Demon World Boba Shop: A Cozy Fantasy Novel

“You really didn’t know? We’ve been dating for weeks,” Kout asked.

“But I haven’t even seen you two together,” Arthur said, trying to defend himself. Kout was apparently involved with one of the nicer stamper women, a large turtle demon who Arthur had talked to once or twice and found very pleasant. “Not once. You’ve never come to the shop together or anything.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true. She came with me on my rounds once or twice and I’ve hung out while she stamped. It’s an… how did you put it? It’s an outside kid romance.”

“Well, I’m glad for you, but I absolve myself of bad-friend guilt. Is that the pit?”

“That’s the one.” Kout shrugged off his pack and walked up to the lip of the world’s smallest, saddest mine. It wasn’t more than five feet deep and barely big enough for Kout. “Actually, this is going to be a lot easier, now that I think about it. I can hand you stuff instead of lifting it a foot away at an awkward angle.”

Kout went to work with his pick to loosen the rocks around the pit and lifted them out for Arthur. After a couple sets, Arthur found himself without anything to do between each set of rock removal and spent that time familiarizing himself with the surroundings. He was a bit warier than the situation probably called for as he walked around the space, making sure to give trees and bushes enough space that he would have a moment for reflexive action if something sprang out at him. The rocks were interesting enough, as rocks went, a sort of dull white that made sense to crush into powder. The trees were trees. The logs were logs. It wasn’t a show-stopper of a forest patch, all things considered, but it wasn’t bad.

It wasn’t until he got fully bored and flipped over a log that things got interesting. After dodging out of the way of a wave of fleeing bugs, Arthur got a good look at the bottom of the log. It was rotting away, having retained enough snow throughout the winter season to get good and fully soaked through. That moisture was also cultivating grass, a light-blue plant that looked and smelled truly unhealthy to him.

And yet, despite all that, Food Scientist was going absolutely crazy.

“Don’t touch those.” Kout was out of the hole and behind Arthur before he knew it. “For god’s sake, don’t eat one.”

“They’re poisonous?” Arthur asked.

“Incredibly so. Of course, a lot of stuff is, but those are particularly weird. It has what I think of as twisted majicka. It sucks it in and converts the majicka for a purpose, only that purpose isn’t so good.”

“As in what? You die?”

“You freeze to death. It lowers body temperature. See this?” Kout flipped over the skeleton of some small beast that had apparently made the mistake of risking a bite of the plant. “Lots of good nutrients in there. No wonder there’s so many of these growing.”

“Ah.” Arthur took out his knife and a jar and started carefully shoveling the grass in, making sure not to let any brush his skin.

“Did we miss the whole conversation from before?” Kout asked.

“I don’t think so,” Arthur explained. “It’s just my skill is going wild for these things. It thinks there’s something it can use them for.”

“Or it’s misfiring and trying to get you killed.”

“Either way, I’ll learn something. Did you get all the rocks you needed?”

“Nope, but I got all I can carry on this trip. I’d give you some, but it’d slow you down more and ruin the effect of all that tea. Let’s get moving.”

Camp that night was simple. Just a single tent, a small fire, and boiled vegetables of various kinds. Kout had set a snare as Arthur cooked, hoping to pick up some form of meat, but it was a long-shot bet at protein that didn’t end up paying off. After they ate, they both spent some time at the fire, soaking up heat and letting their muscles cool down before bed.

“So you and Mizu. Things going fine?” Kout kicked a rock into the fire, watching the sparks fly into the air. “I see you together, sometimes.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. We just aren’t real showy in public,” Arthur said.

“I get that. Although I think Posy wants more of that,” Kout said.

Flower names and descriptions, as always, translated just fine through Arthur’s system-installed language abilities.

“And you don’t?”

“It’s not that I don’t. I’m just not good at it, I think? I haven’t had much experience with things like this. She reaches down to hold my hand and it’s just a lot to deal with. I shook loose the first time she did it in front of people and we had to have a whole talk about it.”

“Oof.”

“Yeah. She was good about it once I explained it, at least.”

“Good. She’s nice.” Arthur unhooked the food pot from above the fire, saw that there wasn’t enough left in it to try and save, and poured out the remnants of dinner on the fire to burn away. “And you’ll get better at it. There’s no way you couldn’t, unless you just aren’t trying.”

“Oh, I’m trying. She’s great. I’d be stupid not to try.”

“Do you ever wonder why they put up with us at all?” Arthur poured a bit of water into the pot, swirled it around, and dumped it out. That was all he needed. It was cheap but adding a cleaning-enhancement to camping gear went a long way. He smiled at the pretty-much-clean pot and set it down to cool before wiping it dry.

“For me? No. I’m very handsome. With you, I wonder.”

“Very funny, friend. I mean it, though. Mizu is so much better than me in most ways, it’s crazy. She could do better than me if she tried, I’m sure. But she never actually seems to get around to realizing that.”

“I don’t know much, but I’m guessing you thinking that is part of it. Adoration goes a long way, Arthur.”

“That far, though?”

“My mom used to say it’s lovely to be loved.” Kout stood, wincing as his muscles resisted the motion. “I bet you find out how far it goes when you start paying attention to how Mizu looks at you. Anyway, don’t undervalue yourself. You make a mean dinner. Now go to sleep, Arthur. Trailmaster’s orders. We have a long walk tomorrow, and I don’t think you actually know what you did to your legs today.”

“What did I do?”

“Oh, I’m not going to spoil the surprise. I want to watch as you figure it out.”

—

Arthur knew he was in trouble when he sat up in his bedroll the next morning and both knees clicked like a door latch sliding into place.

“Do it.” Kout was up and about already, and came near the mouth of the tent as soon as he heard Arthur stir awake. He had a massive grin on his face tinged by a slight amount of wistful regret. “Stand. It’s gonna be funny.”

Arthur stood, and actually made it to his feet despite the sudden, horrifying sensation in his legs as a half-dozen knots ripped loose to allow for the motion. He yelped, immediately leaning down to try to massage the newfound orchestra of aches and pains he had awakened in himself.

“What the hell, Kout? I have points in my vitality. This shouldn’t be this bad.”

“Ah, that’s the rub.” Kout laughed and walked to the fire, where he stirred some boiled grains with one of Arthur’s wooden spoons. “I have more. And you took a potion so you could keep up with me.”

“My drinks aren’t potions.”

“Fine. You took a weird offworlder beverage so you could keep up with me. Same difference. The drink let you do it, but your muscles weren’t any stronger despite working better for a while. How did you think that was going to turn out?”

“Not like this.” Arthur groaned and took a few halting steps. The only way he could get the pain to stop was by walking to loosen things up, but moving brought enough hurt that he could barely motivate himself to make the investment. “This is horrible.”

“The good news is that you’ll be fine. I took Spiky out a couple of times and he had about the same thing happen, sans potion. Give it a few minutes and it will be better.”

Arthur took a bowl of oats from Kout and decided that the wise choice would be to eat standing up. As he did, Kout took mercy on him and struck camp, getting everything packed away in their packs and lifting Arthur’s to his shoulders before moving off at a gentle pace through the trees. Arthur grimaced and followed, hoping the sun would be up soon to add warmth to the making-his-legs-not-kill-him formula.

“Did you give any thought to the grass yet?” Kout said. “I have to be honest. I’m curious what you could use them for. The alchemists said they had no use for them at all.”

“Not even for breaking fevers?” Arthur asked.

“They said attacking the root cause is almost always better. Or something along those lines.”

“Well, I’m thinking I might have it figured out. Of course, I can’t test it without talking to some alchemists first.”

Kout sped up a little, forcing Arthur to hurt his adjusting legs that much more to keep up.

“Sorry, I have to,” Kout apologized. “We have a schedule. Anyway, spill the beans. What kind of drink are you trying to cook up?”

“Well, you know that this stuff makes you cold. And you said it just does that through majicka, right? Undiluted, that can kill you. But if I diluted it enough, I might just get a chilling effect,” Arthur said.

“Why, though?”

“You’ve never wanted a colder drink on a very hot day?”

Kout thought about that a little. “Fair. But what if you accidentally put too much in?”

“I’ll figure out a failsafe. Probably I’ll just mix it into the boba flour for that drink, beforehand. It’s easier to measure right one time than it is a thousand times. I’ll pay one of the alchemists to make sure I get it right.”

“Expensive.”

“Expensive, but I’ll only need to do it once. Can you get me more of these, by the way? If I end up using a lot?”

“I doubt you could use a lot, considering how strong they are to begin with. But yes. In some parts of the forest, they’re under every shadow.”

—

There were no more big finds over the next day or so it took to get back to the village. There were some smaller rewards for the trip, things that Food Scientist liked but didn’t love as much as the grass, but nothing that came with a clear-cut purpose or inspired its own drink in the same way.

By the time Arthur got back to the gates and Kout bid him goodbye to go find Posy, he was exactly one good idea richer and completely out of ways to get new ingredients to test without Talca bringing them in from outside Coldbrook. Which he would get around to, of course. It just wouldn’t help him keep his forward momentum much at all. He’d have to find a different aspect to focus on.

All thoughts of actually going to work on the drinks evaporated as he walked towards the town and was filled with a sudden sense of dread. Something had changed while he was gone, something drastic and beyond his expectations. He walked up to the first instance of the blight, sprouting up from the ground in an unholy way, almost burning his eyes as he gazed at it.

Vote Milo! The sign said, underneath a surprisingly good drawing of an idealized bird-man holding a massive hammer. He’ll put gears everywhere!