Gray, Green, and Gold (2/2)

"Beauty and Danger go hand-in-hand, don't they?" Said the sailor with a knowing smile.

"Perhaps, but some things just don't go hand-in-hand. You among all Dirgeans must know that rather well." Drina's sly nature crept up once more, her persistence self-rewarding as always.

"What am I missing here?" Geraldine swirled the wine on her goblet, hinting interest. And Ian could feel the bead of sweat forming on his temple now glinting cold against the soft breeze.

"Ian'drah Dawnsnow here is relatively close to Miriam Blackmercy, especially her son." Drina gave the gist of the issue to fan the fire of Geraldine's curiosity.

"Ah Miriam, that venomous beast." Young Bluebeard inserted in their conversation.

"What an unusual area for you to associate yourself. Tell us more about it, Sailor." Says Geraldine with eyes unblinking. Ian knows that there's no turning back now.

"I assure you, Miriam is a kind-hearted woman- I wouldn't be as glorious as I am today without her counsel."

"That same kind-hearted woman who poisoned entire armies with a small vial is dangerous enough, not to mention how a Medium like her used to dine in this very table... plainly disgusting!" Bluebeard bites in once more.

"I'm well aware that she's lawless, but she's been diligent with her sanctions through these years. The Slums of Dirge have alleviated thanks to her and her son." Ian held his ground.

"Oh don't defend a mother that deformed her adoptive child, not to mention the rumours of a serial killer on the streets of Dirge since her residence there..."

"Enough Bluebeard, there's no urgent reason to denounce a criminal under the government's control. She has been a diligent Dirgean citizen since her capture so we shouldn't pester the monster any longer." Drina intervened, making Fer'hjaal Bluebeard furrow his eyebrows, agreeing to disagree.

"I concede, but that doesn't mean that she's not far from redemption, a Medium has no place in this country, the dead must rest in silence..." Young Fer'hjaal retreated back to his plate. Deep loyalty for the land runs in the warlock's nativity, it would be a mistake to misunderstand his aggressions.

"Well, I don't concede yet." Geraldine cleared her throat. Ian felt the pressure resurge, this is the same princess that had shut down an entire black market in Dirge on her own at the ripe age of 15 cycles. Now that she's older, her intellectual resolve shouldn't be reckoned with.

"I've heard that no one had seen a clear view of young Blackmercy's face to clear out the deformity rumours." Says Geraldine, though the sailor knows that she heard those words from Drina.

"We'll never know the truth in that state unless you would shed some light for us, would you Sailor?" The sailor felt like that question is a command masked as permission, but he rebelled.

"Place your trust in me, my Lady, I meet him every morning and his face is far from disfigured. Privacy is just something the Blackmercys are fond of and I'm sure Miriam knows what's best for her child. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Ian stood up then stridden away without permission. He knew that they'll continue to find a way to use him against Miriam's residency in the Country so they could send her to far harsher lands.

As soon as Ian was gone, Drina apologized to excuse the sailor's sudden change of behaviour. But Geraldine just smiles down her wine, staring at the freshly-kindled light on her goblet reflecting from the west tower.

"Oh what a creature you are... indeed." Geraldine swirled her wine.

Ian wiped off his sweat in an empty hallway, the patio was too much for him. Drina fuelling the Golden Lady's thirst for Sion's identity was too difficult to escape, having Bluebeard's shameless remarks just adds weight to his shoulders.

The cold sweat dried up his skin as he walks his way toward the West Tower. The vines and moss along the unmaintained hallway turning thicker the more he gets near the tower. "Typical Nita." He whispered to himself.

He ascended through the tower's spiral staircase, orange light escaping from the entrance at the top. And upon reaching the tower's chamber, the pungent scent of familiar concoctions and rich ingredients stings his nose. It is an alchemist's tower after all.

"Ian!" Amanita runs bare-footed toward the Sailor to throws herself in his arms.

"I've missed you dearly!" She squirmed out, though their last encounter was only from last night, when they hired the sailor to row her towards the ship of the soon-to-be-dead Tyrant. Successfully navigating the black seas with no sound, no light.

"I miss you too Nita." Ian sets her back to her feet after the long embrace.

"Where's Sion?"

"Why with that sudden question?"

"You meat-head! You promised last night on the boat that you'll bring your spouse tonight if I succeed!" Nita's eyes rolled until she could see her big brain.

"Instead you brought that troll-infested silver cunt!" She continued, "I've known her since we were six and I know what's best for you!"

"D-don't be doltish!" The large sailor stuttered, "You don't even know Sion, you haven't even seen him yet!" His cheeks hot enough to replace Nita's fuming cauldron by the window.

"Exactly, because of your careful schemings! But I know him well enough from your endless stories, love."

"No, em' sorry, but I won't let him travel far from Dirge."

"Fair enough, same reason why you asked him to always wear a hood anyway." Her fingers danced on Ian's hair. "And why you spread the rumours of him having a 'disfigured' face?" she moved and sat atop the paper works on her desk.

"Dirgefolk's Dread? Still sleeping on a pillow of dark-piled sin?" she whispered.

"Don't spout nonsense when you know I'll never bring him here. Drina is far from worse anyways, by the Inferno, you brought Captain fucking Gorebones to dine in your provincial capital though! He's been pillaging the Dirgean sea for weeks now and yet you and Drina feast with him?!"

"That pillaging is necessary, Drina and Elliott Whiteraven consents to it, how else do you think did I managed to infiltrate the Lonesome Isles? Other people helped us too aside from you." She dismissed the subject. A few paces and she's already in front of an ice cabinet, a furniture perfect for preserving live ingredients.

"Want to play the Alchemist's Demise? It's been a year since we last played." She suggests as she grabs a vial from the cabinet.

"By all means, please. It would be long before Drina speculates my absence downstairs." Ian accepts.

"Alright then..." a dirty grin surfaced on Nita's face as she sway through her colourful collections- on proud shelves for poultices and salves, sizzling in their containers with few living insects within them, all of which were made by her.

Ian sat back in admiration as Nita collects the game's elements. All his life he grew up around alchemists and each time they meddle with their area of expertise, the amazement he feels are always fresh and new.

"Alright, clear the table." Nita asked with her hands full of potions. Ian rolled all the papers and collected all parchments aside to provide a clear space.

Amanita set down five various alchemical creations on the table, it could be any potion, salve, antidote, poultice, poison, concoction, and drug.

The catch is; the challenged person should correctly guess the purpose and if possible, the names of the five mixtures presented on the table. Failure to do so will require the loser to consume all unnamed mixtures upon the alchemist's instructions. But if the individual succeeds, he is entitled to own the five correctly guessed potions. Of course, Nita's license always on the line in case of detriment.

"Time is now by the river love. And remember, no tasting." Nita smiled.

Ian inspected the first mixture, which contains some blue mushy residuals from its recent ingredient that sits on the bottle's neck, he knows this somehow.

"These blue ones must be from the leaves Sion chewed when I first taught him how to swim." he answered.

Nita rolled her eyes at the sailor, another long story about his dearest 'Snowberry' is commencing.

"When he was 13, I would always knock on the apothecary when the summer coasts were warm at night to teach him how to swim." He sniffs the content of the mixture.

"One crazy time, he let go of my hand when we were far from the shore and by the inferno... I swear my heart sank at the bottom of the sea when I realized I was alone at the surface." Ian shakes the bottle to test furthermore.

"You must be scared-shitless that he was out of your grasp for a while." Amanita smirked in bore.

"Precisely, so I swam and swam and even reached the seabed just to find him. Turns out he was invisible all along and was laughing from the coastline." Ian closed the blue potion, "Mercean-shroom starch with sea salt mixed in to render the consumer invisible." The sailor answersed.

"Excellent." Nita congratulates.

"Next up is..." Ian eyes an orange vial with a black pigment at its bottom.

"Ah, Sion brews this in powdered form to scatter it on our catch each morning." Nita smiled at Ian's statement, she didn't expect that the potion could be made in powdered form.

"This is Hydenian's bane, made out of Sunset moth extract, good in paralyzing anything drenched in liquid." Answers the Sailor.

"Astounding..." Nita nods.

"Hmmm..." Ian eyed a tall green-coloured potion with a hairy yet gaily winged-spider floating inside. He wished that the numerous spheres at the bottom are not its eggs.

"What in the world have you brewed Nita! Is this safe?" Ian hissed in disgust.

"You know that I taste everything that I make, love, may it be potion or poison." Nita chuckles.

Ian is sure that he saw this before on one of Miriam's top shelves, But he never asked about its uses. He tried to shake the bottle but the liquid is too viscous, he opened the cork to smell the content but it is scentless. After long moments of inspecting, he gave up.

"I don't really know Nita, it poisons the consumer slowly perhaps?" Ian gulps, the thought of having the spider and its probable eggs down his throat gags him.

"How fun!" Nita claps her hands, earning a low groan from Ian.

"Shit." Ian scoffed, aware that his answer is highly wrong.

"Now this is..." Ian stared at a tiny vial of clear liquid akin to water, with few sand-like grains resting at the bottom of it.

"Are you sure this is not plain water or-" Ian's eyes widened as he sniffs the content.

"By the gods Nita! You brewed Child's Blood!"

The Sailor corked in the poison. The mixture is famous among the brothels in the slums, wherein the maidens would drink it to avoid conceiving a babe for months. Dangerous amounts could even lead to permanent effects.

"Not my fault I can brew anything I desire!" Nita smiled grimmer.

"This thing is illegal, you need to hide this." by now they both have a smile on their faces since the Sailor hid it in his pocket.

"Just finish the damn game." Nita shoved the last mixture to the sailor.

"This..." Ian grabs the final bottle. It is filled with red blades of leaves inside. Must be from War Grass- snow weeds that turn red when stepped upon. Excellent for food colouring, nothing more.

"Seriously, food colouring?" Ian held the red mixture up.

"Oh! I must've grabbed the wrong bottle." Nita gasped.

"Oh well, it's a shame that you missed one." Nita announced right ahead, pointing at the green potion containing the spider.

"Please tell me there's an antidote for the poison..."

"It is far from poison Sailor, in fact, it is a concoction. I call it the 'Stallion's Stupor'." Nita giggled as she whirls the concoction in front of Ian's face.

"Drink it tomorrow first thing in the morning to find out its uses." The alchemist decreed her instruction, ending the game all in all. Ian's nose crunched as he grabs the bottle. It is within the game's rules to strictly follow the alchemist's instructions.

"Alright, I better head back pup, Drina must be looking for me by now." Ian kissed Nita's head.

"Yes, I think so too." A yawn escaped her, making her set a bedroll on top of her table.

"Delight in your dreams Nita." Ian whispers as he exits the chamber.

"Yours too love."

The Sailor locked the chamber upon exiting the tower. The air now free from the alchemical stench as he took a deep breath- he needs to prepare for the banquet again, the party is far from over and yet so near to blurring.