'Where is she?! Find her!'

  The scream was so loud, so manic that Liberty could hear it from the bottom of the cliff, because yes, the ones who kidnapped her somehow were able to build a hidden bunker in there.

  'No, with everything I've seen them do, digging into a cliff side isn't out of the realm of possibility.'

  One day, she would learn that the kind of magic they used is called Crescent Magic, but today is not that day. Instead, the terrified newcomer pulls on the cloak she wrapped around her body.

  She walks, not really knowing where to go, only that anywhere but that hell is okay. The lack of human sacrifice was definitely a good change of pace in her opinion.

  She laughs, unsure of why she even did so.

  ...

  Liberty snaps upward, her body suddenly tensing as the memory of her escape comes rushing bacon to her like a violent tidal wave that threatened to bring her under. She fought back against the looming hysteria by taking deep and heavy breaths, her racing heart calms with every exhale, moments later, she is calm again.

  She wipes heavy beads of cold sweat from her forehead, the droplets felt cool on the back of her hand, they evaporated shortly after that.

  Taking a moment to herself was probably a good idea, so Liberty didn't dare to leave her bed for another 10 minutes. Or somewhere close to that. Sitting down in place and staring at nothing wasn't exactly a good way to tell the time.

  Knowing that the day wouldn't wait for her, Liberty gets up and starts her morning by washing herself, then she checks on her bag.

  "Two bottles of potions, a bottle of pure alcohol, wooden cups to put them in, and a clean rag to clean everything once I am done using them." These were the things on the biggest part of her bag, on the back— or the side that usually faces her body. — are a bunch of tools held in place by a strap.

  There are tweezers, scissors, scalpels, and of course there are also small, medium, and large knives among them. She cleans these by dropping them in boiling water, and while those get sterilized, she opened the smaller compartment of her bag.

  While this didn't hold something as important as her healing potions, the compartment had lesser, but still useful healing items such as threads and needles, bandages, salves, pills, and ointments. All of which have their uses and allows Liberty to save her potions on only the most important people and also the most dangerous wounds.

  Liberty reorganized everything then she closed her bag.

  'I need more penicillin...' Were her thoughts as she lifted an empty glass jar, she had dumped all of it inside of pills back at the storage unit, leaving her jar empty. 'I don't regret it though.'

  Pills were a necessary part of her medical bag, as they are better than directly giving someone penicillin. Doing this has a lesser chance of killing her patients from overdose as well.

  She threw on a pair of jeans and a brown vest over a white t-shirt. 'I really need to get used to wearing this again...' She thought with a frown as she tightened the vest. 'It's just like before, just without the paranoia and constant fear of being stabbed in the chest.'

  Her white cloak was draped over everything, hiding her body as well as the revolver she carries for safety.

  Getting out of her apartment, she peeked out of the door and made sure to look left and right before leaving and going down stairs. The streets were still mostly empty at this time, as the workers are probably still in their homes, eating breakfast and doing whatever.

  Despite the dystopian way money has inflated, work hours here still only consist of 6 hours per day. Though in exchange, worker safety regulations do not exist and merchants are not responsible for any damage being done to someone during a job.

  'And that is mitigated by the lack of factories.' But Liberty is sure that if factories can exist, the wealthy would be producing them en masse and start abandoning workers just like in the industrial revolution.

  Liberty crosses a street and heads straight for an alleyway, when she got out of the other side, she came face to face with a three story building with features that are as flat and emotionless as a piece of rock. There are six windows in total, all of them are glass.

  Most of the time, this is how she gauges the prices of items so if a store has windows, she typically goes out of her way to avoid it as everything inside will be more expensive than, say, stuff from a farmer's market.

  'Which I have yet to see here in Valdrosen...' What happened to the farmer's market around here? Most cities usually have them.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Liberty crosses another street and this finally allows her to read the words on the wooden sign hanging above the door: [Cap Emporium! For all your fungal needs!]

  Mushrooms are a common food amongst the poor, as they are usually cheaper and easier to grow. These things are so widespread that they almost rival potatoes and onions when it comes to feeding an impoverished household. Thus, places like these were constructed.

  Some might assume that there isn't any profit to be made with mushrooms but there is! A lot of money can be made from selling harvested caps, spores, mycelium fertilizers, and cultivation trays.

  That last one is especially important as thanks to the uneducated masses not really knowing how mushrooms grow, companies such as Cap Emporium specifically reduce the nutrients they place in the soil, limiting the growth of the mushrooms and forcing people to buy another cultivation tray in order to grow more.

  Nourishment packets wouldn't just work either, as cultivation trays usually already have a mycelial within them, so mixing the dirt around in order to fertilize it would have a high chance of accidentally killing the mushroom before it could even mature.

  Liberty came prepared when she entered the emporium, she made sure that she looked presentable enough to not be mistaken for poor and on top of that, her white cloak indicated that she was a Leech. Or rather, it should.

  She did forget her markings, which was technically a mistake, but she'd rather spend an extra few Tarchs than have to deal with the stickiness of that thing so early in the morning. Her feet carried her in front of the front desk and the woman manning it inspected her, Liberty allowed it.

  "Hi, I'd like to buy some nourishment?" She got straight to the point, dancing around the topic would only mean that she's wasting time. She isn't planning on haggling either. "What's the weight I can buy for 5 Tarchs?"

  "10 Yol." Which was that? A few grams? That wasn't bad.

  "Okay." Liberty handed the woman 20 Tarchs. "And thank you."

  She got a grunt in response and the pricer left to grab her bag of sugar, starch, and flour. All of that should be healthy for a growing mold, and they should work even when said mold is underwater.

  Liberty decided to look around while waiting for the woman to finish weighing her purchase.

  The front of the emporium was full of cultivation trays, and the wooden boxes practically dominate most of the shelves. There are large, medium, and small boxes arranged from top to bottom, there are also labels in them with the name of the mushroom they are growing.

  Holes on the bottom of the boxes constantly release heat, it wasn't overbearing, nor did it make Liberty sweat— this is probably thanks to the morning being cold. — and the hotness is just enough to indicate that the trays have life.

  Most of the expensive stuff— like spores and fungal food. — are behind the counter, preventing people from stealing them.

  "Do these trays get returned?" Liberty felt the woman coming closer so she decided to ask a question without turning away from the trays.

  "Yes." The sound of paper hitting marble came around and Liberty finally faced the pricer. "They often return it and we pay them back with a few Tarchs, it's a pretty efficient system, really. Why do you ask? It's not like you're buying one."

  "I was just curious." Liberty smiled and took the bag. "Thanks by the way."

  "Come back anytime." The pricer waved as Liberty left, her face as bored as it was when Liberty arrived.

  Liberty bought a few extra things on the way back to her apartment, but once she was back in the safety of her home, she quickly got to work: she takes her spare pot and fills it with water, then she dumps a few spoonfuls of nourishment into it and stirs.

  Opening her bag, Liberty rummaged through her stuff until she finds a tiny clay pot, she opens it and sprinkles some of the spores into the mixture before putting a lid on top of it.

  Liberty stored it inside a place no one would find, or even if it does, the discoverer would just think it's some kind of food that strangely smells like feet.

  With the pot now secured inside of a kitchen cabinet, Liberty left for the Hunter's Guild, her license should be finished already right? Places like that work pretty fast most of the time.

  She opened the door to the lobby and searched for the same receptionist who had been tending to her all this time, while the woman clearly had ulterior motives, Liberty didn't really mind. She was useful anyway, so what little threat she can pose to Liberty is overpowered by the sheer efficiency of her work.

  After Liberty spotted her, she went in line with at least 3 different hunters. Which isn't a lot, really. Guess the receptionist isn't all that popular?

  "Hello again!" She greeted Liberty once the Leech came next in line, her smile bright. "I'm guessing you are looking for your license?" She receives a nod in return. "I see, then, here you go! The Hunter's Guild officially welcomes you as its newest Retriever."

  "Huh, that's kinda rare." A man next to Liberty laughs, his voice was loud enough to attract unwanted attention. "Why'd you stop being a Leech and become a Retriever? You lose patients or something?"

  "Who is he?" Liberty asked, her tone a threat.

  "Let me check..." The receptionist pulled out a stack of papers and shuffled through them for a bit. "Osen, hunter for 2 years and a veteran among our registered."

  "I see, don't ever schedule him for me."

  "... But you're sponsored by the guild?" The receptionist wore a tight smile. "We're the ones who decide who you heal, forgive me for being rude."

  "I see." This was intentional, Liberty hated the sneers coming her way but she needs to keep a low profile, and looking pathetic means she's forgettable.

  "Hah! How's that you stupid Leech?!"

  This did not mean that she was more than willing to lay down and take an insult. Liberty turns and raises an eyebrow at the hunter, 'black hair, dull brown eyes, and tanned skin. I'll remember your face.'

  "Pray that you don't get tended by me in the future." Liberty grabbed her license and walked out of the guild. There's technically a low chance that someone so competent could even be injured badly enough to need her aid but one can hope.

  'And he probably has gotten injured in the past before.' Liberty considered the possibility of the man failing a mission and it was pretty high by her own estimate. No one is perfect, not every hunt they go on is a success. 'Was he crippled badly enough to need potions at some point?'

  Probably right? There's no way that his track record is perfect, he's just a veteran according to the receptionist, not some dangerous expert that no one should mess with, just someone who lasted 2 years in the hunting profession.

  'Which in of itself isn't really to be taken lightly, very few hunters continue working after 2 years.' They get scared, crippled, or worse. 'How do I beat someone who's the opposite of that?'