"This is a good-sized pack. But I could really use a Bag of Holding. Do you have any?"

"You are holding one, sir."

"What!? Really? But I don't sense any magic from it."

"It's not magic."

"But then how does it store more things than it can hold."

"It can't."

"But you said it was a Bag of Holding."

"It is."

"But it's not."

"It is a bag that holds items. Is that not what you were describing?"

"No! I mean a Bag of Holding."

"Sir. It doesn't help me even if you say the words differently. Can you explain it clearly?"

"A Bag of Holding is a magic bag enchanted to hold more than it seems by using space magic."

"Well, that explains it. There is no such thing."

"What about a Pocket of Plenty?"

"No... Sir."

"A Satchel of Stuff?"

"Sir..."

"A Saddlebag of Storage?"

"Do you even own a horse?"

"Bear. What about a Fanniepack of Fortune?"

"What now?"

"A Bottomless Bucket?"

"We sell regular buckets."

"Caligula's Compact Cache?"

"..."

"A WONDER WALLET!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Daire collapsed to his knees and lamented his woes to the heavens before being dragged out by an annoyed shopkeep.

=

Bitter tears ran down his face as he chewed on his shirt collar.

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, lad, but magical healing potions that can cure wounds instantly are just children's stories. If you want to learn alchemy, it has many uses. Such as healing poultices and salves, and even pills that can rid diseases in days! It really is a marvelous profession."

Sniffling.

"No Healing Potions. Antidotes... Elixers... Stamina Draughts... I knew it was too much to hope."

"Woah... Heeey there... Don't be so upset. I'll tell you what. Show me that box of medical supplies once more, and I'll give you a store 10% discount on whatever you desire just for you. Hmmm? Whaddya say?"

"No."

"That's right, just- I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"No!"

"No? Well, why not?"

"Hmph. I don't trust you."

"Don't act that way. Just one of those I-B-Professors could help me save lives."

"No! You're trying to trick me. I'm saving these for someone special."

"I only need one. I can make you ten if you share just a single one."

Daire hugged the box to his chest.

"No means no!"

"Listen here, you-"

"AH!"

Daire held the box above his head and bolted out the door like a child whose cookie stash had been found.

The wizened shopkeep grumbled and slumped along his counter, regretting the loss. He was too old to chase after and too stubborn in his principles to take it by force. All he could do was dream of the possibilities.

He sighed longingly.

*Echem*

"Hm?"

Someone cleared their throat.

Alchemist Joe glanced up through his untrimmed eyebrows at the diminutive winged woman standing on the counter.

"Yes?"

Violet pointed to a grouping of items on the counter.

"I'd like three of these, and four of the those, and something to treat bug bites, please."

"Oh! Of course. But. Do you have enough money, little lady?"

He eyed the little Pixie; she wasn't carrying anything—no coin pouch in sight.

Violet held up a finger.

"Just a moment."

Her hands slid down her waist, running along the summer-green fabric of her new pants, reaching into her brand new pockets. Violet pulled out exactly ten silver coins, each the size of her head.

The dumbfounded alchemist just stared in wonder at the magic trick. An exasperated voice carried its way into the shop from outside.

"Why does she get Pockets of Holding!?"

=

Daire ran back into the General Store. The shopkeep who shooed him out earlier was not happy to see this customer return.

"No. Shoo. Out!"

Daire leaned on the counter, sweating profusely and in a great hurry.

"Please, man. You got to help me. I'll die if you can't."

"What are you spouting now? I told you we don't sell Bags of Holding."

Daire shook his head back and forth violently, eyes darting from place to place as he fidgeted.

"That's not what I mean. I know. I know I made a mistake, I'm sorry. But I really need your help. If you don't..."

Confused. The merchant eyed Daire, noticing the signs of sincere distress.

"Are you in some kind of trouble with the Law? If so, you can rule me out. I don't want to get involved."

"No! No... I just..."

Daire looked from side to side, seeing there was no one else nearby. He nodded his head.

"I am in trouble. But not that kind. I need to buy something, but you can't tell my friend about this."

Daire slid a gold coin onto the counter.

"I don't sell drugs."

Daire gritted his teeth as he rolled his neck. Eyes fully open, he shout-whispered.

"This isn't about drugs. Or Bags of Holding. I just need to make a bulk purchase that you can't mention to anyone. Especially my friend. She will freak if she realized, and... I... I don't think I can hold myself back any longer."

As the merchant watched Daire biting his lip and in a hurry, he didn't see so much harm in hearing him out. He wouldn't turn away a good gold coin.

"What is it?"

Daire wiggled a finger for the shopkeep to lean in closer. Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly complied.

Heavy breaths.

The shaky voice barely managed to eke out the words.

"Toilet paper."

"Toilet paper?"

Daire screamed internally.

"Please tell me it exists. Mine got ripped apart by an angry bear."

"Well, sure. I mean, yes! It exists. What? You didn't think a general store would supply toilet paper?"

Daire was frightened by the possibility it wasn't invented. Obviously, no one talked about the deed. He hadn't seen any when browsing earlier, and this was the closest place he could run to.

"No! I mean, yes! Just hurry! Give me a roll now, and I'll take the rest later. Please hurry!"

The shopkeep then noticed Daire's knees crossing on the other side of the counter.

"Oh no... I think it's coming out."

Panic ensued immediately, and the shopkeep slammed a roll on the counter so hard that it bent out of shape. Daire didn't care as he grabbed the roll and vanished to the nearest outhouse, leaving the coin behind.

Staring where the strangest customer of the week once stood, the merchant confirmed that the gold coin remained. Picking it up, he ascertained its authenticity and smiled. He didn't realize the customer was so rich; he would have been more patient in his last encounter had he known. Spending a gold coin on toilet paper? Even if it was an impulse decision, it was obviously in the merchant's best interest to cater to the man's wishes.

"Best get everything I have together. I'll leave enough for myself and then-"

"Excuse me?

The Shopkeep turned back to see a familiar pixie flying in. Remembering his esteemed customer's words, he hid the gold coin quickly.

"How may I help you, miss?"

Violet approached the counter while looking around.

"Do you sell toilet paper here?"

Nervous laughter.

"Ehehem. Yes. We do. But you see, I'm afraid all my stock has just been purchased."

Violet threw up her hands.

"Ugh! You too? I've been to three other shops, and they either say they don't sell it or that they are out. There's going to be an epidemic at this rate."

Violet shook her head mournfully.

The shopkeep paled for a moment. If that were true, he'd have to give the gold coin back. Even if the gold coin was overpaying more than enough, he needed to maintain his supply sell at a premium later.

No... He'd have to confirm the information first. Best to give the man what he paid for. The gold coined indictive of wealth, so he'd give the proper change without skimping to get on this customer's good side. That way, he'll return here instead of his competitors. In the end, a merchant will make more if he kept a loyal customer base.

"That does sound troubling. I am sorry I couldn't be of help. But if I think I remember correctly, your friend bought some last time he was here."

Best to get away with a small fib. This way, he kept his word. Mentioning it was bought earlier didn't go against what his customer wanted, and it even plugged potential holes in whatever story the man fed his friend.

"Was this before you threw him out?"

"Gipee!"

"Gipee? Are you alright, mister? You're sweating an awful lot, and you just made an odd noise."

"Ahaha. Yes... That was my mistake. I did urge him out when he kept going on about a Bag of Holding, but he did buy a bunch of supplies. Camping gear. Rations. Cookware. Utensils and Blankets. I do believe toilet paper was among the lot."

"Hm... It was a lot of stuff. That's why he was so adamant about getting a Bag of Holding to begin with. He had to carry it all back to the inn."

Violet seemed to believe him.

"Alright. I won't take up any more of your time. Have a nice day."

She bowed at the waist and flew off.

"Thank you for your business!"

The words rang out into the street before the owner of the voice felt his knees go week.

*Sigh*

"I swear I just got played."

"Excuse me?"

His heart leaped into his throat."

"Yes?"

He squeaked.

Was that my voice just now?

Looking to the door, he saw a small line of people. A tidy woman was in the front, holding a small purse in her lap as she entered.

"Do you sell toilet paper here?"

The normal friendly smile that was plastered across his face twitched twice.

=

Violet stared oddly at the dwarf.

"I'm here to help my brother out for the day. He says he was busy discussing somethin' or other, so you're stuck with me."

"You've been very kind so far. Was it you who made the grill?"

"Yes, mam! You can tell cause it's got special notches to increase the durability. I saw your diagram, and it was decent for a beginner, but being the pro I am, making adjustments is easy sauce for me."

"We're glad that such an expert worked on it, aren't we, Daire?"

Daire was staring at the dwarf, mouth slightly ajar. Violet nudged him for his rudeness.

"Daire? Your thankful, right?"

"Boston."

The dwarf's easygoing expression blinked like a changing traffic light. His voice lowered to a growl.

"What did you just say? Was that a racial slur?"

Daire tried to backpedal.

"Oh, no! I was just surprised, that's all. You are just so different from your brother."

The dwarf's expression blinked into outrage.

"What! Just cause I'm black, you gotta call me out?"

Daire's eyes bulged.

"NO! No. Not at all. I was just-"

The dwarf picked up his hammer.

"Just what!? Huh!? Just what is it so different about me? Say it!"

"It's not your skin. It's your accent."

"Aaah. I see. SO it's not just my skin. You find the way I talk funny too, do ya, punk?"

Daire stammered, terrified at the misunderstanding.

"I-I-I...I don't think that at all."

"No!? You blatantly make fun of my skin, and then my accent, and you expect me to believe you aren't a racist fuck?"

Violet retreated to get away from the swinging dwarf.

"I oughta bash your knees in and..."

His words paused.

"And..."

His lips quivered and...

"And-Aha-haha-hahaha!"

He burst into laughter, his hammer banging on the forge floor as he held his convulsing stomach. A stubby finger pointed mockingly.

"Look at your face! Yer so scaaared. Bwa-hah-hah-hah!"

Violet and Daire laughed nervously. Both extremely uncomfortable by the apparent joke.

"I was just fuckin' with ya. You actually thought I was serious! Hahaha, oh man. Wooh! I needed that. Okay..."

His thick fingers wiped the tears from his eyes. And he clapped once.

"Naaah."

He waved a lazy hand.

"It's not a problem. It happens often, so I try to make the most of it. Why not get a few laughs out of getting racially profiled?"

"That wasn't why-

"Yeah-yeah-aye, I got ya. Cause I'm black and my accent is different from my brother, people get confused. I'm a surface dwarf and was adopted into his family after my family got mauled by Wolverines. Never lost my skin tone or my accent even after twenty years in the dark. Then when I came up ere' with my brother, every human in sight was horribly confused."

Violet was intrigued. Sad that he lost his family, but he seemed to be doing good.

"I didn't know there were different kinds of dwarves."

"Oh, yeah! Surface dwarfs are wanderers and mostly look like me. Dwarves born in the sun just look different. Underdwellers like my brother have fairer skin and hair like fire. Donotknow why, but it has something to do with the blessing of fire that the surface dwarves didn't get."

Rubbing his smooth, soot-covered head, he ruminated.

"It's mostly just the two of us. There are the Forest dwarves, but I don't want to go anywhere near those insane treehuggers. Batshit crazy, the entire lot. As far as you and I are concerned, there are only two REAL kinds of dwarves."

"That is so interesting."

The words were cliche and mundane, but Violet couldn't be more enthralled by the information. Daire was similarly intrigued by the history.

"I wanted to make it clear that it wasn't your skin color that surprised me, but the accent. You sound a lot like people from back home. Humans. Not dwarves."

"If you have friends that talk like me but they ain't a dwarf, then I believe your confusion. It's whatever, though. Did you need any other work done or just the grill?"

The topic shifted quickly back to business. Daire answered.

"We got most of what we needed from the general store. We don't need anything for now, but I wanted to ask how small you worked?"

"How small? What you want me to make something for your Pixie friend?"

Daire smiled awkwardly.

"You got it in one."

Violet interjected.

"Daire! I don't need anything. We didn't talk about this."

"I thought I'd get you a gift. You know, to celebrate the beginning of our adventure. Something you can use to defend yourself with. Your nature is electricity, so something metal would act as a good conductor. Of course, this is if Mister West can work that small."

Violet was conflicted. On the one hand, the idea of a gif from Daire made her heart flutter. It was practical, and Daire sounded like he put thought into the idea. But it wasn't very lady-like.

Hearing the churning of gears inside a dwarf's mind, the duo turned back to the experienced crafter.

He sucked air in through his teeth.

"What were you thinking? Cause' depending on your weapon of choice, it may or may not be possible. A Warhammer I could do. It'd be the size of a normal smithing tool but denser. If you want something like a dagger. No way. That dives into the realm of art and miniature crafting. I, my brother, and nearly no smith don't do that kind of work."

Violet felt Daire's questioning gaze.

"A hammer would be cool. You could be a badass, sexy version of Thor wielding Mjǫllnir.

Sexy?

An impure image popped into Violet's head.

No!

But yes.

I won't demean myself.

But being sexy...

Sexy isn't intimidating.

It can be.

Not to your enemies.

But to Daire?

Oh.

Huh?

You're right. I forgot about Daire. Let's do it! You go, girl; you can work it!

Violet paused her internal discourse.

You can't just switch sides like that! You're supposed to disagree with me and convince me not to do it.

But we want to look sexy, don't we? Isn't that why we asked Lannie about push-up bras-

"AH LA LA LA LA, I can't hear you! La la la laaaa."

Violet pressed flat palms against her ears, floating off aimlessly, completely forgetting about the transaction.