Fresh hums as she works, her pale hands processing the small collection of glass vials. Making these potions uses more mushroom-powder than she had thought that it would, given their small size and poor-quality. They have eleven more vials in total, after the one Fresh haphazardly drank before. But there’s still enough powder left for a few more potions after that. She does the math in her head, tightly pressing her eyes closed as she does so, so that she can think better.

If mushroom-caps are worth five Obols each, then these potions would have to be worth more than that by far. Assuming Jubilee could continue making their glass bottles for ‘free’, perhaps learning how to make them a little more… refined. Then she could sand them down into a usable state. They could cut their raw material costs from the get-go. Some soul-points at the very most. So that means they save money there, right off of the bat. Plus if there’s no middle-man and they somehow manage to sell the potions directly to the people, then they could split the money fifty-fifty. Right?

She thinks. They would have to buy some caps for the vials. Some labels too, perhaps. Oh, that means they need something to write with and of course some glue to attach the labels to the flasks and most importantly, they need permission to sell things to begin with, as well as a location to do so out of. Fresh stops on that thought for a time.

If Jubilee was being truthful in their frenzied whispers about how cutthroat the merchants here in this town are, then the two of them need to do things by the book. Would they come after them, if the two of them rocked the boat? And what if someone finds out that she’s cursed? What if someone finds out she’s a witch? Would they hurt her? Would they hurt her new friend? Would the church come after them?

Fresh only just now realizes that she’s never even seen the church here, despite their noticeably large presence in this city. She’s always either only gone down the main street or been tightly glued to Jubilee. The girl fidgets, opening her eyes again to look at the filled vials sitting in the box next to herself.

The old alchemist woman was selling her minor-antidotes for twenty Obols each. But she’s a trusted source in this town, her bottles looked professionally done and labeled. Would anyone even buy their dinky looking potions? They’d have to sell them for a lower price to even have a chance, if they had to establish the people’s trust first. So… fifteen Obols each? Fresh fidgets. From five caps, she thinks she can make maybe another dozen potions more, give or take. Assuming the worst, that would be a total of… she thinks… fifteen Obols times twelve potions is…

One-hundred and eighty Obols?

Her eyes light up as she double checks her math. Even if they split that half-way, they would still each get ninety Obols for only five orange mushroom-caps. Compared to the twelve each from just selling them as is. Fresh’s eyes shine brightly as she shifts around on the floor. Sure, there are some start up costs involved. She looks at her dirty hands. They need more charcoal too. But that’s cheap’ish. Plus food. Water. Clothes and all of the other day to day stuff. She groans, unsure for a moment, but then shakes her head.

No! This can work! Even if a large chunk of those ninety Obols vanishes into costs, they’re still making a profit of at least double the value of just selling the raw materials. There’s no way that this couldn’t be a lucrative idea, as long as they do it right. Fresh giddily squeezes her hands together and continues filling the rest of the bottles. She also still has two other witch-crafting recipes, though she isn’t quite sure what to make of them just yet. Isn’t there some kind of crafting menu? She’ll have to ask Jubilee when they get back. But more importantly, maybe she can test her moonwater ability tonight? Maybe she can do something with the potions, to make them more valuable? Maybe her equations are already entirely off.

Her bright smile never leaves her as she finishes her work and then covers the box back up with the cloth. The potions don’t have lids, so it would be bad if something fell into them. She hits her fist into her free palm. They needed to buy corks as well. Another added cost.

(Fresh) uses: [Witch-Crafting: Minor-antidote]

Created: [Minor-antidote](Poor) x10

Created: [Minor-antidote](Low) x1

[Witch-crafting: 2]

[Witch-crafting: 3]{Forest Remedies}

Humming to herself, she gets up, wondering what she should do now to pass the time? She had given most of her money to Jubilee, to buy the things for this successful experiment, so she can’t afford to go and eat anything and Jubilee is gone for now; who knows for how long? The girl looks around the empty room, not sure what it is that she is looking for exactly. Just something to pass the time. Anything. But there’s nothing here except for the table and the bed.

“Ah!” Fresh looks around herself as the idea comes to her. She looks at the collection of potions. The old alchemist woman had promised to teach her some things about alchemy if she came by again. Maybe this would be a good time to do that? Fresh thinks for a moment, actually, this might just be the perfect time for that!

Beaming at her good fortune, Fresh walks towards the door, eager to set foot out into the sunshine outside and to continue her good day.

But she doesn’t leave.

Fresh freezes, listening to the vague sound that fills her ears, the whispering of the fog behind it. It sounds almost like flowing water. She stops just before the door, her hand outstretched to reach for the handle. Though she’s not sure why. Her body fidgets as she stands there. Her feet shuffle uneasily.

- Something is bothering her.

What if she messes this up too?

What if she says something that she shouldn’t? What if the old woman asks to see her menu? What if she… What if she…

Horrified, Fresh looks down at herself, realizing the weight of the mistake she had almost just made. The front of her robe is entirely covered in streaks of a bright, orange powder from the ground up mushrooms. Her hands and arms are smeared black with charcoal dust. Her eyes go wide, her face pale. What did she almost do?

Fearfully, she steps back away from the door, pulling her shaking hand away as she realizes that she almost did it again. She almost ruined everything again. This time it could have been fatal. If she had walked into the alchemist’s like this… The old woman would have caught on in an instant. Fresh is sure of that. The alchemist had a sharp look in her eyes. Would they have hurt her?

Fresh’s eyes widen. She would be fine if the worst happened, she could respawn.

But would they hurt Jubilee too? If they found out? She just doesn’t understand this world at all, anything could happen. Fresh steps back from the door, leaning against the wall behind her and slides down against it, falling to sit on the floor.

She’s not going to move.

She’s not going to move from this spot, not until Jubilee gets back. She’s not going to ruin it this time, not now that things are starting to come together. Fresh promises herself that, having learned her lesson.