"Perhaps on the way, if we're going out."

Kramsi will conduct his useless girlfriend to a restaurant that happens to be good enough for him.  Kramsi is not a terrible person, though, and will order equally nice food for Groya too, plus a dessert to split.

His girlfriend will try to eat like a civilized person who is used to being in territory where plants can grow and not incredibly impressed by their taste.

A couple of minutes into pretending this very ordinary thing that countless millions of people have pretended before - to not be impressed by the food they're eating - it'll feel like something clicks into place; the Summoned Hero now knows how to pretend this thing in the way of Kekaro, or there is an illusion that she does, a groove into which she could let the pretense fall and then spend less concentration on it.

- weird. Sure. She wants to be more like a local while she eats local food. Why is that the kind of thing the universe can learn, rather than - 

- maybe even in her universe, the universe learns the shape of raindrops and leaves??? It doesn't feel quite right. 

Kramsi magnanimously asks whether his woman wishes any more food or dessert.  This is a restaurant such as D-rank adventurers attend; there is in fact more food to be had, for the asking.

She'd have another dessert. 

Nobody should exit Midvale without trying whatever regional dessert this is!

It's not that Carissa has never in her life had nice food! It's just been a couple years. 

She appreciates her second dessert.

Exit Kramsi, heading towards a certain particular part of town.

With, once they're unobserved, a small child accompanying, dressed in what other small children wear.

The town continues to have a graffiti problem.

...it's possible that some of these graffiti artists are not totally on board with what other people might consider to be a standard, non-heretical interpretation of what Asmodeus is all about.

Carissa is more curious whether stylistically they appear to all be one person with a very specific interest or whether this is a more general phenomenon.

Some of these graffiti artists are definitely less competent than others.

Asmodeus, if He in fact has a plan for this world, may specifically dislike his own followers. 

Not that she knows that much about Asmodeus and what He wants. She's going to be flying completely blind, here, if He doesn't tell her. 

A harried-looking adventurer-dad and his five-year-old boy approach a shop that displays metal ingots in its outdoor windows, heavy bars of copper and titanium, gold and platinum and iridium, and vials of colored powders sealed and then Vacuum-purged.  All lie behind simple glass, not guarded.  Pure metals are not expensive; alloys are.

And the Transmuter Device itself, presumably, is. ...where is it.

There's an impressively solid door at the back of the shop, with no visible lock and a single pullbar, with a glowing magical gem in the center of an elaborated pattern.

Presumably parenting philosophies do not vary between dimensions so profoundly that five year olds anywhere are allowed to run off and look at the security measures. She sticks close to her adventurer-dad and occasionally scuffs the ground with her toe in the manner of a bored animal. 

(Are any of the metals spellsilver?)

None of the big ingots on prominent display are spellsilver, but there's definitely something from this here display shelf!

There are that many different metals? If you'd asked her to guess she'd have guessed...ten. Ten seems like a reasonable number of distinct metals to have, and then you get all the possible alloys of those, and -

Not only is one of those spellsilver, eight of those are spellsilver, and another few look like they might also be spellsilver she'd just have to touch them to know for sure as they're doing something different than she's used to. 

She's gonna be rich, rich, rich, rich, she's gonna have every magic item she's ever seen or can think of, she's gonna become a god - can you do that by crafting - well, if Summoned Heroes can get powerful enough to kill the gods, stands to reason they could get powerful enough to be them -

Well, assuming the Hero can end up with any spellsilver in the first place.

Lustrous, silvery, ductile, soft and easy to manipulate. It'd have tarnished like silver, but faster, visibly so by the time he'd even left the dungeon. A centimeter cube of it would be gone completely in a year, turned to a grimy dirt, faster if you were exposing more of it to the air. If you get a little powder of it it'll outright ignite in air. 

Almys hadn't quite repeated the claim of a centimeter cube being gone completely in a year; just claimed he'd expect it to take about that long by eyeballing it.

The store's proprietor, a middle-aged woman with gratuitously large endowments wrapped in tight gappy clothing, seems to think this description potentially covers a number of metals.  Her first guesses are Substances 11, 19 or 37, as all lie apparently in the same column of some sort of Chart of Alchemical Wisdom.  They're all soft, silvery-white metals that will tarnish in air!  And explode in water.  Did the customer try reacting any of his dungeon-drop with water, in the course of whatever mysterious experiments have him so excited?  Did he observe the melting point in morrisons, perhaps?

...probably the Hero would've mentioned it as an important fact if spellsilver exploded in water.  If the little boy he's escorting doesn't make any sort of excited exploding-sounds, Almys will engage in a long thoughtful pause and then say, no, he didn't notice the substance exploding if touched by water.  And also that, no, he didn't think to try to melt the stuff before it was gone and measure the melting temperature.  (Whatever planet his liege hails from, it likely doesn't measure temperatures in morrisons; they'd have to figure out how to translate that, even if she knows.)