Mother’s absquatulate

It was a quiet morning for Kaelus. The fresh morning air seeped into his lungs as he creaked open the windows, listening to birds singing on the branches. He reached out a finger, gesturing for the curious finch to perch on him.

“Good morning, Chip.” He smiled, brushing his index finger on its beak before another finch nestled on his white locks. Giggle escaped his lips, gently taking the other finch to his shoulder. “Good morning to you as well, Bluebell.”

The two finches chirped a melody, like they were talking to him when suddenly a loud explosion was heard in the basement, catching his attention immediately. He hastily made his way to where the explosion was, a puff of smoke lingered in the air the moment he opened the door. The smoke got into his lungs, resulting in him throwing a fit of cough and waving his hand to clear the smoke. He heard his mother coughing as well, but quickly regained her composure.

“Well that certainly did not go well.” She said, before noticing Kaelus.

“What are you up to now?” He asked, a little frustrated. His mother has always been brewing new potions and making new magic spells for as long as he could remember. And so far, only a selected few have been successful in practice yet not in the market. Which Kaelus finds a little sad due to how passionate his mom was in witchcraft and potion making.

“Brewing a potion that could make you talk to the greeneries.” His mother spoke, a glint of excitement in her eyes sparkled. “Don’t you want to know what the trees have witnessed in their life?”

“Oh, mother,” He sighed, unsure what is the use of knowing the secrets of the greenery. Or if it would actually work really. “I don’t think it’s interesting enough to be sold.”

“Bah! Those people don’t have a spark of curiosity inside their mind.” She squabbled, stirring the cauldron to see the mix of blue and green bubbling. “Only the wise search for true wisdom of the world. The fools will stay sated with the limited knowledge they have.”

“But we barely made any money.” He asserted his point, clearly a bit upset that she couldn’t see their financial problems. “There weren’t any customers visiting the library too lately.”

The hunchbacked woman’s face went solemn, her lips were shut from the truth of his words.

It was true that they were financially stuck. Kaelus and his mother had been living in the far corner of the town, close to the forest where his mother picked up the herbs for potion brewing. It was cozy and peaceful, sure, but getting customers was hardly easy. Not to mention that the townsfolk were mostly illiterate. Never bothered to pick up a book, much less purchasing one.

Kaelus was the only one who could read and write in the small town of Versaniti. He had been taught to pick up an ancient text of Old Nawarian language at the age of five. His mother guided him through the learning stage, given how engrossed he was with the alphabets and language.

And given how he was too absorbed into the world of knowledge, he barely made friends with boys his age — who were much more into swordsmanship and dueling. They loved to spar and assert dominance towards each other, competing to see who was the better fighter amongst them and who had more chance of pulling the fair maidens. And Kaelus was never one to sweep a lady’s off from their feet, much less pick up a sword with his frail arms.

His mother then scooped up the ladle, making sure there was enough portion to be filled into the vial as she carefully poured it into the glass tube. She then handed it to Kaelus, gesturing to him to take a sip from the vial. He was hesitant — not because of how awful it would taste, he had been his mother’s taster and unwilling experimental subject for sixteen years of his life since he was seven. He had endured every flavor his taste buds could tolerate. But because he had suffered bad side effects the potions had given him. Luckily, his mother always had a remedy for each and every single one of his pain.

He took a sip, the similar bitterness taking over his throat as he gulped it down. He let the effects take over his body, feeling his head throbbed in slight discomfort and his vision blurred and unblurred at irregular intervals before he regained his sight once more not long after. His mother then brought a small pot of Goldenhat Mushroom and shoved it to his face without any warning.

“Can you hear its voices?” She asked, expecting a good result.

Kaelus held the pot in his hand, hearing a faint inaudible whisper coming from the plant. He wasn’t sure what it was trying to say, nor can he make anything out of the garbled words.

“I’m not sure what it was trying to say.” He shook his head. “I can only hear sounds coming from it.”

“Not enough Moon Berries and Greenbell Soybeans.” The hunchback lady mumbled to herself, tramping her way to a stack of jars neatly placed on the shelves. She reached for a jar, only to see that it was empty. “Drat, we ran out of Moon Berries.”

“So what are you going to do?” Kaelus asked, placing the small plant on a nearby stool. He observed his mother putting on her coat and scarf, reaching for her satchel and slinging it on her shoulder and across her body, before acquiring her walking stick.

“Getting the berries, of course. They wouldn’t suddenly appear in the jar.” She chided.

“Can’t you just use magic for that?” He asked, almost as if complaining.

“My magic is not something to be wasted on something so trivial, boy.”

“But you can hardly walk far. Not with those old bones of yours.”

“Don’t look down on me. I might be old and fragile, but I won’t let my body stop me from going out and get me some berries.”

“But it’s out of season.” Kaelus protested, his brows narrowed. “Where will you even get those berries?”

“There’s a few in the Forest of Northwinds.” She said, “I need to hurry before the seasons change there as well.”

“The Forest of Northwinds?” He exclaimed, baffled by her choice of location. “It will take at least twenty days to reach there. Not to mention the beasts that are lurking in the forest.”

His words fell onto deaf ears, seeing how she wasn’t even deterred by his warning.

“I’ve gone there multiple times throughout my life. No beasts can scare me anymore.”

“Mother, that’s not—” He cut his own words halfway, dropping the topic. “Do you really have to make the potions?”

“I make potions for a living.” She scowled, scrutinizing him. He could feel his figure shrunk under her gaze, despite their height difference. “Those cretins are just ignorant of what my crafts are capable of.”

“But we can always make love potions.” He suggested, his fingers played with the hems of his sleeves. “They sell really well in the market.”

“Love potions are nothing but a scam.” His mother scoffed at the idea. “The potions only blind the consumer with fake love. And once the effect wears off, things will not be in their favor.”

Kaelus knew better than to rebuke her words. He knew whatever his mother spewed out of her tongue, it would be wise to believe it. She was the wisest woman in this town, yet her knowledge was oftentimes overshadowed by the town’s shallow minds. They only focused on strength and beauty, while knowledge was something they thought of as useless or can only be acquired by the rich.

Still, he wished his mother wasn’t so stubborn and listened to his words for once.

“Take care of the house and the library. I’ll be back in twenty days.” She said, stepping out to cold air where the autumn leaves greeted her.

He watched as she tramped out to the forest, where he could see her figure drowned by the frigid mist in the forest nearby. He exhaled a sigh out of his lungs, worried about her already. Winter is around the corner, and the animals have been hibernating. Bluebell and Chip were the only finches that are immune to the cold, thanks to his mother’s warming potion. She experimented her potion to his poor birds without his consent. And luckily enough, they survived and the potions were successful. He wouldn’t have forgiven her for at least three months if his birds died.

He closed the door, waiting for his mother to return in twenty days as she said.