The Demon Lord And His Hero

In a week, Salem showed up at Holly Manor where Syryn was already ensconced. He had chosen the storage room in the manor as their designated alchemy chamber. The blonde brought with him several alchemical supplies that filled half of the space in the workroom.

Rows upon rows of bottled ingredients, leather-bound books, and jars of preserved specimens lined their new shelves. And on a rack that Salem had acquired from the market, there hung dried sprigs of herbs that were arranged neatly in order of their names.

Syryn had come to find that Salem was very organised and liked to label his ingredients in such a manner that only a fellow alchemist could understand.

"You still haven't given me a copy of the house rules," Syryn heard Salem address him. The blonde alchemist was setting up his side of the workroom. Compared to Salem's hoard of ingredients, Syryn's corner was pitifully bare.

"House rules?" Syryn hadn't thought of any. "As long as you don't damage property or injure the occupants of the manor, we're good."

"Can I dispose of bodies in the forest grounds?" The half-elf smiled at his new landlord.

Syryn turned to look at Salem wondering if the boy was joking. "No, I'd rather you buried them behind the shed where I'll be setting up an extensive garden for fresh ingredients."

"Sounds like a project I'd like to help with," Salem replied with an interested nod.

"That would be nice. Would you like to partner with me?" Syryn had a mind for something more ambitious and Salem was the perfect partner for his business project. Where else would he find a better alchemist?

"Certainly. Have you prepared a chart of plant companion sets?"

Most magical plants grew healthier when they were paired with other plant types specific to their natures. Any herb tender worth his salt was well prepared with seasonal charts.

Syryn shook his head and thought about the enormity of the project that was gaining shape in his mind. "Not yet. We should decide together on the catalogue of plants."

"Then we need to get started as soon as possible so we can catch the changing season."

The next day, Syryn said goodbye to Rowan in a note that went with the last batch of potions he sent the anti mage. He received a book in return. It was a rare copy of 'Ruby Tablet' - written by the most well-read alchemist in history. He tucked it into the brand new bookshelf that stood against his bedroom wall. In his last life, Rowan had gifted him the same book. It had been his favourite.

Soon, Alka and Magnus too showed up with Lucien and all their collection of worldly items. Alka's several plants adorned the entrance of Holly Manor. Lucien as per usual, stuck to Magnus' room, while Alka moved into the big upstairs room just opposite Syryn's master bedroom. There was a lot of work to be done in the house and so the arrival of his friends considerably lightened Syryn's load.

Caught up in the whirlwind of classes, brewing, gardening, and all his endless responsibilities, another year was coming to a close on Syryn and his group of friends. Salem was a disciplined housemate - helping in every way he could towards the upkeep of the manor, cooking, and shopping - and he never once tried to poison their water supply. Apart from the occasional emergencies that were caused when those pesky fumes from his experiments threatened to kill his housemates, the boy got along just fine with the others.

Everything should have been perfect, and it was until it wasn't. Syryn had begun to notice a change in Salem's rigid routine. The blonde alchemist was a creature of habit, one that began with an early morning workout before sunrise. A single cup of rice tea with whatever breakfast one of them had cooked up followed his post-workout bath. Salem always smelled fresh, like his soap - a blend of orange, cloves and bamboo. His teal-coloured towel never failed to appear hanging out in the sun while Salem broke fast. It would then be put away with the same attentiveness that the alchemist put to washing his plate.

His regime was set in stone, sealed and on an unbroken streak. It gave Syryn a sense of comfort knowing his day would always begin the same way. But Salem had changed and this infuriated the younger alchemist. Syryn chose the second week after the deviation began - to mount a confrontation against the older boy.

"Salem, you woke up after sunrise. Care to explain?" Syryn slithered up to the blonde who was hanging up his towel. The younger boy wondered why the colour hadn't faded in more than a year of its use. Did Salem have a set of towels that were all teal in colour?

The half elf's height had eaten up the year, and Syryn could see it in the difference between the tops of their heads. Elves were gifted with a physique that made every style of clothing look good on them. Salem was indifferent to his burgeoning good looks and this made him even more attractive in the eyes of the men and women in his life.

"New house rules?" Salem raised his brows at Syryn.

"No, I'm just curious. What's changed?" Perfectionists like Salem didn't just wake up one morning and decide to go back to bed for another short nap.

"You've probably noticed my late night outings. That should be explanation enough," Salem replied. He was meticulously folding the teal towel into a square.

"Yes, it's none of my business what you do with your time but I need you to get back to form," Syryn petulantly demanded. "I've timed the end of my morning walk with your arrival at the kitchen."

A quirk of Salem's mouth showed the alchemist's amusement at Syryn's bratty ways. "I'll see what I can do," he replied. Syryn's long dark hair was loosely braided and tied with his black ribbon. Seeing how fond the younger boy was of it, Salem had given him a second one, a silky indigo affair that matched Syryn's eyes.

"Oh and one more thing, you reeked of alcohol and angel smoke last night. Alka thinks you've been visiting brothels," the glee on Syryn's face was wicked. He wanted to ruffle the feathers on the cool alchemist but his efforts were for nought.

Salem barely reacted to the accusation. "Alka is right. I'll be more mindful next time," he replied calmly before leaving a dissatisfied Syryn behind him. The younger boy had failed to get any answers, failed to annoy the blonde, and had failed to secure a proper response to his demand.

There was only one thing left to do - snoop. And here began Syryn's involvement in Salem's saga of tragedy, a blight upon the younger man's claim of obedience to society's laws.

Syryn, under the cloak of his dark powers, stalked Salem a few weeks later. It was a moonless midnight, an hour of the night shunned by the civilised folks of Elysium - all warmly buried under their blankets and dreams. Strike one against Salem.

The blonde alchemist made his way into a seedy alley of the docks that led to an area populated by brothels. Strike two against Salem. There were high-class brothels in other places so Syryn did not believe the older alchemist was here just to dip into a honey pot.

The entrance to the street was clean but the thugs and sea hardened inebriated sailors that frequented the place gave it an air of disrepute. Syryn cast an illusion on himself and walked past a pair of arguing men, looking like a destitute old man.

As they continued onward, Salem lifted his cowl and obfuscated himself with a spell at a shadowy nook of the street. They then passed by several buildings whereupon dozens and dozens of scantily clad women solicited customers. Syryn was nauseous from the assault of cheap perfume that inundated his olfactory senses.

Salem finally stopped at the door to a brightly lit building that looked the most reputable of the lot they had walked past. A signboard declaring itself 'The velvet pearl' hung above its eaves.

Syryn's quarry entered unencumbered by the guard at the door. If the blonde was really here for some cheap sex, Syryn swore he would get inside the nearest brothel and sell his chrysanthemum to the highest bidder. Curiosity itched at him but the alchemist played it safe and waited outside the building while blending into the shadows. This wasn't Salem's first night out so Syryn knew he had had more future escapades with the blonde. Tonight was only a scouting trip to confirm Alka's suspicions about Salem.

Syryn nearly fell asleep in his hiding spot considering the fact that it had been more than an hour since Salem's journey into the velvet pearl. In a moment of doubt, he conjured a mental image of the blonde alchemist breathing hard and wrapped between the legs of a busty young prostitute. He shook his mind off that terrible thought in time for a reveal that was completely off the mark. Salem was out now in the company of another man - a wealthy-looking middle-aged man who was drunk off his rockers and had an arm around the waist of Salem.

What in the name of Eos' sacred thighs was going on? Syryn thought. Salem, I misjudged your taste in lovers! Syryn was content to walk away and pretend there was nothing else here for him to see but his guts - the voice of reason, his lifesaver, and lie detector - told him to follow the duo, so follow he did.

Salem walked with an air of purpose, leading the drunk man in a dizzy route through the maze of alleyways. When they disappeared behind the corner of a building that faced the shore, Syryn waited a while before turning the corner. His ears made it known to him that the two men had stopped walking and were conversing. The voices quieted down and then Syryn heard a muffled groan. This was a little too much even for Syryn.

It was so shocking to the boy that he nearly stumbled out of the darkness. Syryn was no paragon of virtue but this definitely was a strike against Salem, right? Diddling a middle-aged man out in the open! He had to teach his friend a lesson about careless public sex no matter what time of the day or night it was. It just wouldn't do! Syryn stepped out into the open still under an illusion.

He did not find Salem panting and engaged in coitus as his mind had supplied. In fact, what he saw was much worse, or better - Syryn wasn't sure.

The middle-aged man was dead on the ground, eyes wide open in horror at the unfeeling sky that didn't care for his shocking end.

"I had a feeling I was being followed but couldn't sense anything with my magic," Salem calmly addressed the old man that Syryn was still disguised as. The younger boy was much too engrossed in noticing how the middle-aged corpse was actually a well known figure in the merchant's guild.

"Salem, have you been burying bodies in our garden?" Syryn asked in a measured tone, still staring at the body. Their plants had recently been flourishing much too healthily, especially the vivid crimson cardinals that Alka loved.

Salem chuckled darkly and faced the endless ocean. "I didn't think you'd appreciate skeletons in the garden bed," he replied, "so no, I haven't buried anything in the compound." And from the first floor of the building, a moan that suspiciously sounded very sexual added to the tense atmosphere between the two boys.

"Okay, push the body into the water." Syryn mildly suggested. He needed an explanation but now wasn't the time. Other priorities took precedence.

"The body will surface and they'll find him eventually. We should leave him here looking like he died while-" Salem's eyes met Syryn's, conveying with his pointed look what he meant.

"How did you kill him? I'm only asking because they'll investigate his corpse." Syryn lowered his voice when he heard another loud feminine moan from upstairs.

"I'm not so sloppy," Salem quietly replied while walking over to Syryn. "I induced a heart attack so they won't find anything amiss."

"You induced a heart attack??" Syryn's whisper was scandalized. It got him an annoyed roll of Salem's eyes. The older alchemist pulled a needle out from his sleeves to show what he had used to 'induce' the heart attack.

"You made me waste a good night's sleep," Syryn accused. Rowan was not going to like his cavalier attitude towards murder, but knowing Salem, the younger boy reserved judgement for after the blonde's explanation.

"I never asked you to follow me," Salem softly replied.

"And nobody asked you to wake up after sunrise but you did."

The blonde raised his brows in disbelief. "We're back to that again?"

"Yes, but we should really leave before someone finds us with the body."

"Syryn wait, now that you're here... I.. need a favour." The alchemist's gaze shifted uneasily. Syryn had never seen Salem look so awkward.

"What favour?" He stepped closer to the blonde to enjoy the other's embarrassment.

"Can you fake a few moans?" Salem mumbled so fast Syryn thought he had gone deaf and heard wrong.

"Can I what??" He incredulously whispered back.

Salem pointed a finger up at the room where the couple was still going at it. Witnesses.

"Your kill so you fake your own moans," Syryn replied with a jab at Salem's chest. He was already complicit in murder by not raising a stink about it and now Salem wanted him to moan for the ears of a couple who were blissfully unaware of the nefarious deed that had taken place in the time that the woman had achieved an orgasm.

"My voice is too masculine," Salem whispered, minty breath fanning across Syryn's cheek. "Please Syryn, I'll explain everything to you when we get back." The half elf's plea sounded so delicious to Syryn's ears. There was something to be said about having this kind of power - as negligible as it was- over a creature like Salem.

"Please.."

Fucking hell, Syryn thought, he really was going to do it wasn't he?