The Demon Lord and his Hero (BL)

Syryn soon spent nearly all the money he had left on him. He acquired a mortar and pestle, a very affordable and low-quality cauldron, and a large batch of common herbs. He also purchased 30 small glass vials for storing liquid. When everything had been placed inside his new satchel, Syryn found a private area to change into commoner clothing.

The quality of his bag though declared opulence and magic. There was only one way to solve this problem.

He found a tailor to adhere a few brooches to the satchel without damaging the leather. "Sir, are you sure?" The old lady's brows drew up in distress. Even she could tell how expensive and well crafted the bag was. Syryn had handed her a palm-full of golden brooches that he had ripped out of a cheap bag. The satchel would appear tacky when it was covered up in unicorn and flower-shaped brooches, exactly like the fake leather bags sold by imitators.

"It's something my little sister requested from me." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Have it done quickly."

Syryn's eyes almost hurt from how shiny and vulgar his bag appeared. He paid the distressed tailor and used up 5 silver coins to buy a saucepan, a waterskin, a sharp knife, one large ladle, spoons, 2 bowls, culinary spices, sauces, and salt. His final stop was at a shop that sold candles, wax, potion bases, cotton linen, an arcane compass and a box of tinder which he stuffed into his satchel once he was out.

Syryn was finally ready to go back to Ganinova forest. He bought a heaping plate filled with meat pie, dried fruit and juice which he shared with Milky on their way back. The cart rocked back and forth lulling milky into a deep sleep.

When he reached Ganinova, Syryn dug up his remaining treasure and put them all into his tacky looking satchel.

"Goodnight Milky, let's go exploring tomorrow." He murmured to the sleeping kitten and laid down on the grass to sleep the night away. As his breathing evened out, Milky's eyes opened and surveyed the tree line. He settled down on Syryn's chest while keeping an eye out for the spectre that hunted his master. If it dared to get close, Milky would rip it apart. The kitten's silver claws gleamed in the moonlight before they slipped back inside.

The first thing that Syryn did in the morning was to bind the bag to his blood. It was a relatively simple process. A single drop of blood fell into the open mouth of the bag. Now if anyone else other than Syryn tried to stick their hand inside, the bag would devour the offending body part. It was a terrible price to pay for thievery but some solutions could circumvent this inconvenience. Any robber worth his salt knew never to attempt to reach into safes and bags without precautions in place. Syryn went the extra mile by spelling the satchel with layers of curses that only the best disarmers and anti mages could contend with.

"Milky, you sleep all day and all night. Are you sick?" Syryn lifted the kitten and peered into its sleepy eyes. "Even for a feline, you tend to sleep a lot. " He observed critically.

The lethargic kitten batted its paw at Syryn's cheek and purred. He was lowered back into the pocket of Syryn's new coat. Milky and his master had both taken a scrubbing and now they smelled like lemon and coconut. Breakfast had been a warm bowl of rabbit meat stew that filled up their bellies aplenty.

Today, Syryn decided to brew a few basic potions for his use. He found a secluded section of the forest where hunter trails and markings were not to be found. Milky lay perched on a boulder while Syryn unwrapped his ingredients and vials. He began with a simple hemostatic potion for surface level wounds.

Syryn poured half a litre of alcohol into the cauldron. Potions with alcohol bases were normally done through the cool mix process. However, some ingredients required heat for binding with the base. Hemostatic potions were such that had to be carried out through the hot mix process. Once the alcohol started boiling, Syryn had roughly 5 minutes to add in the remaining ingredients before the potency of the alcohol was lost.

There was a sequence to how the ingredients would have to be added and stirred without upsetting the concoction. Potions were like volatile lovers that one had to handle with care and love. Gentle arm movements and smooth adjustments to heat were essential for the transition of the mixture to a perfect potion. When Syryn was done with his, a clear pink coloured potion that smelled astringent was left in his cauldron. It was poured into 6 vials and stoppered once they cooled. Any experienced alchemist would recognise that the vials contained an extremely high grade of hemostatic potion, one that could be improved further only by using an upgraded cauldron.

"If I can't even do this much, I don't deserve my rebirth." He told his kitten while holding a vial to the sunlight. Milky sniffed the air daintily and swiped a pebble off the boulder he was perched on.

The feline slept until the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Syryn had brewed 6 hemostatic potions and planned to sell all of them. He also prepared 10 minor healing poultices with cotton strips and the herbs that he had foraged from the forest. They would last a week at most so he had to sell them off quickly.

"Milky, let's leave this town and travel to Nusiris port. It is 5 times bigger than Maple town." He tucked the kitten into his front pocket and set a leisurely pace. Milky was wide awake and keenly watching the sky as if he was aware of a danger that Syryn couldn't see.

"The port is located at the western coast of our kingdom. You'll see all kinds of people and creatures at Nusiris. It's the biggest port in the Sigil Kingdom so every kind of good is traded there. Arcane crystals, precious stones, medicine, textiles, beasts, armour, rare ingredients, and anything you can think of Milky, they're all at Nusiris."

A loud meow came from his kitten which was very cute but also menacing. Syryn looked in the direction that Milky was staring at but there was nothing that warranted the disgusted 'mrrrreow' that he heard. He could not understand what was wrong with Milky. Syryn rubbed the back of its ear and took a deep breath of moonflower.

"I suddenly feel tired. Let's set up camp here." Syryn pointed to a large tree that was hollowed out at the base. It was big enough to fit in a 12-year-old. His kitten hissed and disagreed.

"Milky!" Syryn was caught off guard by Milky leaping out of his pocket. The kitten ran ahead at a pace that kept him in the view of Syryn. Kitten and master walked on till the tree line broke into a clearing. Milky flicked his tail and sat on his haunches.

'This is where we camp' was what Milky seemed to indicate. He swished his tail impatiently as Syryn walked out into the clearing.

"You don't like the shadows do you, Milky?" Syryn pinned his kitten with a knowing look. "I remember you had brown eyes the night that I found you. It's surprising how the color changed to blue in the morning. Cats are such strange creatures." The smile that Syryn wore was as enigmatic as the puzzle that Milky presented.