Prytaneum
Sparkling Water
"I'm home," I said as I walked into the room beneath the Church. As had begun to become the normal, I brought dinner with me and made my way towards the center of our 'living room,'
"Welcome home," Hestia said from her place on the couch. As I'd expected, she'd been reading one of the books I'd gotten her, but she looked up as I entered. The plates were already on the table in expectation, so this time I went about dolling out portions. I was very slowly beginning to understand the types of dishes that were common to Orario, as well as the type of things Hestia liked. "Did you have a nice day?"
"Mhm," I replied, nodding slightly with a smile on my face. "It was a bit busy, though. Welf and I went down to the tenth floor today on a quest."
"A quest?" Hestia asked, tilting her head, but I wasn't sure whether was inquiring as to its nature or if she didn't know what it meant. From what she'd told me, Hestia had only come to Orario a few months before I had, and while she'd learned a lot, many things were as much of a mystery to her as to me.
"We took a request from the Guild," I said. "Someone wanted thirty Orc Hides so we spent the day fighting them."
"It sounds like a lot of work," Hestia noted. "Are you both alright?"
"We're fine," I assured. "Just a bit tired. And look! We got these as a reward."
I took out the High Magic Potion I'd taken and put it on the table for her to see.
"There was a High Potion, too," I said. "But I took the High Magic Potion and gave the other one to Welf. The way I figure, since I can heal myself with magic anyway, he needs that one more than I do."
"Mm," Hestia said, nodding her head as she looked at the vial curiously. "A High Magic Potion? This is the first time I've ever seen one, I think."
"Same," I replied, allowing myself to look embarrassed as I admitted the truth. "I didn't even know Magic Potions were a thing until I got a High one. Do you think Miach can make them?"
"I'm sure he can," Hestia told me. "Miach is very skilled, after all."
"Do you might if I ask him, then?" I wondered. "If I tell him I have magic, I mean?"
"That' fine," She said, smiling at me. "I'd be relieved to know you're that much safer, anyway—and I'm sure Miach would appreciate the business."
I nodded, making a not to ask him in the morning. I'd built up a pretty decent store of potions, simply because I didn't use them as often as I did regular water. That's not to say they weren't useful; they'd come in handy a few times and even if I didn't use them much, Welf would probably need them eventually. I made a point of keeping several on my person just in case that happened, but for now, I still thought I was okay. Magic Potions, on the other hand, I was sure I could use, though I'd need to run the details passed Miach.
"What about this new friend of yours?" Hestia asked abruptly. "Welf, right? Could you tell me about him?"
"His name's Welf Crozzo," I said, abruptly realizing I hadn't talked about him much to Hestia. "I told you he was from the Hephaestus Familia, right? Training to become a smith. He's a good guy, I think, and he really loves his work."
I smiled slightly and tapped my knuckles against the breastplate I was still wearing.
"Makes good armor, too," I continued. "I've been wearing armor out of the Dungeon lately which I was starting to think would never happen. But…he seems to have problems of his own."
"Oh?" Hestia wondered, sounding concerned. "What kind of problems?"
"I don't know," I mused, furrowing my eyebrows. "His Familia, his family, his past…I think a lot of things must have happened. He asked to work with me because the other smiths in his Familia don't like him and there are a lot of things I don't think he likes to talk about. But I don't want to pry before he's ready to tell me—I know a thing or two about stuff like that myself, after all."
Hestia seemed to consider that for a moment.
"I think everyone has secrets they don't want to share," She said at last. "Even the gods. But I think that friends while friends are the type of people you don't have to keep secrets from, they're also the type of people for whom a few secrets don't matter. What do you think of him, Percy?"
"I like him," I said without hesitation. "I think he'll be a great smith someday—and he's already a good friend."
She smiled at that.
"Then please do your best to help him," She told me. "I'm sure the two of you will go a long way, as an adventurer and a smith."
"Yeah," I said, nodding firmly.
"Now then," She said, clapping her hands lightly before helping herself to some of the food I'd brought home. "How have the two of you been doing in the Dungeon? Is everything going well? I know you were worried about him."
I had to think about that for a moment.
"It's a lot of work," I answered slowly, shaping the words carefully. "It's scary, looking after someone else's life again and knowing that they could get hurt or…or die, if I make a mistake. But at the same time…it's selfish, but…I'm glad not to be alone, you know?"
I smiled at her embarrassedly as I said the words.
"It's weird," I said, shaking my head at myself. "I don't want to see anyone in danger. I know I probably shouldn't bring anyone with me into the Dungeon, because I know how dangerous it can be. Especially for me, because I want to go as far as I can, as fast as I can. There are a lot of things I want to do and slowing down even for a little while…I should hate it, but…"
"There's nothing wrong with not wanting to be alone, Percy," Hestia replied, looking at me kindly. "Because it's scary when you are, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I agreed quietly. "Scariest thing in the world."
Hestia smiled at me, nodding, and I felt embarrassed again until I averted my eyes.
"What book are you reading?" I asked, changing the subject as I caught sight of it at her side.
"Ah, this?" She asked, sounding surprised at the question. "It's called Dungeon Oratoria. Have you ever heard of it?"
I shook my head.
"It's a story from a long time ago, supposedly," She said, lifting it up to look at it. "I don't know if any of its true or not, though—it was long before I came down to this world. But it's a very popular story, I hear."
"Oh," I replied before scratching my cheek. "Then, uh…do you mind telling me what it's about? I've never read it."
"Sure," She said with a smile. "Let me see…shall we start from the beginning?"
Hestia opened the book, eyes scanning the pages for a moment before she started reading. It wasn't quite like any of the myths I was used to, but it was close enough—a hero and a Spirit fighting monsters with their companions, some of them supposedly here in Orario itself. To do so, they ended up gathering companions, like a High Elf and beastmen and more besides, but precisely where the story was going I wasn't sure, because a few chapters in, Hestia stopped talking.
I blinked, focusing on her face before I realized what had happened—and then I smiled.
"Aren't bedtime stories supposed to go the other way around?" I whispered to myself as I stood and made my way to the couch, ready to pick Hestia up and carry her to her bedroom.
And then I stopped, something else catching my eye.
The ribbon Hestia used to tie her hair was worn and frayed, looking like it was close to falling apart. It was old and clearly near the breaking point, but…
"Why don't you just buy yourself some new ones?" I wondered quietly before closing my eyes.
I already knew. Hestia had been working hard, too, selling things in a stall on North Main. A part of me, a large part, wanted to tell her she didn't have to, that I'd take care of it—but at the same time, I understood how she must have felt. Even though she was a god, there were a lot of limits to what Hestia could do. She couldn't help me fight in the Dungeon or protect me as I faced the dangers within it. As someone who worked at Orario's equivalent of fast food, if that, it was hard for her to help provide for the two of us, either. As it was now, even splitting the money I made, I was pretty sure I was making at least a hundred times what she was, seeing as her paycheck was measured in just a few hundred valis.
But even so, she wanted to help me. She didn't have any way to aid me in the Dungeon, but she wanted to help more than anything else, as my goddess and my friend. For that reason, she worked as hard as she could and didn't let herself spend anything on 'pointless things.' She didn't even want to spend the money to buy a new ribbon for herself.
I understood that, perhaps better than anyone—I remembered the lengths my mother went to when Gabe was around, the things she endured for my sake. But…
Turning, I left Hestia on the couch and quietly left our home. This late, pretty much everything was probably closed, but I walked over to Adventurer's Street, hoping that something was still open. Even there, most of the lights were off—but not all of them. What I found while looking around wasn't quite what I had in mind, but it would do for now.
I returned home with a needle and thread that I'd found among other adventurer supplies, meant to knit torn clothing back together. I hadn't found any ribbons amongst them, shockingly enough, but I'd make do. It was probably a good idea to keep something like this on hand anyway, given the number of shirts I'd lost this week. Tomorrow, I could talk to her about it, buy her whatever she wanted, but today…I just wanted to do something.
Decision made, I took my place on the couch beside Hestia and tried to remember how this was done. I thought of my mother sewing my clothes back together, of all the times I'd been late home from school because a monster had chased me home and found her fixing the previous days clothes in expectation. She'd showed me how to do it at some point, I was sure, but I was just as sure that I probably wasn't any good at it.
I'd start with my shirt, then. Brush off the rust a bit. It was fine if it got ruined, after all; it was already a mess. I knew I wasn't the best at arts and crafts, that I couldn't make things with my hands the way Tyson, Beckendorf, or Welf could—but luckily, I wasn't limited to a pair of hands.
Raising my hands up to eye level, I focused on the needle and spool of thread before letting them go and removing the armor I was wearing, as well as my shirt. As I did, the need and thread remained where they were in the air, light glinting off of them—or rather, off the water droplets that were keeping them suspended. As I held my shirt such that a tear was face up, I caught the tip of the thread in a single drop of water and pulled, rotating the spool as it unwound. Carefully, I guided the thread through the eye of the needle before tying it around the end more deftly then I ever could have done with my hands. A few more droplets gathered around the needle, holding it in several places so I could move it freely, while others gathered along the length of string, holding it in different places. With a thought, I made the string bend midway and with another, the needle twisted.
I took a slow breath before exhaling and moving the needle closer, trying to sew the tear back together. I was nervous, because I was well aware I had no idea what I was doing, but I tried to compensate. Pausing, I decided I needed more droplets to hold the string and gathered them from the flask by my side, making joints here and there, creating a very rough approximation of a sewing machine. But no, that's too many droplets, most of them pointless; I dropped them with a thought, drawing them to my skin. But then…
"…What am I doing?" I wondered to myself, trying to stay focused, but I hadn't even brought the needle to fabric yet. I was procrastinating, hesitating, worrying about messing up. Already, water droplets glistered in the dim light, shining like a constellation of tiny stars, holding a small web of thread in place, but I wasn't sure what to do.
After a moment, I tried to think of my mother, trying to remember how her hands had guided mine as I guided the needle in turn. In and out, connecting and tying, I slowly managed to make a seam. It wasn't pretty, though. Wasn't anything like my mom could have down, even without any magical powers to assist her. But it was a decent first effort, right?
Telling myself that, I moved onto the next tear and did the same. Then the next and the next and the next, trying to get a feel for it. It wasn't as though I didn't have enough rips in my clothes to practice on, but it never felt quite right. And it wasn't easy. It wasn't hard, not like lifting a river was—it didn't take much strength, I mean. But it took concentration, a level of focus and control that just hitting someone really hard didn't, and I wasn't used to doing things this way.
But this wasn't really about me, was it?
Taking another slow breath, I looked at Hestia's ribbon. Perhaps because of our earlier conversation, I couldn't help but wonder how she felt about me teaming up with other adventurers. Relieved, of course—that much I could see plain on her face. She was glad to know I wasn't alone, that I had someone there to watch my back and help me.
But did that make her feel alone, instead? When I talked about them, was I rubbing salt in a wound, making her feel worse? Did she think that…
"You're not useless," I wanted to say. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Hestia. I won't forget it—and I won't forget you."
I wanted to say that, but she was asleep, so…
I undid her ribbon, letting down her hair before picking her up and carrying her to bed. Then, I returned to my place on the couch, held it taunt between my hands, and focused.
"Mystery?" Welf had asked me, scratching his head. "Truthfully, I don't know much about it, because it's so rare. Only a few people in Orario have it and I don't know any of them. But…from what I know, it should allow whoever has it to create a miracle or something."
"A miracle?" I'd wondered. "What do you mean?"
"Like something miraculous," He told me. "Something 'divine.' Like a cap that can make the wearer invisible without costing energy like magic or something that can reveal a person's Status like the blood of their god. That's all I really know, though."
"What about Blacksmith?" I'd asked him. "What's it supposed to feel like? Using a Developmental Ability, I mean? Is it just supposed to come to you? Do you have to access it? And if so, how?"
"I…don't know," Welf had admitted, looking embarrassed. "I guess I'd always just figured I'd know when I had it? Why do you ask? Percy—"
I took another breath, clearing my mind of the thoughts and concentrating.
"I still don't know how this is supposed to work," I said to myself. "But if I can do magic or create miracles or whatever, then…at least help me fix a ribbon."
I didn't feel any different as I said the words, didn't feel any swelling of power—but slowly, as if something was waking up, the room was lit by a soft blue light. It began with the drops of water before spreading down the thread, to the needle, and then to the fabric as I began to work. I hardly seemed to sew as I worked, the ribbon almost seeming to ripple as the needle and thread moved through it, but I remained focused on what I was trying to do, spinning the spool and sewing back and forth with the needle. I focused on the ribbon, hardly paying attention to anything else or how long it was taking me—
Until abruptly I ran out of thread.
I blinked then, snapping out of a daze I hadn't noticed myself falling into and looking down at the ribbon in my hands. It looked like something brand new, the cloth seeming to glisten and flow like water in my hands. There was no sign of wear and tear, but at the same time there was no sign of my work, of additional thread where my needle had passed through. It didn't seem any longer, either, despite me having used an entire spool of thread.
And…
"What color was this supposed to be again?" I wondered to myself, lifting the odd blue ribbon in one hand.