Chapter 161: 162: Troubling

“WOOOW!” yells the overly-excited fairy, one of seven, as it darts around the store in a circle, buzzing around the heads of the many customers who have come today. The other fairies fly after it, trying to catch up, but they aren’t as fast as it is.

Today is the day that they put the weight-reducing iron rings on sale, as they are. One of the fairies seems to have somehow slipped its legs inside of one of the larger sized rings and has hoisted it up to its waist, where it now sits, wrapped around its stomach. Somehow, this counts as being equipped and has applied the effect. The fairy, excited, zips around the store like lightning. “I’m so fast!”

“No using the products before you pay for them!” barks Jubilee up at the air, shaking their fist.

“Yes, my queen!” says the fairy, looking at Jubilee, who Fresh can see reaching for their bag of dirt. She softly grabs their wrist to stop them. The fairy zips towards the counter, trying to land. But it comes in too fast and tumbles, sliding across the wood in a crash.

“Ah!” Fresh leans over, bending down towards it. “Are you okay?” she asks, looking at the thing, somewhat worried. “Basil!” she calls over to the priestess, who comes and takes a look too, curiously. The other six fairies fly by, but don’t stop, as they head towards the sheep-tower, which they now, all of a sudden, find a lot more interesting. They’re very easily distracted creatures.

The crashed fairy sits upright, rubbing its ash-toned, oddly gray hair that sits out in all directions in unnaturally fluffy, large and soft looking spikes which bounce as it moves its head. It looks over itself, rotating its arms and buzzing its wings a few times. “I’m okay!”

Fresh sighs in relief. Basil pats her on the back and walks off back to her work on the other side of the long counter.

“You gotta pay for that, if you want to use it, pipsqueak,” says Jubilee from the side.

The fairy looks at Jubilee, lost for a second before then shrugging. “I don’t have any money.”

“I figured,” they lift their hand. “There’s the door. Bye. Leave the ring.”

“How come you guys don’t make fairy-sized things?” asks the fairy, ignoring Jubilee’s remark.

Fresh gasps at the sudden realization, her eyes going wide.

“No!” barks Jubilee, quickly pointing at her. “We are not doing ‘fairy-sized things’.”

“But Jubilee!” shouts Fresh excitedly, clenching her fists. “Think about it! Tiny fairy sweet-teas and little sheep! Little tiny clothes!” Fresh gasps again, realizing. “You can even make little itty-bitty tote-bags! Jubileeeee~!”

“No!” repeats Jubilee, louder now. “These runts don’t have any money to begin with, why would we make things for them?”

“Money is too big for us,” explains the fairy, dusting itself off. Fresh realizes that this is probably true, remembering the waitress from the adventurer’s guild. She needed both hands just to carry a few coins. “You should make fairy-sized money.”

“Not our department. We make things for adventurers,” says Jubilee, narrowing their eyes. “Go get a job and do some push-ups, buy a bag. You’ll manage.”

“Do you have a job?” asks the fairy, as it lays itself down forward to start doing push-ups. Fresh admires its motivation and energy, but she isn’t sure if it counts, since it’s still wearing the weight-reducing ring.

“No,” says Jubilee plainly, pointing down at it. Fresh frowns, thinking if there’s anything that a fairy could do for them. She likes the idea. But…

“Do you have a bag?” asks the fairy, still doing push-ups.

“Not for free and not fairy-sized,” sighs Jubilee, placing their hands on their hips.

Fresh wonders. “Can’t they join a party and go into the dungeon?” she asks, scratching her cheek. “That’s a way to get some money?”

The fairy stops doing push-ups, staying at the high point of one, as it lifts its head up towards her for a moment, before looking back down to the counter and continuing its workout. “It’s too dangerous,” it says, continuing with its push-ups. It’s at thirty now, which Fresh finds fairly impressive, even with the magic ring. She can only do three. Four on a really good day.

“You’ll figure it out. Every generation before you has too,” says Jubilee. “If you don’t mind. We’re trying to run a business here,” they say, before then waiting a second. “Fifty,” counts Jubilee, nodding once respectfully to the fairy, who gets up and dusts itself off again.

The fairy does something that Fresh doesn’t expect however. It lifts its head and looks straight into Jubilee’s eyes, not in the least intimidated. “They’re all dead,” it says plainly.

Fresh blinks.

Jubilee flinches together, looking up at Fresh’s confused face, but then apparently realizing that the jig is up, as they then look back down at the fairy with a somewhat agitated glare behind their mask. Jubilee’s posture loosens as they let out a long sigh. “Sure are. Dead as dirt. What’s your point?”

“Wait, Jubilee?” starts Fresh, thinking about the waitress from the guild again. Jubilee lifts a hand, stopping her.

“I’m not going out like that, your majesty!” yells the fairy, pointing at Jubilee. “Teach me to be strong, like him!” says the fairy, pointing over at Shamrock who gives a silent thumbs-up to it, before turning back to the group of squealing casters in front of him, who Fresh has learned to tune out entirely at this point.

“Eat a lot and do more push-ups,” explains Jubilee, pointing to the door. “But do it outside. Don’t make me throw you out. I will.”

“I don’t have any food,” explains the fairy, trying to get the ring off.

Jubilee leans in towards it. “Buy some.”

“I don’t have any money,” it explains again.

“Get a job.”

“Do you have a job?” it asks again.

“No! Go ask the adventurer’s guild. They always take a few of you.”

“But I want to work for you!” explains the fairy.

“Fuck off, we’re full,” barks Jubilee.

The fairy jumps up into the air, flying in front of Jubilee’s mask. “How many push-ups should I do?”

“Huh?”

“How many push-ups will it take for you to give me a job?” it asks, with a surprising sudden zeal in its eyes. Fresh looks around at the other fairies that are busy living their most fun, childish lives, much like she herself would do in their situation. But this one seems… intense all of a sudden. The hard look in its eyes reminds her a little of Jubilee’s, actually. It’s like it has seen something bad. Really bad.

“More than you can manage to do in your short life,” states Jubilee, their leather gloves creaking as they clench their hands in annoyance.

“Then give me something else to do!” exclaims the fairy, flying closer to them. “I’ll clean! I’ll scrub the chimney! I’ll uh…” it looks around. “I’ll polish your mask!”

“You’re not going to quit, are you?” asks Jubilee, grabbing their bag of dirt and setting it onto the counter.

“Jubilee!” scolds Fresh, but she just receives another hand, holding her back.

“No!” barks the fairy back at Jubilee, carrying the same tone. “I want to work!” it says, with an odd determination that Fresh thinks is impressive, but also a little haunting. It wants it too badly. Desperately. As if it has seen something coming that the others haven’t. As if it has seen a flood approaching and it were the only one scurrying for higher ground with wide, horrified eyes, while the rest continue to stand below in the growing shadow of the wave to come.

Jubilee pulls out a tiny few crumbs of dirt from the bag and snaps their fingers, making a tiny shard of glass that they hand to Fresh. “Go to the basement. Make a tiny dagger out of this.”

“Huh?”

“Do it, goo-brain,” barks Jubilee, looking oddly angry.

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“Yes, your majesty!” yelps Fresh, quickly scurrying herself to the basement. Just behind the door, she makes the item. It’s an odd feeling. Making something this small, it takes her a moment to find the right amount of energy to put into the spell. But she manages, the tiny piece of glass, the length of her smallest finger, turns into a small glass-dagger. Though, for a fairy, it might as well be a sword.

Waiting a minute longer to avoid any suspicion, she then comes back out and gives Jubilee the tiny weapon. They look at it and nod, lifting it up to the fairy on one finger. “So you want a job?” asks Jubilee.

“Yes!” replies the gray-haired fairy, having broken into a sweat from their workout, apparently truly meaning it, judging by the expression on their face. Jubilee nods, handing them the tiny weapon.

“Go into the dungeon. By yourself,” says Jubilee.

“Jubilee!” shouts Fresh, horrified. But she gets stopped once again.

“Bring me a kobold’s eye,” says Jubilee, tapping the counter twice. “A fresh one. You have three days. Do that and we’ll find something for you to do here.”

The fairy’s resolute look softens a little at this proposition. It swings the little sword around a few times. “I’ve never fought before.”

“Not my problem. You’ll figure it out, if you want it bad enough.”

“What if I die?”

“Then you’ll die sooner than everyone else who is also going to die.”

“I only have six health-points.”

“Don’t get hit.”

The fairy gulps, looking at the sword in its shaking hands.

Jubilee sighs. “Disappointing. I guess you don’t really want it,” they say, holding their hand out to take the sword back.

“No!” The fairy flies back, clutching the little glass sword tightly. “I’ll do it! I accept!”

“Good. Don’t forget to do those push-ups,” says Jubilee, shooing the fairy away. It nods, steeling itself, before it resolutely flies out of the door. Fresh realizes that it still has the ring on. But she decides not to mention it. She has too many other questions on her mind now.

“I hate fairies,” sighs Jubilee. “Little trouble-makers.”

“Jubilee!” says Fresh, finally having her chance now. “That was really mean! What if she… uh… he… uh… what if they die?!”

“Giving out quests to adventurers is standard practice for stores, goo-brain,” explains Jubilee. “Remember when we got those root-flowers?”

“Sure, but…”

“Look. I didn’t want to tell you, okay?” says Jubilee, looking around the store at the customers who all seem to have diverged to Shamrock and a few to Basil. “A new wave of fairies can only come when the last one fully dies out.”

“So?”

Jubilee looks up at her, before looking over to the tower of sheep where there are five fairies playing. “They’re already starting to disappear.”

“Huh?”

“The fairies.”

Fresh blinks. “What do you mean? Don’t they live for a few years?”

“Yeah,” says Jubilee. “If they don’t disappear,” they add on dryly.

“Why would they…?”

“What do you think?” asks Jubilee, shaking their head. “They’re small. Weak. Not very useful, economically or physically. They start… disappearing.”

“You don’t mean that -”

Jubilee interrupts her again. “What do you think would have happened to you?” they ask. “If you were their size. If you were all on your own? The city would have swallowed you whole in a week.”

Fresh looks out at the five fairies. They seem so innocent and naive, as they play with wide, childish smiles on the fake mountain. They have absolutely no idea.

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