Telit returned swiftly, yet by the time he got back, the table had already been transformed, ground zero for a logistical bombshell. Aluca was powering through a bit of a headache and Mila was deeply hurting for lack of spreadsheet software, given their positions amidst a spread of pieces of paper. Hughstace was upstairs in his room, packing their tent and tarps from where they had been finishing up their drying, Naw-Naw was getting a jumpstart on cooking their rations in the kitchen, and Rora was ferrying between all three, taking notes of who needed what and bringing that back to the table to be tabulated.

The two kobolds had gone shopping for the group in the last week, sure, but that had been for general supplies that were reserves, basically. Enough to survive on for a bit, but uncomfortably and with razor-thin margins. They would be going into territory that was newly unfamiliar and possibly sickened, and you did not do that with narrow margins. Not if you wanted to be around for when the next time things got tough.

Mila gratefully took their up-front payment with a seated bow, before whisking the quiet hefty bag of coins to the center of the table. “I take it we’re good to leave tomorrow, right?” She asked, just in case. It was late in the day, but not quite late enough that some unreasonable politicians would not be shoving them out right now, possibly.

“Gods, yes. And anybody that has a problem with that, send ‘em my way,” was his answer, a bit of disgust leaking through as he weighed that possibility. Rushing things got folks killed, out between cities, but someone who never left might easily forget that.

In fact, the fixer decided to take his time too, sliding to the side a step as Rora delivered a scrap with jotted down notes and took a relatively blank one. Telit was not much schooled and the reading sideways or upside down was slowing him, so he gave an appreciative grunt as Mila flicked a table of items and numbers she was finishing up in his direction.

The first section was a list of food amounts that they would be needing for the trip, noting down that she had increased the amounts by fifty percent their usual - it would be damn foolish to live off the land if the land was killing everything on it. In the same vein, a lot of garlic would help keep mosquitos and their ilk off of them, another key disease vector. Below that was a list of ingredients to buy, Naw-Naw weighing in heavily on their selection, paired with amount, a ballpark cost estimate, and ballpark weight when a given item’s amount was not measured by weight.

Naw-Naw was going for the long-haul, too. Pickled vegetables and meats were a hefty bulk of the menu, and there was enough black pepper to raise eyebrows, although part of that was because it doubled for some of Aluca’s arcane bullshit. She was busy dipping into the inn’s kitchen stores for their own use to make bread, and the replacement ingredients were also present here. Even more meat, this stuff fresh, to be cooked and potted and taken with.

It was a lot more diverse than Telit was used to, both from seeing other groups and his own lived experience, but then again, the Goddess of Feasts provided. He pushed the paper back across to where Mila was weighing how much spare canvas she should go buy Just In Case, gave his nod, and then retreated just as Mila decided to buy a lot and make shoddy bags that could be disassembled if they needed the fabric for repairs elsewhere.

And so it went, for about an hour. Each list got checked off by the person who made it and whomever was ostensibly in charge of those materials, but eventually, there was a stack of things to buy and Aluca made himself scarce - while he had his own mageling supplies memorized in amounts, he had to go sort and pack them, and Mila realized that she was left with the money and the free time required to go get the stuff. She did not want to, but she had the means.

With that in mind, she collected everything up as best she could, ducked behind the counter to put her pleasure reading and spare papers where Naw-Naw could guard them with an iron pan, and trundled up to crack the door, checking on the weather. The evening sun peaked down through grey clouds yet it smelled as if it had already rained itself out, for the day at least; she ended up going to get her poncho, to be on the safe side. She would rather suffer heat stroke then have to plan out their expedition a second time because she got their supply lists ruined out of laziness.

Muggy as it was, though, it did not bother her much. She was focused on the lists and doing her damnedest to ignore how she splashed her way closer to the center of town to where she could buy the stuff from the most esoteric list of the supplies.

Magecraft, enchanting, alchemy, and other fields that Mila did not have direct exposure to, all seemed to use supplies that, while not always the same, often had overlap to some degree. There were only so many types of crushed rock, after all. And Rat-Hate had a single shop that specialized in providing those many ingredients, which meant that the establishment was very well-off.

It was also run by assholes.

Mila got in before the place closed up for the evening by quite a margin, probably an hour, hour and a half to spare, and yet the woman at the counter still tsk’d in irritation as the bell above Mila jingled as she entered. Which, sure, Mila knew she could never cut it in the service industry, so that was not her issue. No, she instead could feel herself getting rankled as the woman offhandedly asked, “What can I do for you…,” and then trailed off when she did not see anybody above three feet tall. She deigned to glance downward eventually, and stuck the landing with an echoed, “…you?”

The store itself was some weird mix of a candy store and an old timey pharmacy, the merchandise behind the counter in rows of marked containers and the actual space for the customer being rather small. But not built for small customers, Mila noted sourly. She approached and reached up to slide her list of required arcana ingredients forward, having to do so blindly and silently thankful she did not bump her paper against anything. “I’m looking to buy everything on this list,” she offered as she took two steps back, to have a chance at actually seeing the shopkeeper. Notably not one of the actual owners.

The lady, with some elven features but favoring her human heritage, picked it up and looked it over, not further acknowledging Mila, which she guessed was better than more “you”ing. There was another tsk, this time softer, and she swept back into the shelves and out of Mila’s sight unless she wanted to jump, which she did not.

The woman began to make loops to deposit items on the counter before returning to the stacks, and Mila spent her time instead looking at the list for arcane ingredients that also listed their estimated prices and what magics they were for. Some magics required multiple ingredients, and some ingredients mapped to multiple magics, and it’s not like she could use any of them herself, but looking over the information was something to pass the time at least.

The tall shopkeep cleared her throat pointedly as Mila was lost in mindlessly meandering across the list, and her snout snapped up. With no pleasantries, the woman started listing off, “Fourth ounce of powdered geode for 43 monel, eighth ounce of liquified bee’s breath for 28 and a half monel, full ounce of lakes’ copper for 23 monel, twelve ounces of dogchalk for three and three quarters monel….”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As she continued listing items out, Mila cross-checked against her more detailed list and could feel her eye ridges climbing as more and more items came in at a decent bit costlier than Aluca had estimated. Not by an outrageous amount, but enough to be noticed, with the only exception being the dogchalk which was heavily discounted. It only got worse once the woman listed the items that were just flat-out not available.

She cleared her throat and asked, “Is there, uh, a reason things are more expensive than they were before?” Mila also began checking through the web part of her advanced list, trying to figure out which types of magic would be getting affected by the missing items and if that rendered any other aspects of the list moot.

“The merchants bringing stuff in are all getting squeezed,” the worker answered, offering forward one of the containers to show the price per ounce. It was nice to know that she was not getting gouged specifically, Mila supposed. “Suppliers running out or something, I dunno.”

That kicked a long sigh from the kobold. Supply chain issues were a pain and not something they could find a way around before they left. It probably was not due to whatever issue they were off to fix, but that it could be crossed her mind anyway. They would have heard about it before though.

“Fuck me,” she muttered softly. “Alright, looks like I won’t need devil leather or milk blood, sorry.” No telekinetic carrying this time around, nor any excess ‘fuck-off fireballs’, which was deeply disappointing across multiple levels. “And I guess I’ll take, uh. I dunno. Eight more pounds of dogchalk?”

It was a lot, but it was noted that it was used in water purification magic and stabilization metamagic. Mila was not quite sure what use stabilizing other magic was, as to her knowledge most of that wizardry was pretty stable as-is, but given they were off to potentially tainted water, it might actually be useful for more than just ensuring they could drink. Mila was also pretty sure some stuff was cooked with dogchalk? Either way, the excess stuff was less than most of the other items, so it was not breaking the bank.

The woman grumbled at having to put stuff back and then grunted with effort as she gathered up the new addition. In spite of her brusque manner, Mila still thanked her as she packaged pouches into a larger, paper-wrapped bundle. The payment was quickly counted out in Mila’s hands and she had to reach up again to put it on the counter, and again to get her claws onto the goods. Actually bringing them down off the high surface was its own struggle, but Mila managed to totter her way out the door without dropping it on her head.

The grocer’s was a much more pleasant experience, at least. It *also* was not set up with smaller folk in mind, but when the owners’ son saw Mila stumble in to the otherwise empty store, he hurried around to help her put the magic stuff off to the side where she could pick it up on the way out. She probably should have gone to drop it off first, but she was already here and it was getting late….

The kid was only just barely not a kid, wet behind the ears in a way that the weather wished it could mimic, but he gave Mila a warm smile and a firm, “Good evening, ma’am! Anything I can help you with?”

Mila set to nodding and produced her food list, handing it over to him as he carefully took it. He took his time going over it and finally gave a nod of his own, “We should have all this, Miss…?”

“Mila, just Mila,” she stated, offering up a handshake, in the off chance it would help put him at ease. Formality always felt wrong to her.

“Mila, then. I’m Grant!” He offered, taking her hand and giving it a hearty shake that was very golden retrievery, enthusiastic but also trying to ensure he did not her hurt smaller hand. Which was quite funny, given he was about the most harmless thing she had seen all week.

He swooped away and returned with a basket before leading the way into the store. “A lot of preserved foods - are you stocking up the pantry?” Grant asked offhandedly as he eyed two seemingly identical jars of pickled beets before taking one down from the shelves. A smaller jar of pickled radish joined it.

Mila shook her head as she followed. “Hitting the road tomorrow. Usually we pack lighter and have more lead time, but it’s a whole last-minute thing.” She really did not want to have to explain to this kid how the local leader-types his parents probably voted for were trying to throw her and her friends into the perceived meat grinder. Thankfully, the way his eyes sparkled at her meant that probably was not the direction he was about to take.

“Adventurers! You’re an adventurer!” With all the glee of someone who knew of the glory and not the guts. “Oh, that’s so cool! Going out on your next big quest!”

That drew a snort from Mila, shaking her head. “We don’t use the q-word. Bad luck, and gives the wrong image. They’re jobs. Just sometimes jobs that get a bit dirty.”

“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry. No q-words, got it. Uh. Well, a job is still exciting! Are you… your group’s rogue?”

“What, because I’m a kobold, I must be sneaky and devious?” Mila asked, her glare immediately cracking into a wide grin as all the blood left Grant’s face. “Nah, fucking with you kid, calm down. I’m quiet when I gotta be, but mostly I’m loud. We don’t quite have that ol’ stereotype setup, ya know? Good for spelunking, but surprisingly few jobs’ll have you going underground ‘round here.”

Grant did not refute the label of kid, at least not while he was busy trying to recover from metaphorically stepping on Mila’s tail with his question. “That… That makes sense. Can’t even have a basement with the rain. And you’re the loud one.”

“Loud as I can be! If I’m getting gnawed on, that means my friends aren’t. I much like to keep it that way.”

“Gnawed on!?”

Mila looked up from the selection of raw meats behind glass she was examining, kept on a magically chilled short table. “I mean, preferably I’m also not getting chewed on. But it happens. Happened a week and change ago, we took out a yotel pack. Ruined a pair of my shorts.”

This time Grant’s blanching was not something Mila could easily fix, so she just gave a shrug and pointed that she’d take the pork - they already had pickled beef, so this would provide variety and store a bit better than chicken or any of the other meats on display.

Getting the few pounds of food and wrapping it up gave Grant some time to recompose himself, but they were almost through the rest of the list before the gangly fellow started talking again. “I’m, uh, glad you’re alright after that.”

“Me too! Surprising, I know.” She chuckled at her joke.

“I… I kinda always wanted to be an adventurer, you know? Everyone hears stories, and everyone benefits from what you folks do. I dunno if I could handle getting gnawed on, though.” In fact, discussing it looked like it was almost too much for him - he looked a bit nauseous.

Mila just shrugged. “Your work here helps folks too, I reckon, and I couldn’t do it myself. But you also shouldn’t feel locked into it just because you have the momentum. That make sense?”

He looked skeptical, so she continued. “Adventuring is mostly slogging through mud and doing what stuff you’re good at in situations other folks don’t want to do the same work. Can’t say I recommend it for most folks. But that doesn’t mean *you* shouldn’t be looking for what you’re good at. If you don’t like working this store, don’t feel bad for wantin’ to try new things. And if you do like it, or you can’t find something you like better, ain’t nothing wrong with that. It’s still helpin’ folk.”

At some point, they had moved back up to the front and Grant was slowly tabulating what all the prices were, with Mila pushing forward her payment quietly as he went about it. He was clearly thinking on her words though, which Mila thought was kind of cool. Once he finished, saw her money, checked that it was the correct amount, and blushed that Mila was faster at the arithmetic, he took it and scurried away with a slight “One moment.”

Unsure what he was doing exactly, Mila waited as he went through a back room and apparently went up some steps. There was a pair of faint voices, too muffled for her to parse, but soon enough his footsteps came down and he was back.

“The store is closing up anyway, so if it’s alright, we can pack this up and I can help you carry it to where you’re going? As thanks.”

Mila smiled, kind of taken back that he was offering, but she gave a big shrug. “I mean, I was just gonna struggle my way home anyway, but I’ll take the company,” was her answer as she began to push the jars together into one pile and the colds into another, and Grant moved to the other side to begin bagging the things up, still clearly thinking about things.