After walking through the nearly empty hallways of the academy, Evan arrived at a door set apart from the large classrooms. It looked more like a janitor's storeroom, but a sign nailed to the wood read: The Explosive Alchemists. Evan opened it and entered without stopping, greeted by a blast of air heavy with unknown chemicals and minerals. The room was dimly lit but cozy.
It was a small space. By the only window, where light filtered through an old brown curtain, Fausto worked at a desk cluttered with alchemy instruments. In a corner, on a worn-out stool, Santi was reading a book.
Both were blond and dressed with the neat cleanliness of those who care for their appearance. Fausto, the tallest of the three and somewhat plump, had interesting green eyes and an intelligent gaze. Santi, even while seated, looked taller than Evan, with beautiful blue eyes that contrasted with the pimples dotting his face.
"Finally showed up, my comrade, the plebeian prince," said Fausto, looking up for only a second before diving back into his experiment.
"All winds? Why did you leave so quickly?" greeted Santi, taking his eyes off his book and raising a hand.
"All winds. Professor Julius called me to guide me about my future studies," Evan replied glibly, returning the hand-wave greeting.
Fausto and Santi nodded.
Evan approached the desk. He observed the jars of unnatural colors and Fausto's confident movements as he mixed a clear violet liquid. Then he looked at Santi and the title of his book: The Struggle of Milante. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, before turning back to the alchemist.
"What are you trying to make this time?"
"A poison. One that can evaporate and create clouds of deadly mist," Fausto replied with a hint of pride.
"Really? That's incredible, I didn't know you could do something like that," said Evan, genuinely impressed.
Fausto offered a smile of resignation.
"Not even with a demon's help. In a decade, maybe I'd achieve it. Though by then the Osterrians or the Aethelgardians would have surely done it already. But at least it's good practice."
Evan brought a hand to his chin, thoughtful.
"You know… I could help you with this experiment."
"Oh, really?" Fausto didn't take his eyes off his tubes. His voice didn't hold any hope placed in Evan.
"If I come up with any ideas, I'll tell you. Though I can't promise anything," Evan insisted with a bit more confidence.
"Don't worry about it, comrade. This is very complex, don't trouble yourself," said Fausto, resilient.
Evan cleared his throat with a light cough.
"Tell me, Fausto… do you have the aerotinos ready?"
"Yes, I prepared them. It's two clavos, and anyone who haggles is a bastard," answered Fausto, emerging from his concentration and straightening up.
"Two clavos! By the sun's hairs, Fausto! Have you turned into a greedy arcanist now?"
"You know very well I don't charge you even half what an apothecary would, you scoundrel!"
"Alright. How about this? I can give you two clavos, or… I can give you one clavo, two sales, and… a drawing of a gladiator with minimal armor, large breasts, and thighs." Evan pulled a folded paper from his bag and showed it off to Fausto.
Fausto looked sternly and severely at Evan for a few seconds, then extended his hand, and Evan placed the drawing in his palm.
Fausto took the paper, unfolded it, and evaluated it. His eyes opened a little wider.
"Damn… You've improved."
"Heh, heh," Evan struck a proud pose, a finger under his nose.
"If you don't mind, let me see," Santi approached. His expression gradually turned impressed. "Wow… I like the light shading that marks her muscles, here on the arms and abdomen. And those highlights on… well, the cleavage and thighs. They give it good shape and volume. Your talent has improved, Evan. Although, to be fair, no real woman would have a body like that."
"Hey, Santi, you damn princess! Nobody asked you! Keep your mouth shut!" scolded Fausto, with the tone of someone insulting a brother knowing he won't take offense.
"I was just saying," murmured Santi. "If you get used to the drawings of this blasphemous degenerate, your sword skills will atrophy, and you won't be able to get it up when you get married."
"And how do you know that? And if it's just a church rumor, don't you dare argue," Fausto cut in.
Santi fell silent, looking askance with a resigned smile.
Fausto took a cloth pouch half the size of his palm, tied with a thin cord, and handed it to Evan in exchange for the clavo and the two sales.
"A pleasure doing business once again, comrade," said Evan.
Fausto nodded, content, and carefully tucked the drawing under his uniform.
Evan turned and was walking toward the door when Santi called him.
"Hey, Evan… If you don't mind, I wanted to commission something from you," he said, shifting uncomfortably on his stool. A faint blush crept up his neck. "Do you know the legend of the Lobizone?"
"Yes, obviously. The local version or the one from the Caelis pantheon?"
"Either works. I wanted to ask you to draw it… but not scary. Make him look like the man with wolf fur and features from the legend, but with a normal, human expression."
"Okay… I guess I can imagine it," agreed Evan, speaking slowly as he thought.
"And… have him holding hands with a little bunny girl. Also, human-shaped but with fur and bunny features. With a human expression and… you know, with generous curves. You know."
Evan and Fausto turned to look at their friend as if he had just shit himself.
"What?! What's wrong with that?! At least I'm not asking for one of your erotic blasphemies," Santi defended himself, quickly clarifying, "And it's for my little sister! She's reading the legend," Santi specified nervously.
Fausto kept staring, as if looking at a gravely ill patient with minutes to live.
"Ahem, of course. Nothing weird about it. Two characters, a bit eccentric… it'll cost you three clavos. I'll have it for Llenuos, or by Cresiente at the latest."
"Very well. I'll pay in advance." Santi took three clavos from his leather pouch with a golden cord.
"Thanks, comrade," Evan smiled. "Well, I'm off now to get home before dusk. And I'll think about the poison thing, Fausto."
"No need, comrade. Focus on your studies."
"Well, but if a divine idea illuminates me, I'll write it down."
Fausto shrugged.
"See you."
"Go with the sun."
"See you, guys."
Fausto and Santi watched their friend's back as he walked away. The door closed.
A heavy silence fell in the workshop, broken only by the faint bubbling of a flask.
"A wolf and a bunny… as humans with fur. What the hell, Santi?" Fausto finally asked.
"I just… wanted to give him some money so he wouldn't skimp on food," confessed Santi, looking at his hands. "Evan never buys anything unless he has three clavos to spare. He needs to eat well and grow up already! We need more strength in the group!"
Fausto let out a long sigh that seemed to come from his boots. Then, without saying another word, he returned to his experiment. Santi to his book. And in the air, besides the smell of chemicals, lingered the silent weight of their complicity.