“There are less of them here than I remember,” says Jubilee, joining in on the conversation that Fresh is having with Basil, who has awoken and now sits on the foot of her freshly-made bed. Apparently she always does that first thing after getting up and getting dressed. Fresh does her best not to look at her own still unmade bed. So that she doesn’t draw attention to it. “Fairies are fucked. I hate the nosy, little shits.”

“There were more?” asks Fresh, looking at her friends as she stirs the pot. She realizes that they needed a table upstairs for all of them to sit together at.

“Yeah,” says Jubilee. “Used to be that you couldn’t swat a fly here without accidentally spanking someone buzzing past your face,” they explain, walking past them both and heading towards the balcony. “Guess they died off. Must be about that time of the decade.”

“Huh?” Fresh taps the metal spoon against the pot, getting some of the residual gunk off of it. “They died off?”

Basil nods, rubbing her face as she is still a bit tired, by the looks of it. “Fairies don’t live long. About four years. Six if they get really old,” says the priestess. “I think the oldest one ever almost got to eight, but he couldn’t fly or do much anymore in the end.” Basil leans back, feeling a cool breeze wash over her from the balcony. “Though he was part of the last hero-party. So the church took care of him.”

“Whaaat?” asks Fresh, thinking about the waitress at the adventurers’ guild. “That’s so sad, how come they die so fast?”

“It is what it is,” says Jubilee, sounding oddly dry in their voice. “Some things just live longer than others. Fairies are fucked. Elves do a bit better than humans, but not much.”

“Huh…” says Fresh, staring back down at the swirling mixture in the bubbling pot before herself.

“There will be a new generation soon, then,” says Basil, getting up and rolling her shoulders out. “Fairies are born in waves, not one at a time like humans are,” she explains, adding on at the end after seeing Fresh’s confused expression.

“Oh,” answers Fresh, not sure what else to say as she lifts the pot off of the burner and then sets it down onto the side of the stove to cool off. She doesn’t really get how that whole fairy business works, but she doesn’t really feel like questioning the logistics of it right now. Looking down, she gazes at the reflection cast in the swirling, burnt, off-green liquid. Her eyes stare at its, as if waiting for the reflection to do something. But nothing happens.

Since the new drink is supposed to be energizing, it only made sense for her to use some green-mushroom powder. But that first batch of boiled mushroom powder had a very unappealing color, so she threw it out and tried again. This time, she browned the powder in a pan first, cooking out the moisture and then leaving it in a little longer, until it was on the edge of becoming a heap of burnt, crumbling dust.

Apparently, if left in the pan long enough, mushroom powder loses its color. The bright-green powder has now turned into a dark, woody brown that almost looks like a very soft, fine dirt. It smells like it too. At first, her first instinct was to add some orange mushroom powder, perhaps out of reflex. But the zingy zest didn’t feel right, so she instead tried her way through the different kinds of mushroom-caps.

Orange-caps are tangy and sour like juice. Green-caps are more crisp and fresh like a thick, wet, root vegetable. The red ones are very metallic and savory. Blue mushroom-caps taste sweet, like a dewy fruit and the purple variants taste like… purple.

Fresh had opted to mix a tiny pinch of the red and purple caps together, creating a mixture out of it that she had poured together with the burnt, green powder. Mixing it all together, she then added some boiling water, creating the concoction that she has before herself now.

Grabbing a cup, she pours a small amount of the mixture into it and swirls it around, letting it cool a little before she holds it to her nose. She isn’t sure what she expected apart from the smell of burnt dirt, but it smells exactly like that; a bit undefinable and vague. But she leans towards it being bitter and a little like the wet smell of the ground on a rainy summer’s day. After there had been a fire.

Closing her eyes, she takes a small sip. There is still a lot of grainy particulate in the mixture and it leaves a crumbly film on her lips as she presses the cup to her mouth. She wonders what she should call it? Assuming it wor-

Her eyes shoot open wide and she sets the glass down onto the counter with a loud ‘clack’, hitting her chest with her other hand as she lets out a raspy, desperate cough, strained tears forming in her eyes. “-Iech!” splutters Fresh.

+ [Stat Boost] - [Coughee](Normal) [+{1} Stamina-regeneration per minute] ☠ [Coughee](Normal)☠

Made from a blend of roasted ingredients. This bitter drink offers a regenerative effect on both energy and mood, as well as stimulation for a tired mind.

+1 [STAMINA-REGENERATION] per minute

Minor Poison: Overconsumption for extended periods may result in [STAT-DMG]{INT, WILL}

Weight: 330mL Value: ???

“You good?” asks Jubilee from the balcony and Fresh nods.

“It’s disgusting,” says the girl, clearing her throat and looking at the mixture somewhat disappointed.

“Yeah? No shit,” says Jubilee, shaking their head. “That’s what happens when you mix a bunch of monster-goo together. Great job with your newest poison.”

“It wasn’t monster-goo!” argues Fresh. “It was monster-powder! And it’s not poison!”

“It says poison right there on the menu, dumb-ass,” sighs Jubilee, looking back out over the city and shaking their head.

Shamrock walks towards her, the floor almost rattling as he walks across it towards the kitchen. “May I?” asks the man holding out his hand and Fresh nods gratefully, handing him the cup.

“Careful, it tastes like goo,” warns the girl. “And it’s ho- AH!” Shamrock leans his head back, pouring a large amount of the cup into the slits of his helmet. “Careful it’s hot!” finishes Fresh with a cry, but Shamrock doesn’t seem to care about that.

(Shamrock)

+ [Stat Boost] - [Coughee](Normal) [+{1} Stamina-regeneration per minute]

The man lowers his arm, holding the half-empty cup down in front of his waist, standing there for a moment without saying a word or making any noises. Not even his massive chest moves to signal that he is still breathing. Fresh blinks, looking at him and then over to Basil, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Without saying anything, Shamrock sets the cup down onto the counter and walks away.

“AH!” Fresh cries, reaching after him, her fingers stretching out towards his broad back. “- I… Is it that bad?”

Shamrock stops in the middle of the room, his back still turned to her. He turns his head around, looking over his shoulder towards her. The shine of the morning sunlight, reflecting off of his rough armor, glistens, as his eyes, shining with the same jubilant intensity, lock onto her fearful gaze with a strong, unwavering, resolute stare.

“Yes,” is all that he says, as he returns to the balcony. Fresh dramatically clutches her heart and leans back against the counter. The coughee is a failure.

“There, there,” says Basil, laughing as she gets up and pats her on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’s just teasing you,” reassures the priestess, leaning in closer to whisper into her ear. “I think he’s picking up a bit of Jubilee’s aura, you know?”

Fresh looks at Basil. “…You think?”

She nods reassuringly. “I saw it all the time when we got a new arrival in the orphanage,” explains Basil, reaching over to grab the cup. “They always ended up taking after the loudest voice in the group. At least at first.”

“Huh…” says Fresh, thinking as she looks past the priestess towards the two standing on the balcony. That makes sense to her, she supposes.

She looks back, hearing that Basil is taking a sip of what’s left in the cup. The priestess’ smile doesn’t vanish, but it does seem to stiffen rather suddenly, as if her face had been replaced with one carved out of stone. Basil silently nods and hands her back the glass.

(Basil)

+ [Stat Boost] - [Coughee](Normal) [+{1} Stamina-regeneration per minute]

“Well?” asks Fresh, curiously and a little worried.

Basil clears her throat, apparently having trouble with it. “You clearly put a lot of care into it,” says the priestess somewhat monotonously, quickly turning around and Fresh watches as she also walks away, rather quickly in fact, heading towards the balcony.

‘A lot of care’? What does that mean? She looks down at the cup in her hands and sighs as she swirls the mixture around. Shrugging, not entirely sure why, she takes another sip.

She winces. It still tastes terrible.

Setting her project to the side for now, deciding that it still needs a little fine-tuning, she sets to make them all breakfast instead and throws together a few things from the pantry, frying up some eggs and some thick slices of bread for them to eat. Though she takes a minute to cut one of the portions into long slices, for Shamrock, so that he can just push them through his helmet.

After rushing to finish eating quickly, Fresh then sets to work with Jubilee, sitting outside of their room on the floor and making a heap of wares for the store. They’re going to open soon. Basil and Shamrock handle the dishes, standing next to them in the kitchenette.

“Here, I got a bunch of these ready too,” says Jubilee, pulling a fabric bag from their dresser.

Fresh looks up, grabbing it. “That’s great, Jubilee! But we don’t have time to draw on them t- ah!” she unfolds the bag, looking at the embroidered letters sewn into the fabric itself with a thick, silver thread. “That’s really nice!” says Fresh.

“Yeah, my tailoring leveled up to six,” says Jubilee, pulling a stack of bags out of the drawer of the dresser in their room.

“That’s really great!” exclaims Fresh excitedly, as she turns the bag around in her hands. “These always sold well! Good job, Jubilee!”

“When do you think we’ll be able to start repairs again?” asks Jubilee, ignoring her praise.

“Repairs?” asks Fresh, lowering the fabric rather nervously. She had been afraid of this question. “…Are you sure we should… you know?”

Jubilee lifts a hand, gesturing for her to stop. “Just don’t throw any more monster drops into it.”

Fresh feels an arm rubbing hers and she looks down, seeing that it’s just her own hand holding her. “The new moon should be soon,” explains Fresh. “I can use the spell again then.”

“Great,” nods Jubilee as they get up. “We’ll handle the business side today. You focus on setting your haunted basement up and on making things.”

“It’s not haunted!” argues Fresh.

“It’s not haunted, anymore,” corrects Jubilee, wiping their hands off on themselves as they get up, before picking up a stack of bags and some glass wands to carry downstairs.

Fresh frowns, looking back over her shoulder to the others. Shamrock is busy rubbing a plate with a particularly squeaky cloth. Basil looks over her way, appearing as if she wants to ask something, but then changes her mind at the last minute and returns to her work.

Shrugging, Fresh gets up and goes to head downstairs too.

The girl stops half-way there to the staircase though, as her head wanders towards the right, towards her own, still unmade bed. The only one. Even Shamrock had made his, which is a sight that Fresh somehow managed to miss seeing.

Nodding to herself, she slaps her cheeks once to liven herself up and then grabs the sheets, getting ready to let the day start for real.