Josh and Brett strolled through the market at an easy pace, the scutum resting comfortably on Josh’s arm and his new short sword hanging at his right hip, opposite to his longsword, Lysris having shown him a trick to easily draw the shorter weapon without having to draw it across his body.

  The morning bustle was now in full swing, hawkers calling out prices, the smell of fresh bread mingling with the tang of forge smoke, and the clatter of cart wheels over cobbles.

  They weren’t in any rush to get back to the guild. After the last few days, the simple act of walking without urgency felt like a luxury and they knew the others would need a bit of time. They passed stalls selling bolts of cloth, racks of polished trinkets, and baskets of bright fruit. A street performer was juggling knives to the delight of a small crowd. Somewhere nearby, a baker’s oven gave off the rich scent of cinnamon and honey.

  After a while, Brett slowed, his gaze snagging on a painted sign swaying gently above a narrow doorway. The board showed a canvas tent pitched beneath a scatter of silver stars, the words “The Long Road Provisioner” etched in bold, curling script beneath.

  The shopfront itself looked inviting in a practical sort of way. A display window showed neatly stacked coils of rope, bundles of candles tied with twine, and a pair of sturdy bedrolls propped against a barrel. From the open door drifted the faint, comforting smell of dried herbs and smoked meat, mingling with the sharper tang of oiled leather.

  Brett nudged Josh with his elbow, a spark of interest in his eyes. “Look at that. If anywhere’s going to have proper supplies for the road, it’ll be here. What do you say we take a look?”

  Inside, the shop was a treasure trove for anyone planning to be away from civilisation for more than a day. Shelves held waved tarpaulin, walking sticks, flint and steel fire?starters, collapsible cookware, and everything else an adventurer could need.

  Josh and Brett wandered deeper into The Long Road Provisioner, eyes drawn to the far wall where crates and baskets overflowed with food far more inviting than the leathery jerky they’d gnawed on during their last trip.

  A cheerful voice piped up from behind the counter. A gnome, barely waist?high to Josh, bustled forward with a broad smile. His hair was a shock of white, his waistcoat a deep forest green.

  “Ah! Adventurers, I can tell,” he said, eyes twinkling. “You’ve come to the right place. My wife makes all the travel meals you see here and I’ll stake my reputation on them being the tastiest you’ll find this side of the mountains. They’ll last for ages, and they taste good even after a week on the road.”

  He waved them over to the shelves, patting a stack of pale, square biscuits. “Now, these here are hardtack but not the jaw?breakers you’re used to. My wife bakes them with a touch of honey so they soften just enough when you chew. They’ll keep for months, and they’re my personal favourite for breakfast with a bit of trail cheese.”

  He moved along to a bundle wrapped in waxed cloth. “Smoked meat, beef and boar, sliced thin and smoked over applewood. You can eat it as it is, or drop it in a pot with some lentils for a stew. The applewood gives it a sweetness that’ll make you forget you’re eating camp food.”

  Next came a jar filled with colourful slices. “Dried fruit mix, apples, pears, berries. All dried slow so they keep their sweetness. My wife swears by these for keeping your energy up on long marches. I’ll admit, I sneak a handful myself when I’m stocking the shelves.”

  He tapped a neat stack of flat, spiced cakes. “Lentil cakes, with a bit of pepper to keep the chill off. They warm up beautifully over a campfire, and they’re filling enough to keep you going all day. Not my favourite, though I’ll admit I’m more of a sweet tooth but they’re a lifesaver in cold weather.”

  Finally, he pointed to a small tin of golden biscuits.“Sweetroot biscuits. Sugar, spice, and a little magic from my wife’s hands. These are for morale, lads. A bite of one after a hard day can make the road feel shorter. Between you and me, I hide a few in my pack whenever I travel and another behind the counter.”

  Josh picked up a packet of the smoked meat, inhaling the faint applewood scent. “This smells… incredible compared to what we had last time.”

  Brett was already eyeing the sweetroot biscuits. “I’m buying these. For morale.”

  The gnome beamed. “Wise choice. A happy stomach makes for a sharper sword arm.”

  Josh chuckled. “We’ll take a mix. Enough for a week’s travel.”

  “Coming right up,” the gnome said, bustling off to fill a canvas sack with their selections. “And if you’re ever heading into the wilds for longer, come back, I’ll make sure you’re stocked like kings.”

  Josh and Brett made their way to the counter after having a look around the rest of the store, picking up a few odds and ends like rope and a cooking stove. The canvas sack of smoked meat, sweetroot biscuits, and honey?glazed hardtack was resting on the counter, waiting for them. The gnome was already there, hands clasped, beaming at the sale.

  “Everything to your liking, lads?” he asked, beginning to tally the items.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “More than,” Josh said, sliding a few coins across. “This’ll make the next trip a lot easier.”

  As the gnome packed their purchases, Brett leaned on the counter. “Quick question, given you seem to be an honest type. Best place in town to get mana potions?”

  The gnome’s eyes lit up. “Ah, you’re in luck. My cousin runs an alchemist’s shop just a few streets over. Name’s Mirabel. Tell her I sent you, and she’ll knock a few coins off the price. She’s got a knack for brewing potions that last longer and taste less like boiled socks.”

  Josh chuckled. “Boiled socks?”

  “Trust me,” the gnome said, sliding the sack toward them. “You’ll know what I mean if you buy from the wrong place. Head down Market Row, turn left at the fountain, and look for the blue shop front. That’ll be her.”

  The directions were easy enough to follow. Market Row was bustling, but the fountain was a clear landmark and sure enough, they found the blue shop tucked between a cobbler and a bookbinder, its sign shaped like a bubbling flask. The door was ajar, and the smell of herbs and something faintly metallic drifted out along with a healthy dose of purple smoke.

  Inside, chaos had clearly struck. A small gnome stood in the middle of the room, covered head to toe in violet powder, coughing into her sleeve. Shelves of bottles rattled faintly as she moved.

  Josh stepped forward. “You all right?”

  She waved them off between coughs. “Fine, fine, just a… slight miscalculation with an experiment. The smoke’s harmless, unless you count the colour.” She glanced down at her stained clothes. “Which I do.”

  Brett grinned. “Your cousin sent us. Said you might have mana potions.”

  Her expression brightened immediately. “Ah, so you’ve met Bapuck. Yes, I’ve got mana potions, several kinds, depending on how much mana you need and how quickly you want it back.”

  She bustled over to a shelf, pulling down three different bottles.

  “This one,” she said, holding up a small blue vial, “is the basic brew. Restores a modest amount of mana, steady release, no nasty side effects unless you drink half a dozen in a day. Cheap and reliable.”

  She set it down and picked up a slightly larger bottle, the liquid inside shimmering faintly. “This is the concentrated version. Twice the mana, half the time but it hits hard, and you’ll feel the drain afterwards. Best for emergencies.”

  Finally, she lifted a squat, heavy flask filled with deep indigo liquid. “And this… this is the high?grade stuff. Instant restoration, enough to refill a decently levelled mage’s reserves completely. But it’s expensive, and if you’re not careful, it’ll leave you shaking.”

  Josh glanced at Brett. “How much for the basic?”

  “Five silver each,” Mirabel said. “Concentrated is twelve, high?grade is five gold.”

  Brett counted the coins in his pouch, grimacing. “We’ll take two of the basic. That’s… most of what we’ve got left.”

  Mirabel nodded, wrapping the vials in cloth and handing them over. “Wise choice. And a word of warning, don’t drink them too close together. Mana toxicity is real, and trust me, you don’t want to find out what it feels like.”

  Brett raised a brow. “What happens?”

  She smirked. “Imagine your head’s full of lightning and your stomach’s trying to teleport out of your body. Space them out, and you’ll be fine.”

  Josh tucked the vials safely into Brett’s pack. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

  Mirabel gave them a powder?stained wave. “Safe travels, lads. And tell Bapuck I’ll send him some biscuits once I’ve cleaned up this mess if you see him.”

  Josh was just tucking the wrapped mana potions safely into Brett’s pack when a thought struck him. He glanced back at Mirabel, who was still dusting purple powder from her sleeves.

  “Do you ever sell… survival kits?” he asked. “Like, a bundle with the basics, an antidote, a healing potion, maybe a few other things? Something ready?made for new adventurers who don’t know what they’ll need yet.”

  Mirabel blinked, then her eyes lit up. “Oh! That’s… that’s brilliant!” She darted behind the counter, rummaging for a scrap of parchment and a quill. “Why didn’t I think of that? A pre?prepared kit, saves the poor rookies from wandering around half a dozen shops trying to remember what they’ve forgotten.”

  She began scribbling furiously, muttering aloud as she wrote. “Right, so… two minor healing potions, of course. An antidote for common poisons, snakebite, spider venom, that sort of thing. A vial of burn salve, yes, that’s useful. Maybe a small restorative tonic for fatigue. Oh! And bandages, proper clean ones, not the ragged strips they usually carry. Fire?starter powder, too, in case they lose their flint. Hm, maybe even a tiny vial of concentrated caffeine draught, keeps you awake on watch.”

  Josh and Brett exchanged amused glances as she rattled on, her quill scratching across the parchment.

  “Of course,” she continued, “there could be tiers. A basic kit for short trips, an advanced kit for longer expeditions or higher levels. The advanced one could include a stronger healing potion, maybe even some mana draughts. And a whistle! Yes, a whistle for signalling. Gods above, why hasn’t anyone done this already?”

  She paused, tapping the quill against her chin, then began jotting down numbers. “Now, price… let’s see. Ingredients, brewing time, packaging… oh dear. Even the basic kit would run you at least fifteen silver, maybe more if I include the antidote. The advanced one would be closer to thirty.”

  Brett winced. “That’s… more than we’ve got left.”

  Mirabel looked up, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Ah, yes, I suppose it would be. But it’s still a good idea, isn’t it? I’ll refine it, make it more affordable somehow. And when you’ve got the coin, you come back here, and I’ll have the perfect kit waiting for you.”

  Josh smiled. “Deal. We’ll be back for one as soon as we can.”

  Mirabel beamed, already scribbling more notes. “Excellent. I’ll call it… the Adventurer’s Survival Kit. No, no, too plain. The Pathfinder’s Pack? The Hero’s Bundle? Hm. I’ll think on it.”

  Brett chuckled as he slung his pack over his shoulder. “You do that. Just make sure it’s ready before we get ourselves killed.”

  Mirabel waved them toward the door, still muttering about names and contents. “Don’t worry, lads. Next time you walk in here, I’ll have something that’ll keep you alive twice over.”

  As they stepped back into the street, Josh shook his head with a grin “Do you think she’ll pay me a commission?”.

  Brett patted the pack where the mana potions clinked softly. “Doubt it, the way she was going on about it was like she came up with the idea."

  The pair laughed as they began their journey to the guild.

  The runes shimmer faintly:

  “A Follow strengthens the wards. A Review empowers the spell.”

  Without such magic, even great stories fade into dust.

  Choose wisely, dear reader.