Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 296: With humour (Patreon)

Weaponsmith chapter isn't going to be up for another 12-16 hours, I goofed. Sorry

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The morning after that is pretty calm by their standards. Though, to be fair, most mornings are calm these days. Fresh stretches, rising up to the tips of her toes as she lifts her hands towards the ceiling. After their meeting with the dungeon-master yesterday, Fresh and Basil had simply gone home and told the others about it, before getting ready for bed.

Jubilee didn’t seem that impressed or interested and Shamrock only responded with a nod after they warned him that the dungeon-master had a bone to pick with him personally.

Fresh yelps as her lower back pops and she lurches forward, bracing herself against the table, her face turning pale from the sudden, sharp pain.

“Take it easy, granny,” says Jubilee, sitting at the table across from her and reading. “Don’t over-do it. You wouldn’t want to overwork yourself before we open,” they joke.

“But Jubilee~,” groans Fresh, pretty sure she’s going to cry before breakfast today. She doesn’t say anything else.

Jubilee looks up at her, raising an eyebrow. “What? ‘But Jubilee~’ what?” they ask.

Fresh slowly pushes herself back upright, trying to be brave enough to stand up straight. “I don’t know. I just wanted to say it,” she admits.

Jubilee sighs, looking back at their book. “Shamrock,” they say. “Shake her out.”

“Huh?” Fresh blinks, quickly turning her head around. Two large metal hands grip her under her arms and lift her up off of her feet. “Wait, no, don’t shake me out SHIAAMROIAAGHRH-”

In that instant, the world shakes together with her soul. Her back pops into place and as it does so, she’s pretty sure that her mortal essence has found this moment in time to finally leave her fleshy shell behind and to depart from this plane of being. A white flash shoots through her entire body, together with a sudden nausea.

Shamrock sets her down again.

Fresh stands there, exactly on the spot she has been placed in. Not moving, not breathing, not blinking. Like a statue, she remains entirely frozen.

“Did you kill her?” asks Jubilee.

Shamrock shakes his head. “No.”

“Stop bullying her, you two,” scolds Basil from the kitchen. She’s making today’s breakfast. There aren’t any eggs, which Jubilee had a few complaints about. Apparently today’s breakfast is going to be a sweet porridge, made with many rich grains and sour berries.

Shamrock grabs Fresh again, spinning her around and setting her down onto her chair. She just sits there, staring across the table towards Jubilee with dead eyes.

“Hello?” asks Jubilee, snapping their fingers.

“Ow,” is all that Fresh says, saying it only very quietly, placing her hands down onto the table.

“Sorry,” says Shamrock, putting a hand on her shoulder as he walks to the kitchen to help Basil.

Jubilee just shrugs. “Get over it you baby. Sometimes things just need to be janked back into place to work right again.”

“I think I died, Jubilee,” says Fresh without emotion, staring vacantly at the same spot as before.

Basil looks over her shoulder. “Wasn’t it your rule that nobody is allowed to die in the house?”

“Yeah,” says Fresh and that’s it. The room is quiet. The others look at each other, before returning to their work.

“Anyways,” says Jubilee. “Moving on from this latest scene of the tragedy of my life, we should make preparations.”

“You think?” asks Basil, clanking against the pot with a spoon a few times. The priestess sighs, not even waiting for an answer. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“No rest for the wicked,” says Shamrock, starting to set the table.

Having managed to reconnect her soul with her body, Fresh looks up at Jubilee, not crying despite the wet coming from her eyes. Those are only pain-tears. It’s not real crying. “Preparations?”

“To leave.”

“Huh?” Fresh blinks. “We just got here.”

“Well that’s the way the fucking wind blows,” replies Jubilee. “With a war coming to the coast, we might have a problem considering that, well, you know. We fucking live on the beach.”

Fresh shakes her head. “We can’t. Even if we wanted to, you know that we can’t,” she says. There’s no way that the fountain would let any of them leave before their work here was done, whatever it might be.

“I’m not worried about that,” says Jubilee. “The day is going to come sooner or later no matter what, so we might as well be fucking prepared.”

“Jubileeeeee~” complains Fresh, leaning over the table. “We’re just starting to make a home here!” she argues.

“Fuck off,” replies Jubilee. “We’re the home. This here is a house,” they say, tapping against the table. Fresh blinks, looking at Jubilee and then over to Basil, who doesn’t seem as shocked by Jubilee’s direct statement as she herself is. The priestess is just continuing to stir the porridge, before starting to scoop it into bowls. “Anyways. Nobody said we’re leaving yet. I just want us to get ready in case a fucking ship blows our fucking walls away.”

“Where is there even left for us to go?” asks Fresh. “Across the ocean?”

“Fuck that,” replies Jubilee. “I’m not putting up with those cat-eared freaks.”

Fresh tilts her head. “Huh?”

“There’s one place left,” says Basil, carrying their bowls over to them.

“Not happening,” says Jubilee. “Thanks.”

“I mean…” Basil sighs, fidgeting with her sleeves before bringing the other bowls. “Where else is there to go?”

“I’m sure the great and mystical, evil, fucking god is going to let us know,” says Jubilee. “Way I see it, it’s not our problem to think about. Just pack some emergency underwear.”

Shamrock sits down on his chair. “Don’t have any.”

“Shut up, Shamrock,” says Jubilee. “You and your fucking shitty jokes.”

Shamrock looks at Jubilee and the two of them stare at each other for a tense moment. His breastplate heaves as he lets out a long breath. “A monster waits on his late friend,” says Shamrock, picking up a small bowl of seasonings. “He arrives,” says the man, staring at his food through the slits of his metal helmet. “What does the first one say?”

Jubilee blinks. “…What?”

Shamrock sprinkles the powder over his porridge, before handing the bowl to Basil. “It’s about slime.”

Fresh cracks up, crying as she shakes the table with her fist. Basil lets out a sensible, perhaps polite chuckle and Jubilee meanwhile just stares, entirely lost. “And to think, I used to respect you,” they say, shaking their head.

“Slimes change,” replies the man. Fresh howls.

“It’s not even funny!” argues Jubilee, gesturing at the man with both of their arms. “He’s just replacing the word ‘time’ with ‘slime’! How is that a joke?!” Jubilee getting angry about it just makes Fresh laugh more however. “Stop shaking the fucking table!”

“Jubileeee~!” gasps Fresh, trying to get some Fresh air.

“What?”

“I don’t knooow~” cries Fresh, holding her stomach as she keeps laughing.

“Well,” says Basil. “At least everyone is in a good mood today.”

Jubilee sighs. “Sure. Why the hell not? It’s a day like any other.”

“Mhm,” replies Basil, sipping her morning tea. “I’m quite fond of these.”

Jubilee rolls their eyes, digging their spoon into their food. “Could be worse, I guess.”

Fresh meanwhile, does her best to compose herself so that she can join in on breakfast too. But it takes a little while and by the time she manages, her porridge is colder than she would have liked it to be. But, all in all, it’s pretty good.

Looking down at her bowl, she stares for a moment, staring past it and into her tea-cup, watching the leaves swirl around and for an instant, she’s convinced that they form the shape of a skull, before floating apart again.

She blinks, tilting her head, wondering if that was just her imagination.

“Nah, it’s probably slime,” she says to herself and starts laughing again, much to Jubilee’s annoyance.