#demon servant

[spdcooler]

character requests (special)

[highborn-demon]

This evening’s short tale is another shopping adventure. It’s no secret that I enjoy visiting the retail district of the city, with its quaint tree-lined cobblestone lanes and assortment of charmingly decorated storefronts. It is one of the older parts of Brassbridge, and perusing the goods offered there has been one of my favorite pastimes. The shops have obviously changed over the centuries, but one has remained nearly the same~ the apothecary just down the street from Lady Tremayne’s dress shop. They offer medicinals for mortals, and various herbal potions, including a vast array of tea.

Brewing a perfect pot of tea was the very first task I learned upon taking guardianship of young Master Thorn, so you can imagine that anything related to tea is nostalgically close to my heart.

You are cordially invited to accompany me as I shop for Miss Mercy’s birthday gift at The Herbal Emporium, Austermeer’s oldest and most esteemed apothecary.

Chapter 77~ Catmint

Silas stepped over the threshold and into the apothecary, and discreetly shut the door behind him. No matter how softly he closed it, the string of verdigris copper bells hanging from the handle always jangled a bit harshly, heralding his arrival.

He stood, small and spare in the center of the cramped, cluttered room. The shop interior was dark, dusty, and highly aromatic. A single bleary window barely allowed the sunlight in. Ornately embossed tins and glass bottles in every color lined the shelving behind the weathered counter, which had been worn glossy smooth by centuries worth of goods being slid across it. Racks of drying plants and flower stems hung suspended from the rough-hewn rafters overhead. Wooden barrels and crates of loose tea and herbs filled every nook and corner. Darjeeling, assam, peppermint, hibiscus and orange clove. Bracingly piquant ginger, earthy echinacea and tart cranberry rooibos. Needles of mild silver leaf. Sweet warm cinnamon and citrusy lemon. Flowery exotic jasmine.

Silas smiled. Tea always helped, no matter the situation. This he knew to be the truth.

Silas meandered to a large flourcloth sack overflowing with tiny dried leaves. The top of the bag was folded open, and his senses were immediately flooded with the familiar herbaceous scent. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself…. the demon leaned in and inhaled deeply, a shiver of pleasure dancing over his body. Catmint.

Saliva filled his mouth, and his pupils swelled dangerously as the herb began to take its dizzying, euphoric effect on him. He ran a finger beneath the fabric of his cravat, which suddenly felt too tight. Swallowing back an abrupt laugh, Silas cursed silently to himself.

Oh no.

Catmint had always been absolutely irresistible to him, much to his dismay. Once while in cat form, he’d nibbled a tender young frond of it that was growing wild in the garden, and had disgracefully chased his own tail in a circle before regaining his dignity. Silas quickly pushed the memory to the back of his mind. Not his finest moment; indeed the incident was quite regrettable and best left in the past.

Now was not the time to allow such silliness, as tempting as the herb may be. Consumption of catmint easily led to a greater hunger, or even worse, the wastefulness of drunken stupor. He was here on serious business; shopping for Mercy’s birthday gift. Mayhem was not on the menu.

The maid had a fondness for London Fog in the evenings, and even though Silas knew it would be destined for ruination at her inexperienced hands, he wished to purchase a pound of black tea for her. It’s the thought that counts, he mused; at least that’s what Mistress Scrivener had told him.

Giving his head a shake to clear the deepening intoxication, Silas tightened his grip on the task ahead, approached the register and offered the proprietor a smart bow.

“Good day to you, sir. If you please, I should like to sample your finest blend of loose leaf black. Something suitable for concocting a lady’s London Fog.” His voice was soft and courteously low, almost a whisper.

“Why yes sir, I have the perfect medley for you. It arrived only yesterday, and I think you’ll agree it’s exquisite.” The shop pharmacist, clearly poor of vision, turned away to search the shelving against the back wall. Taking down a large pewter colored tin box with gold filigree script, he pried off the top and set it on the counter. The robust aroma of black tea, orange zest and vanilla wafted up.

“This is our best Earl Grey, harvested at the peak of the full moon. You will notice the addition of lavender to enhance the floral bouquet.”

His customer stepped closer. The druggist squinted at the curious gentleman before him~ he was quite small in stature, slender, dressed fashionably in a superbly tailored tailcoat suit of dark grey spring wool. Breeches tucked into tall mahogany leather riding boots, pearl grey deerskin gloves. His hair was unusually long; it fell well past his shoulders in a cascade of gleaming white, gathered neatly with a black ribbon. A white rose sat elegantly at his lapel. One well-formed ear was pierced through by a marquis emerald in a gold setting. Skin milky and delicate as paperwhites; even paler than the silk cravat knotted high around his throat.

Yes, all very unusual… he could be one of those albinos that were pictured in natural history books, but then those eyes... The clerk could’ve sworn he’d seen them flash an impossible shade of sulphur, but looking closer they now appeared a light tawny brown. Nevertheless, there was something very odd about this gentleman, he just couldn’t quite grasp what…

“Pardon me, sir,” Silas had removed his gloves and slipped them into his pocket. He picked up a tiny bit of tea and pressed it between his thumb and forefinger, crushing the dried leaves to release their essence. He sniffed the powder, nostrils flaring subtly like a cat’s. The tea was fragrant with bergamot oil, and contained a goodly amount of whole lavender, a sign of high quality. Silas only spent his money on the best. He sighed. Such a lovely tea, doomed to a tortuously slow demise at Mercy’s merciless hands. Death by over-steeping.

Meanwhile, the clerk had blanched a shade of white that rivaled the demon’s own stark complexion. He clutched the edge of the countertop to steady himself. Those were claws. Not manicured fingernails. Actual claws, curved and translucent, identical to a cat’s. They looked razor sharp enough to score metal, and they were immaculate. His monocle dropped to the countertop with a clatter, bounced to the floor, and rolled in a tight circle at the toe of Silas’ boots.

Silas paused mid-sniff and slid a side eye at the man, who stiffened and offered a forced smile. With dawning amazement, the man realized he’d been correct. The strange gentleman’s eyes were indeed yellow, with thin black pupils, vertical like a cat’s…. this being was most certainly not human, and that left but one conclusion. This was the House Thorn demon, who had been glimpsed throughout the city recently. The newspapers were all in a flap about it. And here he was, a mere yard away, politely purchasing tea of all things. Surprisingly, the creature possessed more manners and grace than most humans. Not to mention he was much better attired.

The demon had re-donned his gloves. “Of this blend, I shall take one pound please. Could you wrap it? It is to be a gift for a… work associate.” Silas fought mightily against the urge to add an eye roll. He still found it difficult to admit he was no longer the only House Thorn staff member.

The shop clerk froze for moment, taken aback. Demons not only bought tea, they also bought gifts? How delightfully unexpected. “But of course, sir!” Unable to contain his giddy excitement, he measured out a pound of tea onto a scale, poured it into a paper sack, then produced a roll of silver tissue and a length of pale orchid satin ribbon.

A round jar of rock candy caught Silas’ attention. He leaned forward, head tilted to view the contents through the thick bubbled glass. The sticks of sparkling crystallized sugar seemed the type of pretty thing Mercy might fancy. All of the young humans in his keep appeared bound and determined to rot their teeth out with copious amounts of sweets. But who was he to judge?

“A quarter pound of these as well, if you please. Also for the lady.” Perhaps the candy would give her the energy needed to better focus on the quality of her mopping.

Beribboned packages in hand and twenty shillings lighter, Silas bowed graciously and took his leave. He paused on his way out to savor one last whiff of catmint, unable to resist its deliciously heady fumes. And then, like a specter or wisp of ether, he slipped out the door.

The shopkeep watched Silas leave, his fearful assumptions regarding demons erased. What an intriguing creature he’d just met. He felt a bit woozy all of a sudden, though the feeling was not entirely unpleasant. Perhaps he needed a bite to eat. He gazed quizzically at the open tin of pricey Earl Grey on the counter. How strange, he’d just noticed it. Twenty shillings sat next to it in a tidy stack; a hefty sum of money. He must’ve forgotten to put it in the till before closing up shop last night. Blinking hard, he retrieved his monocle from the floorboards, dusted it off on his apron and looked up at the clock on the wall. It was almost 8 am and he hadn’t had a single customer all morning.

Art by Isadora Nurdin 💚

[pancake-moth]

this guy

[klug]

Translated this Compile Club article while trying to make my remote job training go by faster.

You can read it here:

Warning for some bad jokes I guess? There are more disclaimers on the page.

if you found these translations useful, consider tipping me on ko-fi

[modmamono]

Mature™️ Puyo Puyo™️ Reboot™️

*Blood Warning*

[puyopreservation]

PPPP Trivia:

The modern german translations for the series have notable naming choices.

Demon Servant still goes by that name.

Wacht is Wahato.

Skeleton-T is T-Skeleton.

Dapper Bones can be roughly called Rattling Framework.

[meanbeanshitpostmachine]

[trickycharm]

ocean prince and demiserf