Thanks for reading, I appreciate any feedback you might have!
*
The sprawling city of Baynok spread out before John like a cancer slowly devouring the countryside. His disdainful glare took in the crowded road disappearing into the city. He was not one of these people. A fact that was readily apparent to anyone who cared to notice him, standing there with a string of claws hanging from his belt and his long hunting dagger sitting comfortably on his hip. The wilderness was his home, and it would have suited him just fine to never set foot in a city again. Unfortunately, the city meant trade, and trade meant alchemists and healers for him to sell his wares to. For that reason, John sighed and plunged into the sea of bodies.
Thankfully, the walk to his destination was not far. The healer he often did business with had a shop about fifteen minutes from the city's main gate. His name was Harold, and John had been selling him herbs for over fifteen years now. He knew that his herbs might fetch a higher price deeper in the city, but Harold had always treated him fairly.
John was relieved when he at last broke free of the main thoroughfare and made his way down the side street leading to Harold's shop. He had only taken a few steps when a woman shrieked behind him. John turned towards the source to find a horse and carriage thundering towards him.
"Out o' the way peasants!" The driver screamed as the shrieking women was thrown to the side.
Reflexes born from years in the wilderness saved John from a similar fate as he dived out of the way. His landing was anything but graceful and he lost his footing in the slick mud lining the roadside. He landed face first and foul odors filled his nostrils. The shallow trenches that lined these roads were often used for discarding the waste accumulated by nearby shops and houses. John angrily spat what he prayed was mud from his mouth and surged to his feet. The carriage was already past, but he caught a brief glance of the noblewoman riding in the back. Her long blond hair was trailing behind her and her sparkling green dress flaunted her obvious wealth.
"Bloody nobles and their bloody carriages!" John cursed at the retreating vehicle. They thought the owned the road and everything in it!
John took stock of his situation, nothing but his pride was seriously injured. The herbs in his pouch were a little dirty, but they would need to be washed anyways. He stomped his way back onto the road and stormed towards the healers shop. His facial expression dared anyone to slow his progress. The quicker he sold his goods, the quicker he could leave this god forsaken city.
When John reached the storefront, he cut into the alleyway beside it and made his way to the shop's back door. He doubted Harold would appreciate him tracking mud through his front door. The wooden door rattled as he angrily rapped on its surface. The door cracked open a moment later and Harold's wrinkled face poked out.
"You trying to break down my door boy," the healer said in a scolding tone. His gaze swept downwards to his mud covered clothing, "What happened to you?"
"Bloody nobles."
Harold gave him a knowing nod, "Well come on in and get yourself cleaned up."
Inside, herbs of all shapes and sizes hung from strings along one of the room's walls and a pot of something that smelled eerily like cooked cabbage sat over the fire pit in the far corner. Shelves overflowing with small bottles filled the remaining wall space. These were Harold's stock of potions and his primary means of income. Each bottle had a small label attached and John recognized more than a few of the names. Potions were an invaluable resource for the hunter.
"Here, take this," Harold said, pulling John's attention away from his surroundings. He was holding out a robe of brown linen that mimicked his own attire. "Not sure how well it'll fit, but it should tide you over till your clothes dry." Harold then pointed to a tub of water sitting beside the rickety table in the center of the room, "You can use that, I just finished washing my socks."
"Thanks," John replied with more than a hint of sarcasm, eyeing the tub suspiciously and taking note of the yellow-stained socks draped along the side of the table.
Harold eagerly took John's herb pouch and shuffled over to the nearby counter while John peeled his mud soaked clothing off. The brown robe scratched at his skin and itched like hell. You would think the store owner could afford some better clothing... well, at least it was clean. John plopped down in the chair beside the tub and dunked his tunic into the water.
"Oh! You found a tryllic flower!" Harold exclaimed as John vigorously scrubbed at the mud stained fabric.
Tryllic flowers were exceedingly rare in these parts and his finding this particular flower in a nearby forest was the primary reason for this visit. The flower fetched exorbitant prices and would lodge him for months.
"I need to take this to the castle immediately."
"Huh," John replied, looking up from his laundry.
"Lord Brackstone himself is in need of a tryllic potion," Harold said with excitement as he began to scoop up supplies around the room. John would have never believed the old man could move so fast. "Can you look after the shop for a bit?"
"Huh," John replied a second time.
"The shop, boy," Harold said, stopping momentarily to stare at him as if he was daft, "I need to deliver a tryllic potion. Honestly, how do you survive outside the walls?"
John ignored the jibe, "Yeah, whatever, it'll take awhile to get these clothes clean anyways."
Harold threw the supplies in a small knapsack. "Good, I'll be back in a few hours. If anyone comes in, just tell them to come back tomorrow," he said as he bolted out the back door.
John shook his head; he sure was a weird old codger. Of course, he did live in the city which, John had concluded, could drive anyone crazy. He shrugged and turned his attention back to his clothing. The damn mud was almost worse to scrub out than ale.
His shirt had almost returned to its normal color when he heard the bell on the shop's front door jingle. John draped his tunic over the bucket's side and made his way into the store's front room. He had only taken a step into the storefront when he screeched to a halt. A woman and a man were standing just inside the shop's front door. The woman had long blonde hair and was wearing a sparkling green gown that accentuated her curves nicely. The man wore a rich blue doublet covered with the telltale dust of a carriage driver. John recognized them immediately. 'Well isn't this just bloody convenient,' he thought.
"Healer, the lady is not feeling well," the man said as he entered the room, "We've been to three other shops that were staffed by ignorant swine."
John looked from the man to the woman in confusion and then down to his robe. He was wearing a healer's robe! They thought he was Harold! 'Oh, this just gets bloody better and better,' he thought.
"What, uh, seems to be the problem?" John asked the noblewoman, deciding to play along.
Instead of responding to him directly, she turned to her driver, "Tell him that my stomach is aching."
'You've got to be kidding me,' John thought. Damned arrogant nobles, she was too high and mighty to even talk to a commoner.
"The lady's stomach is upset," the driver informed him as if John had not just heard her instructions. What a bloody charade!
"I have just the potion you need in the back," John replied and excused himself to the back room.
John would make this woman pay for her arrogance and his mind raced through the potential options to exact his revenge as he entered the shop's back room. He scanned the numerous potions that filled Harold's shelves. There was lizard's boil which would cause her stomach to bloat and leave her gassy for a week. Or, perhaps some henwort dew, which would cause her skin to become blotchy and stink like rotten eggs. Oh, Harold even had some yearling dung. Yearling dung literally tasted like shit and came out even worse. So many possibilities played through John's mind that he was soon smiling and humming to himself as he wandered from bottle to bottle. That haughty bitch may prance around as though she was above everyone else, but he would bring her down a peg.
John took both a bottle of yearling dung and henwort dew from the shelf. He chuckled as he poured both into an empty vial; she was going to want to avoid mirrors for the next few weeks. The thought of her beauty sparked a new possible avenue for revenge. It was so ingenious that his face split into a wide grin. If this worked, he would have one hell of a story to tell the guys back at camp.
John set the two bottles down on the table and quickly located a vial of honeysap from the wall. Honeysap was a potion used primarily by hunters up north to stay awake for long durations. While it worked wonders in fighting off drowsiness, it also had an interesting side effect. It caused your skin to tingle like crazy shortly after consumption. Hunters often used it to haze the rookies in camp by sneaking it into their drink and then frightening them with tales of what their tingling skin implied. John was betting on the fact that a noblewoman would have a similar reaction.
"Tell him I don't have all day," the woman said to her driver as stepped back into the storefront.
"Hurry it up, the lady does not have all day," the driver dutifully repeated.
Oh how he was going to enjoy this. "Sorry for the delay ma'am," he said with a sarcastic bow, "I was looking for my best potions. It's not every day that I get someone as esteemed as you in my shop."
"Apparently," the woman replied while rolling her eyes.
John restrained the snide remark that sprang to his lips. Instead, he took a deep breath and began the con of a lifetime. "Here, drink this please. It's called honeysap and it works wonders on upset stomachs."
The woman shooed the potion away, "Ask him how much it costs."
"For someone as esteemed as you milady, it's free," John replied before the driver could repeat her question. They both turned to him as though he had set the building on fire.
The woman gave a loud harrumph, "Well, I see he lacks proper manners." She then snatched the potion from his outstretched hands and downed the contents. A moment later her face curled into a scowl, "It's disgusting."
John actually liked the taste of honeysap. "Sometimes the highest quality potions can have odd tastes," he explained as he watched her, anticipating what would come next. It took every ounce of his willpower not to smile when she shuddered the first time.
She started to wring her hands and then looked directly at him, "I... I feel funny." Amazing how he was suddenly worthy of her attention.
John assumed his most serious expression, "what do you mean by funny?"
"I don't know," she whispered, "my skin... it feels like... like a thousand tiny needles are poking it."
The carriage driver took a step in his direction, his face now lined with concern, "What the hell did you give her!"
John raised him hands in deference, "Wait, wait. This might be serious."
John's words gave him pause. "What do you mean serious?" the driver asked.
John needed to lose the driver if this con was to succeed. "Ma'am, this is probably something we should discuss privately."
