NOVEL NEXT Vol. 3, Ch. 140: Occupational Therapy
"You know, I was going to say you have mellowed out, Fi. But you still have your crazy streaks."
"Shush, former villainess. Or villain? Does Varith have a preference?" Fiona laid out an itinerary and a list of things that needed to happen rapidly, and pulled out all the stops during the lunch hour, trying to get her on board. "I'm busy plotting how to earn half a billion gold coins, or finding Karlin somewhere in Underlune and beating him like he owes me money. Which he does."
"Aaand, that's what I'm talking about." Bianca leaned in, long hair draped across her face while doodling on a scratch pad across from her. The cashier was covered, and she was slowly acclimating to the store. Fiona tapped in numbers on her datapad, along with notes. "You could have just left instead of taking this crapsack deal with Barry, after you lifted that death curse. Hell, you probably could have beaten him within an inch of his life to make him undo it, you know. I doubt anyone would have stopped you."
Fiona glanced at her skeptically. "I was tempted to. But would that action really fix the situation? Probably not the way I'd want. If I had, I certainly would be shown the door quickly." Greg would say something sensible like that, she figured. "Besides, I like it here," she continued, looking over the layout of the store. "So, we'll have to move some things. But the artwork stuff…I really think you could stand to do your paintings again."
"Why?" Bianca asked, looking shocked. "I mean, they weren't our biggest seller, mind you…back in the day. And I say that after trying so hard to move them."
"Bee," Fiona sighed, "I knew you well enough about what made you happy. And I'm not gonna lie, it's probably gonna be nutty here for the next few months. Having something routine, something to fall back to? It helps."
Bianca scoffed at that. "That's rich, coming from the woman who had a slight obsession over gadgets. And snacks."
"I have more interests than that. I bake now!" She proudly showed off the cookies that she and Doug had worked on the night before, arranged in a small box. It wasn't quite a sugar cookie, but it was close enough. The sugar came from harvesting what she swore was almost maple syrup, and was more granular. She offered one to Bianca, who glanced at it.
"Oh, that's what you guys were doing last night. I conked out early." She rubbed at the bracer gently. "You know, I wonder if this thing is sapping me physically."
"It shouldn't. Now try one," Fiona proposed. Bianca glanced at it skeptically, then took a bite of the roughly heart-shaped cookie.
[Cannibal! My poor baby hearts!]
Fiona let out a laugh at Wingding's protest, with Bee staring at her like she'd grown a second head. "Fi, you laughing randomly, scares me," she said finally.
"It's Wingding! She taps out codes for me!" she explained with a contented sigh. Her heart gave a quick demonstration, and Bee's eyes lit up.
"Are you sure you aren't cracked? Hold on, I remember that silly Morse code you nerded out on..." She let out a contented gasp when Wingding made a series of flaps, then a cooing sound. "How flattering, dear. But I think this heroine has switched to the other side of the field. and sport," she added with a nod to Doug, a sly smile creeping in.
Fiona narrowed her eyes at her mark. "Where did you learn that language, young miss?!"
[You. And Bonnie. I'm impressionable.]
Finona let out a disgruntled groan. "I am thoroughly convinced this mark is gonna take off of my arm someday, and be a teenage chaos machine." She glanced at Bianca, stiffling a laugh. "So, what about yours?"
"My mark...well..." Bianca rubbed at her sleeve uneasily. "The less said about that one, the better."
"Is it the same one between you and Varith?" Fiona asked calmly. It was one of many topics they hadn't discussed properly.
"Sort of," Bianca said, but made no motion to show it. "I don't actually know what my class is. When I talked to a few people in Vale who weren't utterly terrified of me or trying to stab me in the back, the administrators said they couldn't tell."
Fiona blinked. "No class? That was me, too. Up until one fateful day with a clerk named Clarke. No mark, either. Yours just showed up?"
Bianca held her arm with the other, her posture sinking, and she cast her a sideways glance. "Fi, can we talk about something else? Like these cookies that I am sure will give me food poisoning, for example?"
It was probably time to drop it. Bianca clearly wasn't even close to all better, and this one would take time to heal. Fiona nodded and gave a triumphant wave to the cookies. "Behold, mini wingdings! I had to etch out the jeweled facets and fill them with a little sugar glaze. The wings are above my skill level, for now."
[Just remember I'm not edible.]
Bianca watched on with a bemused smile at Wingding's response. "So if the mark's alive, what's that do for you?"
"Doug and I got nowhere with his mother's hideaway. We're still figuring that one out. For now, I treat her as a plus one, and try to be on my best behavior," she added, with Wingding taking a tour along her shoulder blades, up her neck, then down a bit. Fiona blushed when Wingding settled over her own heart. "H-hey, now. I'm not that open to showing off my skin like that, girl."
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
"Oh, she's cute," Bianca assured her with a smile, before taking a bite from one of the cookies and letting out a sound of delight. "Mm…okay, you know what, I take that back, that is good. You weren't cooking this good when I was around."
"Doug bakes better than he gives himself credit for," she shrugged. "And has surprisingly good taste."
Bianca laughed mid-bite and ended up coughing and hacking, before trying to down the baked treat. "Good taste? Was that a reference to you, or the confectionery delight?"
"Yesn't," Fiona answered slyly. "Anyway, as you might have figured out, I haven't been sitting idle. I had to find some way to pass the time while I was getting accustomed. It wasn't always easy, though. The first three months here? I was destitute and copperless when Bonnie found me on a sweet roll raid."
"Seriously, what is a sweet roll?" Bianca asked in earnest, before munching on another bite of cookie.
"An endangered bakery item, thanks to this elf." Darla practically danced over to the counter, grabbing a cookie and munching on it. "Oh, this is really good. I commend the balance of sugar and spices. Never thought I'd find spice in a dessert item desirable, but it works!"
"Oh?" Bianca wore an edged smile. "Well, now, perhaps I misjudged. She can learn new things."
"Probably for the better." Fiona grabbed one more cookie, even though she'd promised to finish lunch first. Sweets were just too much of a temptation for her. "Those first three months were rough. I took the crash course in adventuring. Escort missions, monster squashing, and putting on knee pads to avoid wayward arrows that could put me on permanent guard duty. But it was a calling, I guess. I started to fill in the gaps with things like this, or reading books from Cepalune."
"YouTube, you are sorely missed," Bianca sighed.
"Yep. That's why you should take up a hobby, like painting. Even if it's just something to do as a hobby? It helps."
Darla folded her arms, her tail twirling gently as she leaned in. "Oh, you know what a good hobby you guys should do? I uh…occasionally do sparring matches. Nobody really gets bloodied up; we do it for sport. Jake also offered me some lessons."
Bianca looked upward at Darla, her face glowing and her eyes wide open. "Yes, I would totally love to get rough–I mean, yes, totally would love to do something like that! Maybe I can blow off steam to settle the mood of my less glamorous half."
Darla raised a brow. "You look like a petite flower, no offense, Bianca."
"Varith's not," she added with a smirk. "I dunno, I mean, at some point, he and I…we'll have to meet in the middle somewhere. Otherwise, I'll be one person running at two extremes."
"She's not wrong," Fiona admitted. "We should certainly test the waters. Now, Darla, since you're here, I have a query. What's the fanciest drink you can do for an event like this?"
"Oh? Need my talent?" she purred. "You know we can get caterers, I can't feed two hundred by myself, much as I'd love to try."
"Oh, we'll get to that. But I want to try the spread of caffeinated concoctions you can come up with, Cepalunean style," she added with a smirk. "And we're gonna test it over the next week."
"With who?" Bianca asked. "You know we have a lot of other products we could be moving."
Fiona flashed a survey she'd prepared and twirled it around for Darla to see. "Oh, you know, the willing customers who grace our shop every day. Now what's the toppest of the top tier you can come up with?"
Darla raised a brow at the survey. She rubbed one horn, and a Cheshire grin slowly emerged. "Oh, I think we need to upgrade my supplier, dear. Let's make a field trip after the shop closes."
Fiona glanced upward. "This is it? Looks like a textile mill. like a slice of old New England. I love the brickwork," she commented, noting the tawny bricks and the bronze sign hanging outside. According to Darla, this importer brought in coffee and related products from the Bar'dathi plains and even further south. She smelled fresh roasted grinds that were sharp, almost malty, and she let out a squeal. "I love this place–"
Bianca patted her shoulder. "You always were a sucker for coffee. I'm surprised that they have enough supply for a city this size."
"Fiefdala has a large agrarian base, but they can't grow coffee unless it's in large, magically charged greenhouses during the cooler months. So we have to import a lot. And this place is a little pricey," Darla summarized. They were greeted by a young man wearing a white collar shirt and dark vest, smiling politely as he walked into the office adjacent to the shop floor. "Hey, been a while," she greeted him.
"Darla, my goodness, how are you, dear?" he said, offering a polite handshake.
"Doing well, Steve. I have a special event coming up. I need some stuff that is a little more high end. I've got some top-end clients coming in, and the food and accommodations need to match."
His face lit up like he'd hit the jackpot. Which, he probably had, given what Fiona knew of Darla's skills. "Oh, for you? I can make anything happen. What are you looking for specifically?
"I'm looking for unroasted beans. Remirands, elven style. I'm also looking for other spices that you guys might carry. I need enough for a few weeks of testing with customers, then like, three hundred in a few weeks."
"Goodness. You don't want that trash!" he let out a soft tsk sound. "No, I have something better. Fenoli beans, the finest from the far southern tip of the continent! Costs me a pretty penny on the teleport pad, but well worth the price!"
"You don't have inroads with them," Darla said, calling a bluff with a little growl to her words, even with her soft-set eyes. She pouted for emphasis. "It must be very expensive, even if you do."
But Steve was already reaching for a packing crate, marked with a preservation ward etched along the planked wooden sides. She had to commend them; they really knew how to do shipping, even without the full suite of modern logistics.
"Behold! Fresh from Antika, delivered just this morning!" he declared proudly. Darla's eyes were little more than golden saucers as she stared at the sack of unroasted beans. Even Fiona noted they were in the presence of java approaching a divine tier. The malty smell with just a touch of bitter rose from the beans, and Steve pulled a few out. "I see that look. You want it."
"Want it? Baby, I need it," Darla cackled. "How much, though?"
"Oh, but there is a slight problem. This shipment was promised to another customer already; they pay top coin, to boot." He looked dejected about that slight complication. "I mean, I could part with it, but then I have an angry customer, broken contracts…bad business."
"And who is this client that has something even we don't have? Bianca asked, sounding like he might be leading a con.
"Ah, they've been in business for years. This might be their more…legitimate offerings," he said with a hushed tone. "It's hard to get shipments in. You might have some luck with the wholesale, maybe you get lucky. Or, you negotiate with the man directly."
"And, who are these guys?" Fiona asked, wagging her hand. "We have a mission, and we're gonna deliver some sizzling delights that'll put Fiefdala on the magical map!"
"Oh. Fenthick Santino. He's the more favored son of the elder Santino," Steve said, shrugging softly.
Darla hissed, her body arched, and her fists clenched. "Oh, this will not stand. I'll go persuade him–"
"Darla? Sweetie? That might be the first time I believe you've wished actual bodily harm on someone," Fiona said, gently nudging the fuming darkling away. "Giant monsters and actual villains notwithstanding, I mean."
Biana groaned. "Why do I get this feeling that your idea is going to be a world of pain for someone?"
Because it is," Fiona grinned. "You know how it is with these big families with fluffy names and questionable business practices? You do a favor for a favor."