Malum felt the danger remain even as he left the Knight temple. It seemed as though that final Knight was never convinced that he wasn’t the criminal. Even as he left and waved off the Knight it seemed as though the danger had only thickened.

Frowning, Malum touched the dagger hidden inside of his coat. Murder certainly wasn’t off the table but the reaction to that had no guarantee that it wouldn’t blow back on him anyway.

He felt the cold iron of the dagger, and ran his finger across it blade. The sharp edge, giving a small cut on his finger.

Moving towards the house, he put his thoughts to the side and focused on the present. The most important matter at present was the wave which would come in only a few days.

With travel, he would need to leave in in two days. Jameson had already sent off a letter about his illness which would mean the Section would get a bit hectic.

Malum wanted a delay, something to take the cities attention away from the heist for a moment and what better way to do that then one of his high-grade poisons.

If Malum was going to be distracted, he was sure not to leave his enemies time to gain an advantage. With such thoughts in mind, Malum visited the herbal stores before he arrived home and with it coming noon the market was packed with buyers and sellers.

A small little vial of blood was all he needed as he had the rest of the supplements at the mansion.

Several packed roads later and he arrived back at the estate.

Walking inside he first made his way towards Jameson’s master bedroom where he found the patient with Florence sat by his bed.

Florence shook of his lethargy seeing his partner in crime and spoke for both himself and Jameson, “Malum! Did it go to plan?”

Malum gave his partners a smile, “For the most part. There is one Knight which thinks poorly of me but the rest are sold on my innocence.”

He saw Jameson week face fall into a smile after which Florence said, “So how are you going to deal with him?”

Malum held up the vial of blood and said, “Just about to concoct that now. Are you and Jameson fine by yourselves?”

Jameson nearly glared at him. For as much as the bitter cold froze his body, behind his eyes was the fire of his spirit.

Florence said, “We will be fine. Good luck.”

Malum saluted the two before he walked over to his makeshift potions room. In reality it was just a few makeshift tools with a variety of different pots, good size desks, and a good fireplace.

It was better than his inn at least.

Walking inside Malum first filled the pot with some mundane water before he brought it to a near boil with a roaring fire. In the recipe it said that this part made the potion spread quicker, something Malum would like to test independently as to why exactly but for now he added the main ingredient.

The red quickly took colour and whilst it was still warm, Malum added a few Scratch Berries. Not something that would carry over great effects but the odd occasion would be reported to healers and it would act as good decoy to add some time for the sickness to be cured.

He didn’t want anything to complex so he brought the mixture down to normal temperatures and added it to a waterskin. He made sure to separate his own and the poison before he informed his friends of his outing and then made his way towards the nearest water well.

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They weren’t the nicest places to visit to Malum avoided them as much as he could. They were muddy, sweaty, and stinking places to go to a now Malum was only going to make it worse.

He felt the waterskin and felt several spots appear on his body. They were itchy, and hot, annoying spots that took weeks to disappear.

Called Kobalt Spots they were from the consumption of goblin blood and usually happened when one of the soldiers who had found the common Beast, slayed it, then cleaned their blade by the well or cleaned their bloody clothes with the wells water, then drank it.

Malum shook of his imaginations images and followed his way down the street. The well was close and he quickly shuffled over and got out his poison water skin.

A few Workers were sat by the well, having a chat.

“Those bastards want more and more: every day, I can’t deal with it.”

Another said, “How are we supposed to get 4 loads worth in just an hour?”

“It’s impossible.”

The loss of coin had put pressure on every worker to make up the difference. Jameson revenge hadn’t been a clean one, Malum knew that just as much as Jameson did.

Now he was only going to make it worse.

Guilt wasn’t something he felt often but as he poured the potion into the well and thought of their suffering he couldn’t help but feel the ugly emotion run into the deepest depth of his broken heart.

Malum shook of the emotion. It was either guilt or danger, and that choice was easy.

He prayed for the workers, to the God of Luck, and the God of Good. Perhaps they could help them get through the day.

The workers still stumbled off as they had finished refilling their waterskins. Their dusty faces, smiling as one of them told a joke about their boss.

Malum turned away from them before he headed home. This was why he didn’t want to go out so much. Seeing suffering was different then hearing it and whilst the workers smiled, Malum knew that even slaves could smile.

Arriving back, Malum settled down for the final few days until duty called.

In the meantime, a solider came round to check on the condition of Jameson and see if he was actually ill. Many soldiers had tried to avoid service with the petty excuse but the army had zero tolerance.

If you were caught faking illness then it was a cowardice charge and only the gallows would follow.

Malum spent the rest of the time creating potions, whether they be poisons to help with the wave or medicine for Jameson. He also drank yet another body enhancement elixir which again gave him diminishing returns.

New strength still ran through his veins so Malum had little to complain about.

Getting ready to leave and Malum was packing for his trip. His senses remined fairly relaxed before he felt a small pinch on the side of his arm.

He switched to focusing on Intuition and looked around the room to see that a faint layer of danger was wrapped around quite a few herbs and some of the instruments he had left around.

Getting closer to a few and Malum tried to find what danger could be related to such seemingly unrelated objects.

A Black Lizards Tongue, A Green Sparrows Feather, A dirtied pair of scissors?

What on earth did they have in common?

Malum rummaged through his mind, but the hint that found the answer was radiating on his very belt. He only noticed it as he went to sit down.

A waterskin, the waterskin he used to poison the well. It would certainly make sense as to why that would bring danger as if somebody found it they could link him to the crime instantly.

That was it. Malum brain clicked and the answer revealed itself.

Every instrument, every herb, were for poisonous purposes. This wasn’t the laboratory of a docter but one of a poison expert and in the heist there had been exactly one of those involved.

What it also meant was that the room would be searched somehow, and if that was true that meant that Knight had indeed not given up on the hunt.

The small thread had revealed the entire web. Now Malum just had to untangle the situation.

He had already tried to distract the Knight; another attempt was going to be hard given the tough time constraint of only a few hours.

Or did he even need to do anything? Removing the herbs and tools would turn his poison lab into a purely docter like lab and that would turn danger opportunity.

Malum liked such a thought, and choose it the second he had thought of it.

He collected the incriminating herbs, and picked up the chosen tools.

With them in hand, he then made his way towards the garden where he began to dig a whole. Similar to the one the treasure was in, he chucked in the tools and then the herbs were piled on top. With such lacking conditions, in even a day they would become worthless so Malum decided to light them on fire and slowly he buried even that as well.

He then evened out the earth, and tried his best to mold the new flat piece of brown into the green and gorgeous garden. Even if they dug it up, they would only find a bit of dead greenery and some old tools.

Malum felt a layer of the danger surrounding him disappear. Like a scissor cutting a string, he felt a curtain of red fall into a lighter shade of red.

Like a weight had been lifted off his soldiers, Malum walked back in and continued to prepare. As much as he wanted to kick his legs up after such a victory he couldn’t.

War called.