“I’m telling you, Basil!” exclaims Fresh as she sits on the foot of the bed, having just come back from the bathing area, together with the priestess. They had one-hundred floors of dungeon guck and one full night’s sleep to wash off of themselves. She feels like a new person now, after returning to their room. Her hair is wrapped in a cloth like the priestess’ is too, so that she can get bouncy hair today. “The dragon was red,” she argues. “I remember it!”

Basil shakes her head. “I think you’re getting reality mixed up with your dreams,” says the priestess, laughing. “It was clearly orange. But I can see why you’d get it confused. It’s almost the same color.”

“Basiiiiil~” protests Fresh, crossing her arms. She turns her head, looking at Shamrock who wobbles in after them towards the bed, drooping over it halfway. He really didn’t make it or anyone wet in the night. His slime seems to be mostly self-contained within itself. From what she knows about slime-science, otherwise known as slience, this is because he ate before bed. That meant the acidity of his body was very low and that he had a lot of control over his fluidity.

That being said, she just made all of that up on the spot. But it sounds plausible in her head.

“The dragon was red, right Shamrock?” she asks the man.

He looks up at them, staring for a quiet moment. “Green.” Basil shakes her head, sighing.

“Huh?!” Fresh crosses her arms. They’re clearly messing with her. They probably planned this in some attempt to tease her while she wasn’t listening. She sighs too, deciding to let the topic drop. It’s too early in the day.

The door opens and Jubilee walks back inside with empty hands, having been gone for the last half hour to get breakfast. They close the door behind themselves, holding onto the handle for a moment.

Fresh tilts her head. “What’s up, Jubilee? Do you need help carrying the food?” she asks.

Jubilee shakes their head and turns around, leaning against the door. “Give me a minute.”

“Are you alright?” asks Basil.

“Give me a minute,” repeats Jubilee in a sharper tone, lifting a hand. Fresh and Basil look at each other, confused. Something is wrong with Jubilee’s posture as they lean back against the door. Their shoulders are too stiff, their arms too tense. Fresh wants to ask what’s wrong again, because something clearly is. She wants to console her friend for whatever might be ailing them this early in the day, telling them that they’re going to have a lot of fun together today. She had promised that, after all.

But Jubilee stands there, their hand still raised and so Fresh stands where she is. It must be something serious. Fresh rubs her arm, feeling bad. Did she mess something up somewhere? Maybe Jubilee heard some story about the last time she was here? Some story that makes her look really bad? No… no… Jubilee wouldn’t believe any fake stories like that about her. She’s sure of it. Then wh-

“We’re not going home,” says Jubilee, finally lowering their hand and looking at the three of them.

“…What?” asks Fresh, blinking. She looks around the room, not sure if she heard right. “Do you like it here that much, Jubilee?”

“Did we get found out?” asks Basil, stepping forward, her posture stiffening up now as well. “Are you alright?” asks the priestess, looking Jubilee over.

Jubilee shakes their head. “No. It’s just that we’re not going home.”

“What are you talking about?” asks Basil.

Jubilee sighs, taking their mask off as they step into the room. “They sealed off the city.”

“Huh?”

“It’s closed. Nobody in or out,” explains Jubilee, pointing up towards the ceiling. “They capped the whole fucking city off with a giant barrier.”

Basil shakes her head. “They haven’t done that since ten years ago.”

“Fuck me, I know!” barks Jubilee. “I was fucking here last time too!” they yell at Basil, throwing their mask down to the ground in frustration. It rattles as it rolls over the floor and strikes the wall. Basil crosses her arms and frowns. Jubilee continues to glare at the priestess for a moment and then stops, lowering their arms and their shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m just… tense,” apologizes Jubilee in a rare moment. Things must really be bad.

Basil bends down and picks up the mask, dusting it off. “Why did they do it this time?”

“Same reason as last time, if I had to guess,” sighs Jubilee, walking over towards them, to the bed. They sit down on the floor and lean against it. “I couldn’t get a straight answer from anyone.”

Basil lowers herself down, sitting next to them and Fresh takes the opportunity to do the same. She has no idea what’s going on. Deciding to take the open route in honor of Jubilee’s openness, she lifts her hand. “Sorry, guys, I don’t understand,” says Fresh.

“They put a big fucking magical bubble around the city,” explains Jubilee. “Nobody in or out.”

Fresh nods. “I got that. But what happened ten years ago?”

“The south,” says Jubilee, pointing down to the ground with their thumb. “It sank like a fucking coffin.”

Basil nods. “Ten years ago is about the time when the last hero-party was here,” explains the priestess. “Something… something went wrong.”

“That hero of yours fucked it up! That’s what went wrong!” says Jubilee. “All of that for a fucking witch,” they say, shaking their head. “You zealots brain-washed him and it ended up killing half the fucking continent,” says Jubilee dryly.

Everyone is quiet for a while. Fresh looks around the room, meeting eyes with Shamrock. He lifts a gooey finger, pointing it at her.

“Perchta,” says the man, nodding to her once.

“Wait. Perchta died?” asks Fresh.

“Everyone fucking died!” snaps Jubilee. “The witch. The hero and everyone else who just so happened to live down in the area.”

Not quite grasping it, Fresh rubs her forehead with her wrist in a vague agitation. It’s like her brain is itching, there’s something there, but she can’t quite get it. “So why do people call me Perchta all the time?”

Shamrock glibbers down off of the bed, forming a human form. “Light souls float,” says the man. “You’ve returned to us.”

“So do you think something…” Basil starts, not finishing right away. “Do you think something happened? Again?”

Jubilee gets up. “Well. We have a hero. We have a witch. We have at least four unexploded dungeons left. The pieces are all there.”

“What does that mean, Jubilee?” asks Fresh, getting up too.

Jubilee turns to look at her, to look at all of them. “Listen. Until we know why they put that dumb shit up, you need to prepare for the worst.”

“The worst?” asks Fresh.

Jubilee nods. “The worst.”

The four of them look at each other, all of them sizing the others up, to see how they are handling the news. Whether this news is bad or disastrous, none of them can tell.

“How much money do we have?” asks Jubilee, looking at Fresh. “We’re going to be staying here indefinitely.”

Basil sighs, rubbing Shamrock. “Ow!” she yelps, surprised.

(Basil) took {1} ACID-DAMAGE from (Shamrock)

“Sorry,” says the man, looking down at her as she shakes out her slightly burnt finger. “Not before breakfast.”

Basil frowns. “I was just about to say, it’s a good thing we kept all of our money in your window,” says the priestess, blowing on her finger. “Imagine if we kept it at the guild. We’d be in big trouble now.”

Having already opened her window, Fresh shakes her head, throwing out stack after stack of Obols. “We’ll always be able to make money together,” she says. “As long as we have each other.”

“I would have just said ‘a dungeon and people’, says Jubilee, rolling their eyes.

Wanting to change the topic to something lighter, Fresh moves the conversation along. “So can we go to the dungeon here?” she asks. “I really wanna see it!”

“I’d like to visit the temples,” says Basil. “There are supposed to be some very lovely shrines here.”

“Market,” says Shamrock.

The three of them look at Jubilee, seeing what their wish for the day is. Jubilee blinks, lifting their arms to shrug. “What?” they ask. “I don’t give a fuck.”

“Jubilee~!”

“Ugh, fine!” relents Jubilee. “There are a few bookstores here. I guess.”

Fresh nods, satisfied, as she throws another lump of money out onto the bed. Who knows how long they’re going to need to stay here and live off of their funds? It’s a good thing that they had collected so many little things for the long winter to come.

Fresh lets out another sigh of relief as she throws another handful of large coins out onto the stack. Every single Obol is another piece of a day bought for each of them. Another day of food, of water, of opportunity. The year has been long, but they have worked hard through spring, through summer and through autumn and now, they finally have the chance to make use of some of their spoils.

Fresh throws even more coins out onto the towering pile of glistening, wet metal, listening to the loud jangling that almost sounds like trickling water.