(Our) Monsters

Yskander stared down at the small glass bottles in his hands, each about the size of a bairn’s fist, filled with a bubbly liquid the color of the sky. Thirty gold, they had cost him. And that was with the discount the shopkeeper had cut him for being a faithful regular. 

He was glad that it seemed like some of the ridiculous restrictions on the potion market had loosened just a bit; he’d thought the Archon’s strict policies asinine to begin with. The vast majority of consumers had no ill intentions with the potions they sought. They made life easier in many different ways, and allowed some mages access to magical effects that they wouldn’t be able to find elsewhere. The Archon was simply a control freak; he’d realized this long ago. She feared what she didn’t understand, and how could a non-mage ever truly understand magic? There was no telling how long this lapse would last, but he tried to remain optimistic about it. Giving the populace easier access to the potion market could only be a good thing in the long run, right? It was one less reason to seek out shadier alternatives like the black market and the inevitable crime that ran with it.

The downside to this lay in the effects of supply and demand. With a broader market and more people eager to get their hands on his products without the fear of backlash, Yskander’s usual potion merchant had been forced to raise his prices.

In the past, Yskander might’ve been able to get these three rejuvenation potions for fifteen gold, maybe even less if the merchant was feeling particularly generous and desperate to make a sale. Since the fall of the Night Cursed Crone, they’d more than doubled in price.

Normally, he would’ve purchased more going into battle against a monster, knowing he’d probably need the healing boost that they offered, but it just so happened that there’d only been three left. Maybe others had had the same idea of stocking up before heading north. 

Of course, he was happy for his friend; he’d established a rather friendly rapport with this particular merchant over the years, and had known there wasn’t much money to be found in potion sales unless you got lucky. Yskander always had need for potions, though, and ended up at the dealer’s underground shop at least once a month. He’d been known to buy everything from sleep aids to energy drinks, health potions to immunity boosters. 

The sales boom likely brought a life-changing increase in income to the merchant and his family. In fact, Yskander had felt bad accepting the discount he’d been offered, but it would’ve resulted in an argument that he didn’t have the energy to win. 

With a dramatic sigh, he stuffed the tiny bottles into his bag, where they clicked against the handful of other potions he’d purchased as well: a few exploding flasks and some energy boosters (he had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting much sleep over these next few days, and he didn’t have time for grogginess). Content with the errands he’d run, he started the trek back to the Dragon’s Pearl, where Rashida would be waiting for him