“It’s for clothes,” says Jubilee, somewhat annoyed at the hooded man examining the bottle of white fabric-cleanser.

“Sure,” says the man, spinning it around to look at it. Fresh had gone out of her way to get rid of the skull, which she had drawn onto the labels and replaced them with a little depiction of a flower. She and Jubilee had agreed to keep it behind the counter and only give it out on request with a specific explanation not to drink it. It has been working out well so far, especially amongst the priesthood who are most excited about it. But…

Fresh stands on the stairs, watching the man, who is clearly making no effort to hide that he’s from the thieves’ guild, examine the concoction that priests had been buying to keep their robes spotless. Apparently Basil had used it and then soon enough, word spread around the church about her meticulously clean robes. If Fresh had to guess, the thieves’ guild found out from there.

“Can you make more of this?” he asks.

“Can you pay for it?” asks Jubilee.

“You know we can.”

“How many bottles do you need?”

The man thinks for a moment, looking at the bottle. “Twenty-seven.”

Jubilee narrows their eyes, gazing at the customer in suspicion. “That’s an oddly specific number.”

“It’s an oddly specific item,” says the man.

Jubilee crosses their arms, Basil stands behind them, fidgeting a little nervously. “What are you going to do with them?” she asks.

The man sets the bottle down for a moment to throw a bag full of coins onto the counter, without counting the contents. “Clean clothes,” he says rather plainly.

“Riiight,” says Jubilee, rolling their eyes and taking the coins, throwing the whole bag into the bowl and looking up the stairs. “How fast can you make twenty-seven?”

Fresh tilts her head. “We already have a few in the pantry. I could have the rest done by tomorrow, if you get me the ingredients.”

“There you have it,” says Jubilee. “Straight from the source. Come back tomorrow.”

The man from the thieves’ guild leaves without saying anything else and Jubilee lets out a long sigh. “Fucking cloaks.” They look around at Basil and Fresh. “Alright, get back to work. Show’s over.”

Fresh feels somewhat displeased at the situation and she can see that Basil does as well, but neither of them say anything and continue on with their tasks. Even if she didn’t get much sleep last night, thanks to her new points in strength and dexterity, she notices that she’s having a somewhat more comfortable time carrying armor up and down the stairs during the entire morning.

Loudly buzzing cicadas sing outside, together with the summer birds, filling the slowly quieting world with their harmony. After an hour or so, the birds slowly start to retreat again as well, however, as the sun returns, leaving only the humming of the insects to fill the air.

Slowly, the trickle of people coming into the shop slows to a crawl as well and then, soon enough, the last customer leaves. The muscular, dark-elf woman who has moved on from orange mushroom-caps and is now selling them both blue and green ones as well. Fresh takes a moment to remark how big her arms have gotten with an excited clap and the elf does the same, taking a moment to squeeze Fresh’s bicep. The girl winces, sure she’s going to get a bruise, but the elf just laughs and hits her on the back a few times before making her way back to the dungeon where her party is waiting outside.

As business starts to slow to a crawl, so do the three of them. The heat is starting to make itself present again. Fresh does her best not to let it slow her down, as she is determined to be productive, no matter what. But eventually, the sweat dripping down her skin gets to her and she falls back against the stairs, flopping down next to Jubilee.

“Jubileeeee~” complains Fresh.

“What?”

“You smell sweaty.”

“You’re one to talk,” says Jubilee. Both of them look up towards Basil who is fanning herself with a piece of paper. Feeling their gaze, the priestess lowers her arms to hide her own sweat stains and looks away.

The next hour passes like that, with no customers or any movement in the least. Even the cicadas seem to be slowly retreating now as well, as the hum of their collective slowly begins to lessen. Eventually, there is nothing to hear at all, apart from their own tired breaths and sighs. Today is easily the hottest day so far and Jubilee had mentioned that it’s only going to get worse.

Fresh wonders what the deal with the temperature is here? The day is scorching hot and the nights get ice cold, in spring as well as in summer. She sighs. It’s so hot. Jubilee sighs next to her and then Basil sighs as well, flapping the papers in her hand as a fan.

A thudding noise breaks the silence of the world, a massive pair of metal boots stomping across the plaza. Fresh rolls her head over to the side, looking at the door through the banisters of the staircase. All three of them lazily watch, as the giant man from the sect marches towards the shop, the scorching midday sun shining onto his dark-cobalt armor, which Fresh imagines is filled to the brim with sweat. He doesn’t seem to care though and makes a beeline for the door. Fresh realizes that she hasn’t seen him since that morning when she gave him the sweet-tea.

The girl rolls her head back upwards, tilting it, to look up the stairs behind herself. She should make some more of that. But then again, she doesn’t want her friends to try and commercialize her presents again. The floorboards creak as the man approaches.

“Hi,” says Fresh, raising a hand to wave to the giant. Jubilee stays leaned against the wall and even Basil doesn’t bother retreating from his towering presence anymore. “How are you?” she asks. “Do you need a new sword?”

“Busy,” is all that the large man says, as he walks up to the counter and sets something down, turning around to leave again. He grabs a large, two-handed axe on his way out. Apparently his swords were already broken. Fresh wonders why someone who is supposedly high-level would even want to use her low-level swords, but then she realizes that maybe nobody else in town wants to do business with the man. They’re probably the only people willing to sell him things at all.

She isn’t sure if she should feel bad for him? The man is clearly an outcast, but at the same time, he doesn’t seem to care in the least, as he is too busy with doing what it is that he loves. So maybe she doesn’t need to.

He stands at the door, looking back towards Fresh, but then turns to return to the dungeon. “The pact is sealed,” says the giant, before walking away. Fresh sits upright in surprise at the sentence and watches as the man leaves.

She turns her head, looking over to Basil, who speaks. “Uh… this isn’t money?” says the priestess, unwrapping the cloth bundle on the counter. Jubilee gets up and walks over to look at it, together with Fresh. The cloth falls off and beneath it is a solid, translucent sphere with a pale, cool-blue tinge. Ice.

“Fuck me,” says Jubilee pressing their hands against the sphere which is radiating cold air in all directions. “It’s an ice-golem-core.”

Jubilee presses their gloved hands against the ice-monster drop. Fresh has already fallen to her knees against the counter, pressing the side of her face into the frozen sphere. “It’s so cooold~” she sighs in relief. Jubilee apparently agrees, as they sigh along with her.

Fresh opens her eyes, looking at Basil who hasn’t moved any closer yet. The priestess is clearly warm and drenched with sweat, but she doesn’t seem to want to come closer to cool off. Basil averts her eyes, doing her best to look away from this newest temptation in her life. “It’s okay, Basil,” says Fresh. “You’re allowed to cool yourself off too.” Basil fidgets, but doesn’t budge further than that.

“No, thank you. I’d rather not.”

Jubilee rolls their eyes. “Zealot.”

“I am not!” argues Basil. “I just…” she crosses her arms.

“Baaasil~” calls Fresh out, pressing the side of her face into the ice.

Basil looks down at her. “Yes?”

Fresh waves with an arm, beckoning the priestess over. “Baaaaasil~” she calls again. “Come cool off with us. It’s so nice~”

Basil lowers her eyes to the ice for a moment, but then crosses her arms back up again. “No, thank you.”

Fresh narrows her eyes. Basil is allowed to have her principles, as far as she sees it. But that doesn’t mean that she’s going to be happy about it. Fresh walks on her knees to the other side of the ice-golem-core, placing it between herself and Basil and then she takes in a deep breath, blowing on the crystal.

“What are you doing, goo-brain?” sighs Jubilee, watching her.

Fresh takes another breath and blows more of the cold air towards Basil. Jubilee rolls their eyes and releases their hands to gesture at the girl, as they look up at Basil. “Will you please just touch the damn ice? Are you really going to make me have to watch this tragedy?”

“Hey!” argues Fresh, before straining herself to blow more of the cold air towards Basil, whose shoulders droop, as she apparently relents. The priestess drops her paper fan onto the counter and places her hands on the ice as well. Fresh smiles, lifting her hands up so that all three of them are touching the golem-core. “It’s so cold,” sighs Fresh in relief.

“Yup,” nods Jubilee.

“Mhm,” says Basil.