The moment he opened the front door, a wave of cold air hit him.
Snowflakes sparkled as they drifted down, covering the streets in a thin layer of white, untouched in some places and packed down by footsteps in others.
Virgil stood on the front steps and looked around.
The town felt odd.
The buildings were tall, made from brick and stone.
Ornate streetlamps stood along the sidewalks, the snow reflecting their golden glow.
It looked familiar yet strange.
’Weird.’
He stepped off the porch and began walking down the road.
’I’ll need to find a clearing.’
Aside from killing its user, the artifact also destroyed the surrounding area.
Some believed it was the gods descending from the heavens, destroying everything that lay in their wake.
Others believed the user’s body exploded when the artifact consumed their soul.
No one knew for sure.
Virgil didn’t either.
But he was going to find out soon.
He quickened his pace.
He needed to get there before dawn.
The streets gradually became busier as he got closer to the center of the city.
He kept his head down, careful not to attract unnecessary attention.
Being nobility was only nice when it was convenient.
Eventually, he stopped in front of a liquor store.
A sign hung above the entrance, swaying slightly in the wind.
"Stop."
He stopped.
The two men stood outside the store, dressed in dark uniforms beneath heavy coats. Each carried a sword at their waist.
"Identification, please."
Virgil raised an eyebrow.
"Identification?"
"Yes."
One of the guards held out his hand.
"Age restriction."
The guard gestured toward the store.
"You need to be eighteen to enter."
His expression remained blank.
’Right.’
He reached inside his coat, pulled out the identification card he had found earlier, and handed it over.
The guard’s expression changed almost immediately.
His face paled.
"Visconti?"
"Yes."
The second guard leaned closer.
"Let me see that."
The first guard handed him the card.
The second man’s eyes widened slightly.
The two guards exchanged a quick glance before handing back his ID.
Virgil slipped it into his coat.
"My apologies, young master."
Virgil nodded.
"We weren’t aware of your identity."
"It’s fine."
The first guard stepped aside.
"You may continue."
He walked past them and entered the liquor store.
The smell of alcohol was faint but unmistakable.
Behind the counter sat a middle-aged man.
"Welcome."
His eyes briefly passed over Virgil before returning to the ledger in front of him.
"Can I help you?"
Virgil walked up to the counter.
"I need a healing potion."
The man’s pen stopped.
"We don’t sell those."
"I know."
The man slowly looked up.
"Then why are you asking?"
"Because you have them."
The man’s expression remained neutral.
"I think you’ve mistaken my establishment for an apothecary."
The man pointed to the left.
"There’s one around that corner. Just follow the road."
Virgil didn’t answer immediately.
He remembered this place.
Not because it was particularly memorable, but because of a scene from the novel.
The protagonist had been injured and didn’t have enough money to buy from a proper apothecary.
He was brought here.
The protagonist later on exposed him for secretly selling healing potions without a pharmaceutical license so he could take them for himself.
"You have three bottles in the cabinet underneath your desk."
The man’s expression barely changed.
But he noticed.
"And even more in the storage room," he continued. "You’re selling them illegally."
The man’s expression hardened.
"What do you want?"
"One potion."
"I can’t sell you one."
"Why? Because you don’t have the license to sell pharmaceuticals?"
The man fell silent.
In the Empire, healing potions weren’t treated as ordinary goods.
They were regulated pharmaceuticals.
Only licensed apothecaries and registered medical establishments were permitted to distribute them.
A liquor store had no such license.
"Fine. Either you give me the healing potion or I report you to the authorities."
He leaned in closer.
"It’s your choice."
The man said nothing.
"They will confiscate your stock and fine you, and if they’ve been keeping records of your sale, you’ll be charged for every illegal transaction. If they do a little digging into your background, you could be spending a lot of time in jail."
The shopkeeper’s jaw tightened.
"And before you think of calling your guards, you should know that I’m an awakened."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then the man sighed and rubbed his face.
"You’re quite troublesome."
"How did you know?"
The man reached beneath the counter, pulling out a glass bottle filled with a pale green liquid and placing it on the counter.
’Vitalis.’
The best and most expensive healing potion in the market.
This was the only place he could have gotten it, since demand was so high, normal pharmacies quickly sold out as soon as they restocked.
But this place wasn’t even a pharmacy. Only a select few knew that there were healing potions in stock here.
Virgil picked it up and inspected the bottle.
The seal was intact.
In return, he dropped two gold coins on the counter.
"Pleasure doing business with you."
He slipped the potion into his coat.
He turned towards the door and quickly left.
He didn’t stop until the liquor store was well behind him.
Once he was far enough, he let out a quiet breath.
’That could’ve gone better.’
’All that’s left now is leaving the city.’
Walking would take too long, and he couldn’t afford to waste time.
He needed a carriage.
After several minutes, he spotted a small group of carriages parked along the side of the road.
Most of them were occupied, while a few coachmen stood nearby talking amongst themselves.
Two men were stand beside a dark carriage, talking while one of them smoked.
They looked like ordinary coachmen.
Exactly the people he needed.
He approached them.
"Excuse me."
The two men looked over.
The smoker raised an eyebrow, taking the cigarette out of his mouth to speak.
"What can I do for you?"
"I need a carriage."
"Where to, sir?"
"A clearing outside the city."
The man’s expression changed slightly.
"A clearing, you say."
"Or a forest... Forest Verde."
The two men exchanged a glance.
The second man shook his head.
"My apologies, but that’s not a trip we can make."
Virgil blinked.
’Is it because of the way I said it?’
"Why?"
"Because it’s the middle of the winter."
The first man gestured towards the snow-covered road.
He looked downwards.
The carriage beside them had been converted into a sleigh. It was clearly prepared for winter travel.
"May I ask what business you have in the forest?" The second man asked.
"Personal."
The man stared at him.
"How much would convince you to take me there?"
"Nothing."
The answer came immediately.
"Five gold coins."
"..."
"Ten."
The smoker slowly lowered the cigarette from his mouth.
"Ten gold coins to take you to the forest and back seems awfully suspicious," he said.
"You’ll take it or not?"
"No."
Virgil turned to the second man.
"No."
He sighed.
"Fine."
He turned around.
"I’ll find someone else."
"Wait!"
He had barely taken two steps when another voice came from behind.
An older man standing beside another carriage was watching him.
"You really offering ten gold?"
Virgil nodded.
The man scratched his chin.
"I’ll take you."
The smoker frowned.
"Are you serious?"
The older man ignored him.
Virgil reached into his pocket and pulled out the pouch of gold coins.
The coachman waved his hand.
"Climb in," the coachman said. "You can pay me when we get there."