by Pirateaba
Selys grinned toothily at Erin. She’d drawn a crowd in minutes. There were Drakes that Selys knew in the crowd, people who didn’t like Humans. But they stopped because it was Erin, that Human, the one they knew on sight even if they didn’t know her name.
The crowd had formed a circle and was staring at the colorful jars Erin was waving around, but no one had stepped forwards yet. Selys waited for a volunteer. Because as much as she liked Erin…
She wasn’t going to try the soups herself. At least, not until someone else had done it first.
A volunteer stepped out of the crowd after a few second. It was a Drake adventurer from the Guild. He looked hesitant, but his companions were egging him on. They were a group of five, and he had been chosen a scapegoat.
“Um, Miss?”
Erin turned to him with a big smile.
“Hi! Do you want to try a sample?”
“A…sample?”
The Drake looked uncertain. Samples were not a tradition in this world, but Erin gave him a big smile and explained.
“I’m showing people my cool new soup! It’s magic, and I’m selling it in my inn. Do you want to try it?”
The Drake gulped. He had black scales and he was actually a bit shorter than Erin.
“What—what does it do?”
Erin pointed proudly at the red-purple jar in her hands.
“This is defense soup! I’m calling it that. Or maybe thick skin soup? Naw, that sounds bad. Anyways, it makes your scales tough!”
The Drake eyed the jar with increasing skepticism as Erin dipped the huge spoon—ladle, really—into the jar and lifted it. He glanced at his friends and at the crowd, but it was too late to back out.
“I just drink it—”
“Yep! Don’t worry. It’s sweet!”
The Drake gingerly flicked his tongue out and tasted the liquid. His eyes widened.
“It is sweet!”
The crowd of onlookers watched as the Drake slowly gulped down the soup. It didn’t look that tasty, and the Drake made a face and muttered about mushrooms, but then he’d swallowed it all. They waited, but the Drake stood looking vaguely queasy, but not noticeably different.
The adventurer coughed and glanced at Erin.
“Do I have to wait or does something happen?”
“It should be taking effect right now! Okay, now hold on a second—”
Erin put down the jar and spoon. When she came up, she was holding a kitchen knife.
“Now I stab you.”
The circle of onlookers suddenly got a lot wider, very quickly. The black-scaled Drake backed away, claws raised.
“Whoa. Miss Human, I didn’t volunteer for that!”
“Don’t worry! It won’t hurt a bit! Thanks to my soup, I won’t be able to cut you.”
“I’d—really rather not risk it. I can’t feel a change.”
“Come on, just a poke—”
Erin advanced with the knife. The Drake backed away.
“No, no. I’m not going to be cut. Sorry, but find someone else.”
He turned, much to the crowd’s vocal disappointment. The Drake began walking back towards his friends, shaking his head as they motioned him to go back. Erin stared at his back for a moment. Then she sidled over to him. Erin raised the kitchen knife—
And she stabbed him in the back.
“Aaargh!”
He fell to the ground and rolled around. Selys’ friends put their claws over their mouths and Selys covered her eyes, but she could still hear the adventurer screaming.
“She stabbed me! That crazy Human stabbed me!”
He shouted at the crowd as he thrashed about.
“Quick! Call the Watch! Get a [Healer]! I’m going to die! I’m going—”
The adventurer was feeling at his back, for the spot where Erin had thrust into his back. He suddenly froze as his claws landed on the spot.
“Oh.”
Everyone stared at him. The adventurer looked around. Though his scales were black, Selys could see a slight red blush appear around his face. He got up very slowly and brushed the snow off of his gear. He sheepishly looked at Erin.
“I’m uh, okay.”
“Of course you are, silly!”
Erin laughed. She stabbed the adventurer in the stomach. Hard. He yelped and grabbed at his stomach, but now everyone could see there was not a speck of blood. There was a slight scratch on his scales, but that was all.
“And now, here’s my trick!”
Smiling, Erin showed the knife to the crowd, and then pulled a carrot out from the sack she’d brought. She tossed the carrot up and cut it in half with a cut slash of the knife. She caught the two pieces.
There was a brief pause, and then the crowd burst into applause. Beaming like a ringmaster, Erin bowed.
“Thank you! Anyone want to try? Free samples! I promise it doesn’t taste bad!”
“Ooh, me! Me!”
Someone shouted from the back of the crowd. A huge figure Selys recognized pushed his way forwards, shouting.
“Watch business! Clear aside! I’m a Senior Guardsman I’ll have you know—hey Erin!”
“Relc?”
Erin stared at the grinning Drake [Guardsman]. He stared down at the jar of red soup, licking his lips.
“Is it good?”
“Um, yeah! Want some?”
Erin hesitantly offered Relc a spoonful. He slurped it down.
“Sweet!”
Erin stared at Relc as he began flexing his muscles, poking at his biceps and trying to see if the potion had taken effect.
“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘move along, nothing to see here’?”
He looked confused.
“Why would I do that? I want to watch! Hey, does your potion help if you get hit really hard?”
Erin hesitated. She hadn’t tried hitting herself over the head in her limited stress-testing of her defense soup.
“…Maybe?”
“Let’s find out!”
Relc walked over to the adventurer and punched him in the stomach. The black-scaled Drake doubled over, but it was a mark of the soups effects that he was able to stand back up and take a swing at Relc, which the Drake casually dodged.
Erin’s soup might have been an unknown quantity, but apparently Relc’s punching power was not. That opened the floodgates, and soon Erin had emptied one jar of her defense soup or as Relc wanted to call it—Scale Soup.
“Because it gives you another set of scales, get it? Look! I can barely cut this guy’s scales with the knife!”
“Ancestors! Stop!”
Relc was chasing the black-scaled Drake around with the kitchen knife as Erin opened the jar filled with her blue, thick, warming soup.
A young human woman pushed her way to the front of the crowd to taste this first. She was apparently in the black-scaled Drake’s party, although she wasn’t helping him. She had a curved sword at her waist, which looked like a katana to Erin’s eyes. The girl stared at the young woman and smiled.
“Want a taste?”
“Sure.”
The young woman made a face as she downed the soup, but in a few seconds she was blinking and shedding clothes. She was actually giving off steam in the cold air, which made several children clamor to have a taste.
“So you’re selling this soup? It’s a potion for travelling, right?”
“And fighting Snow Golems! I bet you could give them a hug and they’d melt!”
Erin beamed. Some of the other adventurers were nodding. One, a Gnoll with several scars showing through his fur, eyed the soup appreciatively.
“I could go swimming in the coldest lake with this soup, yes? And the Scale Soup—it is like a Bark Potion, or something similar.”
The other adventurers were nodding. The young woman with the katana looked at Erin appraisingly.
“How much?”
Erin hesitated. She took a deep breath and tried to project confidence. This was it. Time to make the sale, Octavia style!
<
br /> “Two gold coins. But if you buy in bulk I’ll throw in a fourth soup for every three you buy. And I’ll—”
“Two gold coins?”
The people around Erin exclaimed and she sagged. She couldn’t speak fast enough.
“Okay, okay, I could do one and a half—”
“You’re charging one and a half gold coins for this soup?”
The female adventurer stared at Erin. The girl wavered.
“I could do one coin…but I wouldn’t make much of a profit. Look, if you buy a lot of soups, then maybe I could—”
Selys couldn’t watch. She elbowed her way quickly to Erin.
“What they mean is, why are you selling it so cheaply, Erin? This is way too good to sell for so little!”
“Oh!”
The innkeeper brightened up. She scratched her head.
“Because…I can?”
The crowd looked at Erin suspiciously. She wavered, and cracked.
“Okay, if I sell a lot, I’ll earn a lot, right? If I charged like eight gold coins, I wouldn’t sell enough!”
“But the going rate for a Bark Potion is seventeen gold coins.”
Someone pointed that out. Erin’s eyes went wide.
“Whoa. Really? That’s…a lot.”
The adventurers were still staring at Erin. One of them, a far shorter Human who was rather squat, pointed at Erin.
“You said soup. Does that mean you aren’t an [Alchemist], Miss?”
“No, I’m uh, an [Innkeeper]. But wait! I’m actually a [Magical Innkeeper] so it makes sense! I have a Skill that lets me cook magical food!”
“I’ve never heard of magical food.”
Erin waved her hand frantically as people began to grow increasingly skeptical.
“It’s true! I’ve got a Skill! I can cook food up and make it magical if I use the right ingredients! It’s like alchemy, I promise! But I can fry food, make it into a soup—it’s a lot faster, and a lot less messy than alchemy!”
“And you can make stuff like this?”
An experienced female Drake adventurer pointed to the half-empty jar of soup Erin was holding. It was still hot, still steaming despite having been on Erin’s shelf for six days. Erin nodded, smiling. The adventurer thought about that for a second.
“That’s not fair.”
Someone else nodded.
“You’ll run out every [Alchemist] in the city if you sell your products that cheap!”
Erin looked shocked and hurt.
“I wouldn’t do that! I can’t make healing soup—I mean, I’ve tried and haven’t figured it out yet. And my soups aren’t as good as really high-level potions. Octavia—she’s an [Alchemist]—said so.”
“Okay, but you’re still selling swords for salt. You’re telling us there are no disadvantages to your soups compared to potions?”
The adventurer with the katana pointed to Erin’s jar. The girl hesitated.
“Well…”
Every head stared fixedly at her, especially those who’d had her soup. Erin scuffed at the snow.
“…There is an expiry date on my soups. They don’t uh, last forever like potions.”
People exchanged glances. Erin looked guilty. Selys cleared her throat.
“That’s it?”
Erin nodded.
“My soups last the longest, but I can only make the best ones last about a week. And if I cook something else up, like a sauté, it goes bad in a few hours. Unless I keep it in my inn. It doesn’t go bad there because I have a Skill.”
The Gnoll adventurer peered at the jars.
“How does it go bad? Does it explode or turn into a fungi or turn acidic?”
“No! Nothing bad happens! Well, you throw up a lot.”
Again, more incredulous looks pinned Erin.
“That’s all?”
Erin wavered. This was getting into some personal and troubling territory she’d rather not remember.
“Not…exactly.”
The crowd tensed again, ready for the horrible details. Erin took a breath and turned red.
“You get…bad poops sometimes. Really bad poops.”
“Bad poops?”
Erin nodded.
“Really bad. Like…you could pull down your pants and hit a target ten feet away with it.”
The crowd shuddered. Erin shuddered too. She hadn’t been the one with that reaction, thankfully. But Mrsha had drank half of one of the expired soups and—
“And then there’s throwing up. Sometimes it’s just bad, but I had one reaction where I threw up in all different colors.”
Relc stopped chasing the black-scaled Drake around.
“Ooh, like a rainbow?”
Erin thought about that. She shook her head.
“Exactly not like a rainbow. That definitely wasn’t what it looked like.”
“But that’s all? That’s the only side effect? Your potions—I mean, soups—go bad after a while and they make you sick?”
“Yup!”
Erin stared down at the ground. Octavia made lying about her products sound so easy. But Erin couldn’t do it. Maybe she could sell her potions for one gold coin after all?
In the crowd, the adventurers traded glances. The group with the black-scaled Drake nodded at each other, and the young woman with the katana cleared her throat. Erin looked hopefully at her. The adventurer felt at her belt pouch.
“…Do you do discounts for repeat customers?”
—-
A while later Erin walked back out of Liscor, a bag with two empty jars and a spoon carried over one shoulder. Her belt pouch was plump, and Erin was debating how to celebrate tonight. Maybe with a hotpot with a lot of meat? Mrsha would like that. Everyone would like that, but Mrsha would especially.
Erin already had orders for tomorrow, and she was going to have to talk with Octavia about ingredients for her cooking tonight. But for now she just enjoyed the sensation of profit. It made her feel…golden.
It was another normal day for Erin, filled with event and unevent in equal measures. It was a good day, and one she could smile about as she walked back to her inn. But she kept staring northwest, towards a road that was mostly abandoned. No one was travelling in the cold, partly due to the weather, partly for fear of Goblin attacks. But Erin kept looking, kept searching.
“Come on, Ryoka. What’s taking you so long?”
She murmured under her breath, her smile slipping just a bit. Because despite her doing so much, despite everything, what Erin was doing was waiting. She was waiting. Waiting for a friend.
And far away, a day’s journey from Liscor, closer to Celum in fact, a young woman was running down the road. She didn’t know about the magic door, and so she was running down side roads, through the snow, wary of monsters, bandits, and tree roots in the snow.
She was tired, cold, hungry. A Frost Faerie flew beside her. Ryoka Griffin ran towards Liscor. She was coming back, returning after such a long time. It felt like months had passed, but Ryoka was nearly there. There was only one day of hard running left.
In truth, Ryoka would have gotten to Liscor sooner, but Reynold had run over a group of bandits and broke an axle.
4.08 T
In the depths of Liscor’s Dungeon, past rooms filled with deadly traps, magical ward spells and places where foul monsters made their homes, a skeleton sat on the ground. He held his head in his hands.
Literally in his hands. Toren’s skull stared blankly ahead. The skeleton sat with his back against a wall in a corridor without light. He wasn’t dead; he was undead. And he didn’t move.
Nothing approached him. Dark shadows slithered or walked or rolled or oozed or floated or teleported or crawled or moved in some other fashion past him, taking no notice of the skeleton. Nothing tried to kill Toren, which was an oddity in this dungeon. But the monsters and other things didn’t bother with Toren.
Not out of fear or lack of malice; there were things down here that felt no fear and relished the chance to hurt
anything, even the undead. But they passed Toren by because he just sat and didn’t move. To most, he would simply be another skeleton, and there were more than a few in the dungeon. But Toren’s eyes burned dimly in their sockets.
He was still alive.
This is how it happened.
Toren had been approaching Liscor with the band of undead he had taken from Esthelm. He had been furious, plotting revenge against those stupid Goblins, the Knight and the Humans, and especially against Lyonette. She was a given in any revenge scenario. Toren just didn’t like her.
And then he had felt it. It wasn’t something snapping, and it wasn’t as if anything had been cut. Rather…it felt as though something had reached into the center of Toren’s being and yanked a part out.
The mana connection between him and Erin had vanished. It had vanished, and Toren realized in those next moments of panic and confusion that he was dying.
Because his supply of mana was gone, and Toren was running out. He had already run low on mana from fighting in Esthelm; now it seemed to be leaving his body faster with each passing second.
He had known he was going to die. And so Toren had reached out, feeling the spell in his body burning his life force away. He had searched for something, anything that could give him a few more seconds and found it.
Mana. Magic. In the bodies of the zombies and ghouls following him. So Toren had reached out and…taken it from them.
At the time he hadn’t understood it. Now, sitting in the darkness of Liscor’s dungeon, Toren did. He had stolen the mana from the undead. They had it. It was what gave them the ability to move, to function. Without it they would become dead bodies, or bones. Like Toren.
But he had needed mana so Toren had reached out and taken it. It shouldn’t have been that easy, but these were the dead Toren controlled with his [Command Lesser Undead] Skill, and so in some way they were his. So he had taken their magic and felt it fill him. Not enough, but with more than he had had.
So he could steal magic. At least, from things he owned. That was a revelation to Toren, although again, he hadn’t been in a position to understand that at the time. Now the skeleton thought about this new ability distantly, without real interest.
He was like…a thing that sucked stuff…from things. Toren didn’t have an appropriate word in his head. A straw? That was it! A straw. He was like a Straw Skeleton, something that could feed on the mana of other things. Or maybe a sponge. A Sponge Skeleton.