124 Five-Greens Antidote

Defi glanced at the others, then realized that after the flower-seller, he was the only one here who was at the beginning of the incident. From the look of the flower-seller, she'd already been questioned. Creator, he didn't wake up this morning expecting to be interrogated. He was just buying a plant. It wasn't even him who killed it. 

Still, he obediently recounted the encounter.

"You're from the southern mountains, aren't you? You must have some thoughts on this."

Ahaha. That story was surely getting traction; he should study more about the southern mountains. Defi put on his most nonchalant air. "Only that the beast being in that flower pot was no accident."

Considering how carefully the scyllarelis was arranged to look like a plant, Defi could understand the adjutant's fiercely furrowed brows.

Such a dangerous mystic beast, how could it be an accident?

Ascharon had strict regulations on the sale and husbandry of mystic beasts above rank two because of the peril involved. There was a recounting in the history book of a farmer who raised the rank-four mystic beast silk-maned boar and inadvertently angered the herd which then rampaged and destroyed the village, killing and injuring many including the farmer.

After taking in Emra and Haral's stories, Cuthes' face darkened.

"We'll have to send this case to Alberhand," Cuthes grumped as if the very idea repulsed him. "Good luck if we ever hear the results they come up with."

Alberhand was the mercenary company hired by the provincial government to replace the Gamber Blades. Defi didn't have a clear understanding of them yet, his only sources being the town gossips and Ecthys circularies.

They did appear to do their work conscientiously but because of the lingering wariness after the incident with the Blades, they kept to themselves.

Cuthes ended the questioning and patted the flower-seller on the shoulder, his face sympathetic as he told her the guards could help clean up her stall. The flower seller sighed gustily, despondent and trembling from the morning's events. 

"At least no one was hurt," she murmured to herself. She turned to them. "I'm sorry."

"It was no fault of yours."

"It was. I have seen snakebraid before. I'm very sorry." She eyed the toppled flowerpots, sighed again.

Defi lifted his arm, discreetly eyeing the slight tear in his coat-sleeve when needle-like teeth broke through even the protections. Rank three mystic beast, wasn't it?

"Here."

Defi casually lowered his arm, to smile at the woman about to stuff the small papyrif tree into his hands. "You don't have to."

The flower-seller shook her head. "These flowers won't sell now."

She blinked, then smiled at him, looking a little brighter. "I could."

She stuffed a shrub into Haral's hands, calling it sky's reach and it only needed to be watered once a week, and a furiously flowering pot into Emra's, calling them blood violets.

Defi's lips twitched at their bewildered faces as the flower-seller left to put her stall to rights.

Emra didn't appear to be a flower person. But good intuition by offering her something with 'blood' in the name.

Haral stared at the pot that contained what looked like a mass of sticks. "I'm really not a plant person."

"You have many sisters."

Emra hummed at those words, thoughtful. Defi assumed she was going to force her flowerpot into Haral's hands but she simply stalked away, cradling it in the crook of an arm, almost carefully.

Haral stared. "I guess it's true that girls are conquered by flowers?" He pulled the life-saving trunk to rest beside another wooden travel-case.

Defi walked away.

"You! You're not going to help?!"

He would, but the arm that the twelve-headed abomination scratched with a fang started to numb even with the Current containing the venom. He ignored the indignant yell, headed for the orphanage.

It was midmorning already. Sarel should be there.

The leaves of the mini-papyrif tree cradled in one arm rustled gently as he walked faster than usual.

*

It was the day of Duels. Lergen and Aire were hosting the usual get-together. 

When Defi asked why they planned their friendly bonding dinners on a day that signified conflict, Lergen laughed and told him that it was because when they first met, one or the other was rendered half-dead by the end of the day.

Since everyone didn't elaborate, Defi could only imagine in vain.

Still, the reaction when he entered the kitchen, papyrif tree still in hand, and said, "Do you have antidote for scyllarelis venom?" was unexpected.

Hames, usually calm and collected, shot up in alarm. "You are injured!"

"A scratch only."

"A scratch? Only a scratch!? How long has it been!" Hames pried the mini-papyrif tree out of his grip and tossed it unheeding onto the counter. Sarel, already taking out ingredients from her bag, made a sound of annoyance.

"Not more than a quarter-hour."

Lergen, who'd stood nearly the same time as Hames, paled and caught the other man as he swayed in shock. 

Sarel moved faster, hands flying through the contents of her bag.

Lergen gripped Hames' shoulder. "It's not the same," he said firmly.

Defi looked around. "Is it so serious? I know it's a rank-three beast, but I can contain the venom for another quarter-hour, probably. It's a small scratch."

The whole room paused. 

Defi twitched. He'd said something wrong, hadn't he.

Sarel sighed and took out a bowl to grind a handful of nuts. The sound of the nuts falling into the iron bowl was lud in the silence. When the sound stopped, she just said, "Good. Just…contain for a small while more."

"Let me see." Hames' already pallid complexion was more ashen than usual. 

Defi concluded he had a history with scyllarelis. He glanced at Lergen as he pushed his sleeve up. Lergen appeared to have a similar history as well.

Was their encounter at the same time?

Defi couldn't hide the entirety of his flinch as his arm was revealed. There were dark veins all over his forearm, tinging to red as they approached his upper arm. The flesh was slightly swollen, and the skin had started to crack.

"Alright," Lergen sounded relieved. "It's not so serious yet."

Not serious? Defi half-heartedly retorted in his head, forcibly trying not to acknowledge that he was shaken. I'd like to see what 'serious' means to you.

He could feel the truth in the others' words however. He breathed calm into himself, thinking, if this was caused by the accidental scratch of a single fang, what horrors would a full bite cause?

Truly, snakes were the worst.

Ontrea was a warm nation, conducive for the thriving of cold-blooded creatures. They were so prevalent that it was not unusual for even a royal to succumb to snakebite, and very difficult to prove whether such an event was the doing of nature or man.

He let the Current trickle a bit more into his arm.

"Finish your business with the fishers' guild?" Sarel asked as she worked, voice unhurried and calm.

"Yes," Defi latched onto the distraction as Hames gently prodded his arm. "It was surprisingly straightforward." 

He just needed a small gift to send to Toyne and Mery after this.

The usually taciturn man examining his arm frowned. "Should we bleed him?"

What.

"Later." 

What!

Sarel poured liquid into her grinding bowl. It had the distinctive gleam of vital water. She whisked vigorously. "Pour this over his arm. We'll try and get it out through the pores first."

"I'd like there to be no more bleeding, thank you," Defi cut in.

Lergen retorted. "Then stop encountering dangerous mystic beasts."

"Tell the people in the townhall kitchen to make hotter soup then," he fired back. "If the thing was properly boiled in its flowerpot, it wouldn't have attacked now would it?"

Aire huffed. "That sounds interesting, but why didn't you go to the physicker?"

"Most of the people in town didn't recognize the thing. For a venom not native to these parts, the physicker wouldn't know, yes?" 

In fact, Defi had an aversion to admitting weakness to a stranger when there was a large chance he wouldn't be helped anyway.

"They wouldn't have the resources to cure scyllarelis venom, anyway." Hames recovered his composure, his voice regaining a measured quality. "What happened to the animal?"

"It's dead."

Lergen nodded, took a coat. "I'll go see what happened."

Falie came next to her husband, helping pour the concoction Sarel made over Defi's arm. 

The syrupy green drops, as they ran over Defi's arm, took on a black hue as they touched his skin, pulling out darkness from his veins before they fell into the prepared bucket.

Defi watched, surprised and interested. There were few topical medications in Ascharon. Most people who ate mystic cooking didn't need it. 

But most people also couldn't afford too much mystic ingredients. That was why he felt that the savras balm would be popular with people who had lower income.

But there was something like this too? "Can this be made easily?"

Sarel glanced at him from where she was stirring several pots, understood what he was getting at. "The ingredients are not too rare, but the application is too obscure. There won't be much demand; more expedient to create as needed."

Oh, that's the case.

"How long until I can use my arms again?" The numbness was not passing, even as the darkness of the unnatural veins lightened.

"You only need to eat the Five-Greens Soup this once. Your body will naturally detoxify in a week or so."

A week?

Defi grimaced. He couldn't work without arms, and he was hurrying the zaziphos planting before first snow. He voiced a thought he'd been mulling over for the last month or so.

"Does anyone know a friend who'd want to work at the homestead? Farming, in general. Someone who knows orchardkeeping?"

Aire paused from where she was helping Sarel. "Ho, hiring people already? Young Defi, has your farm grown so well?"

"I make vinegar. It sold well enough."

"And I haven't seen any," Aire sighed despondently. "Ah, is it too hideous to let your friends taste? Defi, don't bully the city people, they're fragile."

"Do I look like a tyrant?" Creator, who's fragile? A day in that place and people already wanted his head. 

Falie laughed. "With a body like yours, you want to be a tyrant?"

Defi revealed a helpless expression. Yes, compared to the muscled giants in this world, he couldn't stack up in terms of physique. "I have other skills, you know!"

Falie grinned at him. "Oh?"

"I have plenty of skills!"

"I am relieved." Falie nodded, as if truly reassured. "I have a whole farm of grapes that need to be picked after all. Tyrant, I'm expecting you there after the festival."

This…

Hames finally smiled at their antics. Aire laughed outright.

The Five-Greens Soup, when it was done, was delicious.

As worry receded and the day proceeded happily, Falie pointed at the small papyrif that had been ignored. "So, what's with the bush?"