Lassim strode back to The Spinner’s Rest, the damp ground underfoot as he sauntered through the town. The setting sun’s light falling behind the tops of the willow trees and tops of buildings as evening began to settle over the swamp town.
His mind was engaged in a mental dialogue with Marinelle and Zaphyrella.
"We need to approach this carefully. I think the only difficult part for us is holding back our strength. For us to get the plant that Cirra needs, we must try to be delicate to retrieve it without harming his troop at all."
"Hold back in battle? But… I don’t know how!" Zaphy’s voice echoed in his mind, tinged with disappointment.
"I understand the frustration, Zaphy, but remember Khaalseru’s caution about our divine mana as well. It’s far more potent and could easily annihilate entire kingdoms if we really went overboard. I mean, we haven’t really tested it to see if what she said is true, but I believe we should really trust her.
You saw how the guardian reacted to us and even now I’m not really feeling a threatening tension from anyone in the Spirit Ascension stage that we’ve come across so far." Lassim replied.
Mari’s soothing voice chimed in, "Don’t worry, child. I’ll keep her in check and remind her to limit herself as required. We’ll manage this without fret."
Reassured by Mari’s steady and almost motherly presence, Lassim approached the inn. The Spinner’s Rest loomed before him, its silhouette darkened outline against the setting sun
He pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the dimly lit foyer where the innkeeper, the same spider creature with the grotesque and bulbous, human-like head atop a spider’s body, awaited on top of the counter.
Practicing the Spider language greeting he had learned again, Lassim executed the hand gestures and spoke with a careful mimicry of the guttural clicks and hisses, "[Tik skree varrak lok, varrak tika lok!]" He managed the gestures with an awkward grace, hopeful of doing it correctly this time.
The innkeeper responded with a series of clicks that were oddly cheerful, "[Tik skree varrak lok, varrak tika lok!]" Its many eyes blinked in what seemed like approval, and it then switched to the common tongue, "Welcome back, young adventurer. How may I assist you tonight?"
"I’d like to extend my stay for a week, if possible," Lassim replied, his tone respectful but firm.
"Very well. The cost for the additional nights, and last night’s stay, will be 500 mid-grade Essence Spirit Stones," the innkeeper informed him, its voice a clattering whisper that filled the quiet of the foyer.
Lassim reached into his magic pouch, drawing forth the shimmering stones with a practiced ease. The ESS cascaded onto the counter with their luminescent glow adding an eerie shine onto the spider’s creepy face.
"No, thank you," the innkeeper said, its head wobbling slightly, almost in joy, as it scooped up the stones.
Seeing the creepy smile it let out as it stared at the pile, Lassim had the fleeting thought that he might have overpaid. However, the comfort of securing his lodging without further hassle outweighed his brief concern. Especially since such an amount was really meaningless to his daily allowance of 30,000 high-grade ESS that he could retrieve whenever he wished.
With the business concluded, he nodded to the innkeeper and ascended the creaking stairs to his room at the end of the hallway. He purposefully took the time to avoid looking into any of the open-doored rooms this time to not repeat last night’s mistake.
The familiar, musty scent of swamp wood and aged fabric greeted him as he entered the small but cozy space of his room.
He took another bath before settling in for the night.
As Lassim lay back on the bed, his thoughts drifted towards the day’s lesson of the spider language as he tried to mentally go over some of the phrases and gestures.
The quiet murmur of the swamp outside his window that was cracked to let the steam out lulled him to sleep.
Lassim stirred just as the first hints of dawn whispered through the slight gap in his curtains.
With practiced ease, he slipped into his new martial attire—the sleek black, gray, and white fabrics felt cool on his skin, and comfortable to enhance his movements and fit his frame.
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As he dressed, his hand reached into his magic pouch to retrieve the leaf-wrapped and preserved shardhorn-jerky from the Drow realm as he was a bit hungry. Pulling a piece out, he chewed and the rich, infused essence within the meat ignited a warm surge of divine mana that coursed through him that sent a wave of relaxation and comfort through his body.
As he savored the last bite while tying the belt around his waist, his thoughts drifted to the Drow making their way towards his father’s lands. The journey by carriage on the way to Aetherys had taken him fifteen days, and only two had passed since their departure.
He found himself hoping for good news from Hallen soon. Lassim paused for a moment, picking up his magic pouch that was resting by the small table beside his bed and took out a sleek, metallic disc—his communication device.
He activated it with a quick tap, the surface glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. Crafting his message, he typed:
"Hey Hallen, hope the journey is going smoothly. Let me know when you arrive at the border and meet my father’s envoys. I want to know once you make it to Swallowtail Mountain City as well. Please let me know how everyone is settling in. Stay safe, and give my regards to Sanvra and my parents please. Make sure to give them my contact rune for this device as well.
It will be much easier than sending a letter. Thank you!"
He watched as the message whirled into the ether, the device confirming its dispatch with a soft chime. With a nod to himself, Lassim placed the disc back into his pouch, a small part of him feeling lighter for having reached out.
Stepping out of his room, Lassim made his way down the stairs of The Spinner’s Rest. The innkeeper spider appeared to be dozing behind the counter. Not wishing to disturb the creature, Lassim carefully tiptoed past, offering a silent wave goodbye as he exited into the still dimly lit morning.
The streets were quiet, the town not yet buzzing with the early morning hustle he witnessed yesterday. The sky, a canvas of deep blues with the stars still out, was just beginning to lighten at the edges. He made his way to the Marshlight Apothecary, the streets nearly empty, save for a few early risers beginning their day.
Pushing open the door to the Marshlight, Lassim entered the quiet, dimly lit shop. Surprisingly, Cirra was already there awake and busy with activity.
He found her laboriously working at a back table, surrounded by an array of vials, mortars, and herbs. She was meticulously scooping a uniquely purple putty-like cream into medium sized, wide-mouthed jars. Each jar was then sealed with a cork cap, presumably being prepared for the day’s adventures.
"Cirra," Lassim greeted, his voice breaking the concentrated silence. "Looks like you’ve been busy all night. Did you even sleep at all?"
Cirra looked up, her face showing signs of fatigue but lit with a determined smile. "Lassim, good, you’re here early. No, I didn’t get any sleep. Too busy preparing what we’ll need for today," she responded, gesturing towards the array of potions and salves on the table. "Thankfully Gregor helped out. He has to man the shop for the rest of the day, so I let him sleep.
Hopefully our journey to the Monkey King won’t take all day and I can get some rest after. Instead, I’ll just drink a stamina potion and be fine in a minute. Anyways, take these," She said as she handed him some jars and vials.
"These are special salves for disinfecting wounds and managing infections—something I suspect we’ll need given what happened to that man I told you about. There’s also some stamina potions, a general healing potion, and a superior healing potion in case things get really dicey. I was only able to make one, so let’s hope only one of us will need it." She added with a tired sigh.
She handed over the last vial before returning to the table to clean up. Finishing rather quickly, she wiped her hands on a cloth.
"Ready to head out?" she asked, her eyes scanning Lassim’s attire and noting the new fit and finish of his clothes.
Lassim nodded. "Absolutely, let’s get going. The sooner we start, the sooner we can relax again and you can teach me more about the spider language. I’m also curious about your research and see if this plant can do what you think it does."
Cirra quickly gathered a leather bound tool kit that seemed to contain a bunch of different gardening tools and pruning scissors, and even a mini trowel. There was also a deep, reddish wooden box that seemed to have some sort of intense array or other enchantment on it that she put inside the bag.
Finishing up, she then took several empty jars and carefully strapped them to the inside of a sturdy bag that was nearly 3/4ths of her entire height.
She finished securing everything before slinging the straps over her shoulders like a backpack. "Alright, I’m ready. Let’s get going!"
Together, they stepped out of the Marshlight, the first rays of the sun beginning to crest the horizon. It cast long shadows down the now busier morning streets as they made their way towards the outskirts of town, where the Monkey King and his troop awaited.