Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 342

Fresh sits at the library table, scribbling down sketches from a ‘how to draw’ book they have. She’s trying to draw a moon like it’s shown here in the book. But for some reason, hers looks nothing like the real drawing in the guide. Her moon looks kind of like a tuber, honestly.

She frowns, lifting her gaze towards Shamrock who is sitting across from herself and writing one of his murder-manuals. She stares at him for a moment and then lowers her gaze, feeling a new determination come to her. She stretches her back out, pulls her shoulders back and tries again.

Though, the next try also looks like a tuber.

But it looks somewhat less tubery than the first one.

She takes a five minute break, going to pester Shamrock for a while together with the house-spriggan and then she sits back down and tries again.

This one is closer now.

Left, right, leg, circle, bounce.

Fresh spins around the rare-wood tree, having joined in the spriggan-circle on their farm. It’s that time of the week again and this time, she wanted to be a part of things.

The tree unfurls itself in an oddly familiar way. The tension of its slow movements, the exhaustion of its drooping branches, she recognizes this emotion. It’s annoyed. It’s moving exactly the same way that Jubilee moves in the mornings when she wakes them up by biting them in the side of their stomach or by poking them or just by sitting at the foot of the bed and staring at them while they sleep, until they feel her watching and wake up.

The rare-wood tree extends its branches out, pushing out a young, thick branch in the middle that it then whacks off with one of its own limbs. The spriggans stop their dance, doing a little flourish and Fresh does the same thing, wiggling her fingers.

“Pakew!” shouts the house-spriggan.

“Pakew!” shouts the healer-spriggan.

“Pakew!” shouts Fresh, the witch-spriggan.

A heavy, loud, slow clapping comes from the side and Fresh turns, looking at Shamrock who is sitting on a chair, having been watching them. Fresh takes a bow.

Since Basil is sick, Shamrock and herself are in charge of the farm. Together with the help of the spriggans, it’s a manageable endeavor. Honestly, since the mushrooms mostly grow all by themselves and since the spriggans take care of the tree, all that’s really left for them to do is to pluck some unwanted weeds and to water the dirt, so that it stays nice and moist for the mushrooms.

Basil has also started a small composting pile in the back corner, where they add any scraps leftover from their dinner or from their medicine crafting, but Fresh doesn’t like to go near it. It smells.

The spriggan drags the rare-wood branch to Shamrock, who takes it, patting the creature on the head.

“Pakew,” says the giant man.

“Pakew!”

Fresh wobbles over, turning her head sideways. She feels like she’s earned a pat too.

Fresh wedges the last of the goop into place, filling the last hole to their bedroom.

Grabbing her trowel, she smooths it over into a nice, even finish that can now settle and dry on its own.

The windows are open to avoid any unwanted smells, even if it makes it colder in the house now. It’s important. Who knows what kind of weird fumes this stuff might give off in a sealed room?

Fresh nods to herself, satisfied with the wall to their bedroom. There’s still the matter of the ‘roof’, but that’s easy. A support beam, a few planks on top and it’s done. If she does it right, they can even use the space above their bedroom as a little hangout area. She really likes that idea.

Plus it will keep the warmth inside of their bedroom.

But that’s a project for tomorrow, after the walls have dried.

She heads inside, making sure Basil is tucked in, before going back out and getting lunch ready for everyone.

Fresh stands in front of the magical cauldron, down in the basement, staring at it. The cauldron bubbles, the water being as tumultuous as ever. She lifts her hand, still staring at the thing in it.

– A fork.

Fresh stares at the fork and then towards the cauldron and then back at the fork.

She shouldn’t…

Looking around the basement, Fresh whistles quietly and then turns her head around, lifting her arm and ‘accidentally’ dropping the fork into the water with a quiet splash.

The cauldron rumbles and bubbles and a second later, it spews the fork out, which Fresh only realizes the danger of as she barely catches it in mid-air.

Laughing a nervous laugh to herself as she sees the prongs of the fork sticking through the gaps between her fingers, that it only just barely managed to slide through by sheer happenstance, she steps back from the cauldron and shakes it off, making a note to make a net or something.

Otherwise there’s going to be a real problem when they start making swords and stuff.

Fresh blinks, staring at the orichalcum fork.

“Huh…” she mutters to herself, setting it down onto the workbench.

She looks around the basement, grabbing one of Basil’s glass bottles. Double checking to see if nobody is watching, she drops it into the cauldron, catching it a second later as it flies out.

Fresh tilts her head. “Hmm…”

Interesting.

She sets the bottle down next to the form and looks around the basement for anything else. There are so many different things she could try out.

“Here, try this,” says Jubilee, handing her a hammer.

Fresh nods. “Good idea, Jub-”

She stops, turning her gaze to stare at Jubilee, who is standing there with their hands on their hips, glaring at her. She didn’t even notice them coming downstairs.

Fresh laughs nervously and quietly sets the hammer down onto the table.

“You know what you did.”

Fresh turns, making a break for it. “CHICKEN-BUTT!” she yells.

Something grabs her and she stumbles. “Oh no you don’t!” barks Jubilee. Fresh falls down to the floor and howls in terror as a strong hand grabs her ankle and drags her towards her cruel, inescapable fate.

Razmatazz

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