Chapter Text
The apothecary, when they stumble in from the bright sunlight, is dark and musty, the scent of herbs and potions filling the air. There are shelves covering nearly every surface, bottles of potions with labels neatly etched, herbs in piles, crystals and jars of ingredients and flowers hanging from the ceiling. In the back, behind a high counter, there’s a row of cauldrons bubbling away, the steam from each rising in its own neat spiral that funnels out to vents in the ceiling. A bell from somewhere in the back chimes as they enter, and there’s a loud crash and the sound of someone hitting their head against something before an elderly gentleman emerges, leather apron covered in all manner of unmentionable liquids and his clothes stained a rainbow of colors.
“Customers! Customers, customers, customers… yes, yes… Ah, Beauregard, good to see you.” He pushes a pair of tinted goggles back amid wiry white hair, and smiles at them, wrinkles etched in his face. “I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you for another week yet, is something - ah, new friends!”
With surprising grace, the man swings his legs over the counter and sticks his hand out, clean despite the scuffed nature of the rest of him. “Gerald Yenezza at your service, local alchemist, healer, and overall superior lifeform - “
Beau mock-coughs into her fist, and Yenezza pulls his hand back, placing it instead against his heart. “Why, dear Beauregard, you offend me so - But I’ll lay off the works. How can I help you folks?”
Beau pushes to the front of their little group, and pushes a stray lock of hair out of her face. “We’re all good at home, Yen, but these are some friends of mine… they’ll be staying for the foreseeable future, alright? And got stuff of their own they need help with.”
Yenezza nods. “Ah, more adventuring types, I see. I hope you don’t find it rude of me to say that you folk make my job so interesting… much rarer things to treat than the usual hay-fever and allergy tonics I’m constantly cooking up for the town brats.”
Caleb isn’t exactly sure what to make of the man, but he seems relatively harmless, and apparently, Essek follows in that assumption as the drow slips up to stand next to Beauregard.
“Do you treat - ah, pardon me for the blunt question, but do you have familiarity in treating drow?” He rustles in his bag, and pulls out a heavily creased sheet of paper, Undercommon words written out in dark ink.
“Of course, of course I do - lots in Gwardan, though less here, of course, most live in the Nox quadrant of the city…” He gestures towards the paper. “May I?”
Essek nods, and holds out the slip with only a faint tremor to his hand. Yenezza scans it idly, and then more intensely - Caleb’s somehow unsurprised that the alchemist can read Undercommon - until he puts the paper on the counter, staring at Essek with a serious expression.
“Who prescribed you this?”
Essek jolts, one hand clinging to the other’s wrist in a calming motion, but he answers, slowly, “I am… originally from the Dynasty. I’ve been taking this since I was - ah, much younger than I am now, I’ve been dealing with it for many years. But I… left, somewhat recently, and haven’t been able to take it for many months. Can you - can you make it? Will you make it?”
Yenezza’s eyes are kind, though his face looks less serious and more worried. “Whatever healer gave you this was seriously behind the times - seriously, still including cayenne in a modern-day potion…” he mutters, and turns, sliding back behind the counter and poking through some cabinets. “Just give me one sec, I know I have some doses left here somewhere - ah, shit, there it is.” He pulls back, a small sachet of powder in his hand, and turns back to the group. “I only have a few doses left, but this’ll get you through for a few days until I can make an order out to Gwardan. I’ll give you the updated recipe, too - seriously, this one’s kind of crap. Mix a teaspoon with water, take with food, once in the morning. If you’re having any weird side effects - can’t fall asleep at all, dizziness, numbness, inexplicable effervescence - tell Jester to give me a call, I’ll come over and check you out.”
He hands the sachet over, and Essek takes it with wide eyes. “Ah - how much?”
Caleb wilts, internally. He had forgotten that they were still, to quote Veth, broke as fuck.
Yenezza guffaws, a thick laugh that peters out to a frown when no one else besides Beauregard seems amused. “Fuck, you didn’t think I was going to charge you for that, did you? Potions you need are on the house, same with healing, anything necessary. Pelor knows I make enough selling the - ah - more recreational variety.” His eyebrows wiggle, like hairy caterpillars, and it takes more effort than it should to hold back a frantic laugh at the sight. “Seriously, no one in town’s going to charge you for basic stuff. We treat people right.”
His arms spread wide, gesturing to the town visible through tinted windows. “This town isn’t the biggest, but we’re careful, here. We all get along well. And Gwardan’s pretty great, too, though a hell of a lot bigger.”
Veth would like Yenezza, Caleb decides. He’ll introduce them soon.
“Is there anything else y’all need? Anything bigger than a sprained ankle, healing wise, I’d suggest you go to the chapel, I’m not the best at divine stuff.”
Caleb takes mental stock of himself, and shrugs - his arms are still half healing from recent scratches, his legs ache, but there’s nothing life-threatening, and Astrid, Wulf, and Essek all seem to come to the same conclusion.
“Fair, fair. Just keep it in mind, yeah? I’m sure they’d love to help you out. Is there anything else - oh, fuck, right, Beau I got some of that tea you wanted for Clay, it’ll be two gold.” He pulls out another wrapped parcel, in silver cloth, from a frosted glass cabinet and tosses it at Beau who catches it with a grin. Beau flicks over two gold pieces - incredibly expensive tea, Caleb thinks confusedly, but maybe that’s how he compensates for giving away medicine for free - and Yenezza tucks them away.
“We still need to get groceries, if you guys are done?” Beau jerks her head towards the door, and Caleb nods back, giving Yenezza a small parting wave. The alchemist grins widely, almost a little too wide, and yells out as they leave, “Y’all take care, now!”
The sunlight has dampened some when they step outside, thick gray clouds gathering in front of the sun, and Essek squints against the light a little less, still clutching the sachet of powder to his chest.
Caleb’s glad that was settled, and relatively painlessly, to boot.
Beau leads them past the apothecary, behind the chapel, and towards the other building that frames the river on this side of town, timber-framed plaster and stone creating the visage of what he surmises is the general grocery, going off the barrels of potatoes and fruits visible through the windows. Inside the shop, it’s a menagerie of roots, vegetables, apples, and oranges and even some pineapples, flour and butter and milk in enchanted cabinets, eggs by the dozen and a few links of sausage hanging in one corner. The tiefling behind the counter, bright purple and vibrant even amongst the goods of the store, immediately launches into a fast tirade with Beauregard that Caleb’s too exhausted to try and really parse, and he stands by the door awkwardly with Astrid and Eodwulf poking around some of the less familiar foods. Essek is tucked against his side, and Caleb lets his hand rest against Essek’s shoulder, in what he hopes is a comforting weight. In a few minutes, Beau’s finished her business with the grocer, an inordinate amount of food shoved into what he thinks - no, he knows is a bag of holding, because even Jester’s old haversack could not have fit that much in its extradimensional space - and they clatter out the door again, into the fresh air once again. There are more people out and about now, dwarves and elves and humans popping in and out of the buildings on this side of the river, but Beauregard leads them once again, past the Chapel and across the bridge to the other side of town, to the main plaza.
Here, there’s a group of children playing near the fountain, an older looking elf keeping track of them with a watchful eye, and even more townspeople just… going about their normal day, he guesses. Despite being new to the town, they draw few glances, mostly just people taking them in and then continuing on their merry way. Beauregard points out buildings as they pass them - “Leather working and pottery stuff’s that way, the guard hall and the festival building behind them - it’s where they hold the weekend markets when it’s cold or raining, it’s massive on the inside, some weird enchantment - that’s the Mage hall, where Maeve works, Caleb you’ll go nuts, I’ll show you after I get the pastries. The big building over there” - she flings out her hand, gesturing to the stone building with thick opaque windows and carved wood all along the roof - “that’s the library, not much of a selection but its where the kids all go to school and Simon runs the daycare for when parents are working, and next to it is the Council building… and you already know the Inn, obviously, and the stables, and then here,” she stops, “is the bakery.”
The shop inside is the warmest by far, on their whirlwind tour of town, and the air is rich with the smell of sweet sugar and flour, freshly baked bread in trays on the counter. He can smell just the faintest stench of smoke, but the oven is thankfully out of sight, and he pushes lurking memories further into the depths of his mind. Whatever Beau is picking up is already packed and, on the counter, a large basket with individual goods wrapped in paper and tied off with waxed twine, and Beau grabs it without paying.
“Jester gives this place so much money they just take it as a lump sum on the weekends,” Beauregard says, and she waves towards the half-elven women behind the counter before they all step outside again.
On this edge of town, the roads turn from cobblestone to trodden dirt as the town turns to fields, freshly churned dirt a familiar scent as he spots horses pulling plows in the distance, large beech and oak trees swaying in the wind above them. It’s so nice, here, Caleb thinks idly. It reminds him of all the best parts of home, with less of the constant watchful eye of the crownsguard.
They drift through the streets slowly, taking in sights as Beau plows on ahead, until they’ve arrived back at the main plaza, the strange building Beau had pointed out as the Mage Hall looming above them, dark grey pointed roof on top of a dark stone tower and red-trimmed plaster walls.
The architecture is almost a little bit too familiar, and he clasps Eodwulf’s hand in his own as they approach. Beau plows straight through the door without knocking, and he and his friends follow much more tentatively, taking in the shop as they go. While the day is bright outside, the inside of the shop is dimly lit, and Caleb feels Essek relax, the drow’s shoulders dipping as their eyes adjust to the light. Lining every wall is herbs, crystals, shelves upon shelves of magical components - he hasn’t seen such a well-stocked shop since Zadash, and his fingers itch with the need to replenish his dwindling supplies. Bookcases line another wall, framed by paintings of landscapes he doesn’t recognize, and he immediately starts to scan the shelves, recognizing book after book, tomes of arcane knowledge the likes of which he hasn’t even heard of since his time at Soltryce. He swallows, almost uncomfortably, because the interior of this shop feels almost too good to be true.
A door in the corner of the room pops open as Beau rings a small bell sitting on the counter, and a short dark elf pops out, white curly hair piled in twinned buns on top of her head as she grins at Beauregard, teeth stark white in her face. “Beau! I haven’t seen you for ages,” she drawls, and she jumps up to perch on the counter, small enough to sit cross-legged and not have any part of her dangle off the side.
Beau smiles back, the brightest it’s been all day. “Maeve, I’d like you to meet my friends - they’re going to be staying with us, now. This is Caleb, Astrid, Eodwulf, and Essek - far as I know they’re all wizards, so I brought them here to do nerd shit while I get the rest of the shopping done. That okay?”
Caleb rolls his eyes internally at the idea of being babysat, and then mentally shivers more at the idea of being left alone with a strange woman, but his unease does not cross into his expression as he waves stiffly at Maeve.
Astrid and Eodwulf are hiding less of their own unease, but they, at least, aren’t actively hostile.
Essek, on the other hand, seems just mostly terrified at being in the same room with an unknown drow wizard, who may be from the Dynasty, and who may know of his crimes, and who may -
Caleb takes Essek’s hand, and squeezes, once, tightly.
Essek squeezes back.
“I’m not a wizard daycare, you jackass,” Maeve jokes, but she swings her legs off the counter and cocks her head at them. “Nice to meet some new mage blood around here, honestly, most folks in these parts are druids or clerics. Different story in Gwardan, course, with all the schools - I’m not from there, though, I’m from much further abroad.” She huffs out a laugh, and blinks at them. Her eyes are strange, completely white, no iris or pupil. Her gaze doesn’t make his face, just off-center from their group.
“Welcome to the Mage Hall - terrible name, I didn’t come up with it, the old fart who used to work here registered it as that in the town logbooks and I’m not allowed to change it unless the building burns down and I, personally, would never commit arson, no sir, absolutely not…” She takes in the sudden silence in the room, as everyone very carefully avoids looking at Caleb, and he can feel himself flinch. “Changing the subject, welcome! I sell components and basic magic books, and I operate the teleportation circle to Gwardan. It’s free to use, open from sunrise to sunset, and from Gwardan you can get to most of the other cities in the Coast, but they’ll charge you out the ass for it. If you need any rare components or books, I have my fingers in distribution networks across the continent - and beyond, most of my suppliers are actually from Tal’Dorei - but… yeah.” She blushes, hands twisting in her lap. “Sorry, I kind of ramble.”
“No, ah - it is no problem,” Essek says hesitantly, put at ease from the rambling despite his misgivings. “May I ask where you are from?”
Maeve grins, fingers tapping out a melody on the counter. “I’m from Vasselheim, actually, if you know where that is - all the way over in Issylria, but I moved here on my own after the… well, after the whole giants and god come to kill us all mess, haha. Had enough of big city living after that point.”
Caleb cocks his head in concern, but Maeve is still just smiling at them, and he realizes his mistake in a moment and corrects himself verbally. Behind him, he just faintly hears Beauregard leave the shop.
“Sorry, we are… unfamiliar with this business you speak of. Could we bother you for an explanation?”
Her face flattens in confusion, but then dawns in comprehension. “You from the Empire? No worries, I know their history education is shit. There was this whole business with Vecna…”
Her explanation is detailed enough that she’s just barely wrapped up talking by the time Beauregard returns, Maeve’s red-tipped white cane tapping out a staccato beat against the edge of the counter.
“Like I said, Vox Machina could kill me, and I’d probably say thanks - oh, hey, Beau’s back!”
Caleb figures she charmed the door to tell her who arrives and exits, a convenient feature for a blind mage, and he turns to wave at Beau. He’s the only one who had remained standing while Maeve talked, his friends drifting to sit on stools and Essek half-asleep on Wulf’s shoulder. Beau nods at him, and then over to Maeve.
“Thanks for talking their ear off. We’ll probably come through to head out to Gwardan in a couple of days, yeah? And say hi to Josie for me!”
Maeve laughs, voice high and clear. “She’ll be annoyed she wasn’t in to say hi to you herself, she’s been stuck out in the woods with the expedition to the grove. I’ll tell her when we talk tonight. Have a safe trip home!”
They leave the shop and head back to their wagons, exhaustion written across all of their faces as they start the journey back to the house. Such a whirlwind of introductions and shopping leaves Caleb slightly dizzy, and he hangs back to ride with Beauregard in her wagon, handing off the reins of the other wagon to Astrid to let Eodwulf and Essek nap in the back. He sits on the box with Beau, his elbow brushing carefully against her arm, and takes in the sunlight as she stirs the horse and starts the ride back to the house.
They sit in silence for a minute, five, ten. He pretends that he doesn’t notice how Beau seems to stiffen up the longer they ride, one hand dipping off from the reins to massage at her leg, the quick glances around them, like she’s always prepared for an ambush.
Faintly, from a few lengths behind them, he hears the familiar cadence of Eodwulf snoring.
“I’m really glad you’re alive,” she says finally, and he looks back to her. She’s frowning, worrying at her lip between her teeth.
“We… just, the sending spells weren’t working, and we never heard anything about you guys… we asked Bryce, Shakaste, even the Gentleman to keep an eye out but never heard anything. Jester never really gave up but I - “
She cuts herself off, glancing back towards the tree line.
“For a while, I assumed that the Shepherds caught you too, when you left. That you - that we didn’t make you stay, and you got killed because we couldn’t keep you. It…”
She shivers, and Caleb lays a heavy hand on her shoulder. A familiar gesture, a comforting weight.
“Things went real bad, when you guys left. We torched the place, after getting the people who were still alive out, and I just… I guess I assumed your and Nott - Veth’s, sorry - that your bodies were somewhere in there, unrecognizable, and you went up in flames, and I lived with that, that fear, and then I just bump into you again, in our own fucking town - “
He squeezes, and she clenches the reins hard enough that her knuckles go white. “Fate can be a curious thing,” Caleb murmurs, and Beau laughs bitterly. He doesn’t really believe in fate, but if anything lead him here, he is grateful for it.
“But… yeah. I’m glad you’re alive. And, hey, you got that powder shit for Essek - he’s gonna be okay, right? I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of worrying seeing him pass out all the time.”
Caleb hums. “This should help. And Veth and Yeza are very talented alchemists, I’m sure they can reproduce it so ah - Yenezza, was it? - so the alchemist in town doesn’t need to bother himself with us.”
Beau rolls her eyes at him, and he frowns back. “It’s not a bother for him,” she says, pushing against his side a little. “You heard him, he’s excited to have anything different than his usual shit… you aren’t a burden here, understand? This town is nice. Weirdly nice, sometimes, but they have a lot of like… I don’t know, infrastructure? Gwardan is constantly working on new technology and magic and it sort of trickles down to here. If you have a problem, then it deserves to get fixed. Don’t hold shit in, okay? Gods know I’m not really one to talk on that point, but I’d be dead if I didn’t let people help me out sometimes. And we - “
She turns to face him entirely. “We care about you, get that into your head, okay? Don’t pull that self-hatred shit. You have people around you who love you a lot.”
He half-flinches, and then sighs, tension draining from his body as he lets a small grin cross his lips.
“Thank you, Beauregard,” he says sincerely, and she tenses before shoving at him with a bit more force.
“Sappy shit is over, now, anyways - you haven’t seen the teleportation circle back at the house yet, have you? There’s a bunch of old books in there that none of us can read, maybe you can have at them…”
The rest of the ride to the house is conducted in chatter and cautionary joy.