Phocles looked at himself in the mirror, a crack which ran from the bottom right corner all the way to the center obscured his form slightly but it didn't hinder him in terms of seeing his reflection. "I'll buy a new one eventually," he said to himself, porcelain mirrors are cheap, maybe he'll get a bronze mirror next time? He repeated himself in determination. "Eventually."

  The clothes he wore were the best at his disposal; a simple vest with an open center, a belt on his stomach to secure it, a shirt underneath the vest, pair of pants held up by another belt, and then another pair of belts on his wrists to hold down his cuffs. It made his clothes look tighter than they should, something which Phocles appreciated since it made him feel like a noble with properly measured clothing on his back.

  His shoes had not just been cleaned, he bought new ones. He's heard from the cobbler that the witch visited him a few days back to buy several pairs of boots, the reason for why being that she simply didn't want to wear the same pair over and over again.

  A noble reason. In a sense that she must be used to luxury—not that she's good-hearted. In truth, Phocles didn't know if Wilona has a good heart or not, just that she's in the town because of the local dungeon. Cores have always had the capacity to attract powerful mages, and the one in Lower Reedham is no different.

  Wilona, as the witch called herself, came to the town without anything to her name beyond professionally enchanted clothing and a small amount of coin in her purse. She had staves, magical ones, indicating that she knows how to enchant and there's a good chance that she's the one who made the ring, cloak, and boots she's wearing. She's a well-educated mage, strange for a witch given how covens are often... manic, at the best of times. But it seems the one she came from valued information more than their strange experiments. Enough for them to produce a prodigious witch with an affinity for enchantment.

  Phocles was well aware that this theory of his is nothing more than guesswork of course, but he's sure it must have some kind of truth to it. People can barely hide their pasts after all, some form of it comes back from their actions, skill, and personality.

  Her arrival to the town was met with suspicion, but ultimately welcomed when her presence all but guaranteed the storms that peppered them would be stopped. The core responsible for it seemed to have been amicable to her, suspiciously so, especially when she solved their problems after only meeting it for a single day. Phocles did fault her for this naturally, his skepticism is beaten by his feeling of relief that she came just in time to stop the storm from ruining the town any further.

  Phocles looked at the kitchen the witch cleaned, for someone of noble birth, it was shocking to learn that she knew how to do chores. Something from her time studying with the coven perhaps? Mages rarely respected the status of the ruling elite so he wouldn't be shocked when it's revealed Wilona had to work during her time studying under witches.

  Getting out of his house, Phocles breathed in the cool afternoon air. A few days ago, stepping out would have made his nose wrinkle in distaste from the scent of shit and piss that permeated the streets but with the arrival of the witch, the townsmen have chosen to maintain some kind of dignity and hygiene for the place in which they lived. Even if it's nothing more than to show respect to the noblewoman, it is still something Phocles appreciated.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Walking around the town has shown the improvement everyone made as well, with houses having been repaired and last he heard, some of the more well-off families have begun to purchase glass in order to replace their windows after merchants visited once more.

  It was like seeing life being breathed into the town.

  The change brought not only caused plants to grow and morale to be boosted, but for everyone to wish to stay in this town. No matter their reason, be it opportunistic desires to take advantage of the upcoming stream of income that will come from the dungeon core or vague hope of an improved lifestyle, Phocles is glad that his people decided to stay.

  "Sir," a guard stopped to bow and give him respect. The gear they had on their person was still lackluster, but they now had a spring to their step that wasn't there before. It seems even they have chosen to take to their station and do their jobs.

  "How's everything?" Phocles decided to spend a bit of time conversing with the man. "Are we still having problems with the less fortunate doing crimes?"

  "Not at all," the guard shook his head. "It seems that some of the townsmen have chosen to give out extra food that they no longer wished to eat. Leftovers, maybe, but it meant a lot to the homeless. Abandoned houses have also been given to them temporarily."

  "Keep up the good work," Phocles nodded and went on his way. Once out of earshot, he muttered something under his breath, "temporarily huh?.."

  Problems will come to the homeless. This is often the case and Phocles is not unfamiliar with the things they have and will suffer through in both the past and the future. In the past, the lack of resources forced them to starve and stick to crime, and in the future, they will be pushed out or forced to work for meager coin.

  Such is the fate of those on the streets, they won't even be able to save enough money to get out of poverty because other people in similar cases will simply steal it.

  That's a problem that he will need to deal with in the future, Phocles ignored it for now and walked out of the gates. A pathway of vines and fern that wasn't there before greeted him, it led to a wooden bridge overgrown with moss, vines, grass, and various plant species he couldn't name.

  People have seen undead building the wooden bridge that would act as a foundation for this magical marvel. Once, this was made of barren wood and tied with dried fiber but after the witch did her magic, everything changed into the magical bridge before him; with archways riddled with hanging vines, a smooth surface carpeted by thick globs of moss, and support beams riddled with mushrooms and fern.

  The only thing it's lacking being some form of lighting. How the townsmen would navigate such a place during the night is beyond Phocles but perhaps that's the point, the witch cannot have the dungeon remain undefended during darkness and thus ensured that the effort to do so will be treacherous.

  People of higher standing soon made a line behind him, grouping up with one another to talk about potential profits and benefits that can be gained by being so close to a dungeon core. Phocles listened to them until the woman of the hour arrived.

  She flew the same way she always did; sitting sideways on her magical staff with her legs dangling together, they were waving back and forth as she flew, showcasing her mastery of flight. Her face didn't show signs of concentration as she made her way over to Phocles and his group, in fact, she was smiling gingerly like what she was doing is the most normal thing in the world.

  Powerful indeed.

  Wilona landed in front of them and broke into a brief sprint. Her staff flew into her open palm and she tapped the ground with its butt when she stopped. Everyone turned quiet once she made her presence known.

  "Hello! How are you all doing huh?! Good I hope!" Phocles didn't mention it but her way of talking showed that she's not from Nahlara. "Anyway, like, you should all come now. Rottie is waiting for all of us and he can get pretty stingy when annoyed so come on!"

  Rottie? Is that what she's calling the core? She named it? Phocles blinked, only for his eyes to widen once the plants around them began to glow in a deep blue hue. The bridge, which was plunged under the darkness of the night moments prior, glowed in an ethereal light and became something of a fae's pathway from the stories he read as a kid.

  So the lantern at the head of her staff is just for show, then? Interesting. Phocles followed after the witch in silence, he knows that everyone else must have felt the same way as him after the show of might; the witch is more than meets the eye.

  At least Phocles knows that he's in good hands during this visit. The dungeon wouldn't be able to harm him with her around.