Chapter 78: Episode 75

Words Count: 5027

A/N: Don’t worry, that he gives the Mages will be an extremely weak version that’s more focused on the magical aspects than physical. Ain’t no way he’s giving up the Elder Blood, or the **** he used on himself. Also, this is for all the lonely bros out there on Valentine.

Here's my usual spiel:

You can read from Episode 77 to 108 (Plus Ep 109 should be up in a few hours, or tomorrow at the latest) in advanced and the Tier starts from as low as 1USD, try it out!

p a tr e on . com (/) LiamThePoor

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“Glascheit, tell me all you know about the Truth-Potion.” That was all I demanded after pulling the man from his seat in the car and leaving mine, which was between Rin and Shibata. “Really, that’s all you wanna ask? You blimey bastard, are you bloody serious?”

Sighing, I scowled at the Glascheit Heir. “Just answer the damned question, I wouldn’t have asked if it’s not important.”

He slumped in his seat, muttering lowly. “Not much, just that it puts people in a dazed state where they’ll answer every question asked truthfully. Kind of like one of those… CIA mind-control experiments?”

“How do you even know about the CIA? Wait, never mind. That’s a stupid question, what else?” The guy’s a Magus Heir, of course he was aware of the existences of a mundane Intelligence Organizations, he had to in order to better avoid them. Crossing his legs, Sven pinched his glabella, as though trying to remember the little he knew of the chemical mixture the Association fed to all the First-Gen Mages dumb enough to violate their Laws. “I’m a Magus, not an ignorant savage.”

Then, the Glascheit Heir continued. “The Truth-Potions were first created by a Pakistan Magus who later publicized his findings, brewed from twelve different herbs, which apparently can become a deadly-poison if stirred improperly–”

I held my hand up. “Stop, I don’t care about how, when or what it’s made from, what I care about is how it works. What does it do a person exactly?”

Frown tightening, my brief comrade-in-arms questioned. “You plan on interfering with the Potion? Not to burst your bubble, but how? If it could be done, it would have been already. The Truth-Potion automatically and violently flushes out everything from your system, and Mystic Codes that could tamper with it will be screened, they will never get through the door.”

I rolled my eyes, smacking my lips in irritation. Why did people feel the need to do this? I didn’t care implausible, or even impossible it might be, just tell me what I want! “That’s for me to worry about, now will you kindly give me what I ask for?”

“Fine.” Sven snorted. “The Truth-Potion works by… Making you more susceptible to suggestions, loosening your brain so to say. This information is often kept from First-Gens without a formal Title or Rank, but it isn’t exactly a secret. It’s not like people have found a method to circumvent the Potion, not without dying anyway.”

“… What did you say?”

“Information about the Potion has a soft restriction–”

I shook, yanking him by the ear to whisper as I looked cautiously at the girls who were both sound-a-sleep, snoring softly. “No, no! Not that, what you mentioned after. You were saying something about a method to get around it?”

The Glascheit Heir sent me a look of disbelief, practically seething while he answered. “Are you mad, or deaf? Yes, there are ways to get around it. I suppose if you can make yourself scatter-brained enough, your mind will likely wander to everything but the questions asked of you… That, or you sign a Geas and vow the information to secrecy. Regardless of what you choose, as I’ve said, the Potion is extremely volatile, it will flush out any drugs inside your system through your eyes, ears and nostrils in a bloody manner. As for the second option… Well, you’ll probably–”

“Die for breaching the Contract…” I finished for the man, mouth now spotting a wicked grin. “Look, if you don’t want to see your Ancestors early, I suggest you snuff out whatever that twisted head of yours is cooking up.”

“I will…”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“’Cause you ain’t a real homie?” I was just joking, Sven Glascheit was a real ‘G’, even though he seemed so often stuck in a… Perpetual circle of bad mood and seriousness.

If only he would lighten up a bit.

“What does that even mean?!” The younger Magus ignored Sven’s question, legs kicking like the child he was, but as a good and genuine friend, the Glascheit Heir still could not stop himself from showing a trace of concern, even though he knew it would not be taken seriously. “Leonis?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Worry not, I won’t die anything I’m not confident in.”

What was he, my wife?

“I’m serious. Don’t.”

His concern kind of warmed my heart though, no-homo. “If I promise, will you stop pestering me?”

Not waiting for a reply, I put a hand to my chest, the other raised over head and swore. “Heir Glascheit, as the first Head of House Magnum, I give you my words I will not attempt anything stupi–”

.

..

…

He should have known.

Sven Glascheit should have known that lying bag of shits was cooking up some sort of… Suicidal scheme in that obviously concussed head of his– For he refused to believe anyone sane or even relatively normal would ever attempt a feat so, so insane... There had never been a case of someone managing to survive the attempt, and in his defense, he had reiterated this fact again and again in hope it would get through the boy’s thick skull, and for a precious few hours, he really thought it did,

Until this morning where Leonis Magnum practically destroyed a courtroom after taunting the Judge presiding over their case, and getting in a Noble Phantasm-wielding battle-maniac who’s serving under the (in)famous Queen of the Clock Tower, because of course that dumb-shite would. Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like he hadn’t done stupid, reckless things before!

How the Glascheit Heir could have ever believed the boy was beyond him, he should have known warnings alone would not deter the crazy twat from doing the exact opposite of what he said he would… Sven was angry– No, scratch that. Anger alone could not possibly convey the intense rage he was feeling, and even the fact that Leonis’ completely and utterly inane plan had somehow, somehow worked out for the better could not quite quell the match that was lighting a burning pit in his stomach.

Hence why with vengeance in mind,

Cold fury on his face,

And frustration visible in his every movement,

The Glascheit Heir was storming towards the boy’s room. The Enforcers wouldn’t stop him, they were simply there to ensure the Accused did not get the chance to flee, anyone with a clearance above a certain Rank could access those being held in the Clock Tower as long as they didn’t have a Sealing Designation on their head. Of course, as the talented Heir of House Glascheit, Sven’s clearance was leagues above even the representative sent last night by his parents.

He had hoped Leonis would accept the proposal, if only to gain a more legitimate reason to help the young Magus– To help his… Friend other than their comradery, which his parents did not approve whatsoever, believing Leonis to be taking advantages of his kindness.

In all fairness, Sven understood their concerns, he got why they were so worried.

Beast-Craft was a peculiar brand of Magecraft, one of the more special in the Modern Age, yet knowledge about it had been strictly limited by his parents, his grandparents, all the way to his Ancestors. The only available information about the Craft was how influential and important the main Inner-Beasts were to their Hosts’ psyches. Few truly knew how much hold these, these shadows to their instincts were. Sven’s Inner-Beast, loath as the young [Cause] was to admit it, was a canine.

Not even a dire-wolf or something ferocious, but instead a disgusting, slobbering mutt,

And even a breed known for their loyalty and protectiveness too!

Words simply could not convey the immense disappointment Sven felt when he found out what his Inner-Beast was, but having been considered a prodigy his entire life, the Heir eventually bounced back from his depression. Sadly, that was not the end of his problems, for Life was fair, and with talent came issues– In his case, psychological ones. Being the only Heir in recent history to have been born with such a close-bond to their Inner-Beast, Sven was subjected to the Mutt’s feelings on a much more… Personal level.

Whereas his parents and sister could usually separate their thoughts and feelings with their Beasts’, recognizing which was which, Sven was different, he could barely distinguish the two, and that was years ago, when the bond hadn’t grown as intense. Nowadays, there were times when the Glascheit Heir would catch himself scratching his neck not with his hands and fingers, but legs and toes and it was only thanks to self-hypnotization that he had yet to do something embarrassing in public…

And even that was losing its effectiveness.

His actions, thoughts, feelings were seemingly synced with the Mutt’s, intertwined in ways which made him doubt his sense of self often. Was he still Sven, Heir of House Glascheit– The Ego? Or was he actually the Mutt– The Id? Perhaps he was both?

He couldn’t tell, and not knowing angered him far more than the fact that he might need to be put down by his own family within the next half a decade, and that his parents were already making a… Contingency since his elder sister refused to take over as the Heiress, namely the unborn little leech his mother was carrying in her stomach, Svin– The cheap fucking knock-off who was to replace him after his murder, likely at the hands of his father.

Sven Glascheit had everything a Magus could have ever asked for, and yet nothing that mattered, not to him. His parents were distant, his sister was avoiding him so it would not hurt when it was his time. He didn’t even think they realized how painful it was for him, or how much their actions aggravated his condition and accelerated the madness.

Maybe that was why when Leonis called after over two years of disappearance, the Glascheit Heir jumped at the opportunity to feel normal again, to feel visible and needed by someone, anyone. Having his Inner-Beast be a damned Doberman was not helping either. Despite its lower intelligence, the Mutt remembered the young Magus, it remembered the battles they had gone through in the sewers, how they bled the Flesh-Puppets and were in turn made to bleed as they fought alongside each other.

The Mutt considered the boy its pack, its family and its feelings at boy’s suicidal tendencies were understandably mixed, even though it barely understood the complexity of the situation, Sven would say it fell more on the negative side. Silently, the Heir waved off the approaching Enforcers, the glimmering awards and badges to show his Titles and Achievements decorating his black vest, flashing proudly as he pushed the door open, words ready to be spilt in an overwhelming tirade, only to find…

‘No one? Why’s there no one here? Where’s that dumb-twat?!’ A growl tore its way through Sven’s tightly-pressed lips, before he turned to address the awkwardly fumbling Enforcers. “Where’s Leonis Magnum, what has been done to him?”

“Heir Glascheit, Leonis Magnum has been transported to the Infirmary, he was vomiting up blood by the time we escorted him back and…”

The Mutt howled mournfully in back of his mind, leaving Sven to deal with the sharp aches in heart.

“Where?!” After letting himself wallow for a short moment, the Glascheit Heir questioned, face carefully schooled to hide the concern knocking against his ribcages, voice terrifyingly even. “Where is that dumb-cunt?”

“He- He’s at Room 69, specifically asked for that Room actually… I- I don’t think he’s hurt too badly? The Doctors said he’s just allergic to the Potion’s ingredients.” A female Enforcer with well-kept, sweptback brown hair, and beautiful doe eyes that the Mutt appreciated… In a prey.

“He’s not dead?”

“No- No, Sir!”

“Good…” Sven whispered. “It means I can wrangle the bastard’s neck myself.”

With that said, the young [Cause] made a sharp turn, stalking off with a new destination in mind.

—— [Fate: DML] ——

“I heard about what happened, Wilson… Do you mind explaining yourself?” Lorelei, who now had changed out of her white one-piece and was dressed in an elegant gown, pushed her round-glasses up and questioned in an even tone, her voice betraying none of the frustration she was feeling. She was aware Descendants of Heroes could be a- a handful, but the Queen of the Clock Tower had clearly underestimated how problematic these guys were.

“I remember asking you to look scary, witness, and if possible, record the boy’s responses to the unfair Judge… Why in Gaia’s pettiness did you get in a bloody fight with him?”

Much to her exasperation, the Legacy dared to smile, and not an awkward, anxious smile– The kind her subordinates would put on in hope of lowering their punishments every time they messed up. Wilson O’Connor’s was a soft and sunny thing like the last rays of a dying evening, a smile that had consistently made her heart thump rapidly in its place, as though it was trying to tear away from the restricting blood-vessels and jump into Wilson’s lovely embrace–!

The Queen shook her away, the slight sheen of redness creeping up her cheeks disappearing in an instance as she mercilessly crushed the invasive sensations with an iron-grip. Still, she had no idea why she tolerated this clueless, battle-manic idiot. Lorelei had specifically sent him to scout Leonis Magnum’s personality and responses to the visibly biased and bought Judge, what she hadn’t expected was to hear of the two boys’ intense fight– For they were mere boys to her eyes.

Foolish, idiotic boys who couldn’t accomplish the simplest of orders. “Well, are you going to make count, Wilson? Speak up!”

“I couldn’t help it.” The Enforcer coughed, hand moving up to hide the smirk that danced upon his lips. ‘At least the fool still has the foresight to appear sheepish… Though how genuine he is remains to be seen.’

The Enforcer continued. “Much apology, Milady. It was chaotic, the kid was jumping around everywhere and when I tried to knock him out, he fought back. Before I knew it, we were fighting and I had my Noble Phantasms in hands. He had his Mystic Codes out too, but we did not cross weapons if you’re wondering.”

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“Regardless, you still shouldn’t have traded blows with the boy. You were there only to observe, that was all I asked of you–” Lorelei glanced up angrily, bloodlust wafting off her seated form in tidal-waves. “– Why didn’t you listen? Can you not follow simple instructions?”

The Queen’s hands clenched over the edge of her desk so hard it would have exploded in splinters if not for the treatment she had done to it. People usually didn’t realize how stressful her job was. This was in fact not the original desk that came with her office, but actually Replacement No. 12… Of this year. After the demises of countless other furniture and a truckload of expenses, the Queen decided enough was enough, and had all her furniture and even personal belongings spelled to be more durable.

“My apology, but you know how us Legacies are, my… Blood sings when I get to battle worthy foes, and the boy, in spite of his less than stellar appearance, was quite the fighter.” A goofy smile quickly sprouted on Wilson’s lips as his mind inevitably strayed to the brief skirmish they had. “I believe you should take Leonis Magnum under your wings, the boy is– Well, he’s astonishingly promising.”

Eyes narrowing, Lorelei slumped in her seat and said skeptically. “Are you saying that because you genuinely believe the boy is a good seed, or do you simply want a new sparring-partner to satisfy your baser urges?”

“Milady,” The Enforcer bowed as he slowly peeked at the Queen of the Clock Tower with a mischievous smirk that would have doubtlessly sent his fans into a frenzy, were they here to see it. “Why can’t both be valid reasons?”

Frowning, Lorelei palmed her face tiredly, knowing full-well it was not the first time she had questioned her decision to pull Wilson in her Faction, nor was it going to be the last time. “What kind of Magecraft does Mr. Magnum practice? And does it have potential for future development?”

“It really depends on your definition of potential, Milady.” Wilson softly giggled, looking all mysterious which really did not take much effort with how ridiculous handsome he was. Yet, upon looking at the Queen’s bored and irritated expression, the Enforcer no longer had the intention to play around. He was a battle-maniac who possessed a set of principals most Mages would consider utter stupidity, but he was in no way suicidal, and even if the Queen had a soft spot for him, he knew that alone would not save him should she be angered.

Hence, “Does Spatial-Manipulation count as potential?”

Lady Barthomeloi’s eyes widened ever so slightly, excitement shining through as she got up. “What happened? Explain…”

“Apparently, Truth-Potion has an interesting effect on our young friend and–“ After a brief recount of the whole ordeal, Lorelei was silent, chin resting on the crook of her calloused palms. “What are your thoughts, Milady?”

“How sure are you he was teleporting via Spatial-Manipulation?”

“Very.” Wilson’s answer was tougher than nails. “Should we send him an invitation now?”

Again, the Queen of the Clock Tower returned to silence, head whirling with a myriad of thoughts. “No… Talent is important, but there are plenty of talented people in the Clock Tower, what I’m more concerned about is his character.”

“What precisely are you searching for, if I may ask?”

Lorelei’s answer was curt and short. “Entertainment.”

—— [Fate: DML] ——

‘Oh-God…! I think I’m puking my guts out, literally.’

‘Why is it black, why does it have such putrid smell, what the fuck did you eat?!’

‘Stop asking questions, you prick! I’m fucking dying over here!’ I shouted internally, hurling the the content of my stomach into the toilet with great fervor.

Apparently, this was what happened when a Witcher decided to take more than their metabolism could handle and overdose on Potions. Never had this happened before, but after being subjected to it myself, I could now honestly say it was worse than any hangover ever. Imagine the aftermath of taking a truckload of DMTs, ten bottles of purebred, undiluted vodkas and crystal-meth on an empty stomach, and it still wouldn’t be anywhere near this horrific feeling.

“Is- Is this supposed to be happening?”

The Doctor told his Assistance, nonchalant as ever, all while I clutched my belly, face nearly resting on the toilet-seat. “It’s just an immune reaction, his body is flushing the toxicity out, kid will be fine once the process finishes… I think?”

‘Have some sympathy, you cunt! And what do you mean, ‘you think’?!’

“Give me his charts, did you find any remnants of drugs in his system?” The Assistance handed him a label, covering her lips as though she too was about to vomit from the sight and smells alone. “I- I don’t believe we found anything, his body is running on a completely different frequency to ours, parts of his DNA are made out of pure Mana that’s being held together through some unknown methods and his metabolism… It’s churning through the Truth-Potion like I’ve never seen before.”

The Doctor sighed. “Mr. Magnum, I’m gonna need you to be completely honest with me, did you consume any other kind of drugs, or pills prior to being administrated the Potion?”

Yeah-No…Did he think I was dumb? Like fucking Hell I’d tell him, that’s no different than an admission of guilt! I might tend to be reckless and stupid at times, but I wasn’t retarded, not to mention as an avid enjoyer of crime-documentaries, living in a country where joints were illegal, I had seen and done this exact song and dance before. “No-*Blerg*- Nope. I- I’m just b- built different.”

“Uh-Huh…” The Doctor muttered skeptically, sarcasm thick in his tone. “So what I’m taking from your statement is that you performed a surgery which drastically altered your biology, giving it an immunity to the Truth-Potion? Seems a bit convenient, don’t you think? Too convenient, if you ask me.”

A scowl crept its way on my face, but I could not hold it for long, even the minute twitches of facial muscles made my stomach raise its flags in protest and me want to hurl the precious gulps of air I had barely sucked in. I was feeling more dehydrated than a fish in a desert, and the Doctor’s interrogation was not making it better. “If- If you’re not going to help in any way, can you fuck off and let me suffer in silence? Why the fuck are you still here?!”

“It’s protocols, Mr. Magnum. Most know to avoid being trapped, but every once in a while, there would be someone idiotic enough to fall for such trick.” This bastard, he didn’t even bother to deny it, the prick! “Well, seeing as you still have the strength to cuss, I think you won’t have any issue recovering.”

The Doctor got up, hands fixing his surgical mask condescendingly as he turning to leave with naught but a lazy wave that I wouldn’t even have been aware of if not for my phenomenal Spatial-Awareness. Seriously, what was the point of an Infirmary if the active officers all acted like this?! At least the Assistance knew to look somewhat concerned, unlike a certain someone… They were out barely five minutes, giving me a brief moment to myself when the two suddenly burst in, their number doubled.

“You have visitors, Mr. Magnum.” The Doctor announced, then he faced Sven and Rin– While my ability to sense Spatial-Fluctuations was nowhere near advanced to precisely judge who the humanoid shapes were, the tsundere’s shampoo had a very distinct scent, and Sven smelled like a drenched dog all the time… That coupled with their chemo-signals, it wasn’t hard to recognize their identities. “Hey- Hey there, I’m– Argh!”

A punch launched at my cheek with the force of a speeding truck, throwing me to the floor with a harsh thud. For those short seconds I was airborne, my headache and nausea were seemingly gone, until the vertigo set in and I was back on all fours retching. I wanted to shout, to scream, to rage at the Glascheit Heir, demanding he explain himself, but my body- My muscles to be precise, felt like noodles that would fall apart at a touch, and my lungs which were greedily sucking in precious fresh-air ached painfully under its protective barrier.

“That was for lying to me.”

I coughed, watching through bleary vision as Rin tried desperately to restrain Sven to little success. “O- Okay, I- Uhmmm- I kind of deserved that a bit.”

A kick came into contact with my jaws. “That was for being a suicidal twat.”

Choking, I wheezed and forced out a bloody, “I- I may have deserved that too.”

It took six to seven seconds just to steady myself, finally rising to my feet at the tenth second. I glanced back to see a horrified Rin and a fuming Sven, who was getting ready to kick me again… In the nuts. And judging from how far back he cocked his leg, that would have likely lodged my priceless family-jewels all the way to my throat. Hastily, I brought my hands to cover my crotch, screaming. “No, no! I don’t deserve that! I absolutely do NOT deserve that!”

Thankfully, perhaps realizing how ridiculously unreasonable he was being, or maybe the Glascheit Heir simply saw how pitiful I was, he slowly retreated. Still, Sven might have lowered his leg, but I wasn’t about to lower my guard. I had been tricked before, and did not fancy a kick to the nuts when I had not even recovered from my dazed state.

“S- So… Which winds brought you two to my doorsteps?”

The twin-tailed tsundere was quick, as expected of my sensei! “Leo, how are you? Will this have long-term side effects?”

“I think I’ll be fine. Pretty sure Sven just kicked the nausea out of me anyway.” I sassed, whispering the last part. Unfortunately, being the mutt he was, Sven was still able to hear what I said. “Do you want the stupidity beaten out of you too, you little twat?! ‘Cause I’m more than willing to help. Bloody Hell, I’m fookin’ happy to.”

‘Your Irish is bleeding through, Sven.’ I hurriedly shook, stuttering. “Nuh-Uh, I’m done. You kick me again, and I’m fighting back, motherfucker.”

The two approached the bed, sitting down and leaving poor ol’ me all alone on the floor, with no place to sit or lie down. Talk about having no sympathy for those in need… “You gotta admit though, it works. I just bought us a week time to plan things out, not to mention the shitty Judge is gone now.”

“What if the next Judge is worse than the one we got?” That was a good question, Rin! “I’m glad you asked. Sven- Dawg, Is there anyone worse than Ms. Judgy? I’ll be profoundly disappointed if the next Judge we get is another idiot.”

When Sven shook his head, I felt relief flooded my system. “No, Libra is- was the youngest Judge to be elected, and her family bought her the position. There’s not a brain-cell in that girl, she’s dumber than a rock–”

Looking thoughtful, the Glascheit Heir added. “– Unless it involves Diarmuid’s Descendant– Wilson O’Connor… She’s like his biggest stalker, the most shameless too. The man has repeatedly made it publically known he despised her, but the girl’s blinded by love.”

“Can’t blame her though, dude inherits his Ancestor’s Love Spot. Probably didn’t have a Mystic Code to weaken the effect either.” If I remembered correctly, even Artoria was not spared from Curse’s effects, and the female King had A-Rank Magic Resistance. “I’m fairly certain half the Jury was in love with the guy.”

I released a soft chuckle, letting silence descend upon us.

Neither of us spoke, we needed time to collect our thoughts.

“I’m sorry I can’t help more.” He offered. “My position in my House is on shaky grounds at best. My parents are already preparing for my funer– For my brother’s birth.”

“It’s fine, you’ve helped us enough, Heir Glascheit. We’re eternally grateful for your assistance.” Surprisingly, that was not me, but the tsundere instead. “Rin’s right, you have your own problems to worry about.”

It was then that an idea hit me. “Sven.”

“What is it?” The Glascheit Heir responded with a frown.

“The Jury, are there any declining Houses in it? You know, Houses whose descendants are losing their Circuits?” If this worked out the way I believed it would, then victory was well-within our grasps!

Sven fiddled with his hands. “There are a few, I think… Quite a few in fact. With the weakening of Gaia, a lot of older Lineages are losing their Magic Circuits. It’s a huge problem actually, we usually solve that problem by joining Houses, or in some extreme cases, let First-Gens marry in, but it's still not a guaranteed solution. Why do you ask?”

A wicked smirk crept its way to my lips. “Say, how thankful do you two think they will be if I help their descendants regain or strengthen their Magic Circuits? Will that suffice?”

The seconds those words were spoken, two heads snapped towards me in disbelief. “You already know the answer, but can you really do that? If you’re just trying to trick them, I suggest you shelve that thought before the Houses decide to eat you alive.”

I laughed. “Oh-Yee of little faith… I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I’m not confident.”

After all, most Witchers weren’t even capable of Magic before the Trials. They were often orphaned children, or kids whose parents could no longer afford to raise. They were no more magically talented than a random Joe off the street. “Can you get me in contact with a few of them? I’ll handle the rest…”

“Leo…! You can’t, if you fail to uphold your side, Heir Glascheit’s reputation will be forever ruined alongside yours. We shouldn’t bother him like that.”

Sighing, my expression turned apologetic. “I know, I’m sorry Sven. I shouldn’t have asked that of you.”

“How sure are you this will succeed?”

Both Rin and I looked at the seemingly forlorn Heir in surprise. Activating [Future Calculation], I smiled at my acquaintance– Nay, my friend. “Ninety-nine percent sure.”

“I’ll help you.” There was naught a trace of hesitation in his unwavering tone as he voiced his agreement. “All I ask of you is if the day comes when I’m gone, you’ll- you’ll mourn me. I don’t have a lot of friends, and I’m afraid no one will remember me when I die. If you can promise me this, I’ll help you to the best of my ability. Deal?”

Snorting, I leaped on top of the small desk next to him. “Dude, you’re eighteen… That’s like decades from now.”

“Do you give me your words, Leonis.” Sensing his seriousness, I gulped, suddenly feeling my dehydration, which I had forgotten due to the conversation we’re having, set in. “I give you my words, Sven. When- if that day comes, I’ll send you off with a bouquet of flowers.”

“That’s all I ask.” He rose to his feet. “You two sit and wait to hear the good news.”

The Glascheit Heir wasted no time, fleeing the Infirmary like the Devil was hot on his heels, and I couldn’t help but ask, ‘What was that about?’

‘Angra, you stole my line!’

‘Get over it.’

Clicking my tongue, I suddenly felt relief spread to my limbs. In all honesty, I was not confident in the Potion-Recipes, nor was I confident that my knowledge, the ones I was willing to part with would be enough to buy our freedom, but this!

This would work, it had to.

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