Entry V: Scroll Down for Resources

I journeyed due east, chased not by wolves or wraiths, but by the more terrifying specter of bills soon due. I needed help—and fast. My only hope lay with the one they called the tea-leaf reader, a mystic said to dwell somewhere in these Freelands.

Why Freelands, I wondered? Given my recent experience here, perhaps it’s because everyone expects you to work for free. Either that, or you’re granted more free time than you can afford.

Eventide crested over the horizon like black ink spilled across a parchment—specifically, the one I’d just ruined while drafting a proposal. (R.I.P. page three of “Wizardry & Words: A Value-Based Pitch.”) Hopefully, there was a Kinko’s nearby—if those hadn’t all vanished into legend by now. It was too dark to keep traveling. I’d need to set up camp and make a fire.

Luckily, I had a Kindle.

Its warm, flickering glow illuminated a curious apparition: Six-Figure Freelance Writer: A Holistic Guide. The book, like the fire, burned with strange energy. They say the tea-leaf reader is a holistic guide of sorts too… Perhaps the universe was trying to stir something within me—besides anxiety. I’d continue my quest in the morning’s earl grey light.

📖 Sponsored by… possibly magic.
Before continuing, you may want to equip this enchanted tome: Six-Figure Freelance Writer (affiliate link). Word on the wind is it boosts charisma and proposal accuracy by +3.

After daybreak (and a page break brought to you by our sponsor), I pressed onward in pursuit of my dream.

And truthfully? My dream isn’t to be a six-figure writer. I don’t even like the figure I have now. This wizard’s been putting on a few scrolls around the midsection—probably should lay off the Cheese Whiz sundaes. At least all this adventuring must be doing something for my abs.

I reached a vast, unforested grassland known as The Steepes. I knew I was close—the scent of ginseng began to sing to my nose. It was a welcome change from the spectral orchestra that had accompanied me for days, scoring even the most mundane sorcerer chores. (There’s only so many times a ghost can do a dramatic kettle drum flourish when you butter toast.)

In the rain shadow of a mountain range, I spotted a wagon, canvas-covered and sun-faded. Behind it appeared a middle-aged woman in patchwork robes, faintly scented with cinnamon and vellum. Teaspoon charms clinked at her side, and I could tell—this was a witch who read from book to book, from Coven to Coven.

“Greetings, wanderer,” she said. “I am Leafa Brewthorn, the Bibliowitch. Whether you’re seeking your fortune or seeking to write for it, I can be of service. I also serve tea, and my prices are not too steep. What’ll it be?” She sorted scrolls and poured from an unseen kettle.

Books floated midair beside her wagon—leather covers flapping like bat wings. Scrolls unraveled in slow motion, offering passive income advice in appearing ink. Nothing too extraordinary, until a small pamphlet glowed faintly and caught my eye.

“What’s this?” I asked, pointing with my wand.

“Great choice! That’s my Job Strain? Chai Freelancing resource. It’s free. Interested?” She raised her teacup and squinted—at me or the tea, I wasn’t sure.

“Sure,” I said.

“Wonderful. You just need to subscribe to my brewsletter, confirm your incantation preferences, accept this cookie—”
“Wait, cookie?” I perked up.
“Digital,” she replied with a sigh. “Oatmeal disappointment.”
“Ugh.”
“Allow push notifications from my crystal orb, complete a short familiars quiz, and sign on the moted line.”

I stared blankly. She smiled wider. This was what they meant by opt-in overwhelm.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll sign up. Just don’t make me verify my humanity through another hydra captcha.”

“Excellent,” Leafa said. “Expect a welcome owl-mail before oolong. Then just scroll down for resources.” She rolled up the scroll in a snap and tucked it back into her robe.

“Okay. Sounds good,” I muttered. “Hey, do you have any of that new bauble tea?”

There was a sharp hiss—like a kettle exhaling—and Leafa was gone. So was her wagon. In their place: a to-go cup and a mason jar labeled Leafa Tip.

I dropped five gold into the jar, grabbed the cup, and took a cautious sip. The tea? Hot. The advice? Lukewarm—but effective. I now had a growing toolkit… even if it came with spellbinding terms and conditions.

As I passed through the heath, a voice echoed from the canyon:
“When in doubt, scroll down. The answers are often buried beneath the fold.”

I just hoped her email wouldn’t end up in my spam folder.

🧾 Scroll Further (Optional Sidequest)
A lightly steeped collection of enchanted tools, spell-ready templates, and magical odds and ends for surviving the Freelands (and the inbox). Curated by Leafa Brewthorn and occasionally dusted by yours truly.