Joric will be what Joric will be. Give it time.

No, no girl. It's the pickled spider tongue and then the decayed taproot. Do it the other way, and your cure turns into a poison.

But that old bellyacher just fed me some nonsense about light ruining his mixtures and being close to the water... agh.

You're useless. I can tell something's bothering you.

No. No, no! That'll end badly. It can't end well, I can feel it.

Well, it varies. On good days the square is barely capable of accommodating everyone, other times we're lucky to earn a handful of coppers.