The misadventures of the necromancer

Chapter I

 

Eamon was starting his afternoon opening the apothecary shop after lunch. As he busied himself tidying up the space behind the counter, he deliberated on whether to initiate the process of crafting potions to replenish the stock. The shop’s front door opens, and someone enters.

This caused him some admiration because this would not be the time, he would expect to have customers. At this time of day, most are already done with their shopping day.

But the opportunity to make some money is always welcome. He brings a smile to his lips as he turns to greet his customer.

A smile that quickly dies as he observes who entered his shop.

A stranger had just entered through the door. This is unusual because, after so many years of running the family apothecary, Eamon knew everyone in the village and most of the people in the region.

For generations, this shop had been the only place you could buy potions. Well, at least the only trustworthy place.

That isn’t the issue with him. After all, a stranger’s coin is worth as much as a known person’s. No, the problem is that this stranger is visibly poor.

The young man has dark eyes, hair, and tanned skin, but not like the young of the region who have the color of someone who has spent their whole life working in the sun, but rather the shade of someone who has only recently started working outdoors.

This doesn’t speak to poverty; at most it would mean recent difficulties. What truly declares his economic condition is his clothing.

His tunic at some point, would have been green, but it has become almost colorless. Said tunic had a very badly mended hole on the left shoulder, so badly done that Eamon noticed from this distance. Fortunately, his pants don’t have holes. At least they do not seem to be, but they look like they need a good wash.

Deciding it’s better to be polite and see how this goes. Eamon recovers the smile on his lips and greets him.

“A good afternoon, dear customer. How may I be of help to you? Do you want to buy something special?”

With that, Eamon could only hope the stranger had enough money to make an immediate purchase, as he tries never to extend credit to anyone.

Life is undoubtedly challenging, a universal truth. While regular customers might get some leeway, granting credit to an unknown individual is sure disaster. Perhaps that's why this young man presented himself in such impoverished attire, attempting to sell a tale of hardship. But before the apothecary could dwell further, the stranger spoke up.

His voice was utterly serious as he stated, “I'm here to sell.” Immediately, he reached for his belt where a bag was attached, struggling to loosen the knot securing it.

While the boy’s fighting with the knot, Eamon reconsiders the situation. Now it makes more sense the boy found some herbs and is trying to sell them. Although this is not the usual time for them, if he has found something good, Eamon can always find some coin to buy it.

“Finally.” exclaims the young man as he manages to free the bag from his belt.

“Here you go,” he exclaims with a triumphant expression on his face while placing three small ceramic flasks on top of the counter.

Eamon, astonished asks, “But what is this?”

“These are potions.” says the young man shyly, while looking away in a somewhat embarrassed.

“Potions,” repeats Eamon, taking some time to observe the three flasks on top of his counter. They were all different from each other and cheap.

“I typically avoid purchasing unknown potions...” he begins to comment, grabbing one of them to slowly uncap and carefully sniff its contents. Upon hearing the apothecary's words, the young man started to display signs of growing concern.

Interacting with an unknown potion is always a dangerous, action one can never be certain whether it harbors poisonous elements or potentially undesirable effects.

As Eamon’s mother always told him, the secret to the family business isn’t the fame of potions but having the trust of the customers. What good is the best and most powerful of all potions, if no one trusts you to buy it? This trust, Eamon mused, has been the bedrock of their shop's enduring prosperity.

That said Eamon is a capable and experienced alchemist, so he allows himself to be carried away by the situation and begins to study the potion in his hand.

The aroma remains unfamiliar to him—somewhat bitter, yet not repugnant. Shaking the flask gently, he attempts to discern the potion's appearance. Despite the flask's opaqueness, Eamon perceives that its contents are dark and unusually thick. The question niggles at him: How can one label this a potion? It resembles more a liquid porridge than a conventional elixir.

With this, he returns his attention to the young man. Who seems to be an alternate between anxiety and confidence.

Leading Eamon to wonder where the potions could have come from. But the important thing now is that despite the potion’s apparent low quality, he feels confident in his safety for the next step of his analysis.

He brings the flask to his mouth and lets a single drop of potion fall on his tongue. The taste confirmed the bitter smell; it was even more intense than he had anticipated. Fortunately, it did not seem to have spoiled or to be poisonous—just exceptionally unpleasant.

“I can’t figure out what it is!” Eamon exclaims.

That’s unusual. With his years of experience, he can identify potions with just this small test. Even without determining the recipe, he should be feeling some slight effect, such as a small increase or decrease in energy.

At that moment, a slight itch on his other hand prompted him to take a look. Recalling that in the morning, while preparing some herbs, he had gotten a small cut on his hand—undeniably a minor one, but it should still be visible—nowhere to be found. There could only be one explanation.

 “Healing.”, exclaims Eamon, intrigued by someone trying to sell such a potion.

With that simple word, the young man’s face opens with a big smile, to them exclaim.

“Restore health. Yes, that’s what it is.”

Leading Eamon to reflect on the strange expression restores health, but more importantly, is that the young man knew what he had all this time.

Even so, the potion itself although appearing to have been made with the minimum possible competence, undoubtedly is of quality. A single drop healing a scratch like that is not phenomenal.

But more interesting is that he did not feel any sign of discomfort, which can only mean that this potion has a very low level of toxicity, which for healing potions is something relatively rare.

It should be possible for someone to take all three potions at the same time and not have major adverse effects.

“Are they all equal?” he asks to confirm.

“Yes, they are all potions to restore health.” confirms the young man with his cheerful smile as he shakes his head up and down.

Again, that strange expression ‘restore health’, yes Eamon agrees that technically a healing potion effectively restores health. He just never heard the expression, it sounds strange.

“So do we have a deal?” asks the young man still smiling with confidence, interrupting Eamon’s thoughts.

This is the question regarding the situation. But when Eamon returns his focus to the young man and considers his condition another question arises.

“Where did you find them?” he asks him while closing and placing the potion on top of the counter again.

“Don’t worry. Just know that if you want more, they can be available. That is. If we reach an agreement.” is the answer he receives, as the young man approaches the counter.

“Boy, I’m not sure I want these three!” Eamon’s comment, in turn, quickly takes away the young man's smile.

“Yes, I understand,” after a small sigh, the young man says, “Rest assured the price is negotiable.”

“No, my boy, I think you don’t understand,” Eamon tells him, concluding the boy thinks this is a negotiation scheme.

“I don’t feel comfortable buying these potions. For the price I can afford them.” he tries to clarify to the young man.

“What do you mean?” the boy asks him with a confused expression on his face.

“Healing potions are not in high demand. This means that I must buy them at a value that makes sense to keep them for a long time.” Eamon tries to explain to him.

“Sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean. Potions to restore health aren’t in high demand. They literally restore life. What can be more valuable?” he counters looking more and more confused.

And this same confusion leads Eamon to determine how this poor boy must come from really humble origins, after all, he is right that everyone who can, tries to have at least one healing potion in the family, even if it is one of the weakest. That’s why there is no high demand, everyone who can have them already has them. Only someone who has never been able to buy one would not know that.

“Yes, you’re right. Potions to restore health, as you call them, are especially important potions. People try to own at least one, but potions like these tend to last a long time. Has such they are potions that are sometimes passed from parents to children.”

“You mean to tell me that people who buy the potions don’t use them?” asks the young man.

“Well, yes in a way that’s what I mean.” Eamon replies, happy that his customer at least begins to understand.

“Healing potions are mainly useful for treating wounds. And except for a war situation, accidents are fortunately rare. As such, they are of little use in day-to-day situations.” he concludes, hoping the young man can understand the situation.

“But what about adventurers? They must drink this like water. And they should have money to spend.”, inquires the boy, still clearly confused.

“Adventurers? What are you talking about?” Eamon asks, with him taking the turn to be confused.

“Adventurers. You know, those who fight monsters and venture out to explore the wild areas or ruins.” says his customer while making the movements of fighting with a sword.

“Yes, I see, the fighters who’re sometimes hired to solve problems. But what makes you think they have money to spend on potions?” Eamon asks him, intrigued by the strange conclusion on the part of the boy.

“They don’t?” the young man inquires in a high-pitched tone of surprise.

“Most of them only do the easiest and lowest risk jobs. And often, not even those jobs are available. As such they tend to get paid poorly, leading them to not spend on equipment, such as potions. And this turn prevents them from taking more risks.” answers Eamon.

“Which prevents them from investing in equipment.” correctly concludes the boy.

“Exactly. And besides they are few. There is no money to be made by counting on them as customers. At least in my experience.” Eamon ends his explication, satisfied that his client appears to have understood his point.

Having finished this conversation, Eamon notices the young man looking at the shelf with the stock of healing potions. Shelf that has marked the selling price of them. And so, Eamon remembers that they were talking about the value of the boy’s potions.

“These are all the potions of healing I plan to sell over the next year. So, I can’t pay much,” he explained, pointing to the shelf.

“Unfortunately, they are not fatigue potions.” comments sadly Eamon.

“Why would it be different for fatigue potions?” asks curiously the young man.

Before answering, Eamon is once again amazed by the ignorance of this stranger.

“Well, during the next month, the harvest season begins. The consumption of fatigue potions during this period skyrockets. It’s the time of the year when I sell the most. Therefore, I could always pay a little more for them since I could sell them quickly.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Taking potions for so long must have little results. After all, the accumulation of the toxicity of the potions in one single day. Meaning that person by the next day, would be totally useless.”, comments the boy in such a knowledgeable assurance, that astonishes Eamon.

“Yes, but there are inevitably days when, for one reason or another, people need to work longer hours. Taking just a couple of these potions on such days carries little risk and can be a lifesaver during the harvest season," clarified Eamon.

He admired the intelligence of his interlocutor, acknowledging that even though this was common knowledge, not everyone understood the delicate balance with potions. Every year, someone would end up bedridden for a day or two due to the ill effects of taking too many.

“I understand. It makes sense.”, says the young man, turning his gaze to his potions on the counter. He simply asks, “How much for the three?”

 With that, Eamon answers sadly, “As I said, I don’t feel comfortable making an offer. I’m sorry.” Something that he truly meant.

“Just say a value. Then I will decide if it’s worth it for me or not.” states the young man.

Looking at the serious expression of this boy, Eamon could only choose to answer. “Four small silvers, for the three.” to that the young man looks at the shelf with the price, to see that in the store the potions are sold at six each.

The value as Eamon had said is ridiculous, it barely pays for the ingredients of the potions. But on his part, he can’t justify paying more. Spending the same amount on ingredients for fatigue potions, he could easily double his money in a month. He can't justify paying more. But the decision does not belong to him.

“Four…” he muttered, rubbing his face with frustration. “All right, I accept it. If you’re not cheating me. Not accepting would mean a total loss. It’s just better to accept.”

“Cheating you, never. My family has had this shop for generations. And that is only possible due to our reputation.” he refutes offended by someone even mentioning such a possibility.

“Which confirms my choice... Doesn't...” replies the boy dryly, as he pushes the flasks onto the counter. To which Eamon limits himself to nodding his head and going to his purse to count the coins.

“Did you make the potions yourself?” Eamon asks, curious after putting the coins on top of the table.

“Yes. But unfortunately, it is a piece of knowledge, with a lower value than I initially thought.” is his answer as he collects his money.

“How? After all, you are so young, and it doesn’t seem to me that you had someone to instruct you.” to that the boy simply laughs. And with a smile back on his face says enigmatically.

“Even I find it hard to believe my answer to that question.” with his smile leaving his face, he turns and leaves not before adding.

“But anyway, thank you, and have a good day.”

As the door closed, Eamon simply expressed, “On my part, thank you for your business. Come back whenever you want.” He ended, still intrigued by this stranger.

With that, he began to ponder the unusual encounter with this interesting young man. A sense of regret lingered, knowing that his daughter already had a boyfriend. If circumstances were different, with this young man's alchemical skills and her business acumen, the family shop could have had a prosperous future. Sadly, it didn't seem to be in the cards.

"What a mess. With all this, I never asked his name," he sighed, shaking his head as he reached for the potion jars to store them. Before resuming his day.