The Demon Lord and his Hero (BL)

Syryn's feet drifted towards the enchanting shop. He could already see his savings becoming lighter with each step that brought him closer to the shop.

The smell of alchemy in the room wafted out to him when Syryn entered its threshold. It was unmistakably pungent, earthy, and also sweet and spicy. Racks upon racks of glass jars with labels on their lids sat in uniform rows above a line of fully grown Chimera bushes in enchanted pots.

Syryn's alchemy loving heart wept at seeing the chimaera plant that grew several kinds of flowers and leaves from a single parent stem. The best part about it was that they weren't ordinary flowers. Syryn could see Dragon's tongue, Tears of Rana, Alspet, and a few more whose concentrations in low amounts were enough for several batches of potions.

10000 crowns

For a single plant, it was too much. But the process and effort that it took to grow a convenient source of rare flowers through a single plant warranted such a high price.

Syryn read the information leaflet on the chimaera. He was informed that the plant had been grown using the most resistant varieties of each type of flower. Moreover, the pot was imbued with magic to protect the plant from common and rare diseases. He was guaranteed a ten-year use on the plant if it wasn't stripped too regularly.

It was an easy decision to make. The alchemist picked up a pot and pushed through a few other buyers to get to the seller. When Rowan tugged it out of his hands, Syryn began seeing more advantages from the anti mage whose chief purpose had become money bags in Syryn's eyes.

The alchemist then happily went back to the shelves and picked up the jars that had weird labels.

Gall bladder of the werebear. Preserved tadpoles. Blood silk. Serpent's oil.

He looked back over his shoulders at the blond anti mage who was browsing through the selection of cauldrons the shop had to offer. Naturally, Syryn carried his expensive ingredients in their jars and arrived next to Rowan.

Heaven's Light Cauldron - 100000 crowns

The cauldron was transparent and carved out of a special crystal that could absorb the energy from sun and moon's light. It meant that the alchemist could create potions without a stove. However, Syryn considered the cauldron an ostentatious piece of equipment that was as useful as a cracked soup bowl. The cauldron had to be kept in the sun all day for the energy equivalent of creating one batch of intermediate potions. The efficiency was abysmal. It was basically a showpiece for rich alchemists. The only reason Syryn would ever buy one was if he ever felt the need to make potions that required the moon's energy. Even then, the cauldron could be replaced by moon water. Syryn did not want it.

He grabbed the blond and dragged him away from the cauldron.

The alchemist spent close to an hour in the shop. Rowan had exited the Alchemy Box at some point in time but Syryn was too blissfully unaware of his surroundings to care. 20 jars, one chimaera pot, 3 enchanted candles, 30 bags of seeds, one light rod, and 6 new knives - which he really didnt need if he was being honest - later, Syryn was signing over so much money that he felt his fingers freeze. He had to manually take control of his hand and force out a magic signature that sealed his road to poverty.

Sighing at how much money was gone, he stepped out of the shop and then did a U-turn. Syryn had decided to get something for Salem. More crowns were spent but he wasn't too upset about it since Salem deserved a good gift from him. His bag was much heavier when he stepped out for a final time. The heaviness was only a rhetorical observation because his satchel always weighed the same. Syryn vowed never to return to the Alchemy Box. It had been the best and worst shopping trip of his life.

Done with his purchases, Syryn looked around and saw that Rowan was back inside the shop of magical items. Despite his grey cloak, the alchemist could recognise Rowan's silhouette immediately. A familiar gold idol went into Rowan's bag and Syryn was dumbfounded. What on Earth did the anti mage want with a fertility idol? Common sense told him that it was probably a gift to some couple that the anti mage knew were trying to conceive. But, he still needed to confirm it.

Syryn was quick to pull put his quill and parchment. He scratched a note and held it out to Rowan when the blond stepped out.

Rowan blinked at the page and wrote a reply underneath.

Syryn shook his head at the anti mage and scribbled.

Syryn nearly tore the paper in half.

Rowan smiled as he wrote out a reply.

The alchemist felt the urge to throw the idol at the teenage boy.

Syryn scribbled with quick flourishes of his quill that pressed too hard on the paper.

Syryn snatched his quill back and stuffed it inside the satchel. He was now burdened with one useless solid gold monkey idol with a huge phallus, bigger than his even. Why did Rowan want to buy him everything useless and ostentatious? Even so, the alchemist was already considering a spot on the kitchen table at the manor. The gold idol would look beautiful next to Alka's vase of flowers.