[center][img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/6d6ad653-f6a6-4a59-bb81-950b2d40a74a/deyso7l-d2484ca4-01e3-48c6-91f6-95942cef538c.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzZkNmFkNjUzLWY2YTYtNGE1OS1iYjgxLTk1MGIyZDQwYTc0YVwvZGV5c283bC1kMjQ4NGNhNC0wMWUzLTQ4YzYtOTFmNi05NTk0MmNlZjUzOGMucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.Pfyll8041S1TwDjyDcFv3-DFLZgQUuNxQv3yFwZjSMo[/img][/center][hr] Sanji dropped a couple of fresh-picked herbs into his satchel. Well, fresh-picked was one word for it. The particular vegetation in this area wasn't of ideal quality for medicine, but it was workable, especially when considering his supply of truly useful materials was beginning to run a bit short. Still, the reagents he tracked down himself were leagues better than those found in local markets. Even the thought of using salves made with such scant and rotted ingredients made him shudder. He hoped he would never have to stoop so low as to rely on them; after all, the resulting elixirs would likely have no beneficial effect anyway. He stood and brushed off his knees, and as the particles of dust billowed as clouds from his trousers, a phial slipped through a hole in the medicine man's threadbare bag. Cursing beneath his breath, Sanji scooped up the dropped glass and slipped it back into its place. Thankfully, it hadn't broken, as many of its precursors had. Yet, Sanji had nearly saved up enough for a new satchel in which to keep his materials. He had Beato to thank for that. The dreary folk living dreary lives in these mountains gobbled up anything that promised to make a ray of sunshine pierce through their eternally overcast existence. While Beato talked up Sanji's medicine to sound much, much better than it really was, to a people who had used naught but near-festering slimes to treat their illness, this medication was nothing less than a gift from the gods. The morning was still young--the sun had yet to fully show itself--but Sanji had risen quite early. The lodging he had found himself in for the night was somehow colder than the chill of the night winds. Fearing he would fall ill if he didn't do something, Sanji downed a tonic that was brewed to warm his insides and took to restocking his inventory. Thus, this was where he was, standing in the cold morning air with nowhere near the should-be necessary layers looking for plants and bugs in the near-dark. He had found the needed materials this morning for Izumi's most recent request--barely. And he had at least replenished enough reagents to at least take care of the company for another two days, though brews intended for sale would have to see a decline. Mayhaps the midday would prove more friendly to the task of collecting. As it were, his concoction intended to help ward off the frost was wearing thin. It would be wise to find a tavern with a lit fireplace by which to warm his rapidly chilling bones. So back toward the town Sanji strode. There were no birdcalls to accompany his walk, and even the small mammals seemed wiser than to climb out of whatever den or nest they had crafted for themselves. The only--mildly annoying--thing to happen during his return to the gates was the occasional drop of some item through his worn satchel, followed by his quick recovery of the offending trinket. Once within the town, Sanji passed the familiar less-than-enthusiastic Sergeant-At-Arms and a much-more-jolly red-headed knight whom he simply acknowledged with a nod before continuing his search for a warm inn. All the while, Sanji would occasionally scramble to keep an escaped ingredient from being trod on by an unconcerned passerby or a flask from smashing against cobblestone.