Oakheart had three major places I liked to visit: The Griffon, Bellamine’s Tailoring, and, of course, Geralt’s Candy Emporium.

  The Griffon was where Mr. and Mrs. Marlow lived, and was also the halfway house of many vagrants. Pa never let me go upstairs since he said we’d dirty the sheets, but when Bertrude—Mrs. Marlow—wanted an extra hand, she’d give me 1 silver to help her fluff the beds and pillows! She would then make me some of her chicken pot pie, smile at me, and make me feel less like a vagrant. Her oldest son is supposed to be returning soon to help her cook—he learned from the capital and came back.

  Lucky him that he got to make that choice.

  I glanced at the inn and saw Mr. Marlow working. A few of his younger children acted as wait staff, bratty—but cheeks fat and lips carved into smiles. His eyes met mine, and he tossed the rag onto the counter and came rushing out. I took a step back and steeled myself.

  “Oh! Amaril bless my heart, it’s Ashy. I haven’t seen your face since you went to the Academy.”

  “I know, sir. It’s good to see you again, to—”

  “You look so thin, Ashy. Have you been eating? The wife was asking about you, and wanted to know how our sweet farmer girl was doin’. You look so thin, can I get’cha something to eat, Ashy?” His soft, deep voice began. His short stature, white beard, and portly belly gave him the appearance of a garden gnome to me.

  Wait, do gnomes exist too?

  “I’m all right, sir. Had some stew and just lookin’ to sell some produce.” I tried to deflect. Mr. Marlow looked me up and down, and I could tell he was staring at my frail arms and sinewy skin. Not to mention my ragged clothes. I blushed, unable to meet his gaze.

  “Well... you can tell gramps or nana if you need anythin’. And, if you just need a warm meal, I’m sure Bertrude would love to have you over.”

  I sighed. “Money is kind of hard, gram—sir. I can’t afford nothin’ at the moment. Just trying to make something to buy some good seeds...”

  His chubby face turned into a soft scowl. “Can I help you in any way? A bit of silver, a job as a book-woman?” He pushed.

  I shook my head. “I’m just looking for a good spot to sell some carrots...” I started, then stopped myself.

  “Ah! Takin’ over Matthew’s farm, huh? I guess it’s the Hart Farm. I heard the Farmers’ Guild wants the 1,000 gold debt your father leaned against,” he continued. “Didn’t think they’d come to collect from you. Is that why you’re back from the Academy?”

  I looked at his eyes, and he stopped talking. “I see, Ashy. Old Bertrand is the grocer and I’m sure he’d buy anything you sold him, even if you’re still tryin’ out.”

  I knew that, but I couldn’t sell him those carrots.

  He continued, “Mrs. Bellamine is retiring—got the Dragonpox like—” He immediately stopped and looked away. “Melissa is runnin’ the place.”

  That made me feel worse. Guess I wasn’t going there then.

  “...Are there any bookstores, gram—sir? I know we didn’t have any last time, but...”

  “Oakheart’s becoming a fine town—even a city now, Ashy. An actual [Witch] is running the place. But between you and me, I hear she’s in touch with bad people. Even turned old Marris into a newt.”

  “A newt?”

  “He got better...” Mr. Marlow finished, then looked over at me. I could tell he was about to use [Inspect] on me.

  But then I realized something. I wasn’t a [Farm Girl].

  I was an [Acolyte].

  “I really must be going now, sir!” I quickly blurted, and dashed off. A [Witch]? That was a fascinating lead.

  I moved around town, looking at Bellamine’s Tailoring to spot Melissa—and her straight, perfect blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes—looking at me curiously. She stood up, but I quickly ran out of her sight.

  I had no intention of talking to that bitch. Ever.

  There was an odd mix of old stores I recognized, and newer ones I’d never seen before. But the one that caught my attention?

  The Cat’s Cradle. The sign was a black cat peeking out of a cradle, and if anything screamed [Witch] it was definitely this. I looked inside—potions, books, weird trinkets.

  And I heard the Whistle. No, it was stronger—not the cicadas chirping, but the buzzing of flies. It was coming from inside the store.

  So I walked in.

  The bell rang ahead, and I was immediately greeted with three amazing scents:

  The first was the smell of rustic books and their parchment lovingly taken care of. I could live in this scent, as my eyes rested on the spines. Latin, Underspeech, Guttertalk, Common... I could only speak one of those, and knew academic phrases in another.

  The second smell was potions. Potions had a very alchemical, earthy scent—like mead being brewed or wine in a vat that was fermenting. That was all it really was. No magic involved—just academics and know-how that created different concoctions. There were rumors the Alchemy Guild was splintering—moving away from magically inclined potions that only a true [Alchemist] could make, and toward something called [Chemistry]—a newly discovered skill set.

  And the third was... familiar. I smelled blood and rot and heard the Dirge. The Whistle seemed to be for small things, but the sounds of flies buzzing created a scent in the Symphony. The Dirge was that loud whistle that carried that scent in mind, and it was foul.

  I was getting used to it.

  “Ah...” a voice from beside me said. “A spéciale customer. Bienvenue, [Acolyte]. You wish to see... the back, n’est-ce pas?”

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  I shivered and quickly turned to see a pale woman. Her clothing was more of a suggestion, coming with a sharp V to her front that really exposed her breasts. Her long black hair was like smooth grass, layered into a single volume. Her black eyes trailed my movements. I felt like prey for a moment, but tilted my head.

  “The back?”

  “Ooh là là. Am I popping your cherry, [Acolyte]?” she teased, letting her elbows rest against the countertop and her head rest against her palms. Her fingers caressed her cheek, but with her pose, her dress barely seemed to contain her chest. “Allez, allez, we’ll talk in the back, oui?”

  She turned around, took a green vial from her cupboard, and swapped it with a purple one. The cupboard whirred and moved to the side. “Après toi,” she sang, beckoning me there.

  I paused. “...How is it this easy?” I said, staring at her.

  She looked at me, her eyebrow raising. “You... walked into my store without a [Veil]. I just thought you knew?”

  “A [Veil]?” I responded.

  “Aaah! I am really popping your cherry. How magnifique! Come, come, let Maman Madeleine tell you inside.”

  I didn’t have much to lose, and followed her into the back. She followed, and her fingers snapped.

  [Light].

  Magical torches lit up, leading down a spiraling stone staircase. I hesitantly walked down the stairs and entered a cramped room. This room was filled with... weird stuff. I heard the Dirge and glanced to the left. An entire corpse was on display, entombed in glass.

  “You interested, Demoiselle[Acolyte]? Only 150 gold for a body of this quality.”

  My vision narrowed.

  I... had no context for this. None of that made sense to me. I looked at Madeleine, but I kept my face still. “No, no. I’m just trying to sell something...”

  She appraised me again. “Chérie, do I look like I have points in [Vendor]?”

  “...Yes?”

  She snickered. “I do, oui. But if you are selling me Black Market goods, it’s better for both of us to sell them to other clients. Are you selling me Black Market goods?”

  I gulped, and I opened my inventory to show her my 9 Blood Carrots.

  She squealed! “A sanguinarian! You’re a sanguinarian, chérie?”

  “...No, I’m not a vampire, I walk in the sunlight.”

  “Oh, you actually read the tooltip? Very rare how many people do that. But I meant you’re cultivating blood! I have rich clients who would absolutely love to fund an up-and-coming demoiselle like yourself for exclusive deals.”

  “I just want to sell these carrots, Maman Madeleine.”

  “Oui, oui. 80 silver sounds good?”

  I balked. I was already making a profit! But 10 silver more?! That was a massive uprate. However, just like in school, my face didn’t show any of that emotion. My brain just wanted to accept it, but Ma always said if someone offers you a price, it’s the lowest they want to go. And she was already above the vendor price.

  “1 gold.” I responded.

  She looked at me curiously. She stepped forward and I looked at her face. If it wasn’t for her hat, she’d be far shorter than I was. Her hands rested against her waist as she jutted her hip out.

  “Demoiselle—and as much as I do not want to shoot myself in the foot here—a poor-quality blood carrot sells for 5 gold to sanguinarians. You do not have any contacts with the Vampire Counts, but I do. A reasonable counteroffer is for you to tell me you want 4 gold—I will counter with 2, and we will settle with 3. I do not tell you this out of mocking you, but if I do not set your expectations right, I fear I’ll lose my only supplier.”

  That broke my poker face. “I’ll gladly take 3 gold!” Madeleine sighed.

  “Demoiselle, close your mouth. Come, dine with me. I’ll give you full price this time, and we can negotiate properly for your next field, oui? Think of it as an investment in your potential.”

  I transferred my 9 Blood Carrots to her, and she transferred 45 gold to me!

  45 gold.

  I was looking at a sale of 45 gold. With the purchase of a new bag of carrot seeds (50 silver), I’d clear 44 gold, 50 silver.

  I’d made... a ridiculous margin.

  I looked at the notification as Madeleine peered at me. “Accomplished your goal, chérie? Take your time, I’ll make some tea and biscuits.”

  I nodded at Madeleine, and while I had several new abilities, I needed to know what [Veil] was.

  I swallowed. I finally had a way out, but then I looked at Madeleine. She returned the look, then shook her head. “[Witch] is allowed, chérie. Not all of us are working in the underworld. Moi oui. But not all of us,” she smiled.

  I couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth. But I knew what class everyone thought I was supposed to be.

  [Veil Set]