I woke up the next morning with a single, horrifying realization:
Tweety wasn't joking about the "bigger meal" thing.
I'd caught him eyeing a merchant's horse the way some people look at steak. Nope. That's not happening.
If I didn't get us proper ingredients soon, the local livestock population was doomed.
That's how I found myself back at the Adventurer Guild, standing in front of the quest board with Tweety on my head.
The hall was just as noisy as before the clatter of mugs, the thump of boots, laughter loud enough to shake the rafters.
Adventurers were everywhere, all muscle and armor and confidence, while I stood there in my travel-worn shirt, trying to look like I belonged.
Some stopped talking and then looked at us carefully whispering something. But when Tweety glared at them back, they turn their heads away from us as if something interesting there.
"You return," Tweety said from his usual perch on my head. "Have you come to challenge the mortals again?"
"I've come," I muttered, "to figure out how not to starve when you start bringing me monsters the size of wagons."
"Ah. A noble cause."
I sighed. "You do realize I can't cook a wyvern, right?"
"You will learn."
"Yeah, or die trying," I said under my breath.
At the counter, the same receptionist from before raised an eyebrow as I approached.
"Back so soon? Didn't think you'd last a day."
I smiled nervously. "Neither did I. But I need a thorough explanation of how this whole quest thing works and something I can do without getting eaten."
She slid a parchment booklet across the counter. "Standard requests are listed on the board. The easier ones are near the bottom. You complete one, bring proof, get paid. Simple enough."
"Simple for people with swords," I muttered, flipping through.
Most of the listings looked… deadly.
"Hunt three horned boars."
"Clear out a nest of goblins."
"Escort a merchant through beast territory."
Nope. Nope. And double nope.
Then I found one that made my survival instincts sigh with relief.
Request: Harvest Pink Horsetail Fern
Reward: 5 silver coins
Location: Forest outskirts near the riverbend.
Note: Handle with care. Delicate.
"Now that's my kind of quest," I said. "No fighting. No blood. Just picking plants."
Tweety tilted his head.
"A humble task."
"Exactly," I said. "A safe, peaceful job."
The receptionist stamped my form and handed it back. "Don't forget to bring proof at least one full bundle."
"Got it. Easy money."
…Except there was one small problem. I had no idea what a pink horsetail fern looked like. And, unlike the hero from the anime I'd watched, I didn't have Appraisal Skill to tell me which plants were edible and which ones wanted to kill me.
I was on my own.
As I stepped out of the guild, Tweety hummed thoughtfully.
"You seem uncertain."
"I'm fine," I said quickly. "Totally fine. Just… need to, you know, identify a plant I've never seen before, in a forest full of possibly venomous look-alikes."
"Ah. So you are uncertain."
I groaned.
"I miss Google."
Tweety blinked.
"Is that another one of your gods?"
"Pretty much and we call him the wise one."
He puffed his chest.
"You have me now. Ask."
"Do you know what a pink horsetail fern looks like?"
"No."
"…Great."
Still, I had to start somewhere. I adjusted my pack, pocketed my new guild card, and started down the dirt road toward the forest.
The air smelled fresh, a mix of morning dew and earth. Birds chirped overhead, and Tweety hummed a low tune on my shoulder, his feathers glowing faintly in the light.
For a moment, I felt almost confident.
Then I remembered I was about to forage in a magical world without an appraisal skill, field guide, or common sense, nah, scratch that. I have one.
"Okay," I muttered, tightening my grip on my bag. "How hard can finding one pink fern be?"
Tweety's voice floated beside my ear, smooth and amused.
"You ask that often, John."
"Yeah," I sighed, "and it's never a good sign," I added and I continued walking.
If there was a skill for looking extremely busy while achieving nothing, I'd be a max-level adventurer by now.
I'd been wandering the forest for what felt like hours, hunched over the dirt and tall grasses like a confused gardener, muttering to myself about shades of pink.
"Okay," I mumbled, kneeling beside yet another suspicious patch of vegetation. "This looks pinkish. It's got the fern-y thing going on… probably edible?"
I reached down, pinched the stalk, and the plant hissed.
I jerked my hand back.
"Nope. Nope, not edible. Definitely not."
From my shoulder, Tweety was unusually silent, his warm golden feathers brushing my cheek every time I bent too low.
"Having fun?" I asked him.
"Immensely," Tweety replied, sounding far too relaxed. "Your trial brings me great amusement."
"Glad someone's enjoying it," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead. "You could help, you know."
"I could."
"And?"
"I choose not to."
I glared at him.
"You're the definition of emotional support, huh?"
Tweety tilted his head, pretending to ponder it.
"Support comes in many forms. Mine is… spiritual."
I groaned.
"You're a terrible life coach."
Another thirty minutes passed before my confidence finally crumbled. I was dirty, sweaty, and dangerously close to admitting defeat.
Maybe Tweety felt sorry for me. Maybe he was just tired of hearing me talk to grass.
Either way, he sighed.
"Enough. The fern you seek grows near moving water. Its stems curl at the tip and carry a scent like burnt honey. Follow the stream west."
I blinked.
"You knew that the whole time!?"
"Naturally."
I glared.
"And you just decided to tell me now?"
"I wished to see how long your mortal pride would last. The answer is… disappointing."
I threw up my hands.
"I'm getting bullied by a bird!"
But I followed his directions anyway. Sure enough, after ten minutes, we came to a small, shaded riverbank.
And there they were, dozens of delicate, pale-pink ferns swaying gently in the breeze, their coiled tips shimmering in the sunlight.
I knelt down in awe.
"Wow. You weren't kidding."
"I rarely do."
I gathered a bundle carefully, leaving plenty behind like Tweety instructed.
The faint sweet aroma really did smell like honey, not that I planned to taste-test anything ever again.
By the time we got back to the Adventurer Guild, the sky was glowing orange. My boots were caked with mud, and I probably looked like I'd fought grasses and lost.
The receptionist blinked in surprise when I dropped the pink ferns on the counter.
"You actually brought them back in one piece?"
"Of course," I said proudly. "Totally didn't almost eat a hissing plant or anything."
She examined the ferns, her brows raising. "These are good quality. Quite a few, too. Supply's been low lately, so… you get a bonus."
She counted out several coins and slid them across the counter.
"Eight silver in total."
I froze.
"Wait, what? Eight? For ferns!?"
She shrugged.
"Market shortage. Right place, right time."
I turned to Tweety, who was perched smugly on my shoulder.
"You hear that? Eight silver! I'm officially a professional fern collector."
"Indeed," Tweety said. "A respectable start for a mortal. Now you may buy spices worthy of my palate."
"Right," I said dryly. "Because obviously this is all about your palate."
"Of course," he said without a trace of shame.
I pocketed the coins, shaking my head with a small grin.
"First quest done, no injuries, no explosions, and I didn't die of embarrassment. That's progress."
Tweety ruffled his feathers and gave a soft hum.
"Progress, yes. But next time, something with meat."
I sighed.
"Yeah, yeah. Baby steps, big stomachs."
As we stepped out of the guild and into the sunset, the silver coins clinking in my pouch felt heavier than they should not because of their weight, but because for once, it felt like I was finally starting to belong in this strange, delicious world.