The village of Eryden Hollow was the kind of place maps forgot. Nestled between a restless pine forest and a stream that glittered like silver under moonlight, it was far removed from the grandeur of the royal capital. But gossip, as always, traveled faster than kings' messengers.
It was that gossip which brought Lord Percival Grant, trusted aide to His Majesty the King, and Sir Darius Elthorne, a knight traveling incognito, to the crooked wooden shop at the end of the village road.
The sign above the door read:
Althier's Remedies – Poultices, Tonics, and Healing Charms.
Inside, the air was thick with herbs—lavender, thyme, and something faintly acrid. Jars lined the shelves, neat and catalogued, the work of steady hands.
But behind the counter stood not the famed herbalist of rumor, but a youth—green-eyed, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a pestle in hand, and a faint streak of green powder across his cheek.
Lord Percival frowned. "We seek Master Halden Althier."
The young man looked up, expression polite, voice smooth. "Ah. My Father,the famous herbalist himself. If only your timing had been better. You are about a year too late, my lord."
Percival blinked. "Too late?"
"Yes." The youth set aside his mortar with unhurried grace, bowing slightly. "My father is .....let's just say… fond of vanishing. Chasing rare roots in far-off mountains, trading with foreign peddlers. He left the shop to my care before wandering off. I suspect the plants held his affection more than we did."
Sir Darius narrowed his eyes. "And you are…?"
"Rinwell Althier," he replied. "Rin, if you prefer fewer syllables. A poor substitute for my father, I admit. But I promise I inherited both his ledgers and his bills."
His words were polite, yet his smile cut like a knife.
Lord Percival's jaw tightened. "We traveled far for this man's aid. Your father was rumored to cure illnesses beyond the palace physicians' skill. The matter at hand is not trifling."
Rin's eyes glinted, though his tone remained perfectly courteous.
"Oh, delicate matters are common in these parts too, my lord. Farmers' knees that won't bend, hunters who mistake mushrooms for meals, housewives who drink too much honey-wine… though I suppose none of those ailments are quite so grand as the ones afflicting kings and princes."
Percival shifted, caught between irritation and intrigue. "You speak as though you doubt our purpose."
"I would never doubt, my lord," Rin said, bowing again, but his voice carried the faintest trace of mockery. "Only, if the capital's physicians have failed, it makes one wonder what you expect to find in a village shop at the edge of nowhere. A miracle in a jar, perhaps?"
Darius stiffened at his tone, but Percival only studied him, noting the sharp tongue cloaked in civility.
"Would you dare," Percival asked slowly, "to attempt what even palace physicians could not?"
Rin smiled politely. "Daring is a costly word, my lord. I prefer to call it… curiosity. The palace gardens alone must grow herbs I've only read about. It would be enlightening to see them in person. Perhaps, in lending my hands, I might also satisfy my eyes."
Before either man could answer, a woman's voice rang from the stairwell behind the counter.
"Rinwell!"
A tall woman descended—Mistress Elira, Rin's aunt. Her hair was pinned severely, her apron dusted with flour, her expression sharper than any knife.
She fixed her nephew with a glare. "You will think twice before volunteering yourself to strangers. The capital is no place for careless boys. Its walls swallow secrets whole—and you know what would happen if yours was exposed."
Her gaze flicked to Percival and Darius, cool and suspicious.
Rin only bowed his head, his smile never faltering. "My aunt is cautious, my lords. She fears I'd lose myself in the city's grandeur. But surely there is no harm in offering one's skills to the suffering."
The words were humble, but the edge beneath them was clear: he would go—but only on his own terms.
Percival's eyes narrowed. After a long silence, he finally said, "Then it is decided. Pack what you need, Master Rinwell. You will come with us to the capital. The King's command requires it."
The bell over the door jingled faintly as they left, and Rin's polite smile lingered, unreadable.
So the palace requires a healer? he thought. Very well. Let us see whether it is I who cures them—or they who expose me..