Deviating from the original plot

Chapter ninety-two

Celeste raised a brow. "Cookies? That's what we came here for?"

Evelyn smirked. "The person we're meeting likes these a lot." She handed the basket to Cassius. "You carry them."

Cassius stared at her, utterly appalled. "Why me?"

Evelyn didn't bother answering. She brushed past him, the others following close behind, and stopped at a small, crooked stall tucked into a shadowed corner. A hunched old woman appeared from behind a curtain, grinning wide—revealing the absence of her two upper teeth.

Cassius grimaced. "Eugh..."

"You've come again, have you?" the old woman rasped.

"Yes," Evelyn said briskly. "We need the usual."

The woman's eyes lit up. "Then give me my cookies!"

"Not until you get our order first," Evelyn said, arms crossed.

The woman squinted at her, muttered something under her breath, and shuffled off into the back of the stall. Cassius leaned closer, whispering, "What are those cookies even made of?"

"You don't want to know," Evelyn replied flatly.

Moments later, the woman returned with a basket covered by a stained napkin. "Here! Now, my cookies!"

"Fine, get them from him," Evelyn said.

Cassius blinked in disbelief as the old woman ran to him and pinched his arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Give me my cookies!" she snapped, yanking the basket toward her with surprising strength for her size.

"How dare you touch me—do you even know who I am?" Cassius glared, pulling back.

"I don't care if you're the emperor's pet chicken! Give me my cookies!" the old woman hissed, tugging harder until the basket nearly slipped from his grasp.

Evelyn frowned. "Cassius, give her the cookies; she will bite you."

Cassius finally let go with a frustrated sigh. "Fine! Take your stupid cookies, you unreasonable crone!"

The old woman clutched the basket protectively. "You're lucky I like her," she said, pointing at Evelyn. "Otherwise, I'd use you as potion ingredients for that mouth of yours."

Cassius looked equal parts horrified and offended. "You what?"

"Enough," Victoria said, cutting him off. "We have what we came for. Let's go."

They moved fast. Back at the manor, the group set to work preparing the enchanted solution. They decanted it into dozens of tiny glass vials, each corked; by dawn the vials were shipped to the smith.

At the smithy, the air was thick with heat and the scent of molten metal. The blacksmith—an older man with soot-streaked arms and a weary but steady gaze—examined the crate of vials Victoria had handed him.

"These same things again?" he remarked, rubbing his chin.

"That's because we'll need a great deal of weapons," Victoria replied.

The man grunted. "Then it may take a while. My apprentices were drafted by the Emperor—he says he's raising a special unit. It's just me and my boy now, so meeting your quota won't be easy."

"At least within a month?" Celeste asked hopefully.

The smith exhaled, shaking his head. "A month...? I'll try."

While Victoria and Celeste continued negotiating, Evelyn drifted toward the crates, crouching to inspect the vials. She tilted one slightly, watching the shimmering liquid swirl inside. Cassius, noticing her quiet focus, approached.