A bright, piercing light forced its way through Peter's eyelids. For a moment he thought he had died again and it was the sarcophagus lid being pushed back. However, instead of Jacob's gruff voice, it was his mother's forced happiness cajoling him out of bed. She had whipped open the curtains and was bustling around his room picking up clothes and straightening his books.

“Come on sleepyhead. You weren't up all night reading under the covers again, were you?” Her voice was aggravating the splitting headache pounding in his temples.

“No Mum, I haven't done that in ages. I got beat up yesterday, remember? Can't I have a sleep in?”

“Oh, honey, you know I could never forget that. But you've had a sleep in, it's almost ten in the morning. I need to do some shopping and I've got my yoga class this afternoon. I shouldn't leave you here alone, so I was going to take you with me. Hop up, here are your clothes. Breakfast is on the table.” Indicating some clothing on the back of his chair, she hurried out of the room so he could get ready.

Peter rolled over and tried to bury his face in the pillow. A stab of agony reminded him of why that was a bad idea. Rolling back over, he sat up and tried to look at himself in the mirror. The image had less depth than it usually did, as the left side of his face was purple and his left eye shut completely. He climbed gingerly out of bed and dressed carefully.

Down in the kitchen he sat in his seat and grimaced at his plate of pancakes. Normally he loved pancakes. After the first bite he had managed to chew on the inside of his cheek and now everything tasted of metal. “Mum, can't I stay home? It hurts to move and I can't see properly.”

“Peter, you're not sixteen yet. I really shouldn't leave you by yourself.”

“But Muuum, what's the worst that can happen? I'm not going to burn the house down, I'm going to be doing my schoolwork and reading. I can still read with one eye. If I go shopping I'll walk into things and fall over and hurt myself even more.” He knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but the mention of schoolwork appeared to have tipped the balance.

“Fine. You can stay home. But take your Panadol now with your food, don't take any more until I get home. I'll only be gone a few hours. If anything happens, call me immediately” she admonished as she handed him a medicine cup full of red syrup.

Kid’s Panadol, Peter thought. I’m not a kid anymore, why does she do this to me? There was something about it though. Something that tickled at a memory, as though from a book he had once read long ago. Something important. He resolved to look it up as soon as his mother left.

Having watched Peter take his medicine, his mother gathered her purse, handbag and keys. She kissed him on the forehead, being very careful of the bruising, and waved as she backed out the door. Peter reluctantly finished his pancakes and washed the plate and cutlery. He looked at the lounge, where his dad had been the night before. Whatever was going on he felt partly responsible. His poor dad had been yelled at by his mother because Peter gotten himself into a fight at school. His mother was clearly worrying herself sick because Peter was home alone. He wished he didn't feel so useless.

Flopping onto the couch with his head up on the arm, Peter decided to give the game a break for a bit. He was feeling useless in there as well. Instead, he brought up the internet page and looked into the history of painkiller medicines. Sure enough, back in medieval times, willow bark tea was used to treat headaches. He recalled seeing a willow tree hanging over a river as he made his way from the boat into Averton. Maybe he could use real recipes to make his own potions. Then I wouldn't have to deal with stupid programs running the shops, Peter mused.

He checked the TAOS&S wikipedia page as well, to see if there were any recipes were listed there. They were, but there was a caveat. For a start, you needed a Herbalist's Journal. It was used to record the recipes you developed. That way, any concoctions you invent or discover on your own could be replicated. However, only purchased recipes from shops worked exactly as written every time. That wasn't always a bad thing, some “discovered” potions worked better than the regular version, but it was dependent on the skill of the brewer and several other factors at the time of making - even down to the position of the stars. Peter jotted down the ingredients for basic health potions and the one for barkskin. Maybe it isn’t schoolwork like I promised, but at last I’m learning something, Peter smiled grimly, and until I can afford some armour it might stop me from dying so much.

He then flipped over to the Herbalism page to see if it had instructions on where these ingredients might be found. The health potion was quite simple, all you needed was a fruit and an insect, both of which were common around Averton. Mash the fruit, crush the insect, mix them together with enough water to fill the cauldron and simmer it down until there was just enough left to fit in a vial. So, now he knew he needed a mortar and pestle, a cauldron, and a vial to put the completed potion into. The wiki suggested that the first would cost about a gold piece, the second about three, and the last around a silver each. About five gold all up, but the final pricing depended on how the local merchant felt about him. Peter was sure he should have earned some reputation points when he brought in extra raspberries for Bovrn the herbalist, the single player RPGs he’d played before worked like that, but it obviously had not be enough to change the price significantly. Peter sat up and dutifully wrote this down with a real pen and paper. There was no way to transfer his virtual notes into the game anyway, and besides, it would make it look like he had been doing his homework in case his mum came home early.

The barkskin potion was more complex. He needed essence of Birchwood for a start. So he had to find out what birch trees look like and how to extract the essence. And what essence was. Then, he would need a powdered nut. The suggested best one was hazel, but any would do. Lastly, it would need a powdered semi-precious gem. Agates were the recommended here. It seemed like a waste of a gem that could be sold for money, but it was only about a gram per potion, so one gem would make many potions. In the real world, drinking powdered gemstone would probably lacerate your insides, but in a fantasy game some rules don't really apply. He quickly opened a second tab and checked. Powdered glass had indeed been used as an assassin's tool in the past, mixed with the salt of the intended victim. The results were stomach turning and the tab just as quickly closed.

Peter checked the clock and found it just after twelve. His mother would have finished shopping by now, and the groceries on their way home in the shop's autonomous delivery vehicle. Her yoga class wasn't for an hour, but he expected she would stop for coffee both before and afterwards. He guessed he had just over two hours until she was home, so he set an alarm to kick him out ten minutes before he expected her home. The school tablet on the coffee table and handwritten notes all over should give the illusion of a day spent studying. Memorising the recipes once more he hit the login.