For the next few days, Lucas and his patient were basically stuck roughing it. Deliveries of food occurred once or twice a day, along with frequent supplies of medicinal brandy for the Viscount’s pain. On the third day, when rain threatened, they retreated from their forest camp to an old cottage at the edge of Parin land that had been used for cider production back when their Orchards were large enough to justify such an activity.

From his walks through the woods in search of ingredients for potions, Lucas had long ago figured out that this land had all been cultivated before it had fallen into disrepair. Many of the trees, especially older ones, were in neat rows. As he wandered through them, looking for the right ingredients picking up the odd apple, he gave that little incongruity a lot of thought.

It was strange enough to make him wonder if the story the Viscount had told him about taxes and all the rest might be bullshit. It was clear that despite the beauty of the actual mansion, house Parin had fallen on hard times.

“It happened after my father died,” the Lord confessed to him one night when he was halfway drunk in an attempt to ward off the pain of his injury. “He’d spent too much money on investments that didn’t pay off, and as a result… well, it’s a mess. Let’s leave it at that.”

When Lucas pressed further, he got some nonanswers about gambling. That triggered his bullshit detector, but he didn’t say anything. It’s not like it was his business. He was here to keep the lord breathing, which seemed to be pretty much a sure thing now.

None of that was the reason he left the Viscount by himself most days. Instead, it was the easiest way to ignore his subtle requests for something stronger.

“You know this brandy helps take the edge off; I just wish it had a bit more punch.”

“This pain is almost bearable. Do you think you might be able to help me out?”

“You know, ever since your little surgery, I’ve barely been able to sleep a wink. Do you have anything that might help me out with that?”

Every day, the Viscount found another way to ask him for another hit of Blue without quite asking him. Once, when Lucas came back from a mushroom hunt, he even found the man looking through his things to see if he’d left that little bauble behind.

He hadn’t of course. That was an overdose just waiting to happen. It was basically junkie logic 101.

Lucas had tried to help him where he could. He’d made several potions that weren’t as strong as he would like with the ingredients on hand, but none of those were going to scratch the Viscount’s true craving. The man had tasted heaven, and he wanted more. Lucas understood that only too well.

Tainted Curative (3 doses): endurance 4 (for the purposes of recovery only), poison 2.

Potion of Lethargy (4 doses): Lesser sleep, lethargy (12 hours), poison 1.

He wasn’t anyone’s mother, but he wasn’t going to enable the man either. Even when Adin had come right out and offered to pay for another hit on the fourth day, Lucas had turned him down flat. “It’s your silver man. If you want to buy another dose, I’m happy to sell, but only after you’re well. I didn’t save your life just so you could overdose on my watch.”

“Overdose?” the Viscount laughed. “If there was that danger last time, then why did you let me have it?”

“Don’t try to turn this around, man,” Lucas shot back. “There's a big difference between ‘this dude is about to undergo surgery without anesthesia’ and ‘this guy wants to get high.’”

“What’s Anesthesia?” the Viscount asked with a look of confusion on his face. He was an educated man, and it had been apparent to Lucas for a while that his occasional use of unfamiliar words annoyed the noble. Right now, he didn’t care.

“Exactly,” Lucas said as he walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

He didn’t really need more herbs at this point, but honestly, he didn’t know what else to do. There weren’t any particularly rare ingredients around here. With his one pan and a campfire set up, he’d already replaced the potions that he’d borrowed from the Parin’s with stuff that was almost as good, and he had enough sagethorn root and silver leaf to make another half dozen if he needed to.

Truthfully, at this point, it was harder to find a good worm-free apple in the woods than any number of useful but common herbs. He’d even seen some redcaps, though he had no need of a new cyanide capsule just now.

That thought was enough to remember the berserker that had almost gotten all of them killed. It was hard to blame him for that. Hura’gh wasn’t the one who had rolled the dice with a tainted potion and hoped for the best.

Any average person could take poison one or two without much more than a stomach ache. Lucas knew from personal experience that he could handle up to about four before he was as sick as a dog, but seven? That was the territory strictly reserved for orcs and dwarves. Surviving that sort of thing without liver damage or worse was a coin flip.

This time, as Lucas was lost in thought, he didn’t go into the woods. It was too early for that. The sun had not yet risen sufficiently high to chase away the shadows for his liking.

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Instead, he wandered the fallow fields dominated by tall switch grass between the trees and the house. It was afternoon, and he supposed a sharp-eyed guard could theoretically see him, but he didn’t look all that different from the peasant foragers that he’d seen around looking for edible mushrooms, fallen apples, and other tubers.

Lucas didn’t judge them. Everyone had to eat, and in a world without convenience stores, things could get pretty tough. Hunger was a force of nature he’d never known until he’d come here. Not even on the street.

While he strolled to cool off from how much the situation with the Viscount annoyed him, he noted the violet blossoms of witch grass, and he was tempted to take it, but he decided not to. It was only one of five ingredients he needed to make blue, and though he only really needed two other things to turn the vivid flower into a weak mana potion, he didn’t really need one of those either. Maybe if he had some vials, he could make some to sell for some traveling money, but that was a process in itself.

Still, it was hard to waste such a find, and even after he walked past them the first time, he returned and began to pluck them one at a time, just below the head. He would dry them and put them to use later. Whether they turned into gold or silver, leaving the money on the ground just because he was in a funk was wasteful.

Witch Grass Blossoms (raw): Mana 4, Poison 3, intelligence 1, maximum mana increased in proportion to soul or int for 6 hours.

He didn’t know much about the stuff, except that witches and other nonmages sometimes used the stuff to curse people and perform other rituals. Most people said it was just a fable and it didn’t actually work, but looking at the stats on the thing, it was hard to believe it didn’t. Some people got worked up enough to deal with the fact that the bitter little things were going to make them as sick as a dog, and they got to pretend to be wizards for a few hours. A few other herbs could be added to increase the effect, but he'd never been tempted to try it.

Lucas didn’t want any part of that, though. The only magic he needed was the kind that jingled in his pockets.

Still, he was only halfway through gathering the little, thumb-sized flowers when she found him. Well, found was putting it too politely. He heard someone moving through the grass, and when she scared the crap out of him.

“Christ, woman… a Lady Parin, don’t sneak up on a guy like that,” he cried out. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be out here with us until the guards left and—”

“They’ve gone,” she cut in cheerily. “You don’t have to call me Lady Parin, by the way. That’s so stuffy. Call me Denaria instead. What’s your name?”

Lucas shrugged at that and smiled back. She was obviously very sweet and had an infectious smile. That made it impossible to be mad at her. “Lucas. Lucas Sharpe and the pleasure is all mine,” he said, smiling a little wider as he suddenly felt self-conscious. “I suppose you’ll want to see your brother, then?”

“In a minute,” she nodded, “But first, I was hoping to learn more about the man that saved him. Gerwin didn’t have many kind things to say about you after you barged into my room and saw me in my… errmmm… underthings, but decorum can hardly be expected when lives are on the line. Truly, he should have given you the medicine you needed without even bothering with me!”

“Well, in your defense, your outfit was a lot closer to a burka than a bikini,” he smiled. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. As to your butler, he was just doing what he had to do in the same way that I was just doing what I had to do. It all worked out okay.”

“True,” she agreed. “Where did you meet Adin? Have you known him long?”

“He was in the cell across from me when I was dragged into the dungeon. That’s all,” Lucas answered. “I knew him perhaps two hours before we busted out of there.”

“So you’re a criminal?” she asked, looking scandalized for the first time in the whole conversation. “What did you do? Nothing too dreadful, I hope!”

“I mean, I didn’t kill anyone if that’s what you’re getting at…” he said before his mind flashed to that guard. Lucas didn’t think he’d killed the guy, but honestly, he wasn’t really sure either way. “At least, I probably didn’t. Regardless. It’s not really my thing. I’m more of a business… err, tradesman, an alchemist, really.”

“An alchemist, then, how interesting,” she smiled. “It was probably just a misunderstanding with the King that led you down this dark road then?”

“Something like that,” he agreed as she looked at the way her gaze studied his purple-stained fingertips. “Let’s just say I was making too much money and got the attention of the wrong people. That’s all.”

“Well, then it only makes sense you’d get locked up in the same cell as my brother,” she said excitedly. “He had much the same dilemma. Something about logging rights or market fees. King Velonian and his tax collectors have certainly been prickly lately. It’s not as if we even have much silver left in the house to satisfy them!”

Lucas noted that her laced trimmed floral outfit and simple silver jewelry probably cost a handful of gold dragons but said nothing. She was too young to worry about these things and too cheerful to have her naive hypocrisy shoved in her face. Instead, he just answered questions about different flowers as they made their way to the tiny cabin where her brother was sleeping.

This one could be used in potions of speed, that one was poisonous, but you could mill the seeds for lamp oil, and this pretty pink one just smelled nice. She was very impressed that he knew the name of every plant she pointed at, but given that it appeared as a pop-up that only he could see, it wasn’t anything special. He was just reading off a cheat sheet.

When they reached the tiny cider house, Lucas wasn’t surprised to find that Lord Parin had gone through his shit again. This time, he’d downed the entire bottle of the potion of lethargy, which meant that he was going to be out like a light for hours.

“As you can see, he still needs time to uhmm… recover, but I think that given enough time, he’ll be fine,” Lucas said, trying not to curse the rat fuck out and make him look even worse in front of his sister. “But I’ve done everything I can, so there’s no reason I can’t just get on the road now and—”

“Oh, please, you must stay,” Denaria insisted. “At least until we’ve had a proper feast to thank you for all you’ve done.”

“Really, I appreciate it, but the longer I stick around, the more trouble I’ll…” he answered. Those protests died on his lips as she began to pout, though, and finally, he said, “Fine, but just one more day, and then I really have to be going.”