In the morning, Fresh sits downstairs in the basement and tries to cobble a coherent design for the giant heating-sphere together.

But it’s hard for a variety of reasons. The metal is more difficult to work with in this size. Plus it needs to be thinner too, so that the heat can leave the spherical body easier. The crystal-dust inside of it needs to be far denser, given the size. There are just.. complications of scale on every facet of the construction.

Everything that works in the small format of a bead, doesn’t really translate to the larger version. Things just work differently at this scale. The heat, the magic, the metal, it’s all different.

Fresh sighs, rubbing her forehead as she lifts her gaze to the floor above her head where she hears boots. It sounds like the store is opening.

Dusting her hands off, she goes upstairs and gets to work.

In the afternoon, Fresh does her best to avoid Basil who is still shooting her cautious looks.

She pretends to be a spriggan and just wobbles around the house after the two of them as they do go about their day, hoping that the priestess won’t notice a third, significantly larger spriggan having joined the group.

It is evening now.

Fresh flops down onto her chair upstairs, at the dinner table. It’s her turn to cook dinner again today, so she’s going to get started in a second. She just needs a break first, is all. Business has really picked up again ever since the ‘Veli day’ and between her crafting and her work on the house and her work in the store, she’s been on her feet all day.

She turns her head, staring towards the somewhat reworked patch in the ceiling of their home. She still needs to make a platform, some stairs and a big telescope.

“Anyway,” says Basil, coming up the staircase to the platform together with Jubilee. “I told him to go ask a shoemaker,” she explains, shrugging. “I don’t know if you want to do boots too?” she asks.

“Fuck no,” says Jubilee. “Boots are a pain in the ass. I’m a tailor, not a cobbler.”

“Fair enough,” says Basil. “How about some socks?” The priestess runs a hand over Fresh’s shoulders as the two of them pass her to sit down at their spots. It looks like all is forgiven.

“I can do socks,” notes Jubilee.

“Can I get a pair of socks, Jubilee?” asks Fresh. “I only have a bunch of old ones.”

Jubilee sits down on their chair, turning her way. “Shouldn’t you be making dinner tonight?” they ask. “It’s your turn.”

Fresh sighs, drooping further over her chair.

Before she can slouch too far, a pair of large, metal hands grabs her and hoists her into the air.

I’ll help,” says Shamrock, flinging her over his shoulder like a sack of tubers as heads back ‘downstairs’ to the upstairs. Fresh waves a sad goodbye to Basil and Jubilee as they vanish from her sight. The horrible witch, having been captured by the brave, adventuring slime, is sentenced to toil and to cook dinner forever, for the rest of her days.

All in all though, in reality, it takes about twenty minutes and Shamrock does most of the hard work.

Fresh howls, the wind whistling as it shears along the crooked thistles of the flying broom as she shoots along the walls of the floor. Screeching shadows shoot around behind herself, razor sharp talons just barely missing her as the flock of harpies misses its next attack.

Somehow, this always keeps happening.

The monsters in the dungeon always seem to take particular offense to her presence there. She recalls the ghoul in the north having chosen her as its point of fixation, then the big stone-golem and now the harpies.

The broom turns as she flips upside down, making a quick descent towards Shamrock who is getting ready to swing his orichalcum greatsword.

She hears the air whistling, they’re right behind her.

“Hi, Muldrich..” sighs Fresh, dragging herself back home along the street. Her robe is a bit torn up and feathers stick out of her hair.

“Hello,” replies Muldrich, not bothering to look at her, despite what a mess she is. Fresh appreciates that a lot. Shamrock nods to the man and the two of them head inside and go upstairs.

It’s time to go to bed.

“Do you have anything against a back-ache?” asks a man, standing in front of the counter. Fresh blinks, that’s the fourth one today.

“Basil?” she asks, turning towards the priestess who nods, gesturing for the man to follow her.

“Right this way,” says the priestess.

“Boy,” remarks Fresh, looking at Jubilee. “It looks like there are a lot of back-aches going around.”

“It’s because that weird flu that was going around is gone,” says Jubilee.

“Huh?” Fresh blinks. “The flu? You think?” she asks, not sure how those things could be connected.

Jubilee nods. “People have been laying in bed for days because of the damn thing,” they remark. “Now they’re better and getting up again.” Fresh scratches her cheek. That seems like a really simple explanation. Does it make sense? She isn’t sure. “Think about it,” says Jubilee, seeing her confusion. “You got a thousand sick people. Maybe fifty of them will get some back pain from staying in bed for days and then maybe five of them will come to our shop instead of somewhere else.”

“Huh..” Maybe it does make sense? The world sure is a weird place.

“Excuse me?” asks an elderly woman, walking up to their counter. “My back is killing me, do you have anything for that?”

Fresh lifts a finger, calling across the room. “Baaaasil~!”

It is the evening of the next day and they’re in the library.

“Jubilee! Jubilee!” cries Fresh excitedly.

Jubilee sits there, their head planted down against the counter. They don’t reply.

The other Fresh runs over, grabbing Jubilee’s shoulder and shaking them to get their attention too. “Hey! Jubilee! Look at this! Jubilee!” she says excitedly, continuing to shake them.

Jubilee doesn’t reply and simply continues to hide from the world.

Fresh had decided that she was having a tough time keeping up with all of her work at home, so she used her spell to double herself in the hopes that two of her would be more productive than just one of her.

So far, the calculation doesn’t seem to have worked out.

“Hey! I’m talking to Jubilee right now!” argues the Fresh on the right.

The Fresh on the left grabs Jubilee. “Nu uh! Jubilee is my friend first!”

Right-Fresh gasps, grabbing Jubilee. “No! Jubilee is my friend!” She turns her head. “Basil!” protests right-Fresh. “I’m trying to steal Jubilee from me!” Basil, standing by the shelves and trying to find a good book to read on body-aches turns her head and stares blankly, looking at the two of them.

“Shamrock!” argues left-Fresh, pointing at the other Fresh. “Tell me to go away!” Shamrock lifts his gaze from his writing work.

Shamrock and Basil turn their heads to look at each other for a moment, before the two of them just head towards the staircase and leave without saying a word.

Both Freshs let out a distraught yelp and continue to shake Jubilee, trying to get their input on why Basil and Shamrock would just leave them here without replying. But all that Jubilee does is let out a sad, long sigh.

Razmatazz

Poor Jubilee

My list of story ideas is growing longer by the day and even with all of the chapters I write, I can't keep up. But I think I'm doing pretty good since this is something I do in my free time. Maybe one day I'll make it to full-time, then I can flood you with my drivel, reader. Then there will be no escape for you. Everywhere you look, every page you open, there will be old uncle Razz, standing there, watching, waiting, judging.

- You know what you did.

Thank you kindly for reading!

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