"Why the graveyard?"

"Shh..."

Daire crouch-walked in an exaggerated fashion.

Emmy glanced up at the peaking sun, covered her eyes with an arm, then continued to watch Daire tip-toe.

"We're going to strike it rich."

"Graverobbing is a crime, Daire. Looting while on an adventure is okay, but digging up graves may disturb the dead."

Daire continued his act of skulking through the graveyard slowly, as if afraid to step on a squeaky floorboard.

Emmy's voice remained its normal volume. Fully upright, she glided along the trimmed green grass, watching Daire roll from gravestone to gravestone.

"The Gods watch over burial sights as an almost universal rule.. Practically all of them are heavily against graverobbing; Veil might smite you for even trying."

Daire looked left and right for signs they've been spotted. He ignored the pointing finger of a child trying to get his father's attention.

"What are you looking for that you can't buy in a shop? Graverobbing in the town cemetary isn't exactly the same as treasure hunting. You'd have better luck raiding an old dwarven tomb or wizards' tower. Not that those are easy to find..."

Emmy grumbled. There was a poignant lack of thrilling adventurers' tales in the modern age.

"I am looking for a specific grave. Legend tells that he was number one."

Emmy perked up. Maybe Daire knew something?

"What was he good at? Axe throwing? Is there a legendary axe buried right in town?"

Daire's expression told Emmy that he pitied her for thinking it was something so mundane. Searching the names on the graves, he came to a specific one; some of the letterings were scratched, but Daire could infer it was the correct one.

"This is it!"

Daire grabbed a shovel, raising it into the air. Violet, who had turned uninterested by Daire's antics, read the grave and frowned.

"Who's Smitty WerbenJagerManJensen"

The sky rumbled.

=

Daire coughed black smoke. The raised shovel fell from his hands and his voice croaked.

"What's the big idea? I only have a resistance. Not immunity."

Hearing the clear blue sky start growling again, he pleaded for Violet to grab his hand in the most dramatic way possible.

"Ugh. Fine."

She held onto his wrapped index finger. Daire became full of energy, yelling at the sky.

"HA! Take that Veil! As long as I'm in contact with Violet, I'm immune to lightning."

A large bolt struck him dead center; the current flowed down his arm and charged Violet to full.

"Hmm... That tickles."

Another resounding crack.

"It tastes funny. In a good way. Filling, but..."

A third strike.

"Ugh... I don't feel so good."

Daire realized what was happening. He hurriedly let go of Violet.

"Fine! Fine. It was only a joke anyway. Just don't make it hurt too much-EIISHA!"

Emmy uncovered her eyes, patting Violet as she suffered from a food coma. Noticing Daire's smoking corps-living body, Emmy squeaked a curious question.

"Eisha?"

"Oh, now there is an Eisha too? Despicable."

*whimper*

=

"Do you have any antiperspirant?"

Old Joe stroked his wizard's beard and repeated the question back at him.

"Anti-Persperiant?"

"Yeah. Stuff to reduce sweating and make it smell nicer."

Old Joe wrote furiously on a small notepad under the counter all while maintaining eye contact and pretending to question everything. The little Pixie from before stood on the counter while the man genuinely took time to browse the wares with a teenage Lamia.

"Daire calls it Deoderant. Get it? De-odor-ent... I wish I thought of that. His smells like cedar, but he said they can smell like different things in the same way air freshener does."

"Air Freshener."

Violet tilted her chin.

"He described air freshener as a mist that is sprayed into the air that di-fuse-zes to cover a wide area. Basically, it's deodorant for a room instead of a person. Actually, it is more like cologne or perfume than deodorant."

"Perfume, you say? What is the difference between that and this baloney?"

"The Cologne? I think it's just a male and female thing. Guys use cologne, and women use Perfume. Perfume smells pretty. Cologne smells... um... not-exactly-pretty-but-somewhat-pretty."

"Hmm. Hmm."

"Um... Sir."

"Yes, little miss, what is it? What comes next?"

"It is scary if you don't blink."

Old Joe's eyes were becoming dry and bloodshot. Brand new ideas were bouncing around inside his foggy head.

He devoted his entire life to the art of alchemy, mixes, the art of cleaning a cauldron, and creating healing salves that could revolutionize the adventuring industry he adored as a young lad. After decades of constant work, he realized he was only a middling alchemist despite all the effort he put in. He could barely afford to keep his shop open after cultivating a deeply loyal yet small customer base consisting of old adventurers that just won't quit. For an adventurer to live to be as old as Old Joe takes uncanny luck, godly skills, or insufferable stupidity.

Two decades ago, The Milton Adventurer Guild Branch made a deal with him to buy their supplies only from him. That was when there weren't even walls around the burgeoning outpost. But no one ever wanted alchemical supplies. They relied on the church and clerics for healing. The outrageous prices for perfect healing were paid happily instead of stocking up on silvers worth of anti-infection salves as preventative measures. They laughed at his Cleanup Dog-Bite, when bites from strays have killed! They balked at the lack of magical cure-alls and don't see the benefit of medicine until they're allready too far gone. Just like the young man currently browsing his wares. When Old Joe's prejudice against youngsters was proven right once again, he almost lost all hope.

Now though, the ignorant youth came back, bringing a young lamia adventurer with him, boasting about Joe's products, and pointing out practical faults that Joe could remedy with some elbow grease. On top of it all. The sweet little girl from before was now opening up countless possibilities. Old Joe had all but given up on making a comeback at his age.

The Holy Trinity...

Cosmetics!

Toiletries!

Hygiene!

Old Joe had known clean hands helped the alchemical process, but he never had a word for it before. The little concoction he cooked up a decade ago to clean his hands before mixing reagents, which he named Finger Cleaner, had only ever interested that quack Strickles. As it turns out with the right marketing campaign the simple product could be sold en masse and earn him enough to jumpstart new research!

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Hey, old man."

"YeS!"

Joe's voice cracked like a prepubescent as his hunched back creaked straight up.

The godsend's next words would change Old Joe's life.

"Can I get a few buckets of this Hand Sanitizer?"

=

After loading up his cart, he was starting to run out of spare room. Toilet paper was now an issue instead of a boon. Daire resorted to packing things inside two of four barrels attached to the end of the cart. He moved all the rabbits to the bottom two shelves and used the top two as additional storage. He draped a tarp over the top so people wouldn't eye his goods and get the wrong idea. He had a perfectly good reason to buy three buckets worth of hand sanitizer and a tub of mouth wash.

Daire eyed a passing minotaur. The minotaur seemed intrigued that a tiny human dared to meet his gaze. Unfortunately, he already harbored a large harem, and adding a puny male human would just complicate things.

"Daire, a word of warning..."

Emmy scooted up closer to speak to him semi-privately.

"The baker's daughter is renowned for her beauty and has at least two dozen suitors. Don't get involved."

"Is she that pretty?"

That was Violet's curious voice. Many of the women she met so far turned out to be very pretty. Emmy was pretty-cute. Tabitha was pretty-sexy. Misses Leecy, the tailor, was pretty-warm. Her new librarian buddy was pretty-knowledgeable. Violet wondered what type the baker's daughter would be.

Emmy, unaware, nodded her head.

"Even I have to admit she is gorgeous. I wouldn't want to look be her, but that is because I suspect she is a part Siren. Girls want to be her, and men drool over her. Her father is pulling his hair out at trying to find the perfect suitor. I consoled him one time; he confessed to thinking about just hiding her away underground. Poor guy doesn't know what to do with a daughter."

"Oooh. It sounds like a Baker's Daughter story, rejecting everyone's advances because she'd already promised her love to a Prince in disguise."

Violet enjoyed this line of thinking and added on to Daire's made-up story.

"Yeah! They met one night when she was throwing out stale bread to find a ragged boy digging through the trash searching for food. She fed him and they fell in love at first sight. The boy promised to come back to reward her for her kindness one day."

Violet swooned. Daire shook his head, addressing Emmy.

"From the look on your face, things are probably different from what Violet and I are imagining. If that's the case, I am excited to meet her."

"Of course you are..."

Daire jerked like he'd been slapped. The mood had shifted so fast that it smacked him in the face. Violet was serenely happy only a moment ago, but now she was crossing her arms. Daire guessed she was still upset. He needed to set things straight somehow and have a long chat.

Emmy looked between the two, sensing some sort of tension. She nudged Daire's side.

"Was it a lover's quarrel?"

Daire winced. Glad that Violet seemed not to have heard.

"Don't say that, please. We're just friends, but we had a fight last night, and there's some tension."

"Oh. Then it's serious?"

She whispered back. Daire covertly nodded.

"It was my fault. I am waiting for a good time to apologize. For now, could you not mention it?"

"Sure. Yeah, I can, but... do you want help? I am good at helping people make up."

"No, no. What you are doing is plenty. Just keep her happy until I can have a moment alone with her somehow."

"If you say so..."

Emmy let the conversation drop. She stealthily glided over to Violet to compliment her on her new pocketed pants.

Daire took the travel time to check things off his plans. The bunny business was enough for him to steadily supply himself for travel and stock up on supplies for Silvis. There wasn't going to be much coin left at all after his shopping spree. As an earthling, it felt weird holding onto so many jingling coins. It reminded him of his grandpa's stuffed pockets. There was always loose change in his grandpa's pants, along with a melted breath mint, a cough drop or two, and sometimes, a gooey chocolate hersheys. Daire remembered how it leaked through his pants one day on the way to the post office. It looked like he crapped his pants, and Daire could barely contain himself while exchanging looks with strangers, pointing it out like it was the most hilarious thing in the world.

The Post Office. Memories of golden dollar coins. Daire used to collect them. Grandpa got him a piggy bank. Two-dollar bills...

He felt sudden heartache at the old memories.

Realizing he went off track and started daydreaming, he recounted his tasks twice more. All that was left was to drop by the Bakery in an attempt to learn a thing or two and the Post Office. The latter was more important, but he was dying to have a good source of carbs in his diet.

Other than those two stops, he had to cook and sell the rest of his stock, speak to Strickles, and decide whether to sleep out in the open or head back to Silvis in the dead of night. Oh, and somewhere in his full schedule, he needed to speak to Violet in private.

I'm already dreading it.

A errant thought suddenly struck Daire.

If the situation at this Bakery is complicated... Why aren't we going to a different one? The town is large enough to house more than one, and it's highly doubtful one bakery could produce enough to feed all the residents.

Daire stopped in his tracks at the same time Trinket did and looked up.

"Woah."

Whoever said it got it right. The "Bakery" was three stories tall and stretched almost an entire block. It was more like a donut factory with adjacent warehouses or either side, white smokestacks pluming out from multiple vents layered along the top of the building. If the Milton's Pantheon was the most abstract and artistic structure in existence, then this bakery was the opposite, the epitome of function. Flat brown walls. Four large bay doors for transport. In the center was a small fogged glass door with a little bell on it. The sign above the door was the only spot of creative expression.

Wysteria's Wish

"Emmy?"

The teenager looked over blankly. Daire's gaze wandered over the entire surface of the building. As an architect, he admired that someone could find beauty in function.

"Care to explain?"

Emmy turned her head as if to ask what she needed to explain. When she followed Daire's roaming gaze, her mouth made an "O".

"I'm so sorry. I thought I mentioned it. Bread is Milton's largest export."

Then what was the deal with the stale bread from their first day in town?

"I thought you wanted to see the Bakery because you heard of its quality. People wait days to get a fresh loaf of bread since all the Nobles spend gold to get it first. Wysteria's caters to high clientele so any bread normal people manage to get their hands on ends up in their pantries for days or weeks because of how precious it is."

"That is so messed up."

That explains the suitors...

Emmy saw it as normal.

"Is it? Wysteria's the pride of Milton. It's the main reason we can afford the wall. They generously donated enough funds to the council to get it started."

"So they're practically royalty. I guess we got it backward, Violet."

"I wonder how pretty she is..."

The mostly normal statement took on an ominous vibe as Violet stroked Pebbles and narrowed her eyes.

=

The doorbell jingled harmoniously.

Inside, the clean marbled flooring shone like it had been recently waxed. The walls were smooth, of a material that was indiscernible. The air was fresh and crisp, warm with a cool breeze calmly traveled through the open space. There was no furniture, only a display case lining the far end of the room with a beige countertop. The aroma of baking bread lingered as an permanent attraction.

Behind the counter was a lone lady, handling four men at once. They leaned on the counter and pressed against the glass display, trying to get closer as they pined over the object of their affection, attempting to physically climb over each other to stand on top. They all wore impeccable clothing that indicated they each held a substantial amount of wealth or derived from prestigious families. Their facial features were almost sculpted. Were it not for the mix of plastered derisive sneers they each would have been the image of charming bachelors.

Daire, Violet, and Emmy stopped in the doorway, watching the scene unfold.

"Get off me, you degenerate. I can offer three times the dowry your lowly family can!"

"A woman of such class wouldn't care for money, please, let me read my poetry and win your heart."

"Stop wasting your words. She'll obviously choose me. I am the most handsome after all. The rest of you look like toads."

"A woman needs a protector, as the only C-Rank swordsman present, I outrank you all."

"Louse."

"Cockatiel."

"Prairie Dogs!"

"Uh... erm... I can't think of anything else insulting."

"Ha! Another bites the dust. Get lost, loser."

Through the bickering and the fighting, a soft melodious voice chimed.

"Please. Don't fight."

The floundering group halted in a comedic freeze-frame, all attention on the focus of their desires. The blue-eyed maiden was the picture of youth and innocence. Long bouncing blond hair represented her free spirit. Dazzeling and flawless skin. The delicate hands of a lady, only a few cuts present from her profession. The garments of a normal baker's daughter were patched in places, indicative of her genuine station in life. The way the lacing around her midsection held everything in place while also conveniently emphasizing her well-endowed chest.

The Baker's daughter rested a rosy cheek in her palm.

"What do I do? How am I supposed to help? You all want to buy Father's bread, but if you fight over it... Ah... I don't know what to do."

Her breathy exhale drew in breaths from the gaping men. She looked at each of them as if looking for a solution to pop up. Then her eyes drifted from the group of admirers towards the door.

"Ah! Another customer? I'm so sorry, but it will be a moment before I can help, seeing as these men here arrived first."

She placed a finger on her pointed chin.

"Wait a moment. Which one of you arrived first?"

The gaggle looked at each other and started sneering again.

"I did."

"No, it was I."

"My foot was ahead of both of you."

"I held the door for you lot, otherswise I would have been first."

More bickering.

When the insults and fists started to fly once again, a helpful Lamia rolled up her sleeves.

"No good hatchlings... Ruining my tour..."

Daire and Violet watched with interest as the sly lamia wrangled the group of rowdy men, binding them and pummeling them without mercy, targeting any weak spot she could find. After two minutes, there was no more resistance, and the men were dragged out by their collars.

Violet held the door for them on their way out.

Daire smirked. They'd never seen a pretty woman before. There must be a shortage among the nobility. To Daire, the baker's daughter was nothing new. The maiden couldn't rival top supermodels or lead actresses. True, her genetics were applaudable, but Daire wouldn't start swooning over someone by looks alone. He moved past that stage in life.

"It seems that you're the only one left in my shop. What can I do for you?"

As Daire turned his gaze and met those crystal blue eyes...

*...*

He shook his head. Looking out the door one last time to make sure everything was on the up and up, he approached the counter, his shoes making audible clicks on the polished floor.

"Are you Wysteria, by chance?"

*...*

Her coy laugh was musical. The way her eyes darted to the floor shyly made his tongue dry.

"No, silly. Wysteria was my mother. Father named the bakery after me, but not in the way one expects. He always called me 'mother's little wish'. Thus... Wysteria's Little Wish."

Daire thought it was curious, but not overly so. It sounded somewhat childish, but the direction of the conversation was already pointed a certain way.. Daire allowed himself to be taken by its flow.

"I think I understand. So, what is your name."

*...*

She giggled. It normally would have seemed out of place, but this girl made it seem normal.

"You haven't introduced yourself yet. A man always needs to introduce himself before asking a lady her name."

Daire's felt something tiny, inexplicable, and non-material come into contact with his chest. The stimuli registered, but it didn't make way to conscious thought. He absently scratched at it.

"My name is Daire. May I now know your name?"

*...*

For a third time, Daire thought she would titter cutely. The way her soft lips stretched across her face; the way her eyelids fluttered when she cupped both hands tightly to her chest like knowing his name meant the world to her...

"Nice to meet you, Daire. I am Wisp."