Chapter 77: 78: Sun day

Lazy birdsong fills the summer air, together with the trickle of slowly dripping water which leaks out of the fountain. The stream dribbles down into the basin with a constant, quiet splashing. Fresh stands outside, just behind the dungeon gate, as she stares down at her own reflection in the calm pool of water that shimmers in the light of the early morning sunrise. Jubilee was already gone when she had gotten up, Fresh assumes that they’re running around town. Maybe Jubilee is getting them breakfast again?

Her stomach growls. “I hope so,” sighs the girl, sinking a glass flask into the water and then taking a long drink out of it, emptying out its glistening crystal content into herself. The water of the fountain, despite sitting out in the open and under the light of the sun all day every day, somehow always remained clear and crisp and pure. Basil had told her that it was the church who blessed the fountain, but Fresh isn’t sure if she believes that.

Looking up towards the back of the giant gate, she sees that the fountain is simply a part of it. There is no separation between the back of the fountain and it, as if the entire construction had been ornately hewn out of a single giant rock. If this fountain really is blessed, it’s likely in her eyes that this happened long before the church or anyone else ever got here. Fresh stretches, rising up to her toes with her arms in the air.

Her lower back pops and she jolts forward, holding herself upright with a palm against the rim of the fountain, as the sharp ache shoots through her body.

“Back pain?” asks a voice from next to her, the water splashing as they reach in to collect some of it. Fresh looks over, seeing the heavily burn-scarred, elven barkeeper from the adventurer’s guild. “Try some spriggan sap. It’s a little expensive and a little messy, but it helps,” suggests the elf, splashing her face with some water with her cupped hands.

“Good morning!” calls Fresh. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

The elf rubs her face on a small cloth she’s holding. “Yeah. Summer is when the guild gets busy, lots of travelers coming through, so I’m pulling extra shifts,” sighs the woman. “But I hear you guys are doing the same too.” The barkeeper thinks for a second. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Sure?” says Fresh, refilling her bottle again a second time.

“If you wanted to become a merchant, why did you even bother joining the adventurer’s guild?”

Fresh smiles, thinking for a moment as she looks at her own reflection. “I was just kind of going with the flow, you know?” she says. “Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing.” She looks over to the barkeeper, her face somewhat troubled. “I got really scared when Jubilee told me about the debt. You guys really should be more open about stuff like that. I had no idea what was happening.”

The elf fidgets, rubbing the back of her head. “I mean, everyone kind of knows? There’s a sign by the door too.”

“I didn’t know. You could have warned me,” says the girl, not wanting to pout this early in the morning, but still feeling a little annoyed at the barkeeper who she wants to like, but she isn’t sure if she should. But the elf is nice at least and she doesn’t want to be rude. “With more than a tiny sign.”

The barkeeper sighs. “You walked past the sign, went up to the bar, you got the shot. That’s how the system works.”

“The system is dumb,” argues Fresh, downing another sip of water.

The barkeeper looks around nervously, checking if anyone has heard her. The elf takes a few steps forward, coming closer to Fresh and lifts a hand, whispering nervously into her ear. It’s an odd thing to notice right now, but Fresh can’t help but smell that the barkeeper smells strongly of a very woody perfume. “Be careful with your words. Things are the way they are for a reason.”

“What do you mean?” asks Fresh.

“Look, I hear a lot of things -”

“Don’t you just hear that sad singing all day?” ponders Fresh, looking at the woman’s long ears.

The elf clears her throat. “Listen. I’m serious. You’re stepping on people’s feet. Powerful people.” The barkeeper steps back, walking away, as a group of adventurers round the gate. “Money alone isn’t enough, if you want to survive until winter.”

Fresh walks after the barkeeper who is clearly trying to get away from her.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“To make myself feel better,” says the barkeeper, lifting a hand to gesture for her to stop. The burn-scarred elf vanishes around the other side of the gate, likely heading down towards the adventurer’s guild to get to work for the day. Fresh tilts her head, looking back down towards her own reflection in the fountain.

She spends the next hour running around town, fulfilling her usual morning errands which really only consist of finding food and maybe buying some fabric or some feathers now and then, for bags and arrows. She isn’t sure if Jubilee is out buying food, but in the worst case, they’d just have to have two breakfasts. Truly it’s a harsh world.

The streets are already starting to fill with crowds of adventurers, as the busy hive of the inner city explodes to life. Dozens of faces fill the streets, as if lured out by the warm sounds of nature and happy voices, mixing in together with the alluring smells of hot breads and fresh cuts of meat that drift through the air, enticing anyone that they can reach.

On her way back home, Fresh finds a little nook of a tea-store that she has never seen before and buys a few bundles of summer teas. She has no idea what many of these are, as apparently some of them are made with higher level plants than she is able to identify with her botany ability, so she simply asks the nice old man behind the counter for what he recommends.

Humming, with a full bag, she comes back home and steps inside, looking around. “Jubileee~?” she asks, calling to see if her friend had come back yet.

Fresh’s eyes look up in surprise, as Basil comes down the stairs. The woman is covered in sweat and grime, her white robe is stained with dirt, together with her sticky, red face as she strains to carry a heavy box down the staircase. She sets it down onto the counter, taking a deep breath and then sneezing loudly into her sleeve.

“Good morning, Basil!” Fresh tilts her head, trying to hide her nervousness. “What are you doing?”

Basil groans, rubbing her sweaty face on her still somewhat clean sleeve. “Good morning! I’m helping to clear out the kitchen.”

“The what?” asks Fresh.

Basil tilts her head, shrugging. “The kitchen? Jubilee told me to throw this stuff away.” The priestess sneezes again.

“Bless you.”

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“Thanks. Not to be rude, but you guys should really do some spring cleaning.”

“It’s summer, Basil,” thinks Fresh.

“Yeah…” says the sweaty priestess, leaning forward in defeat as she looks at the heavy, dusty box. Fresh is already rushing past her. The kitchen?

She stops on the stairs, coming back down and places a hand on the priestess’ shoulder. “You’re doing a really good job, Basil. Thank you! I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

Basil looks back. “Of course, ah -” she waves her arms around. “Please don’t touch me. I’m all sweaty and gross.”

Fresh runs up the stairs, waving down to her. “I don’t think so, that just means you’re working hard!” Looking at the upstairs corridor, she hears a rattling of metal against metal coming from the second door, the one just after the pantry. The door, which has been sealed until now, is wide open. Excitedly, she runs towards it and looks inside.

Jubilee is down on the ground, digging around in a cabinet and rummaging through a stack of old pots and pans. The room is about twice the size of the pantry. On the right, is an old, small wooden table with some chairs. The rest of the room is lined with kitchen countertops and shelves, together with an old metal stove in the center of the room, a long pipe leading up towards the third floor, where it likely goes higher through the ceiling. There isn’t exactly a sink. But there is a metal basin of sorts, at least.

“Jubileeeee~!” shouts Fresh in excitement, as her friend pulls their head out of the cabinets, but then sticks it back in a moment later as they keep rummaging.

“Morning,” says Jubilee rather dryly, as emotionally distant as always.

She runs inside, looking at the old kitchen that had always been here. She supposes it makes sense. If this was a party’s headquarters once, however many people they were, they had to eat too. Presumably more than just street food and dried provisions.

“This is great! Does this mean we can use this now?” asks Fresh giddily.

“If it gets you to stop nagging me, yeah,” says Jubilee, pulling an old pot out and setting it on a pile to the side.

“Hug?” asks Fresh, holding her arms out wide.

“Only if you want me to stick you head-first into the oven,” snaps Jubilee, pulling out another old, worn-through pan with heavy rust spots. “Go hug Basil, I’m sure she’ll let you, if you pay her extra.”

Basil clears her throat, standing in the door. “That’s a rather gaudy thing to say,” says the priestess, clearly offended, crossing her arms. Though, looking at her, Fresh assumes it’s mostly to hide the patches of sweat under her long sleeves, rather than out of protest.

“The only gaudy thing here is your jewelry,” says Jubilee, pulling out another old pot. Basil fidgets, pulling her sleeves down over her bracelets.

Fresh raises a finger. “I like your jewelry, Basil. It’s pretty. Jubilee is just cranky.”

“Thanks,” says the priestess, smiling at her, as she goes to collect more of the items to dispose of. Fresh sets to work, tearing open the window that likely hasn’t been open in years. The old material creaks and groans, squeaking loudly as she opens it.

Immediately, a draft blows inside, surging in through the open window and rushing down the corridor, down the stairs and out of the open downstairs window. All three of them stand there quietly in the kitchen for a minute, feeling the summer draft waft over them. The sounds of the busy, lively world outside acting as a promise, that no matter what darkness or uncertainty lies in the future, that today at least is going to be a beautiful day.

The trickling voice of the fountain out on the plaza almost seems to reassure that.

Razmatazz

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