Dungeon Item Shop - Chapter 386: What was beneath our feet this entire time (Patreon)

Fresh sighs in relief, a sting running through her warm body as she lets her shoulders droop and relax.

“I said hold still!” fusses Basil, taking an unusually sharp tone with her.

Fresh stiffens up, not daring to move an inch anymore, until the priestess is done. “Sorry, Basil,” apologizes Fresh, feeling Basil digging around in the bleeding wound on her shoulder, in an attempt to dig out all of the splinters still stuck in there. It hurts, of course. A lot. Actually, it really, really hurts and that’s not accounting for the red streaks whipped across her face, which also really, really, really hurt.

But an overwhelming sense of relief and some healing magic go a long way to allowing her to feel better already. “Are you okay too?” she asks, looking over her shoulder.

Basil places a hand on her head, ‘gently’ turning it back forward and down onto the table. “I said hold still,” repeats the priestess.

“Sorry, Basil,” says Fresh again, doing her best to stay still as Basil continues to try and patch her up. Though, she supposes that Basil would have an easier time focusing on her task if the situation were literally anything else than what it currently is.

“Why are you still here?” asks Jubilee, looking at Muldrich. “Go away. Good night.”

“Jubilee,” says Fresh, her head laying on the table. “He knows,” she says. But she knows that Jubilee already knows that he knows.

“Yeah, I bet he fucking does,” says Jubilee. “Which begs the question of why he’s still here?” they point to the staircase. “The front door is down there, Muldrich. Don’t make me kill you.”

“Jubilee~!” scolds Fresh. “Muldrich saved us. Don’t be mean.”

“That’s his fault,” says Jubilee, looking back her way. “Not my problem.”

Muldrich meanwhile, stands there, entirely unimpressed and unphased, as quiet and resolute as always.

“How long have you known?” asks Basil, taking Jubilee’s place as the person to drive this conversation, given that they’re not really in the mental state to do it right now, apparently.

“Always,” replies Muldrich.

“Ah, fuck me!” says Jubilee. “Were we that obvious?”

“Yes,” replies Muldrich.

Fresh nods, not daring to lift her head from the table a third time. “I mean… it’s not like we ever changed the store’s name, Jubilee,” she says. “And I guess you and Shamrock are pretty conspicuous.”

“Go to hell,” says Jubilee, rolling their eyes. “How are we conspicuous? You two are the ones with stupid names.”

“In hindsight,” notes Basil. “We could have all perhaps tried to be more subtle.”

“We could have tried to be subtle to begin with,” says Jubilee, shaking their head. “So? What the fuck is this?” they ask, turning to Muldrich. “Does everyone else know?”

“Everyone knows,” replies Muldrich, shrugging. “In the central-authority.”

“Fuck.”

Basil sighs. “I mean, think about it,” says the priestess. “The four of us came into the central-city literally the day the outside, well, you know.” She shrugs. Fresh twitches, feeling the priestess pull a long splinter out from her back. “We’re in a city full of the world’s best scryers, sages and mystics and we didn’t even bother to change our names or hide your mask.”

“Leave my mask out of this, Basil,” says Jubilee.

Fresh lifts a finger, trying and failing to scratch her cheek with it, since she can’t lift her head. “Honestly, we could have just put up a big ‘witch here’ sign.”

“Lessons learned,” says Shamrock, sitting there, playing with a small, green leaf. “Next time.”

“Fuck. So that’s why you’re here,” they say. “It was never about the fucking spriggans.”

Muldrich shrugs.

The room is quiet for a while, except for Fresh’s yelping and Basil’s fussing as the priestess continues her painful work. “And now?” asks Fresh.

“The central-authority would like a word,” says Muldrich.

Jubilee sighs. “About what? Do they want another percentage of our fucking sales?” they ask. “I’ll kill you all myself before that happens.”

“Jubilee! Stop threatening Muldrich,” scolds Fresh.

“Survival,” replies Muldrich. “They want to bargain.”

Jubilee waves him off. “It’s over, Muldrich. Nobody is getting out alive anymore,” they explain. Jubilee lets out a snarl as a hand grabs the front of their collar, lifting them up. Shamrock grabs Muldrich’s arm at the wrist. The guard stares at Jubilee, having taken an unusual step outside of his stoic demeanor. Fresh frowns, but sees that the situation is still under control. He has a family, after all. What a tough spot.

“It’s not over yet,” remarks Fresh, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. The sideways dangling thing falls right back where it was only a second later, obscuring her vision again. “We’re not doing what the fountain wants anymore.”

“Yeah,” replies Jubilee, dryly. Their boots touching the ground again. They swipe Muldrich’s hand away, dusting themselves off. “That’ll work great until the inevitable mind-control.”

“No. We’re safe from that,” replies Fresh, shaking her head, squishing her cheek against the table. She lets out sharp yelp as Basil quickly pulls out a longer splinter.

“Sorry,” apologizes the priestess, pressing a padded cloth against the bleeding wound.

Jubilee turns her way. “Just because you like to think it’s going to be like that, doesn’t make it true, goo-brain,” they say. “Are you mixing up reality with your daydreams again?”

“No. It is, Jubilee!” says Fresh. “Uh… Basil, can I move?”

“No.”

She frowns. “Can you get the thing out of my pocket then, please?” she asks. Basil obliges, digging into the pocket of her robe and pulls out something heavy, handing it to her. “Thanks, Basil.” Fresh holds out the thing that the healer-spriggan had given her, the thing it had slipped to each of them while they were asleep.

[Orichalcum Obol](Unique)

A single Obol, made out of pure orichalcum. This is not a standard denomination and has no set market-value.

While possessed: Repels all outside magical influences.

The pinkish coin, embedded with the face of a horrible witch, shimmers in the light of the morning sun, which is just starting to dawn outside of their windows.

Jubilee sighs, digging through their pocket. “Fuck me…” they say, sounding almost annoyed at this turn of events. They glare towards her. “You couldn’t have thought of this sooner?!”

“Huh?!” asks Fresh, sitting upright. “Ow!”

“Sit still!” hisses Basil, getting angry now.

“Sorry, Basil…” relents Fresh, sure she herself is about to start crying now. That one hurt.

“I almost got it,” sighs the priestess, softening her tone.

Fresh purses her lips, puffing out her cheek, which causes her head to rise up off of the table. “You guys yelled at me for messing with the cauldron!” she argues, looking at Jubilee and doing her best to look at Basil.

“Yeah?” replies Jubilee. “Because you weren’t doing anything productive, dumb-ass.” They roll their eyes. “Mulligan -”

“- Muldrich,” corrects Fresh.

“- We’re not taking any shit from anyone,” warns Jubilee. “If one snotty noble makes a face, we’re tearing this place down.”

“No, we’re not,” interjects Fresh.

“Shut up, goo-brain!” barks Jubilee. “Basil, if you’re gonna stitch her shut later, make sure to sew her lips too.”

“Mm… it doesn’t look that deep, honestly,” says Basil. “There’s just a lot of fragments and stuff. I don’t think we’ll need stitches.”

“No, guys,” says Fresh. “We don’t have to do that anymore,” she argues. “We’re safe from the fountain. We can just, I dunno, live here?” she suggests. “It’ll probably be fine?”

Jubilee glares her way. “Are you stupid?”

“Yes,” replies Fresh. “But we’re still friends, right?”

“How exactly are we supposed to just ‘live here’ when everyone with a drop of noble blood knows about us?” they ask.

Fresh blinks, staring for a moment, considering her options. “I want to shrug and say that we’ll just live here like we’ve been living here for the last few months,” says Fresh. “But I think Basil is going to hit me if I move again.”

“Correct,” warns Basil. Fresh laughs a sad, quiet laugh, letting her face stay glued to the table.

“Mhm,” says Jubilee. “And then?”

“And then what? That’s it,” says Fresh.

“That’s your great plan?” asks Jubilee. “Just… live here forever? In a giant egg? Until we all die?”

“Yes,” replies Fresh, very dryly.

“I’ve heard worse plans,” says Basil.

“Somewhat anticlimactic,” notes Shamrock.

“Anticlimactic is good though,” replies Fresh. “I like the quiet life.”

“Same,” says Basil.

“Me too,” throws in Shamrock.

 Jubilee stands there with crossed arms, not saying anything. They turn their head, looking at Muldrich. “That’s not gonna work, is it?”

“No,” replies Muldrich plainly.

“Muldrich!” argues Fresh. “Come ooooon~”

“No,” repeats Muldrich.

She puts on her best begging face. Shamrock can never resist this one. It’s infallible. “Pleeeease?”

Muldrich shakes his head. “No.”

Basil rubs her other shoulder. “I don’t think it’s his call.”

“It isn’t,” says Muldrich.

“Oh. Then, whose is it?” asks Fresh, blinking.

“You need to speak to the central-authority,” says Muldrich. “There’s a problem.”

“A problem? What the fuck kind of pr…” Jubilee is quiet for a moment. “…Fucking hell…” they mutter, realizing something. Jubilee turns their head, looking their way. “Pack your bags.”

Fresh tilts her head. “Huh? What?”

“We’re moving.”

“Moving…?” asks Fresh, surprised. Even if they have been ‘caught’, this is rather abrupt. Especially considering how relaxed everyone is about it. Though, they might just be too terrified of the horrible witch to do anything about them being here, even if they know about it. “There’s nowhere left to move, Jubilee,” she says. “I don’t see why we can’t just stay here? The shield is fine.”

Basil presses some fabric padding against the wound, starting to bandage over it.

“No. It fucking isn’t,” replies Jubilee. “You idiots,” they say, looking at the three of them. “Why the hell do you think we were in the other cities?”

“Uh… to, you know…” Fresh lowers her voice. “- Poison everyone…?” she says, hoping that Muldrich doesn’t hear her. She doesn’t want him to think less of her.

“Good guess. But wrong,” replies Jubilee, turning their head towards the window, looking out of it.

“Huh?” Fresh stares for a moment, following their gaze. Basil presses down on the bandage, tying it off, having wrapped it around beneath her underarm a few times.

“It wasn’t about the people of those cities,” says Basil, catching on now too. “It never was.”

Fresh’s eyes stare out of the window, out towards the base of the giant tree which towers over the world; the source of ambient magic in this region, the source of power for the shield.

“The tree,” says Shamrock. “The roots now wither.”

Jubilee snaps their fingers. “Bags! Let’s fucking go people.”