The old man Laiz was currently transacting with a woman when Nero entered the store. After exchanging some quick glances and eyebrow flashes with him, the old man continued servicing his current client; the young healer then occupied himself in scanning the products displayed inside the store.

On a glass shelf that was placed on the store’s left side, ceramic bottles of numerous variations and quantities lined up, each a few centimeters away from each other, each engraved with the name of the pill they contain and its uses. All those pills were different—a total of twenty-seven variations—and only a few of them he recognized, and fewer still he ever bought and used sometime. Thinking about his soon-to-be adventures, he might need more of those pills.

A few while later, the woman finished buying some pills from the store. She and Nero exchanged nods of courtesy before she went out.

Nero then proceeded to the counter, where the old apothecary went and was waiting for him.

“What is it now, kid?” Laiz asked, actually as a form of greeting. “More aether sand? Some pills?”

“I might need some Ridians,” the young healer answered, “and maybe some Sanga’s, Argustians, and a few Daphal’s.”

The apothecary’s brows knitted. “Are you going somewhere far, boy?”

He smiled slightly, not reaching his eyes. “You can say that.”

“Is that why you’re lethargic? A bit anxious?”

Lethargic? Did he look lethargic? “Maybe.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Do you have those pills?”

“Of course, of course. How many bottles?”

“Three of each.”

Laiz then went to a few white cabinets in the store-proper, sliding their doors, and taking out three bottles of pills each time; each bottle—unlike those in the display—had a thin rope tied near its top, with different colors designating each kind of pill. He then brought them to the counter four at a time, then separated them according to the color of the thin rope tied to them—that is, according to their kinds.

During all that, the old man asked him a number of questions, obviously in an attempt to not let the air die on them.

“How was your uncle’s invention?” was the first question.

He answered, “He vanished a couple of days ago, so he didn’t finish it.”

“Vanish?” The old man glanced at him, confused.

“I mean, he left me. For good.”

“Oh. So, that’s why you’re travelling somewhere far now?”

“Let’s just say his sudden absence just triggered what I have been planning for a while now.”

“And that is, going far away?”

Nero nodded. “I might not return, too.”

“Why do I feel like you don’t plan looking for your uncle? Perhaps, you’re sulking, ey?”

Of course, he had plans to look for his uncle, it grazed his purview. But where should he even start? There was no other place that Amé had went to, at least for these past sixteen years when he took care of him, where he might have gone for now. Besides, if he wanted to find him, he’d need to travel. And for that, nothing really changed about his current plans, though surely how he would go around it would be very much affected by his uncle’s absence. Tsk, even his absence is overbearing!

The old man, which at that point was starting to bring the bottles of pills in fours to the counter, commented (as the young healer was silent for awhile), “Well, in any case, that’s good—that you’re ready now to travel. A talent like yours will just be wasted in such a shabby town like Siedsy. Where will you go now, by the way? Where do you plan to go?”

“I’m leaving for Breeston City,” he said, “I’m yet to secure my signet.”

“Oh, Breeston is releasing healer’s signets now? That’s new.”

“No. I’ll get it from my master.”

“Ah, right, right. Now I remember. My bad.”

The old man had already separated all the bottles of pills at that moment and was computing their total cost.