Dungeon Item Shop

Voices surround her as she sits outside on the bench, watching groups of people walk by in all directions.

It is late in the morning and Fresh is out in the city by herself, having gone on a grocery run. But during her journey, while looking for a new baker to try out, she got lost. It’s not that there was anything wrong with the baker that they always got their stuff from, but it’s just that she wanted to do something nice and to surprise everyone by bringing home something different today.

Fresh turns her head, watching another group of adventurers walk past her, on their way to wherever it is that they’re going.

She turns her head to the left, watching as a mother drags her fighting child behind herself into what looks like some sort of medicinal practice.

Raising her eyes, she looks up towards the barren boughs of the world-tree, towards the bubble that caps off the entire city. One would think that with such a sight, with such a significant landmark like the giant tree, that it would be impossible to get lost. After all, they live at its base, so all she has to do is walk towards it to get back to a place close to home.

- Right?

Well, the thing is, she’s already had that thought before and somehow, despite doing her best to walk towards the most obvious landmark in the entire world, she feels like she managed to get even more lost. Wasn’t the tree closer before? Did she somehow manage to walk down the wrong street and get even further away from home?

Fresh sighs.

She’s always causing trouble in some way or another, isn’t she?

She gets up, walking over to a city-guard, standing at the corner. “Excuse me,” she asks. The man turns to look at her. “How do I get to the tree?” she asks, pointing at the giant tree in the middle of the city.

He follows her finger, looking at the tree for a second, before turning back to face her, a questioning look in his eye. The man lifts a hand, pointing at it. “Just walk towards it.”

“I already tried that,” replies Fresh. “But somehow I just got further away.”

The man turns to look at the tree, before turning back her way. “Try again.”

“Okay…” sighs Fresh, her head drooping. “Thank you.”

She turns and starts walking towards the tree. The streets all look the same, more or less. But there are some features that stand out. For example, here to her left is a cute shop that sells dolls and toys for children. Across the street from it, a little further down, is an open-faced stall of a man selling some kind of easy to eat street-food stew.

She keeps walking, always keeping the tree in front of herself, or at least doing the best that she can. But the roads don’t always just go straight towards it. Sometimes, the street bends to the left because there’s a dead-end straight ahead. Or there’s a sharp turn towards the right, because of a diverging side-road, so she can’t ever actually walk straight directly towards the tree itself.

After what feels like half an hour later, Fresh, with sore feet, sits down on a nearby bench and sighs, taking a moment to catch her breath.

Wiping her forehead on her sleeve, she looks up to see where she is.

Down the street is a toy shop. To the right is a food vendor selling stew and…

- There’s a guard standing on the corner, across from her.

She sighs.

Jubilee, Basil and Shamrock are going to get so mad at her. She still isn’t home yet. Fresh looks around, the slight panic in her heart having settled down into a tepid acceptance of her fate.

This is it. She’s just… never going to see her friends ever again. It wasn’t the hero or the fountain or some divine battle that had stolen her life from her, it was her own horrible sense of orientation.

Fresh stares up towards the giant tree.

She supposes she’ll have to find a new way to make a living. Obviously, since she can’t get back to her home and her friends, that means she can’t get to the dungeon either. So she’ll have to find a way to survive out here, in this part of the city. Maybe she can become a street performer? She’s not really good at dancing or juggling, but she thinks that she can learn how to do it. That’s sort of like running a shop, right?

She frowns.

- Maybe the city-guard is looking for people?

She turns her head, staring at the guardsman on the corner who she has already asked for directions three times now, each time more awkwardly than the last. She gets the feeling that he’s starting to get annoyed with her, so she just decides to leave him alone.

Fresh grabs the straps of her bag and keeps marching. She can’t give up so easily. Her friends are counting on her to get back home to them. She nods, steeling herself for the journey to come.

The universe hasn’t beaten her yet!

Fresh lays draped over the bench, thoroughly beaten by the universe. The sparks of both hope and joy have vanished from her lightless eyes, which resemble those of the sleeping dead. Tears no longer find their way to her face. She’s all cried out.

She’s never going to get back home.

How long has it been? Hours? Days? It’s impossible to say. She lives here now, out on the bench. The guard doesn’t seem to have a problem with her loitering, for which she’s quietly thankful. The bench is the last thing she has left in her life, the only core of stability in her entire existence. Without the bench, she would have nothing. She would be nothing.

She would just be a lost, wandering soul, destined to travel forever, but to never arrive. She herself, the thing that she has become, is not unlike a ghost.

“Muldrich,” says the guard on the corner, nodding to the guardsman walking past him on his way to work.

“Bensen,” replies the man, nodding back.

Fresh yelps, jumping up to her feet. “Muldrich!” she cries, running after the man, who turns to look over his shoulder. “I’m lost!” she says. “Can I follow you back to the store?”

The two guards stare at each other for a moment, before Muldrich just shrugs and keeps walking.

“Sure.”

Fresh has never felt so much light and joy in her soul as she does when she sees the door to their home come into sight.

“Thanks, Muldrich!” she beams in relief, making a solemn vow that she owes the man her life.

“Sure,” replies Muldrich, standing by the door and looking out into the city.

Fresh laughs, running inside of the house. “I’m home!” she calls, expecting to see her friends running down in a mad dash to greet her with worried eyes and hearts. She expects hugs and pats and even a scolding for being gone for so long, oddly enough, she kind of wants that last one in a weird way that she can’t explain.

But nobody comes to greet her.

Fresh frowns, looking around the empty store. She goes upstairs, past the library in which the spriggans are chasing each other. Though the house-spriggan doesn’t seem to be having a great time. The healer-spriggan has gotten kind of mean, ever since it got to stage three. Heading upstairs, she sees everyone there in the kitchen. “Hey guys,” says Fresh.

Basil lifts her gaze. “Oh, hey, uh… that was fast?” asks the priestess. “Weren’t you going to get some bread?”

“Huh?” asks Fresh, turning her back around to show them her bag. “I got the bread!”

“Huh…” says Basil. “Weird. That was quicker than usual.”

Fresh laughs a quiet, sad laugh. But on the bright side, at least breakfast turns out very nice. The new bread is okay. But she’s probably just going to stick with their usual baker from now on.

Razmatazz

=)