"This is Samir Higgins, a famous mage known for his vast knowledge of purifying magics," the barkeeper introduced them to the newcomer.
Samir looked much like how Liel thought of a Mongolian shaman. He was wearing a hat with animated individual facial expressions and a number of feathers, as well as cotton pendants. His deel was light in color, probably of goat leather. A little drum hanging from his back obscured most of the time.
"You're too generous with your praise, Odie," the Mongolian shaman said, taking a seat beside Liel. "Mystic Sour, please."
"Right away, sir," the barkeeper – Odie, turned his back and went to make the requested drink.
"So," Samir clapped his hands, making some beads from his bracelet to clank against each other, "Who might you be and what can I help you with?"
"Liel Leinster," and he pointed to the red-haired girl with freckles on her cheek, "Naomi G– Ashmark."
Naomi shot a confused look, but it soon dissipated as she started. "My village is cursed by a mage. Since then, all males inside the village experience severe stomach pain every evening, just before the sun sets, and then again right at midnight. Then, throughout the day, their body heat would rise drastically."
"That's very specific," Samir commented. "I'll charge five thousand drams for it."
Naomi sputtered, "Wha- five thousand?!"
"It's a very specific curse that covers an entire village. Five thousand drams is much less than what I will charge for purifying a massive curse like that."
"But–"
"It's the price for my service. Take it or not, it's not up to me."
"Here is your Mystic Sour," Odie came back with a glass of something purple, seemingly a more interesting drink than Liel's average tonic.
"Thank you." Samir didn't say anything else, and Odie moved to clean the tables away from the counter. It wouldn't be long before some customers came to the tavern.
Liel couldn't give an answer, as he only had about two hundred drams. A half of what Reinard gave them for a dead canis picoon yesterday.
"Fine," Naomi had decided, "But can I have your words that you'll lift this curse from my village?"
Samir nodded. "You have to pay me half first before I look into this curse. Pay the rest after I purify your village."
That didn't sound fair, in Liel's opinion. For all they know, Samir could take their money away and disappear without doing anything to Melva's curse.
"That sounds fair," Naomi said.
Oh.
"Are you sure?" He needed to ask.
"I just want the villagers to not be in pain, Liel. I can't let the curse that took my father take another life. Not again."
"When can I have my money?" Samir cut them. Liel didn't like him already.
Taking out a pouch from her bag, Naomi gave the exact half amount of what the Mongolian shaman required. From a glimpse of the drink's price on the wall – it cost three drams – Samir's fee was expensive as fuck.
A grin erupted on Samir's face as he carefully counted the coins on the counter. Greedy that he was. Liel remained impassive, but his dislike towards the shaman doubled in intensity.
"When can you start lifting the curse?" Liel impatiently asked.
"Now, be patient, young man," Samir cackled, dropping all coins to his own bigger pouch. "I have to learn how the curse works first."
He clicked his tongue, making a silent promise that he'd beat this stingy bastard if he pulled a trick on them.
"Where is this village of yours, anyway?"
"Southward from here, about four hours away. Ashwell village."
"Oh, that's too far," Samir regretfully informed. He quickly raised both hands in front of his chest, stopping Liel from hitting his fist against his face. "It only means that I have to visit your village. Geez."
Liel continued to glare but dropped his fist nonetheless.
"Unless, you have something that has been affected by the curse?"
"What, you want the body that died from the curse?" Liel spat. It took him a few seconds to realize how mean he sounded.
One of those bodies was Naomi's father. Despite not knowing him, Liel could at least show some respect, some compassion for Naomi, in fact.
A time like this made him wonder if he was really heartless.
"Nothing like that. What's wrong with you?" Even Samir had enough decency compared to him.
Liel clenched his jaw. He wanted to apologize to Naomi, but she kept her head down, and he wasn't used to openly and verbally apologizing in the presence of another. Moreover, when it was a stingy stranger in a tavern.
Racking his brain, Liel suddenly remembered. "Will this help?"
Samir eyed the object Liel had just taken from his Weightless Bag. "I never saw something like this before."
The Mongolian shaman grabbed the Russian doll, inspecting it with keen eyes. He appeared to be more competent now. "I felt a trace of menacing energy from this. Dark and vengeful."
"Open it," Liel grumbled disgruntledly. How stupid that he needed to tell such a simple thing.
Samir obeyed. His eyes widened when he found the white cloth inside. Tentatively, he took it out and placed it beside his purple Mystic Sour. "Graveyard soil."
"Does it have anything to do with the curse?"
"Oh, it has everything to do with the curse," Samir stated.
"Where did you get that?" It was Naomi's voice.
"Outside the village. Near that abandoned barn you told me about," Liel said, and he turned back to the Mongolian shaman. "Can you do anything about it?"
Samir was silent for a moment. With his hand on the soil, he closed his eyes in concentration. "This soil was taken from a graveyard. An innocent, unborn baby's graveyard, to be exact. This cloth was the remaining shroud used to cover the unborn baby. There's four of these dolls, buried exactly in a certain distance from the middle of the village."
"Tell us something useful," Liel grew impatient once again. "Can you erase the curse or not?"
"It's a simple curse. The fact that you took this doll and nothing happened to you means the curse is removable."
"So, do it. Erase the curse."
"Do you know the mage's name?" Samir asked.
"Melva Saunders."
"Melva Saunders," Samir tasted the name on his tongue. "I have to kill Melva Saunders to lift the curse."
"Kill?" Liel snorted. "She's already dead."
The color left Samir's face. His eyes moved from one point to another. "Th- then I don't know how to erase it. I don't– this curse has advanced more than I thought."
"Don't you dare run away from–"
"I don't know how to erase a dead mage's curse." And Samir disappeared in a poof of smoke.
Along with Naomi's money.
Fuck.