Chapter 17 #2
Shiro glared at him. The version of himself from this morning wouldn't have cared much about the number, not knowing its value yet, but the afternoon had taught him enough to feel genuinely insulted paying three T.Baelor coin for something the man dared call a sample.
"For your sake, these had better work as advertised," Shiro warned.
Antonein just shrugged off the warning. "How about you try one now?"
"Here?"
"Yeah. You want to know now, don't you?"
They looked at each other. Then Antonein reached into the bag and pulled out the Morpheus Brew.
"Let's start with this one."
"Why this one?"
"It's the cheapest. That's why I'm giving it to you as an actual sample this time.
Twenty-five Deor when I'm actually selling it.
" Just like that, the man revealed exactly where his real ambitions lay, not in this one sale, but in the long, profitable stretch of Shiro becoming a repeat customer.
"If this one works, you'll accept the rest does too, right? "
"That... actually makes sense," Shiro admitted, somewhat against his will.
"So try it. You were curious earlier, weren't you? Let's find out."
Shiro sighed, took what the priest handed him, uncorked it, and drank it down, bitterness hitting his tongue hard enough that he immediately regretted trusting a stranger with this. He looked down and noticed no change.
"I think it's a little early to expect anything," Antonein said. "Kind of forgot to ask how long it usually takes."
"Where did you even get this stuff?" Shiro asked. Antonein had made clear from the start that he wasn't the one brewing any of this, and honestly, even without saying so, it was obvious. He handled the bottles with the detached, awkward familiarity of a reseller just reading off a label.
"That's a secret. I tell you that, and I'm back to peddling holy water for a living."
"That sounds genuinely tragic."
"Hey, don't say it like that. Perfectly lucrative trade."
"Selling water?"
"Holy water," he corrected. "Granted, not much holy about it, substantially speaking. But there's hope in it."
"Hope, huh. That's—" Shiro cut himself off mid-sentence.
"What? Is it happening?"
"No. Thought it was. Turned out to be something else," he said, his belly gurgling in a way that made him regret eating the roasted paddler while waiting for the priest. "Actually, now that I think about it, why do you assume I won't just stick with the cheap option, assuming this actually works?"
Antonein gave him a smile that had no business existing on a priest's face. “I don't. I’m just hoping you show equal love to all my product, because if you stick to one there’s a chance we'll hit a shortage. We don’t want that, do we?”
"You greedy fu—" Shiro snapped, but the words cut off instantly. A sudden tightness in his clothing made him pause mid-sentence. Looking down, he stared in absolute disbelief at a recovery he thought was impossible.
"What? Don't tell me that's another false alarm."
"It's not. It's not! It's growing. It's actually happening."
"Really?"
"Yeah, look—"
"Erm, I'm sure it's a nice view, but I'd rather not."
"Yeah, that’s fair. I'd rather have a lady look at it too, honestly. Instead of you. No offence."
"None taken. Alright then, are we good?" Antonein asked. "You're finally sold on the authenticity of my potions?"
"Yes," Shiro admitted. "For now."
Antonein accepted that with a satisfied nod and got to work sorting the inventory, his share, Shiro's share, taking the opportunity to run through what he'd be charging for each aphrodisiac going forward, before adding a suggestion.
"Actually, instead of just the samples, you could take the whole bag right here, right now," he offered. "I'll cut you a deal on the lot. Twenty-three Baelor, it's yours."
Given he'd only gotten two samples of each so far, twenty-three Baelor for the whole bag was actually a decent deal, but after thinking it over, "I'll try each of what you've already given me first," Shiro said.
Tempting offer, one his current condition was very much endorsing, but he tried not to think with that organ.
"Fair enough." Antonein handed over a smaller case he'd apparently packed for exactly this outcome. "If I were you, I wouldn't waste this boner. I know a good brothel nearby, if you've got nobody."
"The one off the square?"
"You know it?"
"Tried it earlier. Closed. Some greedy ducal son summoned every working girl in the city for some event, no exceptions. Can you believe that?"
"Which one? The eldest or the younger?"
"No idea. Just know he's a greedy bastard, whichever one he is."
"Whoa, easy," Antonein said, dropping his own voice on instinct.
"That kind of talk can get you in real trouble around here.
The city guard's fiercely loyal, split right down the middle between the two brothers.
" He handed over Shiro's share of the bag.
"Let's leave it here. You know where to find me when you need more. See ya."
He was halfway turned to leave when Shiro called after him. "Hey, do you have anything for memo— uh, actually, never mind, forgot what I was going to ask. Hah. See ya, I guess."
With one final, baffled look, Antonein disappeared around the corner. Shiro stood entirely alone in the quiet alley, balancing a bizarre combination of cargo: a roasted paddler in a straw bag, and a case of aphrodisiacs in his other hand.
He lingered a moment longer before forcing his feet forward, with no real idea where he was headed. He didn't know the way back to the Bower. He'd been wandering this city blind for most of the day already, and the sun finishing its orange collapse into night wasn't helping matters.
Somewhere in the middle of that aimless, half-lit wandering through the city's back corridors, a sound finally caught his attention: laughter, ruckus, the low, rolling murmur of a crowd enjoying itself.
The commotion pulled him straight into the mouth of a raucous tavern, the kind of place that had absolutely everything required to put a giant, slightly inebriated smile on a man's face: music that demanded dancing, beer foaming over the edge of mugs faster than anyone could drink it, and plenty of pretty-enough faces.