came in two varieties. Pre-made things magicked to fit the first person that wore it, and custom-made clothes made by someone with tailoring skills.

We were looking for stuff of the pre-made variety, which didn’t actually leave that many options.

It was rather obvious that the whole mass-production thing hadn’t entirely caught on. There were some clothes that all matched, but those were very simple things, probably meant to be worn by workers and the lower-middle class. It was good enough for me, but Amaryllis didn’t seem pleased by anything in the first two shops.

For all that Amaryllis grew increasingly frustrated by the lack of ‘proper ladies garb’ I still had a blast. Awen was quick to play the doll whenever we wanted to see how something would look, and I got to try on a few nice outfits for my friends too.

Even Amaryllis, who at first declined to try anything because she had a proper wardrobe in storage, eventually relented and tried a few colourful blouses on.

In the end, we left having spent more time than money, and with only a few little things to show for it.

“We’ll have to go looking through the stores in Fort Sylphrot,” Amaryllis declared.

“More shopping!” I said.

Amaryllis didn’t seem averse to the idea.

We took our time on the way back, enjoying the sun and the gusty autumn winds.

I hoped that the peace we had now wasn’t fleeting.

You can find story with these keywords: Cinnamon Bun, Read Cinnamon Bun, Cinnamon Bun novel, Cinnamon Bun book, Cinnamon Bun story, Cinnamon Bun full, Cinnamon Bun Latest Chapter