Anthesis of Sadness Chapter 43: My treasure, our kimono

I stepped outside, Lysara by my side, and once out, I remained still for a mont, my gaze lost in the inky sky.

Six Varkh.

I quickly did the math in my head... then burst out in a sudden, irrepressible laugh.

— Six thousand krags... Six thousand!

I turned to Lysara, carried away by a stupid impulse.

— We’re rich!!

In a burst of enthusiasm, I slipped my arms under her to lift her up. A spontaneous, joyful gesture.

But nothing happened.

I pulled. I pushed. She didn’t budge an inch. Unfazed. Unmovable.

I just stood there, arms numb, breath a little short.

Then I looked behind her... and understood.

Her hamr. The damn hamr.

A tal monster, one and a half ters long, slung across her back with almost insolent nonchalance. A massive weapon, forged from a dark alloy. The kind of thing that would crush a horse with a single blow... and this kid carried it like a feather.

I stepped back, defeated, arms hanging.

— Damn strength stat... I always forget I put all my points elsewhere.

She looked at sideways, then murmured:

— ...That’s not the only thing you’re missing.

I froze.

Lysara. Had. Made. A joke?

... I smiled. I wasn’t ready, but I loved it.

I sighed, pulling myself together.

— Alright. I can’t lift you, fine. But I can buy you all the sweets in the market. That’s good too, right?

— Yes.

And she resud walking, calm, indifferent, with her titan hamr on her back like it was a scarf.

? I followed, a little miffed, very amused, and completely broke... in self-esteem.

But in a way, I loved it. That she wasn’t impressed by my displays, that she stayed grounded in this harsh, unshakable world. She made better, without saying a word.

Heading to the inn. No surprise, I asked for two nights, with both als included. And of course, two rooms side by side, like before. We had our habits, and with a bit of gold in our pockets, might as well get them back.

We had a real hot al, hearty, flavorful — far from the dry road rations. Then, once night fell, I let myself drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, light was already filtering through the curtains when I woke.

I stretched long, smiling to myself in the room. Today... was spending day.

But not just on anything.

I found Lysara outside, already ready as always. A simple nod to say we could go. She asked no questions.

We walked through so familiar alleys before stopping in front of a well-kept shop, adorned with small runic lanterns hanging under a tanned leather awning.

I pushed the door open, a smile on my lips.

This ti, I had the money for it.

Inside, the walls were covered with shelves full of strange items, each rarer than the last. Pocket incense, retractable daggers, scrolls of silence... But I knew exactly what I wanted.

My eyes landed directly on the spatial storage bag.

— Hello! I said cheerfully. Do you have spatial bags... that also preserve contents?

The shopkeeper, a slender woman with gray hair tied in a bun, looked up from her grimoire.

— Of course, she replied with a small smile, as if she’d expected my question.

She pointed to a pouch hanging behind the counter.

A beautiful item. Supple leather dyed a deep blue, reinforced with silver-thread stitching. Magical runes snaked across its surface, etched directly into the material, radiating a discreet, pulsing glow. A matte black steel buckle sealed the flap, locked with a stabilization rune.

— It’s enchanted with both spatial and temporal magic, the shopkeeper explained. Any item placed inside retains exactly the state it had before entering. Temperature, freshness, humidity, even magical energy if the item has it.

I was already sold.

But as I was about to ask more questions, my gaze drifted to an item next to it: a canteen, made of the sa materials, with the sa runes etched into the curved tal. It was held in a leather holster matching the bag, and its cap was sealed with a small magical seal.

— And this? I asked, eyes gleaming. Sa thing?

— Yes, exactly the sa enchantnt. You can store water, potions, even wine... for weeks without degradation.

I was already picturing myself with it.

— The bag, she explained while handling it carefully, has a dinsional capacity equal to the volu of an adult dragon curled up. Around forty cubic ters. The inside is stabilized with density runes, compartntalized in autonomous sections, and protected against temporal alterations or magical leaks.

Then she gently tapped the matching canteen.

— This one can hold the equivalent of a royal bathtub — about forty to fifty liters. Enough to survive several days, or carry more precious supplies. And of course, everything stays perfectly preserved: temperature, texture, alchemical properties... unchanged, even after months.

— How much... for both? I asked, dreading the answer.

— Three Varkh.

I froze.

My heart sank.

Three... Three Varkh? Half my fortune. For a bag and a canteen.

But my eyes fell back on the items. On the fine craftsmanship. On the runes still faintly vibrating. On everything they would let keep, protect, carry.

I had to have them.

— Alright, I said, slowly handing over the coins. Here you go.

The shopkeeper took them gracefully, slid them into a double-bottod chest, then handed my two treasures with a discreet smile.

I was speechless for a mont.

Next to , Lysara stared at the bag.

A hint in her posture betrayed... interest? Or curiosity?

Hard to tell with her. But she stayed there. And said nothing.

I had just, literally, acquired a war depot... in a bag. And a drink supply for a small battalion.

I walked back into the street, bag bouncing at my hip, canteen on my belt, my step light.

Half of my treasure gone.

But ? I was smiling like an idiot.

Heading to the clothing shop we’d visited recently.

I had high hopes for this one. It was clean, well-maintained, with that kind of quiet, refined atmosphere that says "we don’t sell rags here." And now that I could pay... anything was possible.

Upon entering, I greeted the receptionist with a polite gesture.

— Is it possible to have washing runes engraved on the clothes?

She looked up, visibly pleased to see a motivated custor return.

— Of course! But it’ll be custom order, made to asure only.

— I accept.

No hesitation needed. After all, if I was finally investing in decent clothes, might as well make them practical and enchantably washable.

I had recently understood why Lysara loved her kimonos so much. It wasn’t for the elegance — though she wore them with a strange grace — but for their practicality. During fights, when she extended her upper body, she could just slip off the sleeves in one swift motion, ready to strike, free to move.

Then an idea ca to .

— Could we have... matching kimonos, please?

The receptionist gave a small smile.

— Of course. Follow .

She led Lysara into a side room, while a man with a perfectly trimd beard invited into a separate lounge to take my asurents. I let him work without a word, distractedly observing the fabric rolls on the wall: colorful silks, black cloth marbled with gold streaks, enchanted textiles that shimred faintly under certain lights.

Once he was done, I ca out and found Lysara beside the lady. She was already back, standing straight like a blade, her face as neutral as ever.

— Could we... include inner pockets in the kimonos? I asked.

— As you wish, she replied gracefully. It’s a common request from adventurers.

She then moved to the counter and unrolled a piece of dark fabric, nearly black, streaked with silver veins.

— The kimonos will be made from Silvarachne thread, a rare magical spider species living in the crevices of Zar’Vul mountains. Its silk is both supple, resistant to cuts, and perfectly suited for rune engravings. It also has a slow regeneration property, allowing the garnt to repair itself over ti, even after violent combat. All of it, of course, tailored to asure, and enchanted to resist natural wear.

I raised an eyebrow, impressed. This was... high-end.

— The total cost will be two Varkh for the set.

I froze for a mont.

Aaaah... so that’s it.

The end of my wealth.

It didn’t last long.

But I gave a small, almost resigned smile, and handed over the two Varkh with the solemnity of a king giving up his crown.

She accepted them with a nod, then carefully recorded our order in an enchanted ledger.

— They’ll be ready in two days.

I thanked her, and turned to Lysara. She said nothing, as usual, but I thought I saw her fingers brush against the fabric on display near her, looking... curious? Maybe even pleased.

And ? I walked out of the shop with a light heart, an empty coin pouch, and the strange feeling that I had truly made a good choice.

For once, I wasn’t buying just for myself. I was investing in a "we." In sothing that lasted. And it was a new feeling... but a pleasant one.

It wasn’t just an adventurer’s whim.

It was a step toward sothing more stable. A ritual. A shared comfort.

As I stepped out of the shop, I did what any reasonable adventurer would do after blowing nearly all their fortune on luxury gear: I counted what I had left.

I rummaged through my pouch, between the folds of the magic leather, and pulled out the last coins:

Eight Zarn. Four Drek.

I exhaled through my nose, half amused, half resigned. Not enough to buy another artifact, no... but more than enough to satisfy a silent kid’s whims for a few days. Especially since she never really asked for anything.

— It’ll be fine, I muttered. We’ll survive... and even enjoy ourselves, while we wait for our outfits. And for the guild to pay the rest of our reward.

I glanced at Lysara, who walked calmly ahead of , her massive hamr strapped to her back like a simple canvas bag.

I smiled.

— You better enjoy it. Because after this, it’s back to work, and I don’t wanna hear you complain.

— I never complain.

I nearly stopped walking. She had spoken. Not just "yes," not a nod — an actual sentence. Calm, smooth, perfectly serious.

I smiled even wider.

— That’s true. And that’s why I can buy you all the sweets you want with no regrets.

She didn’t reply. But I thought I saw, for a fleeting mont, her gaze linger on the stand of a passing pastry vendor, his cart scented with caralized sugar and cinnamon.

Perfect. We’d survive in style until our enchanted kimonos were ready, and until the guild finished counting the carcasses.

And until then... we’d live like discreet royalty, with eight Zarn, four Drek, and an empty magic bag ready to be filled.

Just a little break, a little warmth, and a little sugar.

Before the world tried to break us again.