David awoke to find Beauvoir already stirring, sunlight spilling softly through the window. Life as a baker had conditioned David to odd hours; late nights preparing bread so the townsfolk could enjoy it fresh at dawn. Beauvoir, sharing her life and home, had been swept up into this rhythm, her light sleep often disrupted.
Seeing Beauvoir awake, David squatted beside the bed and ran her fingers gently through the other woman's tousled hair. "Hey, you're up early. Want to rest a bit longer? I can wake you in a while."
Beauvoir shook her head, voice still soft with sleep. "No need. I've already been awake long enough to make breakfast for you." She stretched her arms out from the warmth of the quilt, wrapping them lazily around David's neck. When she opened her eyes, they were bright with affection, locking onto David's unusual, glowing orange pupils. Without another word, Beauvoir pulled her into a lingering, passionate kiss.
When it finally ended, David's cheeks were flushed, her composure momentarily shattered. Beauvoir smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind David's ear as she teased, "Don't you know how long your tongue is? You're lucky I like that about you, i especially liked it last night."
"I'm sorry," David replied sheepishly, though her eyes twinkled. "I just couldn't help myself."
"Hmm," Beauvoir sighed in mock exasperation, sitting up and pushing the blanket aside. "Come on. What do you want for breakfast; mushroom fish soup or grilled steak?"
David's hesitation was barely noticeable, but Beauvoir caught it. "Grilled steak sounds perfect," she finally said. "You like that too, don't you?"
"Good choice," Beauvoir affirmed. But then, her expression softened as she watched David's face cloud slightly, her brows knitting together. "There's something you're not saying, isn't there?"
David hesitated, then took a deep breath. "It's about my master's mission."
Beauvoir listened carefully as David explained, nodding slowly when she finished. "Are these materials that important to him?" Beauvoir asked.
"Yes. He's inherited the knowledge of wizards and conducts experiments; but don't worry. He only works with mice, nothing… darker than that."
Beauvoir tilted her head, eyes narrowing with thought. Then she smiled. "If it matters to him, then we'll help him get what he needs. David, that man saved you. I thought I'd lost you forever back then. He brought you back to me, and for that, I'll always consider him my benefactor."
Reaching up, she cupped David's face in her hands, tracing the cool scales that lined her cheeks. Once, those scales had terrified her. Now, they were part of the person she loved, strong and striking in their own way. "I love you, David," she whispered.
David bowed her head, pulling Beauvoir into a firm embrace. "And I love you, my darling."
The Ivy Pharmacy was one of the oldest establishments in Bangor Port, known for its reliability and the wisdom of its resident doctor. The recent shipwreck, however, had cast a shadow over the bustling town, and the once-busy pharmacy was eerily quiet.
A red-haired woman stepped inside, her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck to shield against the cold. Her needle cap gave her a quaint appearance, but her determined eyes betrayed her urgency. She approached the counter.
"Hello," she said briskly. "Do you have any Blue King Flowers for sale?"
The girl behind the counter blinked, looking puzzled. "Blue King Flower? I don't think we carry that. I've never even heard of it."
Before the woman could respond, an older voice interrupted. "Blue King Flower, you say?" The old doctor, perched on a worn chair with his reading glasses perched low on his nose, looked up from his book. He scrutinized her over the rims, his expression one of curiosity. "What do you need it for?"
"My nephew is sick," Beauvoir replied, shifting her accent to mimic the northern regions. "A remedy from my hometown calls for it."
The doctor frowned, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully. "Blue King Flower used to be more common… years ago. But not anymore."
"Why is that?" Beauvoir asked, her brows furrowing.
"Scarcity," the doctor explained. "The flower was rare to begin with, and lately, there's been a troubling trend. Certain people have been buying it up in bulk, leaving little for anyone else. Our last stock sold out over a year ago."
"Who's been buying it?" Beauvoir pressed.
The doctor shrugged. "Hard to say. People come, pay well, and disappear. If you need medicine, though, I'd be happy to take a look at your nephew's condition myself. There's no need to rely on old remedies."
Beauvoir smiled faintly, thanking the doctor, but her mind was already racing. 'Who's buying up the Blue King Flower? And why?'
Beauvoir frowned, a crease forming between her brows as she rattled off a list of other medicinal herbs. "What about other medicine on the list like Starroot? Elder Moss? Or maybe Moonveil Vine?"
The old doctor adjusted his reading glasses, flipping through the pharmacy's inventory log. "We have all of those, except for 'Fake Silver Ore'."
"Fake Silver Ore?" Beauvoir repeated, perplexed.
The doctor sighed, clearly accustomed to explaining such things. "We're a pharmacy, miss. That particular material isn't exactly above board. If you want 'that', you'll need to try the black market."
Beauvoir's confusion deepened. "The black market?"
The old doctor leaned back in his chair, his voice dropping slightly as if sharing a secret. "Fake Silver Ore looks nearly identical to real silver, which makes it quite popular with dishonest traders. They'll mix it into the genuine article, passing off inferior goods for profit. It's not something you'll find on regular shelves, not anymore. The only place it changes hands now is the black market."
Understanding now, Beauvoir nodded and thanked the doctor. She spent the rest of the day visiting every major pharmacy in Bangor Port, inquiring tirelessly about the elusive 'Blue King Flower'. Each visit ended in disappointment, no one had it, and no one knew where to find it. Frustrated but determined, she gathered the herbs she 'could' obtain and made her way back.
---
At Leonard's house, the door creaked open to reveal a young boy with tousled hair, James. He looked up at the red-haired woman curiously. "Who are you looking for?"
Beauvoir flashed a warm smile. "I'm here to see Leonard. He helped me once before, and I wanted to bring him a little something as thanks."
"Wait here," James said politely. "I'll ask my brother."
Upstairs, James knocked softly on a wooden door. Inside, Leonard paused mid-meditation, his eyes flicking open. "I'll get it," he said, rising smoothly.
Moments later, Leonard descended the stairs, his calm demeanor unchanged as he accepted the herbs Beauvoir offered. "Thank you," he said simply, polite but reserved.
"You're welcome, benefactor." Beauvoir hesitated briefly before adding, "There's something you should know. Two of the materials you asked for, I couldn't find them. One's only available on the black market, and the other… an old doctor told me someone's been buying up all the Blue King Flowers."
Leonard's gaze sharpened ever so slightly, though his expression remained composed. 'Someone else is after the Blue King Flower?'
The Blue King Flower wasn't just any herb; it was the core ingredient in his reagent. Without it, the potion's efficacy would collapse. Auxiliary ingredients could be substituted, but not the 'main ingredient'. Whoever was purchasing the flowers, did they know its significance?
Leonard gave Beauvoir a small nod. "Thank you for telling me this." He turned, heading back into the house, his mind already whirring.
---
As Leonard walked through the narrow streets, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that someone was watching him. His heightened mental acuity, sharpened through years of magical training; made him more sensitive to the weight of gazes. This wasn't paranoia. It was real.
He paused mid-step and turned his head sharply, his eyes locking on a shadowy figure lurking at the corner of an alleyway. The stranger froze for a heartbeat, then disappeared into the darkness.
Leonard's eyes narrowed. 'Am I being followed?'
He wasn't surprised. Gathering materials for anything connected to the Super Enchantress would inevitably draw unwanted attention. He continued walking, careful to appear unfazed, but his mind remained alert.
In the twisting backstreets, the figure fled at a desperate pace, darting around corners and weaving through alleyways. Breathless, the man; Ben finally emerged onto the bustling main road. The noise and movement of the crowd brought a fragile sense of safety. He slowed down, trying to blend in. 'He can't follow me here,' he reassured himself.
And then he collided with someone.
The man was tall, clad in a hooded robe, his face shadowed by the brim of his hood. Before Ben could react, the stranger whispered something; a low, chilling syllable that twisted unnaturally through the air.
Ben's eyelids grew heavy. Sleep crashed over him like a wave, and he slumped forward into the man's arms.
"Oh, there, there, brother. I get it, life's hard. Let's grab a drink later, alright?" The stranger's voice was warm, loud enough for nearby passersby to hear. To them, it looked like a tipsy pair of friends helping each other along.
Leonard held the unconscious man with one arm, his expression blank as he steered them back into the shadows of a side alley. Gently patting the man's back in mock comfort, he muttered under his breath, "Let's pay some old friends a visit."