CHAPTER 214: CHAPTER 214 – CRIMSON POTIONS IN A FOREIGN TOWN

The town’s main street glowed under rows of oil lanterns hanging from wooden posts, casting golden light across food stalls still open despite the late hour. Steam from soups and grilled meats mingled with the salty breeze carried in by the winter wind, creating a bustling yet strangely familiar atmosphere.

Sylvia walked through it all with steady steps. Her crimson eyes lingered briefly on several stalls, skewers of meat glistening with oil, round loaves stuffed with vegetables, even steaming cups of sweet herbal brews. Her stomach never truly hungered, but her mind recalled how Sofia once used to force her to taste warm food at Nocture’s markets.

This time, she turned her head sharply, banishing the thought.

Alicia and Stacia matter more. They’re lying wounded. I can’t waste a moment.

Her pace quickened, her black cloak billowing, scattering the fog that clung to the cobbled street. Townsfolk instinctively stepped aside, some sneaking glances before quickly averting their eyes. Something in her bearing cold, regal, and intimidating kept them from approaching.

Fortunately, the hunters’ guild hall was easy to find. The building was larger than the rest, its dark wood walls marked with the emblem of a shield and two crossed swords above the door. Bright lamps burned on either side, making it stand out among the modest stalls.

Beside it stood a smaller shop, its wooden sign carved with Herbal & Potions. Warm light spilled through the doorway, carrying the scent of dried flowers and earthy tonics.

Sylvia pushed the wooden door open. A small bell chimed overhead.

"Good evening!" a cheerful voice greeted so different from the innkeeper’s wary tone earlier.

Behind a plain wooden counter stood a young girl, no more than fourteen. Her brown hair was tied into a high ponytail, her wide eyes sparkling with curiosity. A damp cloth was still in her hand, perhaps from wiping down the rows of bottles on the shelves behind her.

Sylvia blinked. She had expected an old alchemist with ink-stained fingers, not a bright-eyed girl with a gentle smile.

"What are you looking for, miss?" the girl asked, her tone light and sincere.

The tension in Sylvia’s face eased slightly. The cold aura she normally carried seemed to thaw, if only a little. Her words came softer than usual.

"Healing potions. High-grade ones. Do you have any?"

The girl bit her lip, thinking for a moment. She turned toward the shelves behind her, where glass bottles of every color lined the wood. With a light step, she fetched one vial filled with thick crimson liquid, glowing like fresh blood caught in candlelight.

"This is the strongest we have here, miss," she said, placing it gently on the counter. "Will this be enough?"

Sylvia studied the vial silently. Her fingers brushed its cool surface.

"Appraisal."

Her crimson eyes glimmered faintly. Lines of unseen text unfurled in her mind:

High-Grade Healing Potion

Restores moderate to severe physical wounds. Accelerates tissue regeneration by up to 300%. Ineffective against fatal wounds or major organ damage.

Sylvia gave a small nod. Good. This will do. With this, Stacia can recover faster, and Alicia can regain her drained strength.

"Good. I’ll buy it," she said curtly. "How much?"

The girl hesitated before raising three fingers. "Five gold coins, miss. That’s the official guild price. These potions... are quite expensive."

Sylvia paused briefly. Five gold for one vial was steep, even in a large city. But she didn’t flinch. She reached into her pouch, pulled out gleaming gold coins, and dropped them on the counter with a heavy clink.

"I’ll take three bottles."

The girl’s eyes widened in shock. "T-three? That’s... fifteen gold, miss. Are you sure...?"

Sylvia’s gaze was steady, not cold, but impossibly regal, leaving no room for doubt. "Quickly."

"O-oh! Right away!" The girl hurried to the shelves, snatching two more bottles, then set them carefully beside the first. "Three high-grade healing potions. Thank you so much, miss!"

Sylvia slipped the vials into the storage pouch at her hip. She was ready to leave but paused.

Her gaze returned to the girl, those wide, curious eyes, that nervous but genuine smile.

"You’re tending this shop alone?" she asked softly.

The girl nodded. "Yes, miss. My father’s away on guild business, so I’m filling in."

"...You’re young."

"Oh, it’s fine! I’m used to it. And... I want to help." She smiled brightly, though her hand clutched the damp cloth tightly.

Sylvia regarded her for a few moments longer, then gave a faint nod. "Don’t stay open too late. The night isn’t always kind."

"Oh... yes. Thank you, miss." The girl bowed slightly, her cheeks tinged pink.

Sylvia turned, pushing open the door. The bell chimed again as cold night air rushed in, biting at her skin. Yet, strangely, a faint warmth lingered in her chest from the exchange.

She strode back down the lantern-lit street, ignoring the tempting aromas of roasted meat and fresh bread. The inn’s silver-moon sign gleamed faintly in the distance.

Her hand tightened on the pouch at her hip. Only one thought matters: Alicia and Stacia must recover.

But as she passed another row of food stalls, her senses betrayed her. The hiss of meat roasting on hot stone, the rich smell of thick stew laced with herbs, the earthy scent of fresh bread pulled from ovens. Her body might not require food, but her mind bound by human habit sent a pang of hunger. And more importantly, her sisters would need the nourishment.

She stopped at a modest stall. The vendor, an old man with a thick mustache, ladled stew from a steaming pot. On a small side table sat bowls of vegetable porridge and crusty loaves meant for dipping.

"One venison stew, two vegetable porridges, and bread. To go," Sylvia ordered calmly.

The man froze at her appearance black cloak, glowing red eyes but quickly masked his surprise with practiced friendliness, used to strange adventurers passing through. "Of course, miss. Just a moment."

He worked swiftly, filling a wooden container with steaming stew, two bowls with soft porridge and vegetables, and wrapping the bread in leaves before tucking everything into a thick cloth bag.

"That’ll be eight silver," he said.

Sylvia handed him ten without pause. "Keep the rest."

The man blinked, startled, then bowed deeply. "Thank you, miss. May the warmth of this food bring your kin strength again."

Sylvia gave only a slight nod before striding back toward the inn. One hand gripped the food bag, the other brushing against the pouch of potions at her hip.

The Silver Moon Inn glowed warmly ahead. Pushing the door open, she entered. The hearth’s heat wrapped around her. Without slowing, she climbed the wooden stairs, the boards creaking beneath her steady pace.

She opened the door to her rented chamber. The oil lamp bathed the spacious room in soft gold.

On the king-sized bed, Alicia sat propped against the headboard, pale but awake. Stacia too was half-conscious, her back supported by cushions, lips dry but eyes struggling to focus.

As Sylvia entered, both turned their heads.

"Sylvia..." Alicia’s voice was hoarse, but relief filled it.

Sylvia shut the door behind her and approached. "You’re awake. Good."

She set the cloth bag on the bedside table, opening it. The fragrance of stew and porridge filled the air.

"You must be hungry," she said quietly.

Alicia swallowed, managing a faint smile. "Hm... I could eat an entire pot right now."

Stacia only gave a small nod, her eyes fixed on the porridge like a child long denied sweets.

Sylvia placed the bowl of stew into Alicia’s hands. "Eat slowly. Don’t rush."

For Stacia, she scooped a spoonful herself, blowing gently to cool it, then held it to her lips. "Open."

Stacia wanted to protest but obeyed. The warmth slid down her throat, bringing color faintly back to her cheeks. "Thank you... Sylvia."

Sylvia only nodded, her eyes sharp and intent as she fed her more.

Alicia, though trembling, ate on her own, smiling weakly between spoonfuls. "If Sofia saw you like this... she’d laugh at you."

Sylvia arched her brow. "Why?"

"Because you look like an overprotective nurse," Alicia chuckled, then coughed.

Sylvia snorted, but a ghost of a smile curved her lips. "If it helps you heal, I don’t care what I look like."

Soon, the food was gone. Their faces looked brighter, though fatigue still lingered. Sylvia then set three crimson vials on the table, their liquid gleaming under the lamp.

"Now these." She uncorked one and handed it to Alicia. "Drink. This will speed your recovery."

Alicia frowned. "A high-grade potion... you must have spent a fortune."

"Not your concern," Sylvia cut her off. "Drink."

Alicia chuckled softly and downed it. Heat spread through her veins, a burning that soothed rather than seared. Her wounds pulsed, then eased as pain ebbed away. Her breathing grew steadier. "Ahh... much better."

Sylvia turned to Stacia, opening the second vial. She tipped it gently to her sister’s lips. Stacia grimaced at the bitter taste, but relief quickly followed the bleeding slowed, the grayness in her face fading to life.

"...This is incredible," she whispered faintly.

Sylvia set the empty vial aside and sat in a chair by the bed. "Rest. The potion will only work if you don’t strain yourselves."

Alicia leaned back, smiling faintly. "You really do sound like our mother tonight."

Stacia, still weak, added softly, "Mm... and I like seeing you this way."

Sylvia turned her face aside as if rejecting the words, but a faint, unshakable smile touched the corner of her lips.

"You two are troublesome," she muttered. Yet her voice was warm, nothing like her usual coldness.

Outside, the winter wind blew across the streets. But inside that chamber, warmth lingered from food, from healing, and from the bond between three sisters who, at least for this night, were safe.