Chapter 12: 12 – The Quest for Smokes

"I expected you to come in here looking to fight, or to ask me about the progress of your enchanted clothes. Imagine my surprise to learn that a beast of a fighter like yourself is a junkie." 

Mildred is sitting on the counter, looking down at me. There's a smug grin on her face that I want to wipe off, but she's my only lead. Pissing her off won't get me anywhere.

"Wouldn't come to you if it wasn't important. The shit you can buy in the market is like bootleg cigarettes. They don't do anything for me," I say, chewing on a sugar cane I bought from the city square.

"Unfortunately, I have no such substance. Even if I did, do you think I would so brazenly brandish it in the open?"

She hops off the counter and heads into the back. I follow after her, and come out onto a balcony deck that faces the royal manor.

"I got my hands dirty just to get a name, and all of them come back to you. I'm begging ya. I don't do it often, but I'm desperate here. I need some fucking smokes or I'll go nuts." I bite down on the sugar cane so hard it snaps and falls off the balcony. I spit the rest out and wipe my mouth. "Hookah, smokes, pipes, throw me a bone. I've been scratching myself wild ever since I ran out."

Mildred lays down on a lounging chair and taps the seat next to me. I lay down next to her. A teapot floats in the air and pours tea into two cups. I take the one that floats up next to me.

"I heard my dear Kain has been delving into… culinary arts, as of late. Is this true?" She asks.

"Yeah?" I take a sip of the tea which has a hint of honey and lemon. She's gotta have laced it with something else, too, because as soon as it hits my stomach, the itching feeling under my skin disappears.

"If you can procure me some of his homemade meals, I may have the name of a source to give."

"Done."

I head back home as fast as I can. When I throw open the door to the kitchens Kain is inside, staring over a cauldron.

"Gofer."

"Yes— I mean, Kain. It's Kain, not gofer!"

The prince looks like he's in the middle of preparing some sort of stew. There's a huge pot brewing over the fire. A bunch of excess vegetables and meats are strewn about the counters. Two other house servants are in here helping him.

"I need you to make some more of the cookies," I tell him.

"Ah-ha! So you enjoyed them so much you wish for me to make more?"

I smack my face and swallow my pride. "Yeah. They were good."

"Unfortunately, you will have to wait. We're in the process of a breakthrough, combining mana-infused ingredients to create a new recipe." He goes back to chopping more vegetables. The servants throw me a look and shrug.

I snatch the knife from his hand and turn him around to face me.

"You don't understand. I need those fucking cookies. Now."

Kain gulps hard. "As... as you command."

It takes Kain about an hour to make a batch of cookies from scratch. I take them back to Mildred who is surprised to see me back so soon, but nevertheless ecstatic to receive the cookies.

"Ahh… made from his very hands. I'll never eat them, I'll bask in their scent forever."

"No, please eat them." I say, repulsed by her excessive obsession. "Anyway, you got a name for me, right?"

Mildred hands me a silver coin that's nicked in four places and marked black in the center. At a second glance, the indentations look perfectly spaced out.

"The one you're looking for is Oaks. Hand that coin to the banana seller in the bazaar and ask for the freshest bananas Dysentia has to offer. Now leave me. I wish to savour these… ahem, alone."

I head to the bazaar on the eastern side of Cynderace. This side of the market seems to be where most of the less wealthier folk make their purchases at. Prices are haggled, beggars on every corner, the buildings are less extravagant and much more cramped than the side of town I'm living in.

It doesn't take long before I find the banana stand. It's a small stall, buttressed up against a ramshackled building with boarded up windows. An unassuming elven man leans back in his chair, yawning.

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"Heya," he greets me as I approach the stall. "Bananas are real cheap. You wanna get 'em while they're ripe!"

"I'd like the freshest bananas Dysentia has to offer." I place the coin on the counter and slide it over to him. The elf sucks his teeth and pockets the coin.

"Of course, miss! Right this way." He throws open the spotted sheet that's covering his shack.

I follow him into the building where a number of unsavoury inhabitants are playing cards and dice. This must be one of those gambling dens. The elf leads me upstairs, a rotting door stands between us and the only room on the upper floor. He knocks once.

"Got a guest looking for ya, boss."

"Let 'em in." A deep voice bellows through from the other side.

The elf opens the door for me to walk in and shuts it as soon as I'm through. It's a small room, and only three people are inside. One of them, a dark-skinned lion-faced man, sits at the desk. Two larger, burly humans stand on either side of him, staring daggers at me. He puts away several large pouches of what I assume are full of gold.

The lion-man tilts his head at me. "For safety reasons it behooves me to ask who referred you here."

"A certain enchanter did. I assume you're Oaks?" I sit down without giving him a chance to offer it. These guys look tough, but I don't get the same goosebumps as when I was facing Mildred.

"I am. So Mildred's back in town, huh? I'll have to pay her a visit. Heh." He scratches at his huge golden mane. "What can I do for a buddy of Mildred's, eh?"

"She said you might have something I'm looking for. Ya know, something to take a load off. Got something like that?"

Oaks sniffs the air. Maybe he's trying to sniff out if I'm screwing with him. He leans back in his seat. I hear the sound of cabinets being shuttered.

"As a purveyor of many things, I may. I may or may not also have substances to do just that. Though… I'm unsure if you're able to afford it."

I put a heavy pouch of gold on the table. All of it was from the quests we did over the last few days. "Should be at least five platinum in there. How much you got?"

A large clawed hand picks up the sack. Oaks scoffs and tosses it into a cabinet below.

"Hey!" The moment I jump out of my seat, his two goons step forward.

"Thing about Mildred is, we aren't friends. We're business associates, and she happens to owe me fifty platinum that was promised six months ago."

"That bitch…" I mutter under my breath. I didn't bring Sacchan with me, so if things get hairy, it's going down with fists swinging. "Maybe you're too cat-brained stupid, but I'm not Mildred. You got beef with her, take it to her. Not me."

A growl escapes his throat. "Tough talk for a little girl."

I crack my knuckles. "I'll cut you some slack because you don't know who I am. You're on my turf now, and this can only end in one of two ways: You give me what I came for, or I beat the shit out of you so bad your wife's babies will come out bruised."

"In case you haven't noticed, you're under my roof. I think we'll be showing you the door," he says. As soon as his goons grab my shoulders, I grab their hands and throw them at the door. They crash outside and crumble on top of each other.

Oaks lunges out of his seat to strike, but I grab his wrist and drive a fist into his ribs. He staggers back, clutching where I'd hit him. He snarls and bears his fangs at me.

"Tough. For a little girl," I say, bearing my own teeth.

Normally, I would have Sacchan take care of a fight with a single swing. Not like it matters. Fighting people larger than me is something I've been used to since grade school. If there is one thing I can thank my shitty past for, is teaching me how to handle big targets.

Oaks charges. Instead of punches, he makes swipes with his claws. One good hit might put me out, but as long as I keep low, I'm too small of a target for him to hit. Everytime he swings wide, I bury a fist into his gut. 

The same place. Over. And over. And over again. Oaks' eyes roll to the back of his head and tumbles forward, crashing to the ground. I use his body as a welcome mat to scrape the dirt from my shoes. Rummaging through his drawers, I find a pipe and a brick of crushed and dried herbs.

"Smells good. You can keep the change, consider it charity to your litter box."