“Tarantula legs?”

“Check!”

“Scorpion stinger?”

“Got it!”

“Shrew venom?”

“Adding a full vial!”

“Bat baculum?”

“Ew, gross, dude. Why would you need that?”

“They’re useful for magic. I have some in my green pack if you could grab one.”

Luc squints at the eyeless courser.

“How would you know it’s green?”

“I can taste colors,” he replies, as if it’s perfectly normal for someone to be able to taste colors.

“I’m not even going to begin to question that,” she says with a head shake, stepping over to Esquire Occidere’s other side to nose his aforementioned pack open, revealing a dozen or so identical bones. “Why do you have so many baculums? Do I even want to know how you got all of these?”

“Probably not,” he replies, shoulder twitching in a half-assed shrug.

“Alrighty then. Bat baculum: added.”

“Wonderful! And now all we need are stink bug secretions, which I have right here…”

“Aw, come on! That shit reeks!” she cries as he opens the small vial, the stench of spoiled cilantro immediately flooding the small cavern and assaulting her nose mercilessly. 

The warlock snorts, and if he had eyes to roll, Luc knows he would. “It’s a love potion. Of course it reeks.”

“You know, with all of the ingredients you’re using, I’m starting to think this might just be a very ineffective poison.”

“Nonsense! It’s far from ineffective, child!”

“But you don’t deny that it’s poison?”

“It’s a powerful aphrodisiac!” 

She stares at him for several long, scrutinizing seconds. Only a few minutes ago, she had been lost in the Dungeon, having traveled in circles for hours without even realizing. And then she stumbled into the cavedweller standing before her—Esquire Occidere, he had introduced himself as—and had somehow been roped into helping him craft a potion that he had described as “life-saving.” It’s becoming increasingly clear that whatever he’s making will serve more life-ending purposes, however, even with her limited knowledge of magic.

“So, um, who are you planning on using this potion on?”

“There’s this bastard,” he spits the insult, but then shakes his head rapidly upon realizing his mistake. “Wrong horse, silly me! There’s this really cool guy that I’m trying to win over, if you catch my drift.”

She stares again. Blinks. He seems completely oblivious to his own idiocy, and she takes pity on him.

“Wow, that’s so cool!” she says with exaggerated interest. 

“I know! I know! He’s going to scream! Wait, I— I mean in glee, of course! He’s going to be absolutely giddy with love for me!”

She nods along amicably. This guy is certainly batshit crazy, but she doubts he poses an actual threat to even the most fragile of coursers. He doesn’t seem remotely intelligent enough to be dangerous.

“And get this…” he leans in close, conspiringly. “...He’s not even a courser.”

“Um. What?”

“I know! He’s a moose! Here, in the Dungeon, pretending to be a courser! Can you believe it?”

Okay, now Luc knows the warlock has lost his damn mind. A moose? In the Dungeon? She’s always been a bit gullible, but she’s not an idiot.

“Wow, yeah, not at all! That’s surprising,” she replies, trying to feign awe at Esquire Occidere’s… intelligence. “So there’s a moose in the Dungeon who’s pretending to be a horse, and you’re wanting him to fall in love with you?”

“Fall in… Of course not! Why would I— ah, no, of course I do! I have had my whiskers on him for quite some time, you see. But usually when he sees me, he just runs away! But with this potion, he won’t be able to run. He’ll never run again!”

Luc raises her eyebrows critically. “Yeah, sure. That checks out. You want to hook up with a moose.”

Esquire Occidere sputters, lips twitching in desire to snarl. The tiny voice of evil within Luc takes great pleasure in watching him squirm as he realizes the grave he’s dug for himself.

“Y— yes,” he finally mutters, and he looks nauseous with the effort. “Yes, I’m in love with a moose.”

“Wow, that’s awesome! I’m happy for you, dude, I really am. I hope the potion works and you and that moose get to live a long, happy life together. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

The cavedweller’s ears pin back and his self-control loses the fight against a snarl. But then, almost quicker than Luc can blink, his expression shifts into something almost… conniving. Predatory.

“You know, I could really use some help, since I can’t get close enough to the bast— moose, you know, to give him the potion.”

A chill runs down her back. What the hell is she signing up for?

She’s spared from having to reply by a low groan from somewhere behind the warlock, closely followed by the appearance of a short, fat dog, with ears so long they drag across the mossy cobblestone as it walks around Esquire Occidere. 

Curled loosely around Luc’s body and neck on his various perches, Verdant tenses as he wakes up, the snake’s tongue flicking in and out rapidly at the appearance of prey small enough to eat.

“Ah, Empress! Good awakening! I was simply making a potion for that wretched moose with, ah…” he glances back at Luc, something that could almost be described as nervousness radiating off of him when previously his boldness was palpable. 

“Volucris,” she replies, studying the canine in interest. What sort of powers does this creature possess, to scare a courser she assumed was too stupid to be scared?

“Volucris, yes! I hope that isn’t an issue, Empress. The potion will be complete as soon as the ingredients are fully dissolved!”

The dog swings her head between the two horses, clearly illiterate when it comes to the language of coursers. Briefly, Luc wonders if the warlock knows that he’s talking to a creature that neither understands nor cares. 

Empress huffs before turning back around and padding deeper into the cave, presumably to go back to sleep. 

Once the canine is out of earshot, Esquire Occidere’s head shoots back to Luc, hollow eye sockets staring right through her. When he speaks, his voice is low and firm.

“You must behave yourself around Empress. Understood? She has a zero tolerance policy for disobedience.”

“What?”

“Just— gah! Just promise me you will never do anything that Empress doesn’t like. You don’t want to learn the hard way.”

Luc wonders when she agreed to stick around at all, but curiosity has always been her greatest strength as well as her greatest weakness. As Verdant begins to shift in anticipation of his next meal—a dog-sized meal, perhaps—she decides that it doesn’t matter at all. 

She’s far too interested in seeing how this pans out to worry about self-preservation.