It’s the morning of the next day and the shop is full with the usual initial rush. The red-wizard examines a small, flat, cylindrical glass-bottle. The small container, filled with the sweet-tea, is about a large gold Obol in diameter and a finger and a half in height. The tea itself is bright-red, but mostly translucent. Fresh had opted to use a tiny bit less of the fruit-paste for each bottle, so that the drink would be less sticky and stay more refreshing during the hot days. Even with a little less sugar, it’s still very fragrant and enjoyable to drink.

“So, it’s not a new potion?” asks the red-wizard.

Jubilee crosses their arms, leaning against the front of the counter. “I told you, it’s sweet-tea.”

“What’s it for?”

“It’s for drinking,” replies Jubilee, shaking their head.

“But what does it do?” asks the wizard.

“It makes you stop being thirsty. What do you want me to say?”

“But why wouldn’t I just drink water from the fountain if I’m thirsty?” asks the wizard.

“Because it tastes better, you meat-head,” barks Jubilee. “I think all the blood from your brain has gone to those minotaur legs of yours.”

“Jubilee!” scolds Fresh. The red-wizard laughs, shaking the verbal jab off and lifts the hem of her robe to show them the calf of her leg, which is incredibly dense and muscular. Lifting the tip of her foot up, she flexes it. A sharp whistle comes out from the group of people behind her. From the muscular dark-elf, carrying her load of mushroom-caps to sell for the day. The red-wizard drops the cloth back down and laughs, waving the elf off.

“I’m really good at running now!” they say, turning back to Jubilee.

“I bet,” says Jubilee to the red-wizard. “Buy something or use those legs to run outside.”

“Jubileeee~” cries Fresh quietly. The wizard laughs, grabbing some of the sweet-teas together with their usual potions and heads to the counter.

Jubilee looks back to Fresh. “What?” Fresh looks at the wizard who is paying Basil for the items. She looks back at Jubilee. “It’s called banter, you giant baby,” they say.” Toughen up a little, will you?” Jubilee rolls their eyes. “You’re an adventurer, remember?”

The wizard pops the cap off of their sweet-tea and takes a sip out of the bottle, her eyes lighting up. “Hey, this is really good!” she says, turning back to Jubilee, who just shrugs as if that were obvious. The woman finishes the bottle right there, chugging it down before she manages to leave, going back out through the door. From the line of customers, a few curious eyes watch her as she leaves and then their gazes, as well as a few of their hands, move to the shelf, taking some of the bottles off to try for themselves.

The rest of the morning passes exactly as every summer morning before this one. The initial rush is fairly dense and vibrant and then the numbers of adventurers slowly starts to dwindle, as they all retreat to either the inside of the much colder dungeon or back into their homes in the adventurers’ guild. The sweet-tea sells pretty decently. It isn’t a high profit item, but as with everything else that they make, the costs are fairly low, so every sale makes a profit, no matter how small. Besides, most people don’t just buy the sweet-tea. They buy potions or weapons and just so happen to take one or two bottles with them.

Fresh didn’t have time to get any more fans ready, but she hopes that she’ll manage by tomorrow to have a few ready for the shelves. But there is just always so much to do that she is having trouble keeping up.

Eventually, the stream of customers slows down to a trickle and then the last one leaves the store, leaving the three of them standing there. Soon enough, they all retreat to their spots. Basil behind the counter, fanning herself. Jubilee sits on the stairs and leans against the wall. Fresh doesn’t join them today however, as she goes upstairs, determined to get some work done.

Grabbing a load of wood and metal fastenings, she heads back downstairs and starts ripping out and replacing more segments of the walls. Within an hour, the rest of the entire front wall of the store is completed as well as a large part of the side walls downstairs, where she can reach at least. A lot of them are blocked by the shelves now, so those will end up being a larger task to replace. Still, this is a lot already. With smug pride, she runs her fingers along the gaps, feeling for any disturbances or drafts. There are none.

She had bought some insulating material last time she was in town as well and stuffed it into the walls. Knocking against the wood, she listens to the dull thud coming back to meet her. “Ta-da!” she says, presenting the wall to Jubilee, who looks over from the stairs and nods.

“Nice job.”

Fresh beams. “The insulation will help keep the noise from outside down, plus it’ll help keep the house cool in summer and warm in winter!”

Jubilee nods again. “One wall down. Fifty-seven left to go.”

Basil chimes in, still fanning herself with the new fan. “If I may, why don’t you just hire a contractor to fix this all up? Replacing the walls and the floors and putting in some insulation shouldn’t be so expensive? Relatively speaking.” Fresh looks at her, not lowering her arms that are still presenting the wall. “Then you can concentrate on your work,” adds Basil, sensing the girl’s eyes on her.

Fresh purses her lips and lowers her arms. “But I want to do it.”

“Isn’t it going to take a lot of time, though?” asks the priestess curiously.

“It feels better if I do it myself, though,” explains Fresh.

“I can ask some of the church workers, I’m sure I can get a good price for you,” suggests the priestess.

“As if we want more of you kooks running around here,” says Jubilee, shaking their head.

Fresh sighs, as she watches Jubilee and Basil get into another argument about the church. Waving them off, if only for herself, as neither of them are paying her any attention now, she turns around and places her hands on her hips, admiring the new wall. She made it herself and that’s the whole point. In a sense, it’s not about the house. It’s about the act, the intent. She doesn’t just want to dump money into this place and call it a day. She wants to put her feelings into it. Because ultimately, that’s what people are going to feel when they come inside.

She smiles, proud of the solid construction through which not a single inkling of a draft leaks.

Nodding to herself, she runs upstairs, grabs her bag and makes her way out. “I’m going to go buy more wood!” she calls out to Jubilee and Basil who are still going at it. Neither of them spare her much mind, being too entrenched in their argument. The girl scratches her cheek, unsure if this is a real argument or just ‘banter’ as Jubilee called it. She isn’t really good with these kinds of social situations, so maybe it’s best if she just lets the two of them work it out on their own this time.

Still smiling, she closes the door behind herself. Maybe she’ll buy them a light snack on her way back? Something for lunch. Nothing helps people mend their bonds quite like lunch.

Running through town, doing her best to stay in the shade of the trees lining the path, Fresh runs around on her errands. She stops at the general store to order more wood and fabric for their pantry, then she grabs another sack of feathers for her arrows. As she walks through the city, she peers at the many different stalls and vendors, most of which are entirely without customers. The streets are fairly quiet now that the sun is starting to make its appearance for the day. Stopping by her favorite fruit vendor, she buys a jar of bright-orange jam and makes her way back to the store.

She isn’t really sure, but as she walks, she can’t help but feel like she hears an extra set of feet behind herself. Looking over her shoulder however, she sees nobody but herself and the distant vendors. A soft, summer breeze blows past her, carrying with it the first crushing heat of the day. As she stands there, looking behind herself, she can’t help but feel that she is being watched, followed.

Jubilee had told her about this the other day. Are they being watched by the merchants’ guild? The church? Or some other party who they had upset, like someone who the barkeeper from the adventurers’ guild had warned her about? She isn’t sure. Are they a threat to them? To her? To her new home? Or are they just being cautious and watching the newcomers? She isn’t sure.

The cicadas buzz in the trees as the birds slowly fall silent. Somewhere off in the distance, she hears the bells of the church starting to ring out. The sound of the heavily striking metal clanging and echoing, as it travels through the otherwise quiet city.

Fresh stands there, alone, together with the unseen presence lurking nearby and watching her. Out from behind some wall or some foggy window. Somewhere. She isn’t sure where. But she knows that it’s here. She can feel them. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She listens to the trickle of the distant fountain that once again sounds so unusually loud, as if it is calling out down the way, its voice trying to reach her and her alone. But this is the game that they’re playing. This is how this city and the people here work, she understands that now. At least in the part of society that she and her friends reside in.

Lifting her eyes to the vague areas around herself, the dark alley, the foggy windows, she speaks to each and everyone of them. So that she is sure that the pair of eyes that she feels on her skin sees her. Her fingers grip the strap of her bag tighter, her other hand drooped down loose, ready to cast a spell, even though she knows she shouldn’t.

(Fresh) uses: [Jinx]

The purple smoke that nobody but she herself can see trickles down her finger, running down her leg like a snake climbing down a tree until it reaches the stones and then vanishes into a tiny crevice, as it seeks its target. The window vanishes, also unseen to everyone but herself.

“I’ll kill you if I have to,” says Fresh, doing her best to envision Jubilee in her mind’s eye as she then simply turns around and keeps on walking. If the jinx spell works, it will find her pursuer and maybe cause them to trip up a little. Four luck isn't a lot to steal, as most adults here seem to have a lot more than that, but it's about the act of defiance in her mind, more than the pragmatism of the matter.

She hums to herself, getting her mind off of it as best as she can. Fresh hopes Basil and Jubilee will like the jam. Maybe she should have gotten a different color? She hopes that they aren’t sick of orange things just yet.

From somewhere in the distance, she hears a quiet hiss in her mind, as the viper sinks its fangs into someone's leg. She smiles, feeling a little bad at the same time. But only a little. This is about survival, after all.