Chapter One: WIP

Typically, Lenire awoke to the sound of the guard on horseback clacking through the streets. This morning was no different. Before the sun's rays had even begun to warm the world, he was up and out of bed, dressed by candlelight. Slipping the pendant from his mentor over his head and tying auburn curls back, he was ready to start the day. Descending the stairs into the store, yawning and rubbing the sleep from olive colored eyes, he was only slightly startled when he saw an older human man standing behind the front counter. He looked unamused, sipping a cup of tea and flipping through Lenire's most recent field notes. By now, Lenire was old enough - and experienced enough - to run the store by himself. Still, the mentor often stopped by and checked his work... More often than the pupil liked. 

"Ernest... You helped yourself to a cup of tea, I see. How did I not hear the kettle?" Walking over to the wood stove in the corner, a freckled hand gently touches the kettle. Typically used to brew concoctions and potions...the cauldron had been removed from the stovetop and replaced with a beaten kettle. Indeed, it was hot to the touch. Ernest waved a finger in the air, shrugging and taking another sip of tea. 

"I haven't the faintest, my boy," the old man hummed, closing the notebook and perching on the stool behind the counter. He wasn't old, really. At least, he refused to be referred to as such. Rather, he preferred the term 'experienced' and 'well traveled.' Whatever made him happy, Lenire wasn't one to argue. With him or anyone, for that matter. He knew Ernest was being difficult. The reason he hadn't heard the kettle was - in all likelihood - because Ernest had used a sound dampening spell. Imbued with magical energy, the pendant around Ernest's neck gave him the ability to cast spells as if born with magic in his blood. Lenire wore one much like Ernest's. As humans who had studied the magical arts, but held no magical abilities of their own, this was the only Exemplar sanctioned way they could use magic. Magic was highly useful - and profitable - in the world of healing and curing ailments. Still, such things could only be used with extensive training, education, and - of course - the approval of the Exemplar. A sound dampening spell, Lenire knew, was not a part of healing magic. Ernest, of course, did not care. And never had. With a long and long suffering sigh, Lenire was saddled with the task of taking inventory. What he didn't have, he would stock up from the botanical garden. He had become very familiar with the botanist there since striking it out on his own. Only after Ernest learned to let go, of course. Ernest's deep and warm voice distracted Lenire from his count, "What are you working on? What is it you are missing? Did you scrub the cauldron?" 

With a sigh, Lenire put his notebook to the side and turned to slowly look at his mentor. Yes, they still worked together. But Lenire was supposed to be taking over for him. Ernest was an older apothecary. He had many years of relaxation ahead of him...without pestering his former students. Tapping the notebook on the counter, Lenire closed one eye and squinted the other at the old man. "I'm sorry. Last I checked, I was the one running the apothecary now. And you were supposed to be making sure I don't blow the place up. Right?" Raising his brows, Ernest simply shrugged and sipped his tea, blue eyes examining the shelves of bottles and parchment wrapped bundles... Irritated, Lenire taps the notebook on the counter. "I can tell when you're counting stock, Ernest!" Defeated, the fledgling apothecary sulked over to the coat rack by the front door. Shouldering his cloak, he clasped it shut and pocketed his notebook before opening the door. A slight chill crept in. Spring had not yet sprung, as Ernest so eloquently put it every morning they saw each other. Without further argument, knowing the arguing was futile, Lenire set off into the early morning fog. Best get to the botanical garden to speak with the botanist before it got to be too late in the morning. 

Head low and hood pulled up and over his brow, Lenire hurried to the gardens. It wasn't that apothecaries weren't respected or honored... Quite the opposite, really! But, magic in any sense was typically frowned upon. Despite the wonders and miracles it performed for the sick and injured. Still, Lenire knew it was easier to mind his own than to change minds. And he wasn't in the business of changing any minds.