Effervesce - 1.8

Fact number one about being penniless orphans living on the literal edge of society in order to survive: we didn’t own a lot.

Clothes, food, blankets, you name it, we barely had any. Most of what we had was stolen or made over the years by our family, including the sisters and brothers that were no longer with us. Anything left behind by those members was given to the next generation.

Packs and pouches were already scarce for us, let alone containers I could seal a potion into for easy carrying. We did have some stone jars with lids that rested on top, heavy things that they were, so Jorge and I used those.

A couple of cloth strips torn off of some truly unsalvageable shirts were used to tie down the lids to the jars, and Jorge stored them in his leather pouch and carried them by hand.

Well, the pouch would make do as a poor man’s makeshift blackjack just as defensively as the potion’s effects, so it wasn’t out of place for a teenager like Jorge to be carrying. Either way, it took a little while to solve our storage dilemma, and reinforced the idea that I needed not only more, but higher quality storage.

Even if I knew that was asking for a lot.

Jorge and I left home and began the long trek to the plant shop that he had taken me to before. We made a lot of small talk, mostly about what kind of stuff we both thought would be cool potions, at least the effects of them.

Given that the only two I’d made both had a physical altering effect, that was all we both knew potions could do so far. I mean, this latest one gave you scales, could one also make your teeth sharp? Better yet, fix your teeth?

What about claws or a potion that lets you jump higher? Jorge was a bit abuzz with ideas, basing many of his ideas off of weaker skills he had seen.

“Skills in a bottle,” wondered Jorge. “I know that Artisan gear can do similar things, but usually it’s enhancements like making a leather vest as strong as metal, or boots that make you move as if you took three steps for every two.”

I’d heard Tommy whine about not having any equipment like that, and I’d worry for him less if he did. Or more, because then I’d have to ask how he got Artisan equipment.

“But that’s Artisan rank stuff, Jorge. Those are permanent effects, mine are temporary.”

“For now,” said Jorge with a smirk. “For now, little sister. Every Artisan starts off somewhere, just as every Hunter starts off killing graverats, or every Rancher starts with their pet.”

I considered that as we finally entered Stoneheart. Thanks to my former skill [Repair Trash] and a little use of water, neither Jorge nor I looked like filth-covered thieves.

Oh, sure, we were still dirty, but now we could’ve been any average citizen of Stonegut, so someone’s actual child instead of ‘filthy orphan rats’. Living underground, apparently a thing I never really considered until my first visit to Stoneheart, naturally covered you in stone dust.

“I guess that’s true.” In my mind potions were always temporary effects, but potions weren’t the end all be all, right? What I knew from my dreams and whatever governs classes might end up completely different.

If so, if I really could make permanent changes with my potions… what would I do? The more I thought about it, the more I wasn’t sure if I hated or loved the idea.

I was me, that would always be true, but did I enjoy being me? At least physically?

I looked at my calloused, dirt-covered hand. A thin hand with pale skin wrapped around bones so tightly it was a question to whether there I was nothing but a living skeleton. That was just my hand, not to speak of my ribs, waist, or legs.

Eating more meat, or at least simply eating more, always seemed to be the way to fix that. Yet, was that all I should do?

Whatever, I pushed the question and entire train of thought out of my mind. It wasn’t something I should worry about right now. There were more important matters to think about.

I saw the plant shop with its extravagant wooden door in the distance, and dread began pooling in my stomach. Seven stalks of white-tipped grass, its quality freshly picked from my skill, with only one of them left on my desk.

Would the store owner, that burly man who at least appeared to not hate us on sight, actually buy my plants? To me they were priceless treasures I was about to literally get a price from, to him they were some weeds a dirty girl managed to find.

Suddenly we were at the wooden door, and Jorge failed to take lead to open it up.

I glanced up to him, but his waiting expression told me this was my show, a bit of tough love. None of my siblings, once they got their class, had their hands held after that. At least, not as much, and so as their older siblings taught them, so did they teach me.

I’d noticed it, of course, but that didn’t stop my gut from feeling leaden as I carefully opened the door, the most expensive thing I’d ever touched. Inside the store was pleasant smelling, even with the mixture of so many dried plant scents, and inside the burly man was once again at the counter.

Although this time he was in a finely made stone chair playing with some sort of wooden block. It turned and rotated and twisted in horrific manners that had me thinking it was breaking, and took me far too long to realize it was some sort of puzzle.

His eyes lazily raised to meet mine, and a small spark of recognition happened as he nodded and went back to his puzzle.

Ah, what do I do? I wasn’t here to buy, as he clearly thought.

I looked back to Jorge.

“Go on,” he whispered and lightly pushed me into the store with a single hand on my back. “I’ll be right here.”

Why the sudden but utterly expected betrayal, brother?

Without clutching my prized wares in stress or fear, I advanced toward the counter with equally rising courage and fear. Each step felt heavy, as if I was walking through thick mud, and I wasn’t even doing anything yet!

Everywhere I went my whole life, people had these eyes. Harsh, cruel things that instantly judged me. My worth, my use, my value, whether I fit in, whether I was important, whether or not I was worth robbing or killing. It was so easy, now, to see when an adult didn’t have those eyes rather than the opposite.

This man was in the few that didn’t have those terrible eyes, and that somehow made my fears and nervousness worse. I was here for a simple transaction, and the worse he could say was no, yet even the thought of disappointing or troubling a person who didn’t have those eyes when they looked at me sent my muscles on lockdown and made my skin itch with sweat trying to force itself through dirty pores.

When he spoke, it was a rumbling drawl, curious yet uncaring. “Ya, lil’ girl?”

My mouth felt dry and I avoided looking at his face, instead focusing on my hands and the counter top. “Um, would you buy these?”

I shakily put the white-tipped plants, all seven stalks, on the counter and cringed when I noticed I had bent two of them at the stem. Would that reduce how much they were worth? Argh, I’m so stupid and clumsy!

Large hands, big enough for a single one to grasp my entire skull, set themselves on the counter. I dared not to look up at his expression, but he drummed one hand’s fingers in a simple pattern, maybe curiously?

The other hand picked up a single white-tipped flower by the stem and slowly rotated it, the owner no doubt examining it. If it were only this, I doubted even he would buy it, but an owner of a store, especially one selling plants, definitely would.

I had bet on that fact, and the fact he would have at least one skill analysis skill.

He said nothing, but I knew the moment I heard a small, sudden inhale from his nose coupled with his hand going still that I knew he used his skill without speaking.

“Girl,” said the burly store owner, his voice rumbling not due to skill powers, but his own frame simply being that large. “Where’d ya get these?”

And there it is. A lead ball dropped in my stomach to solidify every fear I had. Of course I wouldn’t normally be able to get these, we were in Stoneheart. Sunlight, greenery, plants? Those came from above, and none would be so fresh as these.

He’d not say it directly, but he would first accuse me of thievery, then threaten to call some guards, and everybody knew guards were just as likely to kill you and throw your corpse into the alleyways for their beasts to feed off of as they were to give you ‘proper justice’.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I would cry foul of guardsman corruption if that literally wasn’t their job: to keep it clean of trash with whatever means they saw fit. It all depended on whether a guard looked at us with those eyes or not, and every orphan, member of my family or not, knew it.

“...Lil’ girl?”

My hands clenched my dress so tightly I feared if it was still in its former state, my fingers would’ve ripped straight through it. I needed so many things, so many I didn’t even know how many, and this was the only way I could think of to move forward.

Money was required if I wasn’t willing to steal it all, and there would be a lot to steal. That would not only require help from Helen and Jorge, but it would bring attention to my entire family. Maybe not the first or second thefts, but if we kept at it?

I wouldn’t, couldn’t be the cause of my family being harmed. I wouldn’t allow it, and if it required leaving here without the owner involving the guards, without some sort of consequence following me, so be it.

It was a stupid idea anyway. Why would anyone buy from someone like—

“Girl.” A large hand snapped its fingers, a sharp bang that frizzed my thoughts and made me look up.

The owner stared back at me with such patient calm that I’d only ever seen Maric have. “Yer sellin’?”

I wordlessly nodded.

That same large hand, one which could squish me without any effort, scratched the back of his head as his eyes went between the plants and me. “I’ll be honest, lil’ girl, I ain’t gunna be fair to ya. Moonspears are worth more than I’ll give ya.”

Again, I nodded. Obviously I knew this, why was he explaining it?

“And ‘specially for freshuns down here,” said the owner as he opened up a drawer I couldn’t see causing the rough clink of stone coins grating against each other. “Nickel a piece is all ya get, ya?”

…What was a nickel worth again? Was seven nickels a lot?

He set smaller, silvery stones on the counter and I almost choked when I saw the rims were made of metal! I slowly, hesitantly went to grab the nickels, unsure of what the trick was. Would he grab me so I couldn’t run the moment I touched the coins? No, he could’ve grabbed the, what was it, moonspears?

I knew he had a skill, and a sidelined thought in my head cheered in victory.

My fingers closed around the nickels right before a large hand fell over my own. It wasn’t the crushing weight of violence, just a simple hand hovering over my own, yet it made me freeze in terror just as violence would’ve.

“If’n ya find more like this, I’ll take’m. Ain’t gunna be a fair deal, but I’ll give ya a deal none-tha-less,” he said. After that, he raised his hand, took the moonspear stalks, and went to store them in a cabinet behind him.

Leaving me alone with the seven nickels.

I didn’t know what to do. He took the white-tipped grass, the moonspears, so I could take the nickels, right? I closed my hands around the silvery stone coins, the weight of them settling in my hands, before clutching them tightly to my chest.

“T-Thank you?” Was that something I was supposed to say?

The burly man grunted as he sat back in his chair and picked up his wooden box puzzle. “Yer welcome.”

Huh. Was that it?

I slowly backed away, my eyes not leaving the man, before scurrying out through the door and straight to Jorge. His mouth opened to ask me how it went, but I just shoved him forward and he immediately caught on as we made a fast getaway.

Only after we were at least a street away from the plant store did I calm down, and finally acknowledged Jorge’s worrying stare. I shook my head, did a single shake of my clenched hands near my chest to cause the coins to clink, for Jorge to finally understand.

Wordlessly he led us out of Stoneheart back on the path toward Stonegut, but this route I knew to be on the way to the pub Beatrice worked at.

Only when the street was nearly empty, only a few adults here and there, did Jorge ask, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He said he was being unfair, and that I could come back if I had more.”

Jorge’s frown and scrunched up eyebrows told me that he too didn’t understand. “But if he was unfair, which of course he would be, why would he tell you?”

I held out my clenched hands and slowly opened them to reveal the seven nickels. Jorge quickly placed his hands over my own, his being far bigger than mine, and I let the nickels drop into his palms.

Only one stayed in my hands, the one I owed Beatrice, and let Jorge hold the rest because that money was giving me anxiety.

Jorge pocketed the coins carefully while asking, “This was him being unfair? That’s more than what Bea makes in a month!”

Oh. Oh, frick! That meant Beatrice gave me three days of her pay? I thought it was, at most, half a day. I mean, it was barely enough for some flowers.

Clearly something about what I thought was valuable was messed up, so I decided to ask Jorge. He was the source of knowledge only an older brother could have.

“Jorge, how much is meat, like the chunk we took on my birthday?”

“The day before your birthday,” he couldn’t help but correct. “Maybe three pennies, four if you want a specific animal.”

That was enough meat to make a huge soup to last our family a few days, and not once had I ever questioned how we got more meat for our soup besides theft. The fact Jorge immediately knew the answer said something, and my stomach hurt at the thought of the plants I wasted.

And Beatrice only complained a little when handing me money?

“I should give Bea two,” I decided. She deserved more than one nickel. “How many pennies are they worth?”

“Five.” Jorge discretely handed me one nickel. “And she would love that. This time, however, I’ll get her.”

We corrected our course to go to the pub Beatrice worked at.

The weight of the two nickels in my hands, of what they could get me and my family, kept me steady as arrived to the pub. Every day, Beatrice had to work here for long hours, deal with the customers and things I couldn’t even imagine, just for a penny a day.

I knew she got to live here, and maybe eat the pub’s food, but that didn’t change the worth of what she handed over to me just because I asked.

Beatrice’s dirty-blonde ponytail bobbed as she quickly made her way out of the pub with Jorge. He clearly didn’t tell her anything since she still had that snooty expression when she spotted me, and I cringed at the thought of her thinking I wanted even more money.

Still, snooty expression or not, she crossed the street and said, “Evadne, nice to see you. Get a class yet?”

“Thanks to you, Bea,” I replied, using her nickname for once. The change in our usual address made her pause.

“That’s good, really.” She glanced at Jorge. “What’s this about? I’m in the middle of work.”

Jorge looked at me, and Beatrice followed his gaze.

I held out my hands and opened them to Beatrice. “I’m, uh, paying you back, Bea. Thank you, big sister.”

Beatrice gently held out her hand and plucked the two nickels from my hands. “Oh.”

She rubbed the coins together, grating the stone and tiny amount of metal against one another, before clutching them tightly. “I didn’t expect… It’s just, I mean…”

With a heavy sigh, she bent down and pulled me into a hug. “Thanks, Eva. I’m glad you got a class you wanted.”

Jorge pulled out one of the stone jars in the leather pouch. “Here, take this as well.”

Beatrice released me from the hug and took the jar. “What is it?”

Jorge glanced at me again, but continued, “A drink that gives you a temporary skill. We don’t know how long it lasts, but it will make you grow scales. It’s temporary, lasts several minutes at most, but it’s like wearing some good armor.”

She nearly dropped the jar upon hearing that. “Temporary skill? Okay, so it’s valuable, got it. I don’t know when I’d use such a thing though, I’m not under attack or anything.”

I cut in, “Just in case, it would make us feel better if you had something that could help.”

“Just in case, huh?” she wondered. “Better than nothing, I guess.”

“And, um, Maric misses you,” I said.

“Ah, that tall dork would say that, wouldn’t he?” Beatrice rolled her eyes but actually smiled for once. “Normally I’d say I can’t make it because of work, but with these, I can manage a day or two. For Maric, and the rest of the runts too, I suppose.”

Jorge chuckled. “Try for next week, or at least in a couple days. We might have some good food by then, so it won’t be a terrible time to visit.”

“Hah, if you got something more than gruel, I’ll be there to see it,” Beatrice replied with a laugh in good humor. “I got to get back to work though, see you two in a few?”

“Looking forward to it,” said Jorge.

“Thanks again,” I called as she rushed back across the street.

After she disappeared back into the pub, Jorge patted me on the head and started us on our walk home. “Maric will be happy.”

“Good, he deserves to be happy,” I said. “I’m glad that we got even a little money.”

“I hope your skill can pull it off again, because I’ll be honest, if you can do that even two times a month, we'll be able to eat actual food at least twice a week, not just soup and gruel.”

Some part of me didn’t like the fact I had to sell off parts of the only way I could rank up my class, but that was a childish, naive, and selfish part that I buried under my familial love and responsibility.

“Two times a month are pretty good chanc—”

A sharp earthquake rocked us off our feet as it felt like the entire world was turning and twisting. Cracks ran through the street and up the buildings and into the ceiling since everything was connected. Some dust and small bits of rock fell, but as quickly as the quake arrived it left, the whole event lasting less than a minute.

“Two times in one day?” Jorge’s panic filled his tone. “Shit, I should’ve asked around what was going on!”

“We aren’t far, I can make it home alone,” I said.

Jorge stared at me firmly before handing me the leather pouch. “I’m going back to Stoneheart to try and get some answers. Take it, just in case.”

“But what about you?”

“I can fight, Eva, you can’t. You know the way, right?”

I nodded. We had gone to and from home enough that I knew what to look for. It was twenty-ish minutes away, by mental math, and even less if I ran.

“Okay. Be safe,” I said as I took the leather pouch and potion.

“Always,” he said with shaky confidence before taking off in a run.

Leaving me alone in the streets, the decrepit outskirts of Stonegut.

“Be safe,” I whispered as he vanished from view.