Azael strode into his chamber and moved directly to the large, ornate cupboard tucked against the far wall.
'If my fragmented memories are right... I think... it must be here,' Azael thought.
He opened the heavy wooden doors and retrieved a small, intricately carved storage ring from a velvet-lined compartment. His scattered memories confirmed it held some basic necessities and a reasonable amount of funds, enough for his immediate needs.
'This much might be enough for buying those things.'
He slipped the ring onto his finger, then checked his appearance one last time. He needed to be inconspicuous, or at least, not immediately recognizable as the Ignivar heir.
'I should change into casual clothes.'
So he changed his outfit into a normal one: just a plain beige t-shirt and black trousers.
Deciding to go alone, Azael left his chamber. He found one of the family's standard, albeit luxurious, carriages waiting in the courtyard. He spoke briefly to the driver, making it clear that he required no guards and wanted to proceed to the city's main market immediately.
The driver, accustomed to the new, strange directives of the Young Master, simply nodded and followed the instruction without protest.
The carriage pulled away from the Ignivar estate. Azael settled inside, watching the scenery pass. It was a clear, sunny afternoon. As they approached the capital city, the architecture shifted from grand manors to crowded, tall brick buildings.
"The city sure is beautiful and lively," he muttered. His expression was calm as he observed the city.
He observed the vibrancy of the city. The loud chatter of the populace, the heavy smell of coal smoke mixed with fresh bread, and the constant, bustling movement. It was a sharp contrast to the quiet, disciplined life of the estate.
When they entered the busy commercial district, marked by rows of small businesses and workshops, Azael stopped the carriage.
He opened the door and stepped down onto the cobblestone street. The flow of people immediately surged around him. He turned to the driver.
"Wait for me here, outside the main market square. I won't be long... maybe... just wait for me."
"As you say, Young Master."
The driver agreed, and Azael adjusted his simple traveling cloak, blending into the crowd as he entered the market.
What he was trying to find was an alchemy shop, or perhaps a specialty potion shop. He knew the type of item he needed would not be sold on a main thoroughfare.
He began to wander, asking discreetly here and there. Most merchants were too busy selling foodstuffs or cheap trinkets to be helpful. After roaming for more than half an hour, navigating through stalls selling everything from salted fish to enchanted glassware, he finally received directions to an old alchemy shop from a woman selling dried herbs.
Following her directions, Azael left the main, crowded square and moved into a secluded area—a narrow, shadowed alleyway where the buildings pressed close together. The atmosphere immediately grew quiet and less sanitary.
"Why is it so secluded... how can they even make money?" he mumbled.
At the dead end of the alley, he found the shop.
It was an old, dilapidated building. The wooden sign hanging precariously above the door was faded and chipped, reading simply: "Elixirs & Solvents." The windows were dusty, and the scent of bitter herbs and potent, burnt chemicals wafted faintly from within. This was exactly the kind of place that might stock products a noble wouldn't dare purchase openly.
"Well, better than nothing." Azael moved forward. His hand held the door's handle. The handle felt cold to his skin.
Krrrkkch.
He pushed open the wooden door. It made a creaking noise.
"It's really an old place."
Inside, the air was thick with the mingled scents of dried herbs, bitter roots, and something faintly metallic, like old magic lingering in the walls.
Shelves lined every inch of the room, rising all the way to the ceiling. They were cluttered with dusty glass vials, cork-stopped jars, and oddly shaped bottles filled with swirling liquids that glowed faintly in the dim light. Some potions pulsed softly, as if alive. Others were pitch-black, refusing to reflect any of the lantern light.
Bundles of herbs. Lavender, bloodthorn, moonleaf, hung upside down from thick wooden beams above.
The shop felt cramped, but alive. Every so often, a faint whisper or fizz came from a bottle on a high shelf, reacting to movement or presence.
In one corner, a narrow counter stood. Behind the counter, a collection of crystals glowed in different colors, arranged carefully in a circular pattern—an alchemist's focus array.
But there was no one at the counter.
Azael moved inside. His feet clicked against the wooden floor. He observed the potions, herbs, and chemicals on the wooden shelves.
Just then, a voice came from inside.
"Oh my~ a customer after a long time!" It was a gentle and excited voice of a lady.
Azael turned his face to the voice's direction.
His eyes widened a little. There standing was a woman. A breathtaking woman. She looked to be in her thirty-something.
A tall woman. Unhurried, her violet hair spilling in liquid waves down her back, catching the candlelight in shifting amethyst glints. Her eyes, the same color, were impossibly beautiful, ancient. There was amusement in her eyes, as though she already knew every secret he held.
The robe she wore was midnight violet edged in black, heavy silk embroidered with faint silver runes that shimmered when she breathed. It was meant for ceremony, not concealment.
The fabric parted and clung in all the right places, sliding over the slow, generous rise of her massive breasts. Full, impossibly round, straining against the delicate ties as if the cloth itself were reluctant to cage them.
Each subtle shift of her shoulders made the silk sigh against her skin, outlining the soft weight beneath. Her waist was thin, but just at the lower side, her hips wide. Those curves were something else.
She walked seductively towards Azael. Her hips swayed hypnotically.
"Hey there, boy! My name is Liona. You can address me by my name. Now, what do you want?" she asked with a gentle voice.
Azael gulped down his saliva, closed his eyes, and then opened again. He exhaled heavily.