Fresh’s legs feel weak as their next task now stands before them. Her arms, strained, shake from the weight of the loot that she is carrying. The two of them stand together in front of the door to the adventurers’ guild.

She gulps, remembering the somber atmosphere inside. Will people look at them weird if they walk in carrying a bunch of stuff? Fresh looks around at the people walking over the market-square. She realizes that she really needs a bag of her own. Looking down at Jubilee, she notices that the small figure doesn’t have one either. She wants to ask why, but stops short, as they open the door before picking back up their load and stepping inside.

Quietly, Fresh hustles in after them, pushing the caps against the inside wall with her waist to grab the door and silently pull it closed behind herself. Again, the sound of the world is cut off, as if this space were distinct from the city. But there is no blue fog or any other separation, it simply seems that the gloomy aura itself suffices to bury the vibrant shade of the mid-afternoon sun outside. It could of course, also just be more mundane; the building likely just has good isolation.

This time however, much to Fresh’s relief, the tavern is mostly empty, save for the barkeeper in back, polishing what looks to be the same glass as before. They stand there entirely alone, apart from the haunting voice, which causes the hairs on the back of her neck to rise.

Quietly, with her arms full, she hustles after Jubilee, who is already halfway up the staircase. The two of them enter the sealed-off room. Fresh sort of understands now. Apparently every party gets a key and everyone uses the same door, but it always leads to a separate space that only they and their party members could access. It’s similar to how the dungeon works.

Once the door closes behind them both, Jubilee loudly drops their, comparatively large, load unceremoniously down onto the ground and sighs, bending over forward with their hands on their knees. A little more carefully, Fresh sets her caps down next to the others and they look at their prize. Five caps were worth twenty-five Obols on their own. Add in the snail-shells, that are presumably worth about the same, then they’ve already cleared thirty Obols. Fifteen each. But that isn’t enough. Fresh’s eyes are wide open, as she glows with excitement. And with those wide eyes, she notices the world coming closer all of a sudden. Her legs give out from beneath herself and she falls down onto her bottom, her back against the wall by the door.

“If you die in here, I’m just gonna lock the door and leave your body behind,” says Jubilee.

“I’m just a little… a little wobbly,” explains Fresh, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Yeah, having one single health-point will do that to you,” says Jubilee dryly. “Damn, what must life be like with two health-points? You must be like a baby fawn.”

“I have three,” says Fresh proudly. Not opening her closed eyes. “I leveled up, remember? So I have three health-points now.”

“Wow. Great,” says Jubilee, rather dryly. Fresh doesn’t open her eyes, but she’s certain that the figure is rolling theirs. “So?”

“So what?” asks Fresh. The room is quiet. Something presses against her skull with some pressure, she opens her eyes to see the single gloved finger, pressing in between her eyebrows.

“So, what can you make?”

Fresh thinks for a time, letting Jubilee know with an audible ‘Hmm’. The materials are worth fifteen for each of their shares as raw resources. But she had to do something with them. Anything. That’s her obligation. She has to carry her own weight somehow…

Mushrooms. Mushrooms… What can you do with mushrooms?

She never ate many mushrooms in her old life. Mostly just frozen fries and pizzas and the occasional bowl of cereal. She has a little, teensy knack for cooking now, apparently. Maybe she could cook them and… no. No… that doesn’t feel right.

“Well?” asks the voice, clearly agitated.

“Wait…” Fresh thinks for a moment. Mushrooms are associated with… hmm… witches? Maybe? Also with forests and potions and also-also some rather racy connotations, but those aren’t very helpful right now for her situation. Uh…

Well, there are alchemists here. She remembers Jubilee talking about them. So, potions? Potions… yeah!

Fresh speaks. “You said the vendors just grind them up to sell to the alchemists? Couldn’t we do that too?”

Jubilee pulls their finger back and Fresh opens her eyes to see them placing their hands on their hips, as they bend down to press their masked face towards hers. “You goo-brain, you think it’s that easy? If it was, then everyone would just do that,” they explain. “There’s some trade secret that the merchants keep to themselves, inside of their families.”

“Hmm…” Fresh thinks for a moment. She doesn’t want to let them down again, feeling an odd obligation to the still, more or less, stranger; despite their brashness and rude demeanor. “Then we need to find out what it is.”

“Not. A. Chance,” says Jubilee, pausing between each word for emphasis. “I’m not gonna sneak around a merchant’s place. They take this stuff seriously.”

“We don’t have to do any spying. We can just ask around, surely somebody knows something. Maybe w-”

“No, dumb-ass! If they catch wind, they’ll literally make you disappear!” says Jubilee, gesturing with their hands. “Poof!” Jubilee turns around and walks away. “They’ll probably grind up your whole body with the batches of mushroom-caps!” they warn. “You don’t mess with the street merchants, okay?”

“Are they that bad?” asks Fresh curiously, thinking about the nice man from before. Then again, he had paid her under-market value for her cap. Though… it was also burnt and he had said he usually wouldn’t take just one. So she’s unsure of what exactly to feel.

Jubilee tilts their head. “Do you not get what kind of money this stuff involves? You think they’d hesitate to make some two-bit adventurers, who asked too many questions, vanish?” asks Jubilee. “It’s for sure happened before,” they say, before looking out of the opaque window. Fresh watches them standing there, with their back to her, their shoulders drooped. Can they even see anything through there? The window just looks like a colored wall, in a sense.

The room is quiet.

A shrill chime breaks the silence. Jubilee turns around to look.

[CRAFTING: 1]{Hands On!}

Fresh sits there, cross-legged, tearing small bits of a mushroom-cap off and crumbling it into coarse, mealy lumps, that she collects inside of the snail-shell. Feeling a yawn come on to her, she presses her dirty, sleeveless shoulder into her face to quiet it, before blinking the wet out of her eyes and continuing her work.

She’s going to figure it out.