Fendrel clutched the leather satchel close to his chest as he navigated the winding streets toward the noble district. His fingers traced the outline of the vials through the worn material. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows between the buildings, marking his transition from the merchant quarter to the more affluent areas of the city.

The first checkpoint had been simple - a flash of copper coins and a mumbled explanation about medical deliveries got him through. But as the cobblestones grew smoother and the buildings taller, his heart rate picked up. The Blackthorn mansion loomed ahead, its dark stone walls a stark contrast to the whitewashed facades surrounding it.

Two city guards in polished breastplates blocked his path before he reached the mansion gates. Their hands rested on sword hilts.

"Hold it right there." The taller guard's eyes narrowed. "State your business."

"I have a delivery for the Blackthorns. Medical supplies." Fendrel kept his voice steady, though sweat trickled down his back.

"Medical supplies?" The second guard stepped closer, his nose wrinkling at Fendrel's worn clothes. "Let's see the Blackthorn seal then."

"I... the seal?"

"Their mark. The one they give to authorized vendors." The guard's hand tightened on his sword. "You do have authorization to make deliveries to the Blackthorn house, don't you?"

Fendrel's mouth went dry. "I- there wasn't time. The situation is urgent-"

"Check his bag," the first guard ordered.

Rough hands yanked the satchel away. Glass clinked as the second guard rummaged through it, pulling out vials of shifting colors.

"What's all this then?" The guard held a dark purple vial to the light. "These don't look like any medical supplies I've seen."

"They're specialized treatments, I can explain-"

"Save it for the captain." The first guard grabbed Fendrel's arm. "We've had reports of illegal substance trafficking in this district. You're coming with us to the garrison."

"This is a mistake, I-" Pain shot through Fendrel's shoulder as they twisted his arms behind his back.

"Move it." They marched him back down the street, his precious vials still clutched in the second guard's hand.

The garrison's stone walls pressed in around Fendrel as the guards shoved him into a cramped room. His satchel landed on the wooden table with a clatter of glass, the contents rolling across the scratched surface.

"Quite the collection." The taller guard, who'd introduced himself as Sergeant Drace, held up a vial of purple liquid. "Strange medicine indeed."

"Those are specialized treatments." Fendrel's voice cracked. "For Lord Blackthorn's condition-"

Drace exchanged a look with the others, some confusion passing between them.

"Lord Blackthorn's personal physician is Master Theron." The second guard slammed his palms on the table. "Everyone knows that."

"I'm his new assistant. If you'd just send word to the mansion-"

Sergeant Drace laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the stone. "An assistant? In those rags?" He gestured at Fendrel's stained clothes. "You expect us to believe the Blackthorns hired some slum rat?"

"Check the vials. They're legitimate medical-"

A backhand caught him across the face. "Enough lies." The second guard grabbed his collar. "What's your real game? Are you perhaps the poisoner everyone is looking for? Selling illegal drugs?"

"No, I-"

Another blow snapped his head back. Blood trickled from his split lip.

"Take him below." Sergeant Drace gathered the vials into a cloth bag. "Maybe giving him some special treatment down there will loosen his tongue."

They dragged him down narrow stairs into the garrison's basement. The musty air carried hints of old blood and fear. His legs buckled as they threw him against a wooden post.

"Last chance." Drace cracked his knuckles. "Who are you working for?"

"Nobody, I swear. I'm just trying to-"

A fist drove into his ribs. Pain exploded through his chest. Another blow followed, then another. Through the haze, Fendrel tasted copper in his mouth.

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"The truth!" The second guard grabbed his hair, yanking his head back. "What's in these vials?"

"Healing potions." Fendrel spat blood. "For treating... treating joint pain and fever."

"Wrong answer."

Something hard - a cudgel maybe - struck his lower back. Fendrel screamed. They couldn't know about the poisons. That would mean execution. He had to think of something, anything...

"I'm a failed apprentice!" The words tumbled out between gasps. "Trying to... to prove myself. Thought if I could show my skills... maybe get noticed by a noble house..."

"By sneaking in unauthorized?" Drace sneered.

"Desperate... was desperate..." Fendrel sagged against the post. "Please... just check with the mansion..."

Drace paced in front of Fendrel, his boots scraping against the stone floor. "A failed apprentice needs a lab. Where's yours?"

"In the slums." Blood dripped from Fendrel's split lip. "Near the old tannery district."

"The slums?" Drace's eyebrows rose. "Then the local guards must know you. Any of them can vouch for your... legitimate business?"

Hope flickered in Fendrel's chest. A way out. "Yes! The patrol officers, they've visited my shop before. They can tell you-"

"Perfect." Drace's lips curled into a smile. He turned to the second guard. "Send word to those incompetent idiots. Tell them to raid his place properly this time. Find whatever evidence we need to hang this piece of filth, unless he wants to confess now."

The blood drained from Fendrel's face as realization struck. "No, wait! Please, I'm telling the truth. I'm not-"

"Shut it." The second guard's fist connected with his stomach. "Save your breath for your confession."

"You don't understand." Fendrel doubled over, chains rattling. "I'm innocent. There's nothing illegal there. Please, just let me-"

"Nothing illegal?" Drace grabbed Fendrel's jaw. "Then you won't mind us having a thorough look, will you? Maybe we'll find more of these strange 'medical supplies' of yours."

"No..." Fendrel struggled against his restraints. If they found his poison supplies, the evidence would damn him. "You can't. You can't just-"

"I can't what?" Drace laughed. "I can do whatever I want with criminals like you."

Fendrel's vision blurred from the next punch. It has been hours now. His chest burned with each breath, his ribs likely broken screamed in protest. Blood mixed with saliva dripped from his mouth onto the stone floor.

The door above creaked open. Multiple sets of footsteps descended the stairs. Through swollen eyes, Fendrel made out several well-dressed figures entering the basement.

"What is the meaning of this?" A sharp, authoritative voice cut through the basement's heavy air.

"This man was caught sneaking around with suspicious vials-" Sergeant Drace began.

"This man," the man in the lead wore the Blackthorn crest on his jacket, "is working for House Blackthorn. Release him. Now."

"But sir, he had no mark, no papers-"

The noble's man's face reddened. "And did you think to send someone to confirm with the mansion before beating him half to death?" The noble's man stepped closer, his face twisted in disgust. "Or did you assume your fists would reveal the truth faster?"

The second guard fumbled with the chains. "We were just following protocol-"

"Protocol?" The man's voice rose. "Protocol is to investigate thoroughly, not immediately resort to torture. Do you have any idea what delay you've caused? Our master requires his services urgently."

Fendrel slumped forward as the chains fell away. One of the noble's men caught him before he hit the ground.

"My lord will hear of this incompetence." The lead man snapped. "Consider yourselves fortunate if you keep your positions after this... incident."

"We couldn't have known-" Drace began.

"Exactly. You couldn't have known, yet you acted as if you did." The noble's man helped steady Fendrel. "Come. We'll escort you to the mansion ourselves. These... officers have delayed the delivery long enough."

They guided Fendrel up the stairs, past the now-silent guards. His legs shook with each step, but the firm grip on his arms kept him moving forward.

"The vials," Fendrel managed through swollen lips. "I need them..."

"Return his belongings," the man in front of them ordered. "All of them."

"Sir," Drace called after them, "if we had some indication he was working for-"

The man spun around. "Save your excuses. You'll need them when explaining to your superiors why you assaulted our master's alchemist without cause."

Fendrel limped between the men, his bruised ribs protesting with each step. "Thank you for getting me out of there. I thought-"

"Save it." The man in the Blackthorn livery cut him off. "You're here because Lady Elena needs treatment. Nothing more."

"But-"

"Listen carefully." The man's grip tightened on Fendrel's arm. "If you fail to cure her, or if we catch you sneaking around without proper authorization again, you're on your own. Clear?"

Fendrel nodded, swallowing hard.

They led him through the mansion's ornate halls to a bedroom where the young woman lay pale and sweating. Her condition visibly deteriorated during the few days he worked on the antidote, her skin bore purple marks, with her eyelids being completely black.

He slowly touched her forearm with his fingers again.

[STATUS]

NAME: Elena Blackthorn

CLASS: Unknown

RACE: Human

ACTIVE EFFECTS: Silkslither Toxin poisoning - stage 2/3

Fendrel's hands shook as he uncorked the antidote vial. He opened Elena's lips, carefully letting her drink the antidote. Her breathing steadied almost immediately, the purple marks beginning to fade.

[STATUS EFFECT INFLUENCED] Poisoning effect on Elena Blackthorne neutralized.

[NEW PASSIVE SKILL]: Detoxification Amplification

Another weird skill I have never heard of.

He pressed two fingers to her wrist, checking her pulse.

"The antidote worked." Fendrel stepped back from the bed. "The poison's been neutralized. She will recover within hours."

The attendants rushed forward to examine Elena themselves. After several tense moments, one nodded. "Her fever's breaking. Color's returning."

A servant pressed a heavy coin purse into Fendrel's hands. "Your payment, as agreed. Now leave. And do not return without invitation."

Fendrel limped through the darkened streets of the slums, his ribs screaming with each step. The coin purse felt heavy in his pocket, but the weight did little to ease his pain. Blood crusted on his split lip, and his left eye had swollen nearly shut.

He fumbled with his key at the shop's back entrance, hands trembling from exhaustion. The lock clicked open. As he pushed the door, the familiar scent of herbs and chemicals hit him - but something else lingered beneath. Metallic. Sharp.

His foot caught on something soft just inside the doorway. He looked down.

A city guard lay sprawled across his threshold, throat slashed open. Blood pooled beneath the corpse, soaking into the floorboards.