The Demon Lord And His Hero

Life went on as usual. The alchemy room was a flurry of activity. The recent days found Syryn and Salem working from morning to night because of the orders that kept coming in to their business. Other potion shops were now buying their potions wholesale in order to sell them at retail. Lucien had also begun attending classes more seriously. And Rowan was busier than ever.

The giant cauldrons that Syryn had ordered from the blacksmith were due to arrive in the afternoon, and he was arguing with his business partner because-

"How did you even imagine we'd fit the cauldrons through the door?" Salem asked the mage. "How? Syryn, how? Tell me the logistics of it."

"I was getting murdered in my dreams, Salem. Have some sympathy." And that was Syryn's excuse for everything these days.

The half-elf looked down at Syryn through unimpressed amber eyes. "I thought you were smart but it turns out I was wrong."

That hurt Syryn more than it should have. "Well, we needed the cauldrons anyway. I would have bought them whether or not they fit through the door!"

Alka arrived at the scene when their bickering was just peaking. "Syryn, Artemus is here and wants to question you about something."

-----

When Syryn arrived to meet his visitor, Artemus was at the kitchen table as per usual. With a cup of rice tea in his hand, the elegant man cut a picture of quiet beauty against a backdrop of morning sunlight that set the kitchen aglow.

"Hey Art," Syryn cheerily greeted the man whose arrival had put an end to Salem's nagging about the cauldrons.

"Good morning Syryn, you look happy," the dark-eyed anti mage observed.

What was the term for when an unfortunate man was forced into a life-threatening circumstance but was finally free of it to discover that happiness came from the mundane things in life?

"I'm satisfied," Syryn replied with a grin.

Artemus nodded. "That's good to know."

"So," Syryn leaned on a hand and angled his head. "What brings you to me, today?"

Artemus set down the cup and arranged his thoughts in order before speaking them out to Syryn.

"I had a few other priests examine the corpse."

Syryn had a bad feeling about that.

"I called in a favour from the oldest priestess from Saint's Moon, and she was unable to come to the same conclusion as Qairu."

Of course, Syryn thought with annoyance, Artemus would sniff out a tomato hiding in a persimmon cart.

"It wasn't that I doubted the conclusion you came to from Qairu's observation of the corpse. I just think it's strange that he alone had a unique reaction to the corpse."

Syryn nodded to the anti mage's words. "I did tell you that Qairu is special. His holy senses are sharper than the others." Syryn had no idea what the hell he was spouting.

"Holy senses?" Artemus lifted his brows at the mage.

"Rowan is an anomaly among you anti mages, isn't he? So is Qairu - an anomaly amongst the priests. I don't see your anti mage elders replicating the kind of powers that Rowan is able to draw out of himself. This line of questioning is unfair!" Syryn injected some outrage into his tone.

"Nigh'hart, we're dealing with necromancy. This isn't a matter to be pushed under the rug. You know very well how draconian the laws are on this dark art."

"Yes but-"

"I appreciate Qairu's input and aid but I find myself in a position where duty compels me to look further into this matter. Syryn, if a priest is delving deeper into such a study then he needs to be told-"

"Where's your proof?" Syryn interjected. "To accuse Qairu without any proof is just abusing your position and power."

The anti mage angled his head and looked at Syryn like was dissecting him. "I have no proof, Syryn. What I have is intuition, and right now it's telling me that you're very defensive about Qairu."

Sometimes, very rarely, Syryn felt the urge to kill the anti mage. "Get to the point, Artemus. What are you here for, really?" He wished he was back inside the alchemy room fighting with Salem.

"To give you a friendly warning," the anti mage replied. "I could be wrong about Qairu but when necromancy is involved and theres a priest who can do that which no other more experienced priest can, especially when he's refused to give information to me, it leads me to think that he's really special. And special can mean many things, but I don't take chances, Syryn. You knew about his abilities somehow. And maybe this might come as shock to you but I do care about you and I hope that you aren't making your bed with someone involved in necromancy."

Artemus had conceded that it was one giant leap to a conclusion but when Syryn was involved, things tended to get dark and messy very fast. He couldn't in good conscience not warn Syryn about it.

"What about Qairu?" Syryn asked the anti mage. "Are you going to investigate him?"

"Not yet," Artemus replied. He was calmer than the stressed-out Syryn, more self-assured too. The mage was beginning to realise that the anti mage had already been clued in a little more than he would have had he not spoken to Syryn.

"I don't want to help you anymore," he petulantly said to the anti mage.

"You've helped plenty, Syryn. I would rather you continue to counsel the case, but, if that is your decision then I will respect it," Artemus informed him in all seriousness.

Syryn could never let Artemus find out about Lucien's necromancy studies. He was on board with the general belief that the practice of such dark arts only led to more suffering than any good it could do. However, he was nobody's moral police. Syryn would draw the line at human sacrifices when it came to Lucien, but everything else was fair game.