A Devil’s Knowledge
The young mage was deep in thought as she gazed upon her mortar and pestle—the signature tool of her profession, which her family had taken as its crest.
A concocter of potions played a vital role in any adventuring party. Cuts, bruises, deadly illnesses, broken bones—all of these would grow into much graver concerns unless someone was there to patch things up early on. If you chose to take on the role of healer, then it made complete sense to specialize in this one role.
But Kaya had realized that this alone wouldn’t be enough.
During one of her jobs, Kaya had been there to see a vicious gang of bandits repelled, thanks to the tactical input of Erich—the adventurer who’d invited her and Dirk along in the first place. Erich’s plan had been devised to cause the least bloodshed possible; regardless, the most tenacious of the bandits were left with grievous injuries, well beyond her power to fix. She knew that Erich was cut from more compassionate cloth than most other adventurers—though he claimed that he stopped at slicing off fingers for the increased reward—but if he realized a foe would become a nuisance if left alive, even he would cut throats with the swiftness of a farmer reaping the harvest.
The fountains of blood, the sudden death rattle—the battlefield was strewn with destruction that Kaya could never fix.
But swords weren’t the only tools of bloodshed—the knight-killing might of crossbows and bolts, the gouging power of spears, the bone-crushing power of maces, and the unique horrors of combat magic all left unique wounds that demanded unique solutions.
It was a blessing that Dirk had somehow avoided any such harm this whole time. She knew it had all hinged on pure luck. He had been blessed with his own strength, powerful allies, and time, and so for now the scales tipped in his favor.
Kaya’s hand and the pestle clutched within it shook as she wondered what she would do if he ended up with an injury that she couldn’t fix. She wasn’t yet skilled enough to reattach a severed finger. Even if she did manage it, it wouldn’t move as it once had. If Dirk’s guts were shredded by a sword, then she would have nothing left to do but throw her hands up in despair. Or if death came in an instant, from a blade to the neck or a crushing blow to his skull, then the flame of life would be snuffed out before she could even move to act.
“I need to do more. I need to get better...stronger...more talented.”
But her work couldn’t keep pace with her goals.
There was a wonder medicine passed down through Kaya’s family that had the miraculous ability to bring a person back from death’s doorstep. Yet it was a hugely difficult potion to concoct, and even among her ancestors, only three people in her family’s entire history had ever managed to recreate the formula; even Kaya’s mother hadn’t managed it. Potion concocting wasn’t like cooking, where all you needed to do was follow a recipe. Many factors influenced the brewing process—the degree of the concocter’s mana, its quality, how much control you exerted, and the quality of the catalyst. The Nyx family’s most precious potions even took into consideration the temperature, humidity, and position of the stars.
Kaya had watched her mother concoct a whole variety of potions, but she was still yet immature. If she were to set to the task immediately and put in her every effort to try and make the miracle cure, the result would be a bottle of slop that wouldn’t even be graced with the label of “failure.” All the same, she couldn’t exactly ask Dirk to avoid danger until the day she could concoct it. Nothing could place those shameful words upon her tongue. Dirk was the one who took her to see the wider world as he proclaimed to one day become a legend-worthy hero. If she said something so disheartening, she would only get in the way.
“I know... I’ll work on protective magic!”
Kaya’s struggles with the hard-and-fast manipulation of reality and her rare gift for making potions stemmed from one source—an oath she didn’t even know she’d sworn. She had, through means unknown and perhaps unknowable, materialized an ancient method which allowed one to channel resources away from multiple areas and redirect them to one talent in particular. This oath brought with it amplified abilities at the cost of only using her potions to create curative effects. However, she had just hit upon a spark which would allow her to sidestep this: protective magic.
Washing your hands, taking baths, cleaning your clothes—cleanliness was a preventative form of care that stopped you getting sick, and a valuable part of medical treatment. That logic could be taken to the battlefield—if Kaya could use her potions to prevent her allies from getting hurt, then that would be classed as a form of healing, right?
“Arrow-deflecting magic... Yeah, I know I made some notes about it.”
The most valuable resource that she had taken with her before she’d run away from home for good was knowledge. The Nyx family made it a tradition for each member to write their own ingredient lists and recipes, so that they could hone and perfect the medicines that the age required. In Kaya’s own notes, she had written copies of the potions that she thought may come in handy.
“We’ll need something to keep us safe if we end up outnumbered.”
Flicking to the later pages of her notes, she found some of the scribblings she had jotted down on the previous job with Erich. As they had talked, Kaya had realized that all manner of unexpected things could rain down upon her dearest friend. If she didn’t make sure Dirk had a protective barrier or warding charms, then he could have his faculties wrecked by wicked tear gas; it didn’t even have to be directed at him; a formula could remove the friction from the ground beneath his very feet and cause him to stumble.
When Erich had been telling her all this, she had simply brushed it off as a cautionary tale of the horrible ideas people come up with, but then she realized that this knowledge could be used to protect Dirk. She didn’t need to kill anyone, didn’t need to hurt anyone. All she had to do was make sure the dangers that flew his way never reached him.
“I can do this...I think.”
Kaya murmured to herself as she checked her catalysts and her remaining funds. Nothing would change about her desire to help people. It wouldn’t go against her family’s teachings or against the oath, not really.
But there was something that Kaya didn’t realize: learning magic to protect Dirk from great dangers would only push him toward ever more deadly battlefields. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
[Tips] Upon birth, people can unintentionally bind themselves. Whether this shortcoming becomes a strength or a lethal failing hinges on one’s perspective.
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