Fresh lays in bed with her eyes still shut, as the memories of the night before play through her mind. Jubilee had told her to go to sleep, so that her health-points would recover. They then yelled at her to take the bed, after she had sat down in the corner of the room to sleep on the floor. In the interest of keeping the peace, Fresh did as was ‘asked’ and fell down onto the hard mattress, falling asleep in an instant.

The girl opens her eyes, stretching, as a lazy, meandering light shines in through the opaque windows. Lifting her head, she looks around the room. Jubilee isn’t here, having slept wherever it is that they were staying.

Fresh sighs, she had offered to share the bed, they could just sleep facing opposite ways. But Jubilee had called her weird and sick in the head and told her to stop talking. Looking around the room, she notices that her new friend isn’t here anymore. Her bare feet slap against the floor and she stretches, wondering where it is that she can go to get ready for the day? Putting her boots back on and ruffling her hair with her fingers, she shakes her head, rolls her shoulders and steps outside of the room, leaving their loot there for now.

The singing voice comes to her immediately, calling to her with its quiet lamentation. It’s a rather somber way to start an otherwise bright morning. Today is going to be a big day though! Jubilee had promised to get her all the way to level five last night, so she could choose a class. Plus she wants to see an alchemist’s shop today. She has to check if her theory could be true. There’s a lot to do, and daylight is burning already. Fresh quietly steps down the staircase and looks around. The tavern is rather full again, filled with an assortment of motley adventurers, all staring down into their mugs, spell-bound by the siren calls of both the song and their drinks. It seems that the busiest hours here are in the early morning and at night, for whatever reason.

Quietly tip-toeing past them all, Fresh with tight, rigid steps, goes up to the barkeeper in a rather hurried pace.

The scarred elven woman looks up towards her, the dusty-blond colored bangs in her face obscuring an eye, as she looks at the girl bobbing up and down in place before her with tense posture. Without a word, she points to her right, towards a door and Fresh thanks her with a nod and heads through it, down a stone staircase and into a surprisingly clean bathing and washing area, a sign above the door at the bottom of the stairs reads ’Adventurer’s only’ and Fresh, with a smug smile, walks through it to wash up and to get ready for the day.

A bit later, the girl goes outside and enters into the bustling city, feeling a great feeling of relief as the somber atmosphere of the guild is washed away by the bright, vivid sunlight and radiating faces of beaming, happy people going every which way. Jubilee is sitting there ahead of her, alone on a bench near the vendors’ stalls. They’re leaning back on the bench, with their arms out to the sides, as if taking in the sunlight. Fresh finds this odd, because the small figure is as heavily obscured and covered up as ever. Even on a bright, hot day like this one.

“Good morning!” she calls as she approaches, waving with an excited swing of her arm.

Jubilee looks down and over towards her. “About time you woke up.”

“Sorry!” laughs Fresh. “I always sleep a long time,” she says, rubbing the back of her head. Her fingers running through her still damp hair. Jubilee sighs.

“Aren’t you warm wearing all that?” asks Fresh, looking at them curiously.

“I’m not,” says Jubilee, staring back up to the distant sky. The voices of the crowd ring around them loudly, filling the air like the buzzing of summer cicadas.

“Oh. How come you wear all that stuff?”

“It’s rude to ask people about their personal business,” replies Jubilee dryly.

Fresh meekly laughs and continues rubbing her head. “Sorry.”

“Shall we?”

“Yes, please!” replies Fresh with excitement sparkling in her expression. Jubilee nods and hops off of the bench and the two of them start walking. Taking a moment as they pass, Fresh waves at the giant of a baker, who stands behind his usual stall. The large, seemingly kind man, waves back to her with a broad smile as bright as her own. What a nice city this is, the people here are really kind.

Not much further, they go around a bend and stand outside of a small store. Depicted on the sign hanging above the door is a skull with a wide-brimmed wizard’s hat, a glass flask filled with a green liquid held tightly in its clenched teeth.

“Me and the owner of this place go back a bit, I trust her. But not with my life. Be careful what you say,” warns Jubilee. “I don’t know if the alchemists and the merchants are in bed together, or if they’re just doing business.”

Fresh quietly nods and opens the door.

“Welcome to Wet-Thistle, home of the Wet-Sip! Th-“

Fresh looks at the old woman behind the counter greeting them. Her face is aged and sun-worn, she has a long nose that Fresh would aptly describe as ‘witchy’, her white hair is pulled back behind her head in a soft bun, from which scraggly ends shoot out the sides of.

“Oh, heavens! If it isn’t the pitter-patter of little feet I hear! Jubilee! You’ve finally made a friend again!” laughs the old woman.

“Donata,” says Jubilee rather dryly, walking past Fresh, ignoring her comment.

“Come in! Come in! How are you, dear? Are you hurting? Have you come back for more ointment?” The old woman leans over the counter, stepping out very slowly as she walks with a crooked back and small, weak steps. “Scars do tend to ache!”

“I’m fine, thank you,” says Jubilee with some annoyance to their tone, waving the old woman off.

Fresh walks around the shop, as the two of them begin to make small-talk, reminiscing about the weather and all sorts of other idle chatter. Bottles adorn every wall, glass flasks that twist and turn in all shape and manner, filled with all sorts of particulate floating around in their multi-colored liquids. A red one, which Fresh recognizes as the classic image of a ‘health-potion’, catches her eye and she leans towards it to look. No, this isn’t what she’s looking for. She keeps strolling, until something else catches her eye. A dark-orange potion, free of any particulate. This is it! The handwritten paper label reads 'Minor Cure'. Fresh narrows her eyes, she has the information that she came for.

Jubilee’s voice comes to her attention. “- so she wanted to learn a crafting class. But, she’s weird, so don’t mind her if she says anything stupid.” Fresh perks up, looking at Jubilee who is glancing her way, pointing over their shoulder towards her. The old woman’s gaze rises up curiously to look at her and Fresh flashes a smile, walking towards them. The old woman leans in and grabs Fresh’s arms. “Oh my. This won’t do at all!” she says, pinching the bottom of her upper arm. The old woman’s hand moves to her stomach and pinches that as well. “Oh my, oh my! You’re as pale and soft as a mushy ghost, dear. Do you have a fever?”

“Ah! No, I just look like this,” replies Fresh, laughing meekly.

“Hmm… What can I do for you? Feeling under the weather? Stiff joints? Ah!” The old woman leans in knowingly. “Something for a romantic evening perhaps? I have just the thing!”

“Ah! No! It’s nothing like that,” says Fresh, waving her hands.

“Hmm…?” The witchy woman inspects her closely, squinting her eyes as she looks towards her. “Too bad, you know, you could teach this one a thing or two about loosening up,” laughs the old woman, tilting her head to Jubilee whose eyes are clearly twitching beneath the rough wooden mask.

“Actually…” says Fresh, gathering her courage. She looks down to Jubilee who stares back up to her curiously. Fresh clenches her fist. She had promised she would be more careful, she promised she would think things through for the sake of this person she now considers a friend. “I was wondering if you could tell me about alchemy?”

“Huh?” asks Jubilee.

The old woman stares at her curiously. Fresh expands. “I don’t have a class yet, but I was going to choose very soon. So I was hoping…” Fresh shuffles her feet nervously.

The old woman laughs. “Not cut out for the adventuring life? I suppose spending time with this creature here will do that to you,” laughs the old woman, walking back towards her counter slowly. She looks down to Jubilee who just glares idly back in return, their arms crossed in front of themselves. “Can you vouch for them?”

“No. She’s a worthless ditz and I’m surprised she hasn’t broken anything yet,” says Jubilee, not skipping a beat. Fresh laughs weakly, slouching down a little.

The old woman eyes Fresh up and down. “Are you willing to get dirty?”

“Yes!” says Fresh leaning in, clenching her fists. The old woman thinks and then nods, leaning down below her counter rather slowly, reaching for a piece of paper.

“Very well. I can always use young bodies. You’re low-level, yes?”

“Yes ma’am,” answers Fresh, somewhat defeated.

“That’s good,” says the old woman, as she hands a drawing of an odd, bulky flower to Fresh, who takes it in both hands and looks at it. “Minor antidotes are flying off the shelves these days, but I can’t keep up with the demand. My suppliers aren’t bringing enough rootwood-flowers in anymore.”

Jubilee groans audibly. “Really?” they ask, their tone suggesting that they have heard this before.

“You see, rootwood-flowers only grow in the early levels of the dungeon around here. But most people don’t bother anymore,” explains the alchemist. “There’s more money to be made down deeper in the dungeon. But people still get sick and I still need them for my potions,” she finishes. “Bring me as many as you can and I’ll pay you for each bud. Bring enough and maybe I’d be willing to show you a thing or two about alchemy.”

Fresh’s eyes light up. Is this a quest? Her first quest? “Yes! I can do that!” Her eyes shine up to the old witchy woman who smiles back at her, pleased.

“Very good! Then come back when you have some. Oh and stay safe, yes?” She looks down to Jubilee. “It’s a dangerous world out there.” Jubilee rolls their eyes.

“Yes, thank you!” says Fresh, not noticing the tension in the air and holding the drawing tight against her chest. They turn to leave and she waves goodbye to the old witchy woman as they leave the shop.

Once the door closes behind them, Jubilee lets out a deep sigh and bends forward.

“What the hell was that?” asks Jubilee. “If all you wanted was a quest, we could have gotten a million better paying ones at the guild. That old crone is a slave-driver.”

Fresh leans over to whisper in her ear. “No! I wanted to look at the potions. I think I figured out how they process the mushroom c-”

An elbow hits her in the chest. “Shut up, dumb-ass!” hisses Jubilee. “Not out here.”

Jubilee pulls Fresh away from the store, neither of them feeling the eyes watching them both from behind the glass.