Even without a guide, it wasn’t challenging to locate the potion room within the castle. The ingredients had a unique scent, which I could follow easily.

Let’s say. When you mixed herbs with a decora of random creature parts, it was bound to spell ‘different’.

Serlon had been confused at first, doubting my navigation. But that confusion melted into a mocking banter, as we approached a door at the end of a hallway.

“Hah! You’re an overgrown bloodhound,” He scoffed, making no effort to hide his amusement, “I’ll have to tell the prince to sell the dogs.”

“Remember that you need sleep. And I don’t require it,” I rolled my eyes, knocking on the door, “Sleep with one eye open tonight.”

On the door, a wooden slide opened to green eyes. They peered up from the low-placed slit.

“What do you want?” A high-pitched voice questioned, narrowing their eyes, “Don’t you know the time? The moon’s up!”

Serlon stepped in front of me, “Greetings. We are guards from Trane’s royal prince. May we come inside?”

“And you had to come this late?” The voice sassed.

“Well,” Serlon looked over in my direction, “I suppose this could have waited till morning, but it was decided to be handled tonight.”

“You’re lucky I have time right now,” They sighed, the wooden slit closing on the door.

A groan was heard from the other side before an array of locks echoed from inside. The door creaked open, revealing a child no older than fourteen. Large bags rested under her eyes, as she propped the door open.

She was dressed in a long leather apron, covered in mis-colorings of what I assumed to be her last mixture. At least, that’s what it smelled like.

The young girl marched over to the end of the workshop, hopping up on a tall stool that overlooked a table of herbs. Even sitting on the chair, I had to crane my head down to look at her.

“Make it snappy. What can I get for you?” She waved, raising her eyebrows, “I’m a busy person. Chop, Chop.”

“…Are you the potion master here?” Serlon hesitated, trying to clear up his confusion at the ridiculous realization.

“Look musclehead,” She scoffed, crossing her arms, “Turning fourteen next winter. But the way I’ve been working, I might as well be turning thirty. Look I may be young, but I’ve been whipping up potions since I was born.”

She raised three fingers, “Three generations of botanically magical genius. Right here. And my parents are stuck in a meeting, so I’m all you get tonight.”

It didn’t need to be verbalized to understand what both Serlon and I were thinking. First, the potion master at Trane was ancient, now this one is baby-faced. Where was the balance?

“…I see,” Serlon gaped, “We’re looking for two mana potions.”

“Three,” I corrected him, “It’s three.”

One for the hassle on the trip down. Two more for sneaking out of the castle. But Serlon didn’t need to know all the details.

“…Three mana potions then,” He sighed, peering around at the colored sleeves of vials, “If you just point me to the right ones, I’ll grab them and leave.”

Serlon eyed a red vial. They were similar to the mana potions made in Trane. His hand extended to the shelf before getting smacked by a long stick.

“Hands off! Keep your germy hands off my potions,” She scolded, not sporting a branch that came out of nowhere. The girl waved it around, reinstating her point, “You can’t demand things then just take them.”

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I failed to hold my laughter, bending forward in amusement.

“You heard her, Serlon,” I scoffed, “That was rude of you.”

“That does mean you’re off the hook either, beanstalk.” She narrowed her eyes.

The comment sent Serlon into a frenzy. He slapped his knee, having to hold onto a table for support.

Meanwhile, I glared down at the tiny human, “You got guts for someone that doesn’t even come up to my chest.” I warned.

“And you have nerve-threatening someone that you want merchandise from.” She argued.

“Count your days,” I stepped towards her, before a pair of arms wrapped around my torso—an aging face, pleading up with apologetic eyes.

The man hurried to the girl’s side, forcing her into a bow alongside him, “I apologize about my daughter’s behavior! She’s grown up in the castle, so she’s too casual to guests.”

I don’t think casual was the right word for it. Rude? Bratty? –Sure. But it was refreshing to know that someone was sensible. You know what? Fuck that brat.

“No worries. It was quite amusing. It’s always good to laugh in our line of work. Plus, I have my own teenager under my charge,” Serlon grinned, pointing over to me.

I was centuries old, mind you.

The graying man chuckled, grabbing the top of his daughter’s head, “Well it’s nice to know that the youth are so talented. Looking past the attitude, my daughter is recognized by the palace for her potion’s expertise.”

I stepped away from Serlon before he got any ideas. Try to touch me and you’re losing a limb.

To this, the man smiled, extending his arm out to me, “It’s nice to meet you, young man. It’s quite the honor to meet someone so young on Trane’s private troops.”

Serlon’s elbow jerked on instinct. I met the shake wearily, “As to you.” I kept it brief, withdrawing my hand swiftly.

“How old are you, Beanstalk?” The girl piped in, followed by a flick to her forehead, “Hey! You were thinking the same thing!”

“Wait till your mother hears about this,” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, “But, if you don’t mind answering. How old are you? It’s fascinating that you got recruited so young.”

Again, I was centuries old. Practically ancient compared to these humans.

“…Sixteen,” I responded.

The man clapped his hands, “Wow! Sixteen! That’s amazing.”

At this point, Serlon was aware of who I was. But this didn’t stop him from selling the narrative.

“Guard Asta is very capable for his age,” He went on, “I’ll admit that I tend to rely on him a lot. He does his job well. Despite everything, he’s a loyal soldier.”

I doubt he meant it. Still, it was nice to hear that I did something well once in my life. In Hellion, praise was unheard of. Even Dagon and Abdeel were deterred from it, as there was always something else you could’ve done in my father’s eyes.

Win an entire war campaign? Wrong. You should’ve finished it earlier. Siege a main encampment? Weak. It would have been destroyed already if you were strong enough.

Granted. It was always done to keep the bloodline reputable. Morningstars needed to be feared at all times. My father expected us to be perfect vessels of war. I was proof of what would happen if you couldn't do that.

“Amazing! I see,” The man sighed, “Well, what brings you here?”

“They want two mana potions,” The girl added in, pointing to the red vials on the shelf.

“It’s three,” I reminded everyone again.

Serlon nodded, “That’s correct. We’re looking for three mana potions to store with us,” He lied.

This was to deter any questions as to why a guard needed mana potions. Magic users had their own unit because it was considered specialized fighting.

“That’s no problem,” The father sighed, walking over to reach for three of the red vials. If you require more during your stay, our doors are always open.”

He handed the vials over to Serlon, “They’re higher quality. So, it would be best to hide them on your way out of the kingdom. Potions sell quite well on the night market. We’ve had to warn the visiting nobles about it.”

“I see,” Serlon nodded, “Thank you for the warning. It shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll excuse ourselves to let you work.”

“Next time, consider coming in the daylight,” The girl cheered, as we walked to the door.

Again, an apologetic farewell followed after, “You’re welcome back at any time! Enjoy your potions.”

With that, the door closed behind us. Shushed scolding came from the inside, as the father lectured his daughter on proper mannerisms. To this, huffs and groans were the only responses.

“Human kids,” I mumbled under my breath, following Serlon down the hallway.

Serlon shoved the potions into my arms, not bothering to peer back, “Take your damn potions. Are you happy now?”

“Yeah. I’m very happy now,” I mused, tucking them into my belt pockets, “You’re so generous.”

“Greedy Dragon,” He scoffed, “You deserved every bit of that kid’s sass, beanstalk.”

“You’re just upset because you’re shorter than me too,” I commented, earning a grumble from the guard.

He slowed his pace, striding alongside me, as I finished shoving the potions into my pockets. The joking expression had dulled into the one he’d worn this whole trip.

“Why do you need the mana potions? You have enormous mana capabilities, don’t you?” He questioned, trying to pry into the matter.

I have no intention of revealing my still-healing injury. They didn’t need information that they could use against me. Even if I was playing nicely with the humans, I wasn’t raised to be careless either.

Nor was I stupid enough to reveal my weaknesses. The reveal of my banishment was to strengthen my position here. Where I had struck a civil deal, too much suspicion would have been bothersome too.

That’s not to say that Serlon wasn’t breathing down my neck. But it prevented even more of that. If I remained in my position of my loss of connection from Hellion, it would be beneficial.

My connection with Dagon was limited too. I refrained from calling him through the mana stone carelessly. Though I wanted to question him about every aspect of the war, we were both in difficult positions.

Not to mention, who knows if my father knew that I was alive. Who knew what ARC had evolved into either? Plus, my relationships with my brothers were tactical at best. Lord knows what Adbeel was doing. There were too many loose ends to consider.

“It doesn’t hurt to have more,” I fibbed, “Is that wrong of me?”

Serlon sighed, “Whatever. Speaking of mana…” He continued, lowering his voice, “The reason Eran is going to the towers is because of the light magic.”

“I figured that much,” I shrugged, “I’d prefer not to have holes burned through my flesh anyway.”

He looked down at my hand. The bandages were off, but the healing skin was still raw. If anything, it looked like I had burned myself with a hot kettle.

“I was expecting you to be furious at the mention of teaching light magic against the demon army,” He admitted, turning down another hallway. His voice was low enough, so as not to have the posted knights hear.

“Light magic has been used against demons for centuries. It just so happens that humans use it now. It’s how war works. If my brothers can’t adapt to it, then they deserve to die anyway.” I digressed.

“I mean,” Serlon gaped, “In a fucked-up sense, you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” I scoffed.

“Keep lying to yourself about that then. It gives you something to think about at night.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be too occupied on deciding to kill you.”