[William]
“So...” Jehona began, gesturing at the abomination in front of them. “What’s the plan?”
“Could there be a plan, is the question,” was Yonten’s reply.
“Why are you even here?”
William didn’t want to hear about Yonten’s odd preferences again, intercepting him, “We could try with either that big rose on the roof, or the vines surrounding the well.” He looked at the quiver on Jehona’s back and suggested, “Can you try shooting the rose first?”
A flicker of hesitancy flashed in Jehona’s amber eyes before she nodded, bringing out her bow and arrow to take a shot.
In his life, William had seen many bows, and the one Jehona had was nothing short of magnificent. Jehona seemed to bear its might with a keen grace, and no flaw could be discerned in her stance.
A few long moments had passed, yet she still didn’t shoot.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered, her tone stiff.
It was then that William noticed Jehona's trembling fingers, just a moment before she finally shot… and hit far away from the target.
William didn’t know what to say. “The well then?”
Jehona tried with the well, and managed to hit even farther away.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is this the worst shooting I’ve ever witnessed?”
Jehona cast a look at Yonten that would’ve absolutely eviscerated him if it physically could.
“Let’s just forget about shooting it for now.” William looked at Yonten, recalling what he said. “How are you going to provide heat?”
Yonten spun his staff for a cycle, and one of the stones dangling from its top glowed red, accentuating the symbol carved on its smooth surface. A ball of fire manifested opposite of the staff’s circular top then, gently floating in its place over Yonten’s hand.
Shock filled William to the core upon witnessing it. “You’re an Elemental wielder?”
“Close. I'm an Elemental Smith.”
William only heard about them. He never imagined meeting one in his life.
Elemental Smiths, the ones able to extract energy from the remnants of the Elemental Crystals, either releasing it for their own use, or infusing it into weapons and artifacts for others.
There weren’t many of them in the world, but their products accumulated to near countless numbers along the centuries.
How fortunate were they that they had an Elemental Smith among their ranks?
With immense cheer, William slapped Yonten’s back. “It should be a breeze for you to burn these vines to a crisp!”
“About that…” Yonten smiled, sheepish.
William didn’t give it any mind and urged him, “Come on!”
With a flicker of a finger, Yonten did as told, and William watched as the fire ball descended upon the cluster of vines swallowing up the well.
Astonishingly, nothing happened.
The scorching of greenery didn’t commence like William expected. The fire ball didn’t burn a single thorn. It only managed to repel the vines a short distance away from it.
As William’s cheer wilted, Jehona followed the scene with mirth. “Do my eyes deceive me, or is this the weakest flame I’ve ever seen?”
“At least I can aim it where I want to,” Yonten shot back, his grin wide with ridicule.
Jehona moved to take Yonten by the scarf, tightening her hold on it. Yonten did nothing to resist, only let out a cold laugh, inciting Jehona’s fury further.
William got in between the two. “Now’s not the time to fight.”
They didn’t reply, too occupied with the duel their eyes were engaged in.
William let out a sigh. He brought out the small bottle Stella gave him.
“What’s that?”
“You’re doing it?”
Ah. It seemed the appearance of the bottle managed to get his companions’ attention.
Seeing that they calmed, William first explained to Jehona what she missed, then went on to detail his plan of action. “Attacking the well seems more plausible, so I’ll try that first. Yonten, can you supply me with a fire ball?”
“Consider it done.”
“I can distract the vines out of your way,” Jehona offered, in such a tone that left no room for discussion. She turned to Yonten with a lifted chin. “Give me a fire ball too.”
“A beauty you may be, a gentle one you are certainly not.” With a grin, Yonten advised, “Do try not to burn yourself.”
Before another fight broke out, William ordered, “Let’s start!”
With one fire ball hovering in front of Jehona and another behind William, they advanced towards the well, slow and steady, careful not to step on the tips of the vines slithering away from their path.
Jehona took the helm of leading his way, setting the pace of their progress. “They’re keeping a tight wall around the well,” she mused.
Indeed. The closer they got to the well, the less the vines moved. “Must be vital for them.”
“I have an idea.” Before William could ask her about it, Jehona nudged the fire ball she had towards him, calling out a “Give me another one!” to Yonten.
Another fire ball immediately manifested before her. “This is the last one I can supply!” came Yonten’s voice from the top of the hill.
With a ‘tsk’, Jehona took the fire ball in one hand and dashed towards the well. She ran in circles, a hair away from a direct contact with the vines. Disturbed by the heat, the vines loosened their siege, clearing a space for William in the process.
William didn’t waste time. He had an empty bottle prepared in advance, using it to mix a small amount of both powder and sauce. The flames Yonten brought out might’ve been weak, but they were adequate to heat up the mixture. It didn’t take long for suspicious fumes to rise.
“Get back!” William told Jehona after throwing the bottle into the well, feeling the earth shaking beneath him right after. But then a burning sensation brought his attention to his wrist, and his heartbeat stilled.
A small vine from the inner wall of the well. He witnessed it drawing back from his wrist, leaving behind tiny, bloody traces. It broke off and fell on the ground as it retreated, rapidly blanching in color.
Oh.
Gritting his teeth, William opted to ignore this crisis to address a more immediate one. He ran along with Jehona towards the top of the hill as the reaction reached its peak and a thundering sound rumbled behind them. In the aftermath, some of the vines writhed to the heavens, while the others lashed at everything in their path, burning like paper the moment they went near the fire balls Yonten supplied them with.
Just as they reached their destination, William felt his knees buckling. It took him a moment too long to realize that he collapsed on the ground. That initial burn spread to his whole body, so overwhelming it muddled his mind.
He could neither respond to Jehona and Yonten’s frantic inquiries, nor express what he felt. Every attempt resulted in a nonsensical string of words.
[Stella]
Clearing the pond wasn’t the most arduous task, but it needed an immense amount of concentration. With the number of precipitating agents she alternated between, it was to be expected.
By the time she was done with it, it was already noon. And it was later by a significant margin when Stella caught sight of three figures approaching her.
“Hm…?”
Scratch that. Make it two figures dragging a third between them.
Stella didn’t wait for them to reach her. “Lay him down and get some water from the pond. It’s clear now,” she commanded the two, starting a quick examination. William was feverish and dazed. He couldn’t answer a single question. Not a good sign.
She cleaned the wound on William’s right wrist as the other two worked on cooling him, her thoughts taking on a grim trail. She wasn’t the optimistic sort to begin with, let alone in this situation.
“Is there anything else I can do?” came Jehona’s voice after plastering William’s head with a wet cloth.
“Pearl’s Glory leaves. Do you have that?” Stella shot back.
Jehona didn’t answer, only drew out of Stella’s range of sight–out of helplessness or an attempt at something, she didn’t know, nor did she care to inquire about. She didn’t expect an answer at any rate. Rare as Moon Dancers were, even rarer was the main ingredient in making an antidote for their vines’ toxin.
As Stella struggled with feeding William a paste to quell fevers, she heard Jehona asking, once again at her side, “Is it any of these?”
Stella set to dismiss her, only for words to die on the tip of her tongue upon seeing what Jehona offered.
A small, open jewelry box holding a selection of medicinal herbs, all exquisitely rare. Among them, miraculously, was a single batch of Pearl’s Glory leaves.
“You, continue feeding him,” she told Yonten, giving him the wooden spoon in her hand before addressing Jehona, “Come with me.”
Taking the batch, she began the process of making the antidote.
Fortunately, Stella did bring basic ingredients and tools for making antidotes with her. With Jehona’s assistance, the process didn’t take long.
William was slightly more subdued by the time she returned to his side, his fever abating a bit. It was easier to get him to take the antidote, little by little, until no drop of it remained in the wooden bowl she held to his mouth.
Now they had to wait.
Soon enough, it was night time, but none of them prepared to sleep. Over a small campfire, they watched over William as he fought off his poisoning.
It was in an interval where William’s fever cooled that Stella mentioned this, “I forgot to tell you, but the antidote took the entire batch to make.” It was pointless to say it, but it didn’t feel right to conceal now that she recalled it, not when it was obvious that Jehona didn’t know the value of what she gave.
Pearl’s Glory leaves were the crown jewels of poison remedies, a treasure wars were waged to obtain in some parts of history.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jehona said. “As long as it works.”
“You’re quite the generous young lady.” Looking at that jewelry box, Stella couldn’t help but ask, “Where did you even get these?”
“My step-mother,” Jehona answered, idly playing with the box’s golden latch.
That explained it. Only one with a prestigious position such as a Royal Diplomat could afford to have these. “She must’ve had an outstanding career.” Not only was this collection of medicinal herbs precious, they were from different parts of the world.
“She did.”
And to freely give away this precious collection... “She cherishes you dearly.”
Something sardonic marred the softness of Jehona’s smile. “I wish she cherished us less.”
That answer coaxed a question, but Stella didn’t pry further. Changing the subject, she gestured at the silent Yonten and asked Jehona, “Do you think he’s asleep?”
“No,” was the other’s immediate answer.
“He’s looking down, though. You can’t tell whether he’s asleep or not.” In the quiet of the night, Stella thought she heard a conspicuous sound. “Do you hear snoring?”
“I don’t snore,” Yonten drawled.
Stella looked back at Jehona, impressed. “You have good eyes.”
Yonten broke into a laugh.
“I will strangle him with that scarf one day,” Jehona murmured, seemingly to herself.
Stella was mildly concerned.
[Yonten]
Close to dawn, the Butcher’s fever finally broke. The effort of his breathing eased, its rhythm slowing to herald a peaceful sleep. It didn’t take long for the Coroner to follow his lead.
Yonten could do it as well and rest, but the Beauty’s display of hilarious inefficiency was one he didn’t want to miss.
The Beauty took on the delayed task of burying the Malady’s victim, using a small, pointy rock to dig the grave. A little over an hour had passed since she started, and her progress was, on all accounts, pitiful.
He made his approach, entertained beyond what the situation warranted. “Do you need help?”
The Beauty paused, looked at him, and then made a show of pointedly ignoring him.
“Are you going to let this poor man rot away more than he already did?”
That got her to stop and consider. “What can you do?”
In response, Yonten knocked the ground with the end of his staff once. The Earth Stone glowed its green, and a small piece of land moved to the side. He knocked again, and another piece moved to deepen the depression left by the previous. “That.”
“So essentially, you’re offering me a shovel.”
Yonten didn’t care for her mockery. “Certainly better than a pointy rock.”
At the very least, the Beauty was reasonable enough to accept that point.
In silence, she let him to it. Yonten stifled a yawn as he made the first of a series of knocks. While doing so, he watched the Beauty wrapping the dead man in fabrics taken from her own belongings. Once Yonten announced he was done, she carried the human-shaped roll with ease, jumping down with it to its final resting place.
It was with a curious sort of gentleness that the Beauty laid the dead man’s body on the ground. She didn’t seem ill at ease with the suffocating space she barely managed to stand in, didn’t immediately climb up afterwards either. Instead, she stood over the body in silence. The smidges of soil on her cheek didn’t dilute the solemnity of her expression.
“You knew him?” Yonten asked her after she returned to the surface, absently knocking the ground once to seal the grave.
“No.”
“You buried him like you did.”
The budding morning light cast over the Beauty like a halo, a depiction of a dream, but her quiet voice held the opposite, “It’s merely a courtesy I wish to receive.”
An interesting answer, Yonten thought, for once unable to retort.
