I worked steadily for the rest of the day.

  Once I finished my daily brewing duties, I extensively tested the properties of all the draconic materials in my possession. Whether I kept strictly to alchemy or tried to incorporate bits of other magical branches, I wanted to craft something new to help me purify Alys’ bloodline. For that, I needed to know everything I possibly could about what I had available.

  There was also my project for Nelaeryn to keep in mind. I had to be extremely careful with the eel-dragon creature’s bone marrow, due to its limited supply. Knowing the ins and outs of it as an alchemical ingredient would only help me.

  Finally, to no one’s shock, I finished the day’s work with even more brewing.

  I’d spent the morning on the minimal amount of supplies I felt compelled to turn over to the elders. With that out of the way, I could focus on producing more of the items the townsfolk were likely to want most: simple remedies to be used in daily life, particularly the honey ginger candies. I even took special care to pack these away in the meticulously crafted containers Alys still made for me, labelled them clearly, and then took them up into my shop.

  Only a third of the various shelves had been filled by that point, which did make for a sad sight. Still, if anyone showed up that moment and wanted to trade for my finished goods, they would have access to the full extent of my current catalogue.

  Not that anyone had shown up yet.

  I knew we had only recently unveiled the shop to the elders and those we were closest to in town, but I could admit that I’d expected at least a few visits. Surely people found my alchemical products appealing. Didn’t they? All the townsfolk I’d spoken to had only praise for the items I’d made, and gratitude for the positive impact of those items on their lives.

  I paused my stocking of the shelves to consider the subject. I could admit that I’d only spoken to people in certain circles. All my acquaintances were either focused on combat professions or part of a group who had most of their needs seen to by the elders, like Alys’ builders.

  Outside of said circles, the only people with whom I’d interacted at length were Nelaeryn and Hagmar. I had chatted briefly with a few other townsfolk while in the Hall, but that was it. Furthermore, I was the one who’d given Nelaeryn her first taste of the honey ginger candies.

  It struck me, then, why no one had crossed my shop’s doorstep: they didn’t even know what they were missing.

  The elders had assured me during their visit that they would put the word out about my shop. I didn’t doubt that they had done so. Still… alchemy was a tricky business.

  People came to Alys because she was the only one in town who built houses, and everyone needed a house. Alchemy, on the other hand, was not easily accessible outside of major cities. Even in the city, the services of alchemists were mostly confined to the wealthy citizens, rather than everyday workers.

  If someone needed healing, they went to healers, not alchemists. Healing potions were expensive. It was much cheaper to pay someone to perform a couple quick spells and be proclaimed ‘right as rain.’ Meanwhile, production limitations and the desire of alchemists to advance in their craft naturally caused every alchemist shop to develop into a more exclusive establishment.

  I knew the elders of Swiftband allotted all resources where they would be most effective in boosting the town’s productivity. Regular townsfolk, who went about their day and stayed out of trouble, were unlikely to receive honey ginger candies from the elders. They would also be disinclined to visit me directly, likely feeling they had nothing of sufficient worth to trade.

  Except they did! I longed to add more variety to Alys’ and my diet. Vegetables, which townsfolk were still only producing in small amounts. Milk and cheese, which we were lucky to get a bit of every now and then. Even farm animals, like the ones Hagmar and Nelaeryn would eventually start slaughtering.

  All of those were items I’d be more than happy to trade for. I had plenty of simple-but-useful alchemical products to offer in return. But the people of Swiftband didn’t know that.

  With more than a little dread, I realized I would have to engage in two activities I’d been mostly avoiding ever since my arrival in Swiftband: socializing and self-promotion.

  Alys found me several hours later, bent over a piece of paper with far too many notes on it and looking a little frazzled. When she learned I was desperately trying to plan how best to approach the other townsfolk, she laughed all the way down to the bath, dragging me along with her.

  I didn’t find the situation nearly as funny.

  —

  “We should be spending our time more productively,” I groused, smoothing down my shirt yet again for absolutely no reason other than a surge of nerves.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Hrrrrmmm… I disagree. I think this will prove to be quite productive,” Alys rumbled happily as she went about setting the table.

  I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it with a click. I didn’t truly think we were wasting our time. Besides, hadn’t I been hoping Alys would not spend any more days overworking herself? Naysaying our current project would be both hypocritical and unhelpful.

  Instead, I focused on helping her set the table.

  We’d cooked up quite a feast together. It did lean towards meat, of course. The table displayed plenty of the choice cuts I’d saved when brewing Grafton’s nutritional supplements, prepared in a variety of ways.

  However, the menu was not quite as skewed towards a carnivore’s preference as it usually was for our meals. Instead, we’d prepared a variety of greens in just as many imaginative ways: fried, boiled, drizzled in sauces, and even mixed up fresh into three separate salads. Two of these were spicy enough that I planned to stay well away from them.

  I said ‘greens’, but the colors on offer were more exotic than that, of course. The local forest was nothing if not a source of interestingly-hued plants and herbs.

  Our table, impressive as it was, barely had enough space for all the food and the plates. We had plenty of chairs and cutlery, thankfully, but only because Alys liked making such things. Occasionally, she would give them away to the townsfolk. She’d not done it much since I’d arrived in town, having sunk into an obsession with getting houses up as efficiently as possible, but she told me she was thinking about returning to it.

  “I wonder when they will get here,” I mused as I placed the final bowl down on the crowded table.

  “Well, I’m not Kiri, so I can’t just tell you exactly what they are doing right now,” my dragoness chortled, drawing a snort from me. “We did invite them to dinner, though, and it’s around that time. I think they’ll be here soon.”

  Before I could respond, there was a knock on our door.

  Alys’ expression was pure smugness. Rolling my eyes at her dramatically, I walked to the door and pulled it open.

  The rush of cold air was unwelcome, especially since I’d made myself comfortable already in thinner clothes. Yet the sight of Nasha and Pen huddled together, hand in hand, was enough to bring a smile to my face.

  The beagle grinned at me. “Hello! Hope we’re not too early!”

  The feline let out a mrow I interpreted as an agreement. I hadn’t had time to start picking up the girl’s language yet, though it intrigued me.

  “Not at all,” I replied. “Please, come in, come in. Feel welcome in our home, and enjoy our hospitality.”

  I responded semi-formally on instinct, though I caught myself before I could offer any more assurances. From how happily the duo entered, they hadn’t even considered the possibility of fae shenanigans. The gesture of trust made me feel oddly flattered.

  Alys greeted them enthusiastically. As soon as they were within her reach, she all but dragged them over to the table. Then she snatched up bowls of snacks we’d set aside for early arrivals and shoved them into the pair’s hands.

  The contents were mostly nuts and preserved fruits. I’d been very careful not to add any belladonna berries into the mix, though now that Alys knew exactly who and what I was, I’d gotten into a habit of munching on those poisonous treats at all hours. I found it exceedingly freeing, even if she looked at me a little oddly at times.

  After only ten minutes of pleasant chatter, there was another knock at our door. This time, Alys opened it, admitting Martha into our home.

  I had been surprised when the minotaur accepted our invitation to dinner. Certainly, I’d enjoyed spending time with her while training a number of townsfolk to handle poison, and then later when we defended our town from invaders, but the minotaur’s somewhat foreign expressions made it difficult for me to gauge her subtler emotions. I still wasn’t sure how she felt about me and Alys.

  Apparently, she liked us well enough. Which, again, made me feel oddly flattered.

  I was a bit more conflicted about the final two guests.

  Ritsu and Kiri arrived at the same time. While I didn’t know Kiri’s intentions, this was definitely not a coincidence on the fox’s part. He still looked stricken with awe whenever he glanced at the Winter fae.

  As I said, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  My fingers twitched for my daggers whenever the meal he’d prepared for me flashed through my mind. However, it wasn’t like Ritsu had known he would elicit that sort of reaction. Trickster though he was, I’d genuinely never sensed any malice from the kitsune.

  Then, of course, there was Kiri. I definitely considered her a friend, not to mention someone I would take certain risks to protect. And I could tell she was becoming more attached to the fox.

  It wasn’t obvious. Actually, it was the very opposite of that. But I found it significant that the fox hadn’t ended up mysteriously eaten in the woods somewhere. Whenever I happened to see the two interact, she seemed flattered by his attempts to show his affection, rather than annoyed.

  Not that she had deigned to reciprocate yet. She was simply accepting Ritsu’s gestures. The Winter fae was such a bundle of fear and insecurities, I sincerely doubted the kitsune would get through her icy exterior any time soon.

  Case in point: Kiri still looked hesitant to cross the threshold into my home. Even after our little chat concerning our backgrounds. Even after a formal invitation to join us for dinner… as formal as Alys shouting at one of the Winter fae’s familiars, at least.

  Ritsu, too, was lingering just outside the door.

  “Ah, good evening, dear customer,” he drawled, somewhat less comfortably than he had in the past.

  He wasn’t stupid or unobservant. He’d noticed a shift in my treatment of him after that particular dinner he’d prepared for me. The slight anxiety in the writhing of his tails proved that he wasn’t foolish enough to assume it was safe to enter the home of a fae.

  I took a deep breath in, let it out, and stepped back so I wasn’t blocking their way.

  “Please, enter, and know you are welcome here. As an ally and a friend,” I added, looking straight at Kiri.

  Her icy blue eyes widened for a moment before her lips twitched, struggling and failing to smile. She did finally enter, followed shortly by the hesitant fox, and I closed the door behind them.

  That was all of our guests gathered together. For an evening of ‘socializing and fun’, as Alys put it.

  She was fond of taking at least small steps, my dragoness. When I’d shared my realizations about my shop, this dinner party had been her first suggestion. She wanted us to practice being more social by getting to know our friends more. I didn’t dislike the idea, but I also had no clue what a proper ‘evening with friends’ entailed.

  I supposed I was going to find out, by Alys’ side.