Sebas_Guzman

  "Second Guard Company… name? I can’t see it here,” I asked, gncing down at the worn record sheet I’d highlighted into something half-legible.

  The guard across from me shifted on the bench. “Gerran, sir.”

  “Thanks for bringing your medical history. So, what can you tell me about what you’re putting into your body?”

  “Alchemy supplements from Orve & Orve. Potion preference is Enra Root over purified water. Started two months ago.”

  “Noted. And the powder you were issued for joint swelling—did it help?”

  He gave a short nod. “It helped for a few days, but then the ache returned. Worse now. I switched to chews from the Lower Market apothecary—don’t remember the name.”

  I whistled. “Lower Market? Hope you’re taking it from the person I think you are… Did you get that, assistant?” I said without looking.

  "Yes, Master Timaeus!" came the cheerful reply.

  I smiled.

  Beside me, my assistant sat cloaked in the shadows and cloth, quill already dancing across parchment. Elsbeth, City Lord’s wife, now hunched in a borrowed cloak and scribbling like a city scribe. It felt like I was keeping a scandalous secret, and I was into it.

  I reached into the bag behind me and plucked out one of the minor healing potions. “Here’s your thank-you. Pour it directly on an open wound to close it. Drink it, and it’ll soothe everything at once—but its strength depends on how much damage you’ve taken. If you’re too far gone, it’s just a sweet drink that will make the wounds itch.”

  Gerran took the vial with both hands. “Thanks, alchemist. And…” he turned toward Elsbeth and faltered. “Ma’am.”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes. Not that I bmed him. Elsbeth was absolutely disgusting now.

  Among the many unique mixtures Old Timaeus had discovered was one that dried on skin like old wax and bloomed into pustules and blisters within hours. Timaeus didn’t name it, so I called it Burnmask Salve—because I had to call it something—and it now covered the left side of Elsbeth’s face like a bloom of cruel fate.

  My application was superb. Where others saw stomach-churning hideousness, I saw excellent work. And to be honest, Elsbeth’s smile squashed whatever ugliness my brain could register.

  “That makes forty,” Elsbeth said, voice still soft, still polite. She marked a clean line across the page.

  “We’ve still got twenty potions left, then,” I said, leaning back against my chair. “We’re doing pretty well.”

  We were tucked into the corner of the barracks’ food hall, right by a soot-darkened hearth with broken bricks in the back. The guard in charge of these barracks, grateful that someone was doing the check-in the Noble Physicians’ Guild kept dodging, had offered me the spot when I came with my proposal days ago, with a smile and a sp on the back. It smelled like stale oats and sweat here, but we had a table, paper, some sort of record of the troops here, and grateful foot traffic. That was enough.

  The next guard stepped forward. And for a moment, I was astonished.

  Silver hair—not white, not old—but the kind that you’d expect from a magical noble. Blue eyes, clear and intense. A sculpted jaw, chiseled like something from a hero’s tale, with skin too smooth for the city’s dust. If he had a fw, it hadn’t been generated yet.

  I blinked. “Your skin,” I said out loud, unthinkingly. “It’s fantastic.”

  But he wasn’t looking at me.

  He was staring at Elsbeth, hooded, face pointed at the notes she was annotating.

  “Even so marred by illness,” the man said, voice low but unshaken, “I can see the beauty that remains.”

  Elsbeth straightened. Her reply was courtly and clearly practiced. “You’re very kind, sir. May you see such beauty in all things.”

  It was noblewoman diction, I realized—polished to a shine and sealed behind pain. Her tongue betrayed what her station tried to suggest.

  His words caught my notice, however. I activated Mana Vision.

  All around his eyes, his mana network was denser. It was vaguely reminiscent of Mava’s network, in terms of where the concentration was, but nowhere as developed.

  Either way, after understanding what Mava could see, I had to assume that the extra mana going into this man’s eyes was doing something to his vision.

  Panic stirred in my gut. Did he see through Elsbeth’s disguise? Could he read her features through the Burnmask? Did he identify people not through their appearance but through some quality known only to him?

  Before I could spiral further, he turned to me and asked, “What is this you’re doing here? And for whom?”

  I blinked. “For whom?”

  A pause stretched long. Elsbeth froze beside me. My tongue moved before I could think better of it.

  “For someone like her—like my assistant here.”

  The guard tilted his head, considering my answer. He looked at me again, with a gaze that felt like both judgment and absolution. My skin tingled. I was unsure if it was my nerves or my unique physiology reacting.

  He nodded. “I see. Then I’d like to participate.” He pulled the chair closer and sat. “My name is Josiah.”

  I clicked into gear, grabbing a fresh form. “Josiah. What company?”

  “Second Company. Rotational detail in the Noble Layers. Night patrols mostly.”

  I tried to hide my panic. If he was able to go all the way up there, the chances that he had seen Elsbeth in passing increased.

  I looked him in the eyes and saw no malice. “So, they’d let someone from all the way down here work up there?”

  “I’ve been told some find me comforting.”

  I chuckled. “And I’d love to know the secrets behind that. Supplements?”

  He rattled them off. Boosted Goat’s Milk. Violet barley chews. A filtered tincture from a notable alchemist, purchased personally.

  “Skincare?”

  He smiled faintly. “Herbal scrub twice a week. Algae balm. My sister developed the recipe long ago.”

  Elsbeth chuckled softly beside me, then tried to cover it with a cough.

  I recorded the rest—dates, dosage, the rare indulgence of body wax. He was courteous, earnest, and always involved Elsbeth when he spoke.

  At the end, I handed him a thank-you potion.

  “Pour or drink?” he asked, gncing at the bel.

  “Depends how bad you want to be healed. Pretty standard usage.”

  He nodded. “I understand… Thank you.”

  Then he turned to Elsbeth.

  “And thank you, humble assistant. Your strength is luminous.”

  She bowed her head. “Safe travels, sir.”

  He grinned softly, but then his eyes nded on me again. “I was told… that you’re one of the alchemists who supplies us with potions, and the marsh patrollers with stimunts?”

  “I do that.”

  “Do you not remember me? We’ve met before.”

  “I meet a lot of people,” I said, unable to recall a man so glorious.

  He chuckled. “I suppose you do… Then, keep up the good work, alchemist. We appreciate you.”

  He left, and the silence that followed felt oddly reverent.

  I leaned in, gncing at Elsbeth. “So, you get that often?”

  “From men with silver hair and noble diction? Not really,” she said with a giggle.

  I grinned. “He must be a nice guy, to speak so nicely despite the Burnmask.”

  She shook her head. “I think he saw something else.”

  “That just means that no matter how you look on the outside, what makes you amazing will never change.”

  Elsbeth covered her mouth, and only then did I realize that I said something so fttering.

  We both sat there for a moment, the light from the firepce casting shadows around us.

  Then I reached for the next sheet.

  “Alright. I hope someone else pops up. The more the better.”

  Elsbeth giggled. “I hope someone comes too.”

  I rested my head on my fist and looked at my lovely assistant. “Hey… Is it wrong of me to think that you might be happy just to be here?”

  “Huh?” she replied, hiding a bit behind her hood.

  “I just don’t think that someone could get as excited about surveys as I am.”

  She subtly nodded. “You’re not wrong. I’m happy… to be sitting beside someone from my childhood.”

  “Yeah,” I replied, resurfacing the memory.

  Elsbeth and Timaeus—they grew up together, but from a young age, Timaeus didn’t really care. Elsbeth was just a tag-along whom Timaeus was sort-of nice to. And then one day, she wasn’t around anymore.

  Timaeus didn’t write anything about her. But then again, she left before Timaeus was fifteen, from what I could tell. So, yeah, maybe there just wasn’t anything to write about.

  “Thanks for wandering by my shop. I’m happy you’re here.”

  Elsbeth let out a tiny gasp, and then fiddled with her fingers—what a cute woman with no sense of how to hide.

  “I’m gd,” she whispered.

  “Hey,” I said, turning a little more serious.

  She looked up.

  “Let’s give this one more hour, and then when we’re done… I want to stop by somewhere. It’ll be a bit of a climb. Are you okay with that?”

  She showed me a rosy smile. “I would love to walk with you, Timmie. But erm… can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why are we doing these surveys? Judging from the reactions, this is very unusual—but oh, so very important.”

  “It’s simple, Elsbeth,” I said with a grin. “I’m trying to pack on muscle.”

  I expected her to question that with how I set it up, but instead, she was there, with one hand holding the other, and with her lips quivering.

  “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong? Did I mislead you?”

  She shook her head and showed me a toothy grin. “No, you just said ‘Elsbeth’ without putting ‘Lady’ in front of it.” Her grin became a little stronger. “I’m just happy.”

  “Oh,” I said, a warm smile on my face.

  This scenario was so sweet. I would have to check myself for diabetes ter.