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A sickly green light illuminated the wooden door, caused by a hanging lantern that burned an otherworldly hue, casting a deathly pallor onto the still dark, stone street and onto the sign of black wood, upon which jagged letters of alabaster dubbed this place 'The Golden Table'. It was the sort of green associated with death, rot, and sickness, or, in the business world, alchemists. To the rural farmers and woodsmen these purveyors of potions, tinctures and chemical agents were known as thaumaturges, miracle workers, magicians, but to the businesses who had more a care for coin than the arcane, they were simply means to ends. So, where in a smaller town such a shop might have been relegated as far from the main populous as possible, in Halain The Golden Table was situated in the middle of a main thoroughfare in the processing district, right between a glass-blower's and a place that advertised delicate, precious metal piecework, where it no doubt supplied the the surround refineries and treatment plants with chemicals galore.

Gray-hair had found the place easy enough, it wasn't as hidden as he might have come to expect from past experience. A wooden placard deigned the shop closed, from dusk to dawn, but when the traveler pressed against that entrance, it yielded, neither secured nor locked. Within it was just as dim as the street outside, only that nauseating green light from a handful of lanterns that barely lit the main room. The smell was the first thing that one noticed; crossing the threshold one crashed into it like a wall, a strong, cloying scent that was fragrant and revolting at the same time, like decaying plants. The walls were lined with shelves laden with goods ranging from large, leather-bound books, to small sacks of canvas filled with varying amounts of dry materials, to glass bottles of all shapes and sized, in which mixtures all the colors of the rainbow gleamed against that strange light. In the very center sat a tall table which, to all appearances, seemed to be made of one large piece of solid gold, covered with open tomes scrawled with varied writing, order books for business buying in bulk. Finally, almost obscure in the eye-catching wonder of everything else, a small wooden desk was tucked away into the corner, while a man seated at it looked on at Gray-hair with a gaze of detached interest, his attention seemingly torn away from the ledger before him. If he seemed perturbed at his visitor's hour, at a time when the store was supposed closed, it was not apparent.

"How may I help you?" The owner asked, rising to his feet. Shoulder length, raven colored hair framing a pale face and eyes of striking blue arrested the traveler's attention, though he tore away from that seizing gaze a moment to look over the other man whom, besides his countenance, was unassuming in appearance. Average in height and weight, middle-aged, adorned in the plain, dark robe of his trade, open at the front, with the hood thrown back to reveal those intelligent eyes and a smile that looked too mocking to be entirely genuine.

"... Kahest?" Speaking the name almost like an invocation, Gray-hair looked close for some sign of recognition in the face of the alchemist, but that expression never changed. "Beg pardon? Caw hest, you said? I've never heard of that, I don't think we carry it." "Kahest..." It was no longer a question. The traveler had dealt him enough to know when he was being toyed with, no matter what face he wore. The alchemist chuckled and waggled a finger at the visitor. "Come now, you need to indulge in a bit of fun now and again, even if it's just someone else's fun." "I need to leave at sunrise, I don't have time for your jokes." The dark-haired owner released a heavy sigh. "Always work, work, work, isn't it? ... You look older. They're not being kind to you, are they?" "They can't afford to be." "Is that what they tell you?" No response was forthcoming to that. Gray-hair knew well enough Kahest's opinion on his taskmasters, but it was not one he shared. When it was obvious the traveler would not play along, Kahest simply shrugged and began to move across to the far end of the room, gesturing for his guest to follow.

"I expected you last week." He started casually, lifting a lantern from its hook on the wall while opening a door to reveal stone steps leading below ground, starting their descent. "The roads aren't what they used to be." "What in the world does that mean?" "It means what it means." Kahest stopped and turned on his heel, glaring sardonically at Gray-hair, the green light playing off the damp walls to make his eyes glint dangerously. "Now, don't you go getting all cryptic and mysterious on me. That's my job." "... The barriers are weakening down south, I had to take care of some transgressors and reinstate the wards." "Yeesh." Satisfied, the dark man turned and started back down again. "I thought those were supposed to be good for another decade." To that the traveler could only shrug, not caring that Kahest couldn't see the gesture.

The stairs finally opened into a large room, the air acrid and the cold in the depths of the earth, with more cut stone keeping it at bay. The scene that was revealed as the alchemist went around and lit the other lanterns was a familiar one, though Gray-hair had never been here before. A large, oblong brass tub sat in the middle, squat and filled half-way with a yellowish liquid, while tables covered in strange and alien instruments pushed against the walls. Finished with the lanterns, Kahest grabbed one and slowly dragged it towards the tub, glancing expectantly at his guest. "Well, come on then. You said we only have until daybreak; we don't have much time." Without a word the Gray-hair began to strip off his garments, tossing them carelessly to the floor. The reveled body was wan, yet taut with corded muscle, his skin pale save where it puckered with red, fresh scars and gleamed with silver, old ones. They painted his body like a tapestry, his body telling a story of untold years, a long and painful life.

"That one's new." Kahest observed, tenderly brushing his fingers over a blazing wound that had just barely begun to heal at Gray-hair's shoulder, large but shallow, and clean as from a sharp edge. "A souvenir from your trouble on the road?" "Sort of..." "... It was the people, wasn't it?" The dark alchemist said flatly, more of an accusation than a question. It was the first time since the traveler had showed up that all amusement, wry or otherwise, departed from him entirely. The gaze Gray-hair returned was plaintive, almost pleading. "... They were frightened, they didn't understand." "They don't _try_to understand..." The words of Kahest dripped with venom, his face hardened by hatred, but it quickly smoothed into resignation and when he spoke again it was with a softer tone. "Come, we must make speed." With a nod, the travel began to climb into the tub, the alchemist steadying and easing him into it with a careful arm around his shoulders. The liquid was thick, gooey, but surprisingly warm. As he lay down, submerging all but his face, it caused his wounds, old and new to itch, and seemed to send tingles into his flesh.

"It's going to hurt even more this time, isn't it?" He asked, looking up past the edges of the tub to the alchemist who nodded simply, lowering a hollow, metal tube to his mouth and pinching a clip to his nose. With a final look to Kahest, he gave a gentle nod of appreciation, then pushed even further into the liquid, lost in it entirely, as the dark man without began his work.

Time stretched, as it tends to do in times of suffering. The pain that ranged from cold and gripping, to fiery and electrifying, turned the hours into days for the traveler. Eyes shut hard, adrift in that gooey mixture, he retreated into his own world and filled it with his thoughts. He saw Tarrensford and that shack again, the girl and what he could only assume was her family. He saw a single, long road winding from that town, down to Halain, further south, twisting this way and that. He followed it, pockets of reality constructed from memories rising to fill the misty void. There were faces he no longer knew the names of, people and places that had lost their meaning in time, but finally that road came to an end, as it always did. Flowers. Yellow flowers sprouted at the end of that path. The traveler reached down and picked them, one by one, as he had so many times before. Grasping them in hand he turned and saw that face, that red hair, those emerald eyes... and felt a pain far worse than that of his flesh.

Hands grasped at his sides and pulled him up, out of that world, into the cold air once more. Fingers gently wiped the clinging liquid from his eyes and gently forced them open, revealing the dark-haired alchemist once more, who examined his patient closely. "Morning?" "Yes, more or less. It's done, and you have some time to get cleaned up, get some food in you, and be ready to depart." "How did it go?" With a pause, Kahest finally shrugged and grasped a small, circular mirror, holding it up before the traveler's face. "Not as well as last time, and not as well as next time, but it did the job... for now."

Looking into that reflection, he saw a smoother, younger face. His previously stone-gray hair was now a dark brown, just touched with gray streaks here and there. Looking down, his red scars had faded to silver, and his form was thicker, healthier, if still slender and worn. "... Well, it's better." The alchemist helped him out of the tub, his wet feet almost slipping on the cold floor, but the dark man caught him. "Your time's running out." Kahest said as a matter of fact, but with a hint of regret that only his companion could distinguish, as he handed the traveler cloth to wipe himself off. "You think I don't know that?" "I think that it's not necessarily a bad thing... You want a break, yes? Well, they know when they need to replace their manservant. I've seen it before. You had better believe that as soon as they find someone they deem suitable of 'taking up the mantle', you'll be set free." The traveler continued to clean himself in silence a moment, trying not to seem too hopeful. "How long do you think that will be?" "Soon... But, you know, once they do that... This..." The alchemist gestured over his guest and the brass tub. "This ends. Your years will catch up to you, fast. So... Make the most of it, when it comes." The traveler cast a look at Kahest, a soft, knowing smile on his lips, to which the dark man frowned and shrugged disinterestedly. "Just saying." The chestnut-haired man gave a single, soft chuckle and rested a hand on the alchemist's shoulder. "You know, you're not as cool as you'd like people to think you are." Shrugging off the hand nonchalantly, Kahest strode over to the stairs and started up, not bothering to look back as he spoke. "Whatever. I'm going home, close the shop on your way out."

Smiling to himself as he watched the dark man depart in what could only be described as a huff, he quickly finished wiping off the liquid and dressed again, drawing the hood far over his head to cover his no-longer-gray hair. When he ascended into the shop proper, it was empty, the lights extinguished, but upon that golden table sat a meal of eggs, bacon and bread, still steaming, and a cloth bundle with a note. Scratched upon it in Kahest's jagged writing, it read simply: "Take this. Don't die yet." The traveler had to smile again, an action that felt foreign to him, but welcome. He made short work of the breakfast and left the shop, locking the door behind him and slowly, almost leisurely, made his way to the town square. A close observer would note that, as he strolled, he stood a bit taller and his stride was stronger. The square was a busy as it ever was as the sun began to peek from the horizon; stalls closing, new ones opening, people going to and fro, and there was ol' Sheep-face with his cart. He seemed to be talking idly with one of the ox as he made his preparations, but quickly stopped whatever he was doing when he saw the traveler approach, turning his attention to his passenger.

"Ah, right on time, we're about to head on out soon. Climb in and relax, sur, we'll have you up north sooner than you know." "Thank you." Replied the traveler simply, doing as he was told and nestling into that niche between the box that smelled of spice and the bolts of cloth. "You look like that night of sleep did you well." The driver chuckled as he mounted his seat, taking the reins in hand. "What did I say? Smoky Peak's got the best beds in town." "Well, when you're right, you're right." "Right." With a final laugh, Sheep-face whipped the reins and within minutes they were north of Halain, the road stretching before them, and the passenger felt finally allowed to enjoy the scene as the sun brought its golden light to the countryside.