>"Gonna have to remember this cheese. A real sinus-cleaner that one." Bet it'd make for a good meltin' cheese.
>Wonder how much it'd cost to get a wheel of the stuff back home after all this is done?
>You comment on the olfactory effects of your meal to no one in particular. Perhaps fortunately, no one responds, either.
>It might be quite pricey, as you don't recall ever encountering it in the markets of Braston, which means you'd probably need to get it imported specially. And this is never remotely cheap.
>And don't forget the plant!
>At this point, you think you'd be more likely to forget your own head than to leave that plant behind by accident. Too much is riding on it!
>Sated will do for now. One doesn't want to splurge too much. It has its benefits, but splurging is splurging.
>Let us depart this place, satisfied by our first meal in Val R, and proceed on towards the guild hall. And keep an eye out for alchemists shops or other points of interest. And an ear open for any footpads or fairies that might abscond with our flower.
>You decide that you've spent enough money for the moment and resume your trip towards the guildhall, feeling just a little paranoid that someone might try to forcibly deprive you of your bittercress, flowerless though it may still be. Notwithstanding the fact that a mouse bearing a houseplant is probably not an attractive mark compared to the various richly-garbed personages you've passed in the city, no footpads or thieving fairies present themselves along the way. Or, at least, no fairies
currently in the act of thieving - you wouldn't put it past nearly any of them to have engaged in said pastime every now and again.
>By the time you reach the guildhall, it is growing genuinely dark and your plant has grown nearly to overflow its vessel. It is now nearly the size of the ones you saw at the nursery and you wonder if the constraints of the smaller pot may account for the difference; it's hard to tell for certain, but it seems its rate of growth has slowed as it approached the limits of its container. It is a deep and healthy green, bushy and smelling sharply of fresh growth. It is also completely without sign of flower; hopefully that will hurry up and change soon.
>The guildhall itself looks to be smaller than Braston's, though it is harder to appraise the extent of the location at a glance as it is built into a long row of adjoined commercial enterprises rather than standing alone on its own grounds. It is several stories high and warm lights flicker behind the windows of each floor. A large guild insignia is etched into the stonework above the arched doorway, itself elevated from the street by a rise of stone steps framed by carved granite banisters. As you approach, a young woman emerges from the building, a plain silver circlet atop short blond hair and garbed in a dusky cloak. You note her cloak pin is styled in the same manner as your badge.
