I observe as the revered Blood Knight, in his full suit of Devicitian armor, pulls a small bag of dried toadstools from his satchel and drops an assortment of them into the pot. He adds a few drops of oil and half a bottle of some sort of purple glittering liquid. “You really are an apothecary, aren’t you?” I offer him a small grin, only because it seemed so unlikely that he was honest with me that day.
