The noon sun shines over Lycore as Ren and Francesca navigate through the market. Stalls of merchants hawking their wares to every passersby. Torches are lit in an attempt to drive away the flies. This leaves Ren with one oversight he has let to consider. "Fran," he asks sheepishly, "do you have the money to pay for potions?"


    Francesca looks ahead, "If I didn''t, I would not have led you here first."


    The hero ponders for a moment and asks, "How do you make money? You said that you spend a good amount of your time at the church. That is more of a school for you and not a job."


    Stepping closer, Francesca says, "Sometimes, Father Yu has me use Word of Mending on people when the Morning Sun Church is running low on money. I legally have to get paid after that."


    Ren sighs. "Well... If it gets us the potions we need..."


    Francesca points to one of the buildings on the far end of the marketplace. "As a general rule of thumb, potions from stalls are not as trustworthy as those straight from an apothecary. Alchemists work best in sterile workplaces, and it helps if you see the spot where they made the potion."


    "Buyer beware, I get that," exasperation fills Ren''s voice. "Show, how many do you think you can buy?"


    A groan of dread is the first answer Ren got. "Depends..."


    Ren raises a concerned eye brow. "On...?"


    "You''ll see..." Francesca responds as the two of them enter the apothecary. The shelves are lined preserved botanic material encased in jars and empty bottles for the buyers'' miscellaneous uses. The shelf behind the desk is the only one with potions at the ready, arranged by color and effect. A woman comes to the front when she hears the doorbell ring. "Oh! Welcome! Welcome! What can I do you for today?"


    Francesca flashes a practiced smile. "Could you tell me how much magic replenishing potions are going for right now?"


    The woman nods as she quickly consults her ledger. "Of course! A group of aspirant magic wielders, are you? We can start you off with the standard Microdose Leyleaf Potion. The current asking price is one silver coin and two copper for an individual purchase."


    "Good gods...!" Francesca gasps out of shock.


    "If you recycle a bottle from home, we can reduce it down to eighty-two copper, after a small cleaning fee," the woman offers with a smile.


    "I''ll... consider it..." Francesca gasps before turning to Ren. "Come on."


    Francesca hurriedly brings Ren out of the apothecary and back to the market. Ren leans in close before asking, "Is that too high of a price?"


    "I don''t know..." Francesca says honestly.


    Ren counters, "Then why did you react like that?"


    Francesca shrugs. "One silver and two copper for a Microdose Leyleaf Potion? I drank some of those better, and I can cast maybe three to five extra Words of Mending. That has to be like... twenty-something copper for a single spell, if that."


    With a quick calculation, Ren assumes that one-hundred copper coins would equal one silver coin. The currency runs on tens and hundreds, which is nice and easy for him to keep track of. "Is there somewhere else we can look?" he suggests.


    "Definitely..." The healer''s expression darkens. "We just need to check every single apothecary before the end of the day."


    "Every single one?!" Ren shouts at the ludicrous suggestion.


    "If I want to save money and get the most potions possible, it is something I have to do," she says with dread.


    Ren comes to realize that in this system, even a trip to go shopping is a day of work in it of itself.


    ***


    Ren and Francesca stand in the dimly lit alchemist''s shop, the front shadowed and secluded in between other buildings. The sign above the door swing ominously, ''Edna''s Helping Hand - Apothecary''. This location was not as polished as the other locations that they have seen, as if the owner had neglected to clean the front. "You think that it is going to be an better inside?" Ren questions.


    Francesca''s stomach churns a little, "It''s fine if the inside is clean..." Her eyes loom over to the windows. "It doesn''t make for a good impression though..."


    Ren tries to look on the bright side of things. "Maybe this place would have the Microdose... somethings for less?"


    "At the risk of quality..." Francesca snarks.


    Ren opens the door to see a setup similar to the other apothecaries they have visited up to this point. Jars of plant roots and leaves, empty containers. However, a chill permeates the air that puts Francesca on guard. They look over to see a woman behind the counter — her hair a chaotic tangled mess. She looks at a knife as she is turned away from the door. A vacant smile parts her lips, her fingers sliding on the back of the blade. She seems to be drawn to the blade in a eerie manner. "Eighteen..." she purrs as her interest in the knife slowly dissipates.


    Ren clears his throat. "We''d like to buy some magic replenishing potions?"


    The alchemist''s smile does not falter, turning her head to face the guests. Her tone is detached, almost sing-song. "Do you have coin?"


    Ren and Francesca exchange a nervous glance before Ren continues. "Can we know what they are going for...?"


    The alchemist chuckles, strangely hollow sound that belies her amusement. "Ah, people always forget what''s important. Clever shoppers know to use their free time well. I wish it is more normal..." The odd cadence of her voice quickly twists their discomfort to unease. The woman''s gaze drifts past Ren and towards Francesca, her eyes locked as if concentrating on some invisible focal point over her shoulder. She continued speaking, but her words remain cryptic. "The price is impacted by tomorrow," she said, then added with a tilt of her head, "Weapons do not harm the silent ones. Some use magic as their bet. Emergency magic authorized tomorrow, but that is rather rude, no?"


    Ren furrows his brow. "What do you mean?"


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    She leans forward slightly, her voice turning conspiratorial. "Loud one want to keep their homes, you know. But the silent ones want to dance."


    Ren turns to Francesca and whispers, "Do you think she''s talking about the ghosts?"


    Francesca''s lips form a line. "I hope not. But... I hope that it would not be anything other than that."


    The alchemist straightens, her eyes unfocused again. Glee seems to shine for a second as she asks, "Are you going to dance, too?"


    Ren shakes his head, keeping his tone steady. "That... No no no...! You got it completely wrong..."


    The alchemist pouts. "No fun," she scorns.


    Francesca speaks up, "Look, can you tell us what your Microdose Leyleaf Potion are going for?"


    The alchemist begins to pace, her words detached from the topic Francesca is discussing. "The silent ones... they do not know the rules. They want to walk, to dance. Because they have not been silent for long enough. They see the round light and dance with no one to stop them. They walk the streets, like always, dancing fast and slow. Because they do not know they have a new home. But if they were to realize it..." She stops and turns to face them, her face looking at them with sorrow. "It is not a nice home."


    Francesca has had enough. This woman is not entirely with them. She tightens her grip on Ren''s wrist, her unease evident. "Ren, we should go. Now."


    Ren feels Francesca''s hand tugging on him, but his instincts scream that there was something important in the alchemist''s words. He closed his eyes, letting time freeze around him as he invokes Time to Think. To his surprise, the still sense of frozen time greets him as he can not feel any change in the world around him. It has been hours since his confrontation with Malcolm, and this is the earliest he was able to rely on Jikan''s gift. Twice or thrice a waking day. That seems to be what Ren can hope for in a day. But the faster he uses it and gets out, the less time it should take for Time to Think to recharge. However, it seems that it can never reliably be used for combat. But that does not matter right now.


    *-Time to Think-*


    ["Clearly, the ''silent ones'' refer to the ghosts that come out at the cemetery, not ''knowing the rules'' that they should stay dead. Some were ''not silent'' for long enough. If silent is supposed to mean dead, then that would make them the souls of people who have recently died. Francesca and her parents told me that the stuff happening at the cemetery first started just two months ago. Are they related?


    The round light is likely the full moon, as it is when they come out. Dancing likely means popping out of the ground and haunting the city. They move freely through the streets, like a dance in the moonlight? Poetically speaking, it makes sense... They walk the streets fast and slow... Well, they might be trying to find people to possess for their own reasons.


    But what is the deal with ''homes''? What would a ghost call a home? A body, I guess? But they were given a new home, right? Ghosts do not get a new body after they die. So what else is it? A grave? I guess the cemetery is sort of their home now. If it is the cemetery, then what makes it "not a nice home?" Cemeteries are not supposed to be nice to begin with. How does someone mess up a cemetery? It is just a bunch of people buried in holes. That is what a grave is. How can it be nice? I guess that it could be sloppy the people did not dig the hole right.


    ... They did not dig the hole right...?"]


    Time resumes as Francesca is tugging on his wrist again, but Ren turns to the alchemist woman. "Edna..." Ren invokes the name of on the sign outside, earning the woman''s curious gaze. "They''re not nice homes... because they''re small?"


    The alchemist freezes, her erratic movements halting as her face snaps to Ren''s direction. Her wide eyes locked onto his, sending a shiver down his spine. She leans forward, slamming her hands on the counter with her smile curling unnaturally.


    "Nice homes need much room to dance in," she whispers. "If the home has room, the silent ones don''t need to go outside where all the room is."


    Ren''s breathing stops for a second. All of the pieces are falling into place. He turns to Francesca, who was staring at him in shock.


    "Did you just... speak her language" Francesca asks dumbfounded.


    "I think I figured it out," he starts. "The ‘homes not having enough room'' means the ghosts are from shallow graves."


    Francesca is skeptical. "Shallow graves? How did you get that from... whatever she said?"


    Ren shakes his head in dismissal. "I wish I can go step by step, but that is not important. I would have thought that the ghosts were restless because someone disturbed them, but the thing is that they did not get proper burials in the first place. That''s why they''re ''dancing''."


    The alchemist chuckles again, her voice now carrying a profound if haunting weight. "Such clever little dancers. But will you help them find their way home?"


    Francesca still has a bad feeling, but Ren seems to be so certain of himself. Humoring the idea for a moment, she sees how it might be possible. "Well... There is a reason that we bury the bodies deep underground. The dead decompose, which could spread disease to the town if the dogs dig up the graves. And the ghosts of travelers do tend to haunt the places where they had died. Some do have graves, but moving feet of dirt and rock at one time is impractical..."


    "Maybe digging deep graves helps keep the spirits from raising in the middle of the night," Ren inserts. "It could be that everyone did not see the correlation between deep graves and a lack of ghosts, or maybe they did notice and it was simply forgotten over the years?"


    Francesca furrows her brow. "I''m not sure, but that would mean that the new graves are all shallow. Why?"


    Edna offers, "If you were told to make a home, what is keeping you from making it nice?"


    Francesca does not understand what the woman is saying and turns to Ren. "Translation?"


    Ren considers it for a moment and suggests, "Laziness?"


    "Figures," Francesca spits. "Well, it is not like we can do much about that now. We can not just dig them up and make the hole even bigger. That is disgusting and dangerous."


    Ren optimistically reasons, "We can tell everyone that they should dig deeper holes in the future."


    "That does not help us right now, though." The healer points out.


    "Boo..." Edna whines. "How I wish accounting was more normal..."


    "If you are not going to get to the point, I don''t want to hear it," Francesca barks in frustration.


    A wicked smile crosses Edna''s face. "Eighty copper."


    Francesca gives Edna a look before realizing what she is talking about. "Is that the price for a Microdose Leyleaf Potion?"


    "If you buy twenty today..." Edna corrects.


    Francesca huffs. "How come the only time you make sense is when you are trying to make a say?"


    Running the numbers in his head, Ren calculates, "That''s like sixteen silver... right?"


    A growl comes out of Francesca''s throat. She sees that the woman is leveraging a secret behind the flash sale. It is a good bargain, but the upfront cost is a significant risk. "Whatever," Francesca relents. "Between two magic users, it is not like we won''t use them."


    "Are you sure about that," Ren asks.


    She speaks to Ren in a hushed tone. "The lowest price we got so far is one silver flat, with the bottles. Even if her potions are shoddy, we might be able to squeeze something out of it." From her pouch, Francesca pulls out of roll of twenty silver coins and hands over all but four of them.


    Edna counts the coin with a critical eye before putting a small crate on the counter. She loads in bottles of Microdose Leyleaf Potions as she explains. "If you know what the cause to a problem is, and how long it has been a problem, you can work out the scale of the problem. If the new homes started to not be good two to three months ago, then see how many silent ones came to be since then. If you know how many of them that have found their own home, then you get the number of those who are going to be dancing tomorrow." She nudges forward the full crate. "Start with nineteen that would not show."


    "Nineteen?" asks Ren. "Why nineteen?"


    Edna looks away with her creepy smile. "I do my own accounting."


    Francesca lifts the crate, "That is actually not a bad idea." She hands the crate over to Ren. "Someone should know how many people dead over the last few months. We can ask the churches how many spirits and people they exorcised. We can make this one big math problem." She takes one of the vials of potion out of the crate. "It can tell us if we need more of these."


    "We can also see if there is something else we can do about the shallow graves themselves." Ren suggests.


    Francesca scoffs, "Really, Ren? What do you suppose we do? Bury the graves themselves?"


    Ren looks at Francesca. Francesca looks at Ren. Ren says, "We need to go to the cemetery first."


    "I was being sarcastic," Francesca complains.


    "New homes can make do with renovations," Edna suggests brightly.


    "You are not helping!" Francesca shoots off.


    "Actually Edna, you have been a big help," Ren confesses.


    With a final scoff, Francesca figures that Ren has a point. Tomorrow night is the night of the full moon, the ''dance of the silent ones''. They have little time to prepare, but they actually have something to plan towards.