“Will it make me strong like you?” asks an excited caster, jumping up and down in front of Shamrock.

“No,” is all that the giant says, looking down at the pointy wizard hat which bobs up down beneath his gaze. He stands just outside of the door of the store, towering behind a somewhat dinky, small stall that Fresh and Basil had put up together an hour before they opened for the day, with Jubilee’s sanction. As long as they didn’t block the road and they stayed by the house, apparently it was perfectly fine. Shamrock’s large arms hang limply at his sides, the man showing absolutely no signs of any body language whatsoever. But apparently that doesn’t bother him in the least either, as the only part of him that isn’t facing straight forward is his head, which looks down at the ring of casters standing before the stall.

“Can it boost my magic?” asks a giddy elf from the left of the stall, pushing her way through the crowd with a glass wand in her hand.

“No,” replies Shamrock dryly, turning his head towards her.

“Does it taste good?” asks a man from the front, raising his hand, chewing on one of the candies he had bought a minute earlier.

Shamrock is quiet for a few seconds, staring down at the collection of labeled jars filled with a fine, ground powder that covers the stall and the shelves down at his feet. “It is acceptable,” he says, his breastplate lurching as he releases a heavy breath, which seems to push the entire crowd back all at once.

Somehow, this explanation is enough for them though. The spellbound crowd surges back towards him like the returning tide, as they begin to snatch up every glass that they can. Bickering and arguing as they get in each other’s way, trying to be the first to give him their money.

Fresh, standing in the doorway with Basil and Jubilee next to her, lets out a sigh and purses her lips. She had hoped Shamrock would have described the new product a little more poetically, but she supposes that she should have known better. Though it seems that Jubilee’s intuition was on the mark. The crowds here are drawn to him.

“I hope they’ll like it,” says Fresh, turning around to head back inside of the otherwise empty store.

“I’m sure they will,” says Basil, patting her on the back as she walks with her.

“Who gives a shit? As long as they keep buying it,” says Jubilee, shaking their head. “I can’t believe that people are literally lining up to poison themselves.”

“It’s not poison!” argues Fresh, looking back.

Jubilee eyes her. “The menu has a skull on it.”

Fresh frowns, crossing her arms. “It’s only bad if you drink waaay too much of it!” explains the girl. “That’s why we wrote the instructions and the warning on the back!”

“It still surprises me every time that you can write,” sighs Jubilee, waving her off.

“It still surprises me what a jerk you are!” says Fresh, sticking out her tongue afterwards for emphasis.

Basil walks between them, raising her hands to try and diffuse the situation this time. “Let’s not fight,” says the priestess, trying to calm them both down. But this time, both Fresh and Jubilee start laughing. Not because of the absurdity, but because they both know that they’re not being serious right now.

The day begins with a rush as the crowd, who more or less buy their entire stock of coughee out within an hour, then begins to head inside. Fresh is certain that this is just because that’s where Shamrock is, having come in after he had nothing left to sell outside.

As the customers head inside, they quickly start picking the shelves clean. All day, there is a steady stream of patrons trickling in and out of the store, buying any and everything that they have to sell. Apart from the glass swords and daggers, that is. Only a few of those leave the store and Fresh is sure that they were more novelty purchases than anything else. Still, even if she isn’t quite the center of attention and adoration like she wants to be, for some reason that she can’t quite explain, it still fills her with a warm feeling that is more than good enough, as people walk out of the door, carrying armfuls of the things that she’s made.

Jubilee’s tote-bags are starting to pick up now as well. Now all Fresh needs to do is figure out something for Basil and Shamrock to make.

“Hey, Basil?” asks Fresh. Basil, standing next to her and playing around with one of the stuffed sheep, looks over her way.

“Yes?”

“You wanna think of something that you can make too?” asks Fresh.

“Me?”

“Yeah! For the store to sell!” explains Fresh. “It’s a great feeling, when people like your stuff!”

Basil waves her off. “I’m not really… you know, handsy, when it comes to making things.”

“Don’t you have a sub-class?” asks Fresh and Basil nods.

“My sub-class is herbalist,” explains Basil. “There isn’t much for me to make.”

“So you pick flowers?” asks Jubilee. “I can do that without a sub-class.”

“It’s not just picking flowers!” argues Basil, crossing her arms, the sheep still in her hands. “There’s a lot to know,” says the priestess “Which plants are good to eat or how some plants can only be picked in certain seasons or -”

“Okay, we get it. You like plants,” sighs Jubilee. “Who would have guessed with a name like that?”

Basil frowns, shaking her head. “Most of us end up with gathering sub-classes,” she explains. “It’s where we got a lot of our food during the adventuring off-season.”

“Man, they sure treat you people like shit, huh?” asks Jubilee, giving a customer his change. Basil frowns, looking away and back towards the shelves. There isn’t much for her to do right now.

“Holy work is a calling,” says the priestess.

“It’s a calling to get fucked over,” says Jubilee. Neither of them say anything else and Fresh sighs, placing a hand on Basil’s shoulder this time.

“Baaaaasil~?” starts Fresh. “Try to think of something that you would like to make, okay?” asks the girl. “Please?” she begs, shaking the priestess’ shoulder. Basil doesn’t say anything else as she turns back to face her, but nods once to Fresh’s delight.

She smiles and then runs past her. “Shamrock! Do you have a sub-class?” She stops. Actually, what primary class is Shamrock even to begin with? She just realizes that she’s never asked.

He looks over to her, as does the suddenly very sour looking dark-elf on the other side of the counter. “No,” is all that he says, much to Fresh’s surprise. She assumed everyone had one.

“Oh, uh. Well, would you like to think of something to make for the store too?”

“No,” responds the man plainly.

“Please?” asks Fresh, clenching her hands together and making her eyes as large as she can.

“Yes,” responds Shamrock immediately, nodding down to her once as well. Fresh beams at him.

“Let me know if you need any help!” says Fresh, as she walks behind him towards the basement. “We can figure out something together then! Ah - that counts for you too Basil!” calls Fresh back, opening the basement door and heading downstairs before the glaring eyes of the dark-elf who was talking to Shamrock can finish digging through her heart.

The girl sighs. Why are people so oddly intense up here? “Must be the mountain air,” she sighs, as she heads downstairs and returns to her crafting work.

Tomorrow, they will start accepting repairs again. So for today, she wants to keep herself busy with the next part of the armor set, the boots. They seemed like the next easiest thing to make. Her total plan is for the set to have gloves, boots, leggings of some kind and a robe. Though she isn’t quite sure how to make that last one work in any optically pleasing way, given the stretchiness and the leathery-shininess of the material.

So boots it is, for today.

Heading to her table, she slaps one of the rubbery crystal-drakonium ingots onto the surface and holds her hands above it, wondering if one is enough for a single boot.

(Fresh) uses: [Craftsman: Leatherworking {Boot}] (Small)

The single, dark boot, meant for a left foot, flops down onto the table with a dull ‘thwup’. Fresh stares at it. “Yup, that’s a boot,” says the girl, scratching her cheek. Pleased, but not too surprised at the result. They had about the same stats as the gloves.

[Crystal-Drakonium Boot]{Cold}(High) A stretchy, lightweight boot made out of Crystal-Drakonium. It smells vaguely of fire.

2 DEF

-) Increases maximum SOUL by 1.5%

-) Increases COLD damage by 1.5%

-) Reduces PHYSICAL damage taken by 1.5%

+2 COLD RESISTANCE

+1 DARK RESISTANCE

Quality Effect: Absorbs and radiates ambient magical energies

Weight: 0.12KG Size: Small Value: ???

Though what does surprise her, is how the boot, the sole of which lays flat on the table, starts to rise up into the air. It stops, floating up only a fraction of an inch above the surface, but it stays there.

Curious, she presses her hand into it and pushes it back down to the table. It sinks beneath the meager force that she is adding to it, but she feels a slight push, as the boot which she presses down, tries to rise back up into the air, pressing against her hand as it tries to float.