By Joseph Sullivan

“It’ll be ready soon, won’t it?”

“Hush!”

For Reltanna Lirane, wayward wizard, brewing potions was never the quickest of tasks. It rankled her enough that the life of adventure had taken its toll on her, and that she was stuck in a workshop near where she grew up, making them for cheap just to get by.

The process found a way to take even longer if the person she was brewing the potion for was a particularly demanding client who wanted it finished as soon as possible. But in this instance, it was even longer than that, because the client was family.

In his prime, Reltanna’s grandfather was one of the greatest adventurers ever to roam the realm. Although she had studied magic in the hopes of becoming a wizard rather than follow him into mercenary work, she had always admired his boldness and independence. It was in no small part due to his example that she eschewed the path of serving in some noble’s court to wander the earth as the old man did.

Now, though, she had difficulty reconciling the example with the real thing. Grandfather sat in a creaky old chair, an elderly warrior with armour and weapons battered and rusted from years of use. He was glaring at everything in Reltanna’s workshop as though it was making the potion brew slower. If she did not know better, she would have assumed he knew what all of it was.

“I’m honestly still not sure why you want it,” Reltanna shrugged. “You’re, ah, pretty old now. I think your best battling years are well behind you.”

“That’s none of your concern,” Grandfather bristled. “I didn’t pay you for that.”

“That’s one way to talk to the wizard at work here!” Reltanna scoffed, with mock indignation, but some actual annoyance.

Grandfather said nothing in response, merely reclining deeper into the chair.

“Not to mention your own family…” Reltanna added on.

“Is this a personal thing?” Grandfather asked, his voice clearly disinterested.

“Well…” How am I supposed to continue? “Yes! For the gods’ sake, I’m your granddaughter! You come barging in here asking for a potion to prolong your life and not even trying to give me a proper greeting, like I’m some random magician you just met. And all you’ve done is complain while you sit there.”

Grandfather sighed, with more than a hint of frustration. “Just give it to me once it’s done and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You haven’t even told me what this is about. Are you dying, or something? Disease? Because I should know…this potion can have nasty side effects if there are things you haven’t mentioned. You don’t want it regenerating any diseased parts of your body, or it’ll get stronger—”

“I’m not sick, I’d have mentioned that.”

Grandfather did not look sick, but he did not look particularly well, either. He was an elderly man who may well have been on his last legs, as far as Reltanna could see.

“So are you just scared of dying? Because this isn’t immortality I’m making for you. It won’t last forever, and it’s not cheap, and repeatedly taking it isn’t good for—”

“What do you want?” Grandfather snapped.

“I want to know why you want this!”

“I just told you, not your concern!”

Reltanna glared at the old man, who rolled his eyes and got back to staring daggers around her workshop. She knew that she had one card left to play, but did not want to use it unless there was no other option.

But as usual with Grandfather, there seemed to be no other option.

“Well, if you don’t tell me, maybe I won’t give it to you.”

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“I would dare.”

In fact, she had every intention of giving Grandfather the potion regardless of what he said or did not say. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Fine,” Grandfather growled. “You want to know what I want? I want to be able to fight again. I want to be able to stand tall. I want to be young and strong again…maybe not as young as I used to be, but I want the life of an adventurer back. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“Yes, Grandfather, I know,” Reltanna rolled her eyes. “I grew up on your stories.”

“I don’t want to live forever. I just want to be able to die the way I want to, on the battlefield surrounded by uncountable enemies, or in some long-forgotten ruin plundering some treasure before the enemy can get to it…or maybe out in a sandstorm or a blizzard, let the elements get me…anything except for the slow death of old age. Can you give me that?”

Reltanna frowned. It was not what she had wanted to hear from him after so many years, but knew that it was the only thing he would say. Even in her youth, as her idol, she had fond memories of him and knew that in his own way he was proud of her, but he was never one to show real depth of feeling. Still, she had no intention of reneging on her end of the bargain…

“Yes, Grandfather,” Reltanna nodded. “Just a little longer.”

In a few more minutes, the potion was done.

“Here you go.”

Grandfather swiped it from her hand and drank it all in one go. Within seconds, some of his wrinkles began to smooth out, his muscles pulsed with strength, and he stood up, pushing the chair over as he did so. His hair was still grey, and he looked an old man still, but he was once again the adventurer Reltanna had looked up to for so many years.

“Thanks,” Grandfather smirked as he held his sword before him, glancing over its rusted sheen. “I fear I may have overestimated my fear, though. I just wanted to get back out there and swing a sword again…the old days can never truly be over if I can still do that, can they?”

“Sure, Grandfather,” Reltanna scoffed, leaning back against her bench.

“I have to get started, there is so much I have to do,” Grandfather began to walk out of her workshop, when he stopped, and turned his head back to her. “You coming?”

“…what?”

“Well, I don’t intend on doing this all alone, and you’ve come a long way yourself. Besides, I expected you were after more than brewing potions for bitter old men…what do you say?”

Reltanna was stunned. It had not even crossed her mind when the old man walked into her workshop …but in a way, that was what she wanted to hear.

“Yeah, sure,” she shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant. “Let me pack my things.”

“Don’t take too long.”

“Whatever…”

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