The village’s potion shop was some distance away from all the other buildings. Judging from the remnants of houses surrounding it, it was not hard to imagine why. Despite this, the shop was quite intact and tidier than expected. I only had to walk over pools of residue leaking out onto the ground here and there. Wards lined up on the walls, like sconces, glowing with protection. A woman manned the sales counter, her bored face lighting up when she saw me.

“Hello, welcome to the Tangled Brier. What potion are you looking for today?” She asked, smiling.

“A healing potion please.” I took out my empty potion bottle and handed it to her.

“Hmm, you’ve got a dirty one here.” She put the bottle onto a receptacle on the wall behind the counter. Once there, someone from the other side grabbed it. “We can get it cleaned for you with an extra fee.” The receptionist tried to sweet talk me.

“No, I’ll take my chances,” I replied, glancing at the wards. “Do you sell other things besides potions?”

“The wards? No, they’re not for sale.” The saleswoman chuckled. “It's for the forest, you see. Lots of dangerous things lurking about.”

“I thought they were for the potions.” I glanced at the residue pools here and there. “Most potion shops I’ve been to did.”

“They could be, but don’t you think there’s too many for potions only?” The saleswoman began to lean closer towards me from behind the counter.

Curious, I leaned on the opposite side and lent her an ear.

“Alright, you’ve got me interested. Do share what’s been itching your nose.”

“Alright, so I’m no potion-maker, but I’ve learned a thing or two about potion-making.” She glanced at the receptacle before continuing. “You can mix reagents, or use a spell to directly alter the water. And the owner here isn’t doing either to his potions.”

“I’ve seen several houses outside that’d beg to differ.” I joked.

“Potions don’t do that.” She shook her head. “It’s more like everything around the potion shop up and disappeared.”

“So a curse?” A shiver ran through my body right as I spoke. Judging from the expression the saleswoman made, I wasn’t the only one.

“…that’s enough talking for me.” She said, rubbing her arm.

“No, it’s alright,” I said as I looked around for a place to sit. “You don’t happen to have a spare seat behind the counter there, do you?”

“Well, there is, but it’s not for customers.” She clasped her hands together in apology. “The potion will be done quicker than you can say-”

Right at that moment, a distinctive whoop came from the receptacle.

“Huh. That was quick.” The saleswoman said aloud as she went to pick up my potion bottle. “Ah. Oh.”

“Is something wrong?” I inquired. “I’m not going to pay for defective goods.”

“There’s nothing wrong sir.” The saleswoman returned with a stiff smile, a stiffer gait, and the stiffest manners yet. “Here’s your potion.”

“Thank you.” I took my potion bottle back and took out my coin pouch, but the saleswoman shook her head.

“It’s free, this time.” The saleswoman said, “Please do come again.”

“Actually,” I shoved my counted coins onto her and made my way to the door. ”I’m never coming back.”

“Wait.” A new voice boomed through the receptacle. “Please wait, adventurer. I have a request for you.”

“I’m not interested,” I said.

“I have the money, I can assure you. You’ve seen my wares.” The saleswoman by this point had retreated from sight, leaving me alone.

“All I saw was a paltry healing potion. Not an impressive offer.” I retorted. “I thought I’d walked into a ward shop instead of a potion shop at first, with your indeed impressive array of wards.”

“They’re for the forest.” The voice said, “Can’t let the monsters come in here and eat something disagreeable. Or something worse.”

“Like?”

“Something agreeable.” The voice chuckled. “I do not wish to be the hawker of disasters at affordable prices. Where would I find the profit in that?”

“Enough talk.” I barked. “You’re wasting my time.”

“WAIT.” The voice shouted as I started opening the door. “PLEASE WAIT!”

A loud slam came from the door leading deeper into the shop. At the threshold, a man with wild eyes and disheveled clothes stood. With awkward, hurried steps, he closed the distance between us. He was short, coming up to my chest, and his hair had flecks of dried material and other residues. His smell came next to my attention, pungent smells mixing with pleasant ones. They were enough for me to take a step back, and the man took that chance to start talking.

“Can we start over from the beginning? Please? I swear on my sweet mother’s name I will be direct with you.” The short man pleaded.

“I neither care nor know your mother,” I replied.

“Oh, my mother is dead. Dead as a hangnail.” The short man shook his head. “I was talking about coins. A lot of coins.

“Enough for a minor boon or two from your patron, I reckon.” I flinched as the man took on a surprising air. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. Insisting on being paid with money? Brusque and adamant against needless charity?”

“Prone to sudden outbursts of violence against people being too inquisitive?” I added to this short man’s growing list of lies.

“That last one is a rather common trait.” The short man chuckled until he realized what I’d said. “So, will we move things to somewhere more comfortable before we talk about the work ahead?” My name’s Brier Ezy, by the way.

“It’s your shop.” I said.

Brier gave a small smile and clapped his hand.

“Come on in.”