Present Day...

Routy is a guard for a munitions storehouse near to the border. He runs the night watch, which means he needs to have good vision in the dark. Many thieves and vagabonds may come looking for the powerful explosives and automatic weaponry the empire held, despite the storehouse being a secret in plain sight. Luckily for him, his grandfather, a master glassblower, crafted him goggles that granted him some limited darkvision.

But what are goggles without eyes to use them?

“Where can I find the person who made these?” a rough voice asked Routy, dangling his special goggles on his pinky finger. He was a man with a large presence, an ominous one too, his massive black coat like a hungry mass consuming his body. He wore a mask crudely mimicking the beak of a raven, complete with it’s silvery glint. Through the holes in his bird mask’s eyes, a green shine peaked out, glaring at Routy as the poor man hung upside down outside his own storehouse, suspended by a thick rope.

“Why do you want that?” he cried into the dead of night. He was the only guard here, at least the only one awake.

“He’s not going to answer until you do, asshole!” yelled a smaller voice beside the large man. A goblin, only around three feet tall, wearing all black as well. He wore a wool jumper that made him more nimble and light, he also wore some tight fitting black pants over his green skin. His tough and mean face was quite juxtaposed to his circular glasses, but quite fitting with his fiery ginger locks covered by a black bowler hat.

“F-fine… I got them in the capital…” the man sputtered out, sweat dripping from each pore of his face.

“Alright. Where?” the raven masked man said softly, yet sternly.

“My grandfather's shop, Rube Alley, second district…” the guard shuttered, his face was now a shade of uneasy purple.

“That’ll be all.” the raven faced man said. “You will only speak of me as Sickbringer, and you will recall nothing else that happened tonight.”

“Just.. Please don’t kill me… I’ll do it...” the guard stuttered, on the brink of tears. Without another word, the Sickbringer pulls out a small knife and cuts through the rope, dropping Routy onto the floor.

“Let’s go.” the goblin muttered, ushering them both into the dark night.

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The Next Day, Noon…

The black robed man wakes up, wasted and drunk in his bed. His sheets are loosely wrapped around him, unlike how he normally prefers. He sighs softly, looking over to his bedside table. Several bottles and pieces of junk lay there. These bottles weren’t alcohol though, they were empty bottles, used for holding elixir. They had a special glass used so that they’d not melt or break under the exposure to magic.

He did see one bottle that was used for something else though. Vodka, it wasn’t too strong, but one drink or three was enough to get him to sleep. He was quite a lightweight.

He sat up when he heard scattering on the floor, a mouse. His mouse, rolling around in an enchanted glass ball, almost unbreakable. He’d forgotten about her the prior night, he remembered.

Decidedly, he stood up, quickly at first, but then slowly, feeling as if he’d fall over.

Groggily, he made his way over to the ball and picked it up and turned around and plopped the rodent back into her cage.

At that moment, the door swung open. His goblin friend gave him a look and shook his head in shame.

“Of all the people, you’d think you would be the one to know what that shit will do to you, Xan.” he said in a grimy voice.

“I’m not an alcoholic. Just really need some sleep these days.” Xanthus groaned, yawning.

“You know better than to leave your alcohol where I can see it too. It’s hard enough being sober, what with my master leaving his booze out in the open.” the goblin sighed, leaning on the foot of the bed frame.

“Geoff, I told you not to use that word.” Xanthus sternly requested.

“I don’t know why you’re so offended. I mean it more in a master to apprentice kinda way.” Geoff explained himself. “When you’re ready, I can start on breakfast.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“That’d be lovely. Thank you, my friend.” Xanthus smiled weakly, peering into his dresser mirror. He looked at his now-dyed-white hair, long, droopy, like a weeping willow. His bright green irises shone so mesmerizingly, he’d often gaze into them, and get lost in thought.

He removed his heavy overcoat and hung it on the back of his door. He then walked over to the bathroom for his shower. Xanthus loved simple things, like a warm meal, and water upon one's back.

Undressing, he stepped into his shower and bathed with a small smile across his face. He got out, dried with a towel, and dressed. He wore a black ruffled woolen jumper and some warm pants, perfect for protecting against the harsh winter ahead, even indoors.

He shaved, brushed his teeth, and descended the stairs to the kitchen. Upon the gas hob, bacon sizzled in a pan, guided by Geoff, who stood upon a wooden stool, the goblin too short to cook without it.

“Mmmm.” Xanthus said, licking his lips. Bacon was a favorite of his.

“You think we should go to the capital today?” the goblin muttered. He was still wearing his green and white striped pajamas as he cooked, not bothering to change.

“It’s been a long week. Let’s just open the shop today, we can rest before we go tomorrow.” Xanthus planned, his voice calm and relaxed. He much preferred it this way, as opposed to all the constant action he was often forced into. His line of work as an alchemist and physician was rather calm, for him at least, but his own desires required… mess.

“Sounds good.” Geoff said, flipping the bacon. “I have some leftovers in the coldbox, want to have some of those?”

“What do we have?” asked Xanthus, relaxing on the sofa.

Geoff walks over to a cabinet, and slides the stool he was on over. He opens up, and an arctic chill passes over him. The cabinet had magical ice cubes in each corner, projecting a coldness that kept food fresh. While magic like wasn’t common, or affordable, once you got one, you were set, the cubes never melted.

“We have some pancakes we didn’t finish. Also some bread if ya wanna have a bacon sandwich.” Geoff called out.

“Bacon and cold pancakes sound nice.” Xanthus requested, throwing a blanket over himself.

“Good, good. Oh, by the way. I think the steam bill is in the mailbox, could you check on it?” asked Geoff, pulling the stack of pancakes out from the coldbox.

“Yeah, I’ll open up shop after. I could run the place by myself today if you wanna run down to the bank and pay that.” the couch potato suggested.

“Mmmm… forgot to tell ya… I may or may not be… not allowed at that bank again…” Geoff cringed embarrassingly. He put the pancakes on the plates, along with the warm bacon, and then grabbed the honey and drizzled it over the lovely, yet mundane food.

“Good Archimedes…”

“Hey, I did nothing! They had a robbery hosted by a buncha my people a week’a’so back and now they are goin’ all racist on us.”

Xanthus sighed, standing up from his seat. “I’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.”

Right then, there was a knock at the door. It was frantic, fast, and shocking. Xan immediately runs over and opens it.

Outside is a female nurse with brown hair, wearing white and covered in panic.

“Something the matter?” Xanthus managed to get out before she started talking.

“Five town guards have come down with a life threatening sickness! You’re the town alchemist, right?” she panted, obviously having run here as fast as her legs could carry her.

“And a physician. I could help… Just give me a minute to gather my things. Wait right there.” Xanthus told the woman, shutting the door, a little annoyed.

“You don’t think that could be the same-” Geoff began, following Xanthus to his doctor’s bag.

“Yeah, it is. That fits the description of what I used on them.” the alchemist whispered, as not to have the nurse outside hear.

“What if they notice you!?” Geoff whispered back worriedly.

“Then we kill them.”