“You really shouldn’t drink that many!” exclaims Fresh, feeling somewhat exasperated, as she looks at the red-clad wizard, who has returned once again. The wizard tilts her head curiously, looking down at the potions and then back up towards her, shrugging.

“Why? Is there something wrong with them?”

“I… No. It’s just…” Fresh scratches her cheek, looking at them. “I don’t know, are you sure you should drink five a day?”

The wizard waves her off. “It’s fine! Besides, I need the soul-points to go down into the dungeon to earn a living.”

Fresh thinks for a moment. “Aren’t you spending all of the money you make on potions though…?” she asks, scratching her cheek. “Ow!” She winces as a small boot stomps down onto her toes.

“- For which we are very grateful, is what my idiot party-member is trying to say in so many words,” hisses Jubilee, going the extra mile to elbow Fresh in her side as well. Jubilee snatches the coin from the counter. “Do you need a bag?”

“Yes, please,” says the wizard, somewhat confused.

Fresh thinks for a moment. “Huh? Didn’t you buy one last ti- OW!” The girl steps back away from the counter as Jubilee kicks her leg. “That hurt!”

“Here you go, your potions.”

“Thanks! See you tomorrow!” says the wizard, waving as she leaves.

Fresh scowls, looking down at Jubilee who scowls back up at her. “We’re trying to run a shop here, what’s your problem?” snaps Jubilee at Fresh, who is leaning against the wall and holding her leg up, to rub the toe-cap of her boot and to press down on her sore feet.

“That doesn’t mean we have to be unethical though!” she argues. “What if it’s dangerous to drink that many? Or what if they’re addictive?” asks Fresh, wincing as she sets her foot back down.

Jubilee places their hands on their hips. “Then we’re either going to have a very terrible or a very lucrative business venture. If you wanted to be ethical, you should have become a priestess, you bonehead!” they bark.

A voice coughs loudly from in front of the counter. They both turn their heads to look at the woman in white standing there. “It may not be too late for that, if you’re so inclined,” says the priestess, unaccompanied today by her orc party-member.

Jubilee walks away, waving her off. “You wouldn’t want her, trust me, she’s not cut out for church work.” They shrug as they go upstairs towards the pantry. “A real deviant. Total creature of the night.”

“Oh…” says the priestess, somewhat taken aback as she looks over Fresh.

“Huh?! That’s not true! Liar!” exclaims Fresh, leaning over the counter and sticking her tongue out at Jubilee as they leave. She scowls, puffing out her cheek and looking back to the priestess. Fresh clears her throat and stands back upright. “Hello! Welcome! How are you today? Where’s your friend?”

The priestess shrugs, sighing as she shakes her head. “I told him to wait inside the dungeon,” she laughs. “He’s only going to cause a scene if I bring him back in here.”

Fresh laughs. “It’s okay, he seems nice.” She thinks for a second, wondering what the priestess wants. “Ah!” She leans down, grabbing the handle of the sword and straining herself, pulling it up a few inches as she grunts. Her grip loosens and the sword falls back down onto the lower shelf of the counter.

“Do you need some help?” asks the priestess.

Fresh laughs meekly, scratching her cheek. “Sorry, I don’t have a lot of strength…”

“Oh, are you sickly?” The priestess looks at the deep bags under the girl’s eyes. “May I?” She raises a hand and a warm light streams out of it and envelops Fresh before she can answer.

+Status: [Lower Blessing of Strength] Raises Strength by 4 for one hour

Fresh clenches her hands, looking down at them, as the warm aura encapsulates her sleep-deprived body. It feels like sitting in the sun on a warm summer day, like having a hot tea during a spring shower. The spell enveloping her radiates a deep heat into her body. “Thanks… Is this holy magic?” asks Fresh, watching as it dissipates. The light and the feeling of warmth both evaporate away, leaving only the strong feeling in her bones. “I’ve never felt holy magic before.”

“Really?” asks the priestess curiously. “That’s unusual. Weren’t you blessed as a child? Everyone born in the city is.”

Fresh stops, realizing that she has made a mistake already, first thing in the morning. Idly, she stares at her hands for a second. “Ah. Uh…” She bends down, grabbing the sword again and lifts it up. Still somewhat strenuously, but far easier than before and lays it down onto the counter-top. “I’m uh… I’m from the south,” she lies.

“Ah-“ says the priestess, her eyes opening wide and her posture shifting to something stiff, as if suddenly everything made sense to her all at once. “I’m sorry, I had no idea,” she says with a solemn, somber tone.

Fresh shrugs, laughing meekly. “It wasn’t so bad.” She pushes the sword towards the priestess, in an effort to change the topic before her lie is uncovered. A hand presses itself down onto hers and Fresh looks up towards the priestess, somewhat taken aback by her sudden forwardness.

“Things are better here,” says the priestess, her hand resting on top of the back of Fresh’s. She nods affirmingly, like a reassuring mother.

“Huh? What?” asks Fresh.

The priestess shakes her head, closing her eyes. “I understand, you don’t need to say anything. If you ever need to talk, you can find me at the church during the evening hours.”

Fresh tilts her head curiously, not really too sure about what’s currently happening. “So… Do you like the sword?”

“Huh? Oh.” The priestess looks down at it, taking her hand off of Fresh’s, who pulls her hands back and holds them behind her back. She leans in, looking over the surface. “Wow… this is really good. I don’t see any hammer marks or anything… It looks like it’s brand new.” They look up to her. “Did you do this?”

“Mm!”

“That’s excellent work for a craftsman… you’re very talented,” says the priestess, lifting up the sword and holding it into the air fairly effortlessly. Fresh beams brightly, having received praise anew today.

“Thank you! I was up all night.”

“In your condition?!” asks the priestess somewhat taken aback. “I’m sorry. I’ll reprimand my idiot party-member once I get back.”

Fresh leans forward, waving her now free-again hands. “No, no! Please, I had a lot of fun doing it. I like working.”

The priestess looks to her and then back to the sword, before narrowing her eyes. “Huh?” she leans in, pulling the sword closer to her face. A menu pops up. “This isn’t an enchanted sword… huh?! Ten percent?!” She looks back to Fresh, somewhat shocked. “Did you do this too? How?!” She looks to the sword then back to her then back to the sword.

Fresh scratches her cheek meekly, fidgeting uncomfortably as she does so. “I uh… I like working…?” she repeats. “It keeps my mind off of things,” she lies again. Though only partially this time.

The priestess makes a somber expression as she looks at Fresh sadly, but then her expression changes to one even more somber than that, as she lowers the sword back down. “I can’t afford to pay for an enchantment. Did he ask for this?” She clutches her hood with her free hand, obscuring her eyes as they grind their teeth. “He’s going to be the death of me!”

Fresh tilts her head, looking down at the empty little brown satchel strung to the priestess’ waist. If there were any coins in it, they were hardly enough to make themselves noticed through the whisper thin fabric. Are enchantments really so expensive? Or are priestesses just not paid well? Maybe it’s both. Fresh rubs her arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

“…Excuse me?” the priestess looks back at her, letting go of the fabric of her hood.

Fresh smiles, flashing her wink as she raises her finger. “It’s on the house. Consider it a donation to the church.”

The priestess looks away as if feeling deeply ashamed. “I’m sorry, we’re very much indebted to you.” She sets the sword down and pulls out her money-pouch, tilting it upside down to let all of the coins fall out into her palm before she sets them down onto the counter. “I promise we’ll pay you back for both repairs.” Fresh looks down to the handful of coins. There are hardly ten Obols. “Things are… things are tight right now,” explains the priestess, fidgeting with her sleeves.

From the looks of things, it’s all the money the woman has left. Fresh ponders telling her to just forget it and to just take the sword and that everything is fine. Worst case, she’ll just pay for it out of her own pocket. She has the money. But…

She looks back up to the priestess’ determined eyes. There’s something in them, some spark that she doesn’t want to quench. With a smile, Fresh takes the coins. “Okay! I’ll be waiting here.” She nods. “Do your best!”

Repaired: 1 [Large Broadsword]{Holy}(Normal)

for

[{8} Obols] !

The priestess looks at her, something on her otherwise sharp stony face quivering as she takes the sword and leaves without another word. “Bye! Come again!” calls Fresh.

The room is quiet.

“You handled that well,” says a voice.

“IAH!” Fresh jumps up in shock, springing to the side in surprise as she hears the voice ring out from just next to her. “How long have you been standing there?!”

“Long enough to see you giving away our products for free, you jiggling worm-brain!” Jubilee shakes their head, crossing their arms. “But in this case you were right to try to win her over. Too bad for you that priestesses are outside of the dating market.”

“Huh?! I wasn’t trying to do that!” protests Fresh, clenching her fists. “I was just trying to be nice!”

Jubilee rolls their eyes. “Didn’t you hear her? She slipped up.”

“What?” asks Fresh, blinking curiously.

Fresh’s party-member raises their hands, gesturing with air-quotes. “’Excellent work for a craftsman.’”

The girl thinks for a moment. “Isn’t that just a compliment? She seems really nice, I bet she’s trying really hard,” says Fresh. “I bet orcs eat a lot. Food must be expensive for them.”

“I feel her pain,” says Jubilee without any emotion to their voice.

“Huh?” asks Fresh, not understanding.

Jubilee groans. “Have you ever told her or the orc your class?”

“No, of course not.” Fresh thinks for a moment, but then her eyes go wide as she understands.

“Exactly,” says Jubilee, picking up a crate of potions and walking away to restock the still mostly full shelves. “The two of them are snooping around. They’re probably just some disposable lackeys sent to investigate us. Be careful what you say and do around them. Play nice. Smile and wave. Everything is fine.”

Fresh straightens up, looking out through the empty store towards the open door, half expecting to see someone standing there and watching her this instant.

But there is no-one there.