Eventually, Rose pulled herself together enough to head out for the day. di, that is. No matter how exhausted she felt, she needed money. She only had eight Étains left. Her rent for the month—or "pillar," as it was called here—was already paid, but of course, she still needed money for essentials like food and…food. Oh, and she was saving up for a dishwasher.
Well, here it was called a Mystélave, and it did more than just wash dishes. Magic was real here. real and quite awesome. This thing was like a box where you’d place any dirty item inside—yes, any item—close the device, beep boop and voilà, it would come out spotless. No dirt, no grime, just perfectly clean, like new.
It even ran on something like solar power. It absorbs mystic energy drawn from the sun, stored in a magical container called an Énerciel. So yes, it was magic—but, in a way, it was like solar power. Actually it was solar power… wait was magic here just advanced science? No… that would be… well, not fantasy world.
She shook her head. Over the years, she’d managed to save up… well, eight Étains toward her goal. But the Mystélave cost two Orfin coins. She probably wouldn’t see a single gold coin in her lifetime, but if she could gather twenty Cuivre, she could afford it. Eventually.
This made the Mystélave worth 2,100 Étains, and she had eight… almost there, she thought with a bitter chuckle.
With the weight of both her needs and wants pressing on her, she scavenged enough motivation to push open the heavy oak door and stepped outside. The sun was already high enough to flood the street with warm, safe light. After closing the door, she locked it with an old iron key, slipped the string around her neck, and tucked the metal beneath her faded green day dress.
She paused to take in the vibrant colors of her street. Pelteman was a small residential neighborhood in the Sudelar Quarter, and though her walk to work was longer from here, the lively culture of the area made it worth it… mostly.
As she started her northward walk, Rose glanced around, feeling fortunate to have found a good, affordable place. Yet most of the city didn’t share her opinion. To them, Pelteman was a joke—an impractical luxury for people who couldn’t afford luxuries. Most city folk preferred the convenience of living right where they worked, mostly because real estate was expensive. Originally, Pelteman was the only part of the city dedicated solely to residential spaces for commoners—or at least, that had been the plan on paper.
Now, residents were dragging tables out of their homes, transforming their doorsteps into makeshift market stalls. Nearby, a woman hawked dried herbs tied in little bundles with faded string. Beside her, a young boy crouched on the ground, carefully arranging turnips and carrots in neat rows. An old man, hunched and silent, held up a tray of metal trinkets that glinted dully in the morning light. The rich smell of fresh bread filled the air as several people sold warm loaves and pastries.
Pelteman had become just another area in the city, a place where only the poor and newly arrived found themselves. The enticing smell of freshly baked bread was how Rose ended up two Étains further from owning a Mystélave, as she was now walking to work with a warm loaf in her hand.
Sinking her teeth into the soft, warm bread, she chewed slowly, savoring the comforting heat that chased away the morning chill. It didn’t take long to finish it or for her to leave Pelteman. There was no gate or barrier to mark the transition, but she knew instinctively when she’d crossed into the next part of town.
Chaos reigned in the bustling city that no one even though of planing. Everything was built on the fly, with merchants and vendors constantly vying for storefronts along the main road. The city’s residential charm gradually gave way to an urban sprawl, packed with people moving in every direction. The streets were alive with color and sound; vibrant clay facades adorned the buildings, each painted in hues of reds, yellows, and greens to protect against the weather and brighten the walkways. The cheerful colors created a lively backdrop as she moved deeper toward the heart of the city—ironically located far from the actual center.
Marchenne was the largest trade hub in the north, and the only northern city. The main route cut through the far right side of the city, allowing the nobles to live in comfort, away from the daily clamor of workers. Rose pushed her way through the throngs of people, sticking to the well-trodden routes. The busier roads were well-maintained, lined with orderly cobblestones and relatively free of debris. Every now and then, she’d glimpse a side street or narrow alley and consider a shortcut, but she avoided them. They weren’t always safe, and even if they were, she preferred not to put herself in a position where she might have to fend off more than just an unwanted hand from the bustling crowd.
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Soon enough, she reached her destination: a small café just off the prime spot by a fountain many used to gather water or drink from . It was close enough to the main road to catch a good crowd even if It only had a windowed door on the street. Still, it allowed a large sign hung above it, carved from wood and adorned with a fork, knife, and an odd-looking cup. Though whoever had carved it clearly didn’t know what a cup looked like; its misshapen design was probably why this café could sometimes be mistaken for a restaurant. Not that it mattered anymore.
She pulled open the glass door and stepped into a narrow hallway, just wide enough for her to pass through to the back, where it opened into a larger room and the café itself. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and alcohol, softened by the aromas of cooked meat and fresh food, making it almost pleasant, almost. After an hour though, she’d forget the smell.
Six heavy wooden tables were crammed next to each other, each seating seven or eight people in close quarters. Along the walls, a long, makeshift counter allowed those willing to stand a place to eat, separate from the main counter where the employees worked. Every inch of the place was managed to allow the maximum number of people.
As Rose entered, she spotted Richmand at the counter, his nose buried in a thick ledger. He glanced up briefly as she approached, giving her a quick nod.
“Ah, good timing,” Richmand muttered, barely looking up. “Almost lunchtime. Tell Lewis to get the girls something to eat—eggs or something—and I’ll take a boar roast sandwich.”
“Yes, sir.” Rose nodded and continued past the counter into the back, where the kitchen was sprawled in a chaotic, unkempt manner. This was because the only cook was a man who did his job just enough to get paid. He was almost as bad as Rose but he was especially unpleasant in the way he took the new girls under his… wing.
It didn't take long for her to find Lewis, the old cook, shamelessly flirting with one of the new hires, a redhead named Molley. Rose cleared her throat, and Molley jumped, quickly pulling away from Lewis as she adjusted her disheveled dress. Lewis shot Rose with an annoyed glare as she spoiled his fun.
“Richmand says to make grilled egg sandwiches for the girls and a roasted pork sandwich for himself.” She brushed off the cook’s glare and looked at the new hire. “It’s almost noon, so we’ll be starting soon. Why don’t we freshen up a bit in the back room, shall we?” Molley’s face flushed as she hurriedly smoothed down her rumpled uniform. At least she looked presentable now. Rose looked back at Lewis, “Well?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lewis muttered, tutting over his interrupted fun as he turned on the expensive magical burners. Rose couldn’t help but smile to herself; the blend of old-world charm with modern tech was a trope she’d come to appreciate—especially in a world like this where the convenience of the real world, er her world, was readily available.
She followed Molley past the kitchen and into the staff room, a cramped space with a few small wooden cubbies tucked into one corner. It served as a break room, changing room, and the manager's office all in one. Three other girls were already there, lounging and waiting for the day to officially start. Without labor laws, they weren’t paid until the shift actually began, and breaks were counted against them.
Rose made her way to the back corner of the space where a bunch of wooden cubbies were lined up. her cubby was the second one on the left, third high. Tossing her money pouch inside she began changing, slipping out of her simple dress and putting on the café uniform: a modest black dress with a blue apron. But as she dressed, she frowned. She shuffled through the cubby before glancing at the other girls, who watched her with mischievous smiles. She returned their smiles, though hers was a bit strained.
“Does anyone know what happened to my padded shorts?” Rose asked, her tone light but pointed. Her question sparked a round of giggles, confirming her suspicion.
“How should we know?” Mim replied with a shrug. She was one of the longest-standing employees here, just behind Seria and Rose herself. Sociable and quick to make friends, Mim naturally took the other girls under her wing. Rose was her biggest ally here, mostly because she was easy to rally against someone.
“Mim. I need them,” Rose insisted. The café was full of tight spaces, and most of their customers were hardworking men who came in for a quick bite. She was safe enough behind the counter for grab-and-go meals, but Richmand preferred to keep the new girls there so he could supervise them and they could watch how things went. It made too much sense for her to argue.
“Oh, but don’t you think you’d have better luck finding a man if you let yourself be a bit… open?” Mim teased, her grin mischievous. Rose had made padded shorts for herself and the other girls a few years ago. It was the best defense for the women who had to wade through that sea of men carrying trays and drinks.
“Better to be safe than to end up tricked by a cook into a three-way, only to be left with the bill at Chardez,” Rose replied with a smirk. “How is your debt going by the way?”
Mim’s eyes turned sharp, but it was Molley who reacted with shock. “What?!”
Rose turned to her, “oh yeah, he’s dated almost every girl that walked through that door. Oh, and he’s married, by the way.” Molley’s face paled as the news sank in.
Before they could continue, the man himself entered the room. “Oi, grab a quick bite! Di's going to start soon,” he barked, clapping his hands to get their attention.
Mim gave Rose a sidelong glance, her face red, before scoffing and leading her little group of girls away.
The chef looked over at Molley, smiling. “Di's about to start but we can take a moment to…” he glanced at Rose, “continue our conversation from earlier?”
Molley glanced at Rose, who simply shrugged, leaving them to it as she headed off to grab the quick meal before the day began.