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Dion always knew Jote disliked him, and he didn't blame her. He could say whatever he wanted, swear, and persuade, but it was impossible to erase from history that it was the Holy Empire Sanbreque that orchestrated the Night of Flames, which nearly claimed the life of the Dominant the Undying had sworn to protect. But, as befits a loyal servant, Jote never voiced her opinions so the prince could hear them, nor did she behave inappropriately. Her gaze was always tired and unfriendly, and this didn't change even when Dion and Joshua began a relationship.
So he was surprised when the Undying approached him one day and, without preamble, asked for his help.
"Something wrong?" he asked seriously, wiping his hands with a rag. Jote had found him helping carry crates of provisions, and since he'd long since stopped wandering around the Hideaway in full dragoon armor, he wasn't wearing gloves to protect his hands from dirt.
The girl nodded grimly.
"This is a matter concerning His Grace, and a serious one. No one but you can help," she frowned. "But I will only share the details with you if you agree, Your Highness."
Dion blinked in confusion. It seemed it had to do with something... confidential? He couldn't imagine what exactly had happened to the Warden of Fire that would make the Undying seek help from someone she considered her enemy.
"I'm always ready to assist Phoe... His Grace," he quickly corrected himself, knowing that while he could address another Dominant so familiarly, it might offend her greatly in a conversation with the Undying.
"Then I ask you to follow me," Jote replied, turning and heading toward the infirmary. She walked quickly, without looking back.
And this made Dion even more uneasy. He immediately hurried after the girl, wondering what exactly had happened. He tried to think clearly: it was hardly a matter of life and death, since Ifrit or Shiva would have been the first to be informed. But it was serious enough that they needed him, as... a Dominant? A warrior? A nobleman? A man from the Empire?
A creak broke him from his thoughts: Jote, despite her previous haste, opened the door to the infirmary cautiously and immediately bowed.
"Your Grace."
The Prince peered over her shoulder and indeed saw Joshua, sitting at the table with such a pained expression on his face that his heart sank. Tarja sat next to him, examining something in the pile of papers in front of her and periodically glancing at the countless vials of various concoctions on the table. This led Dion to only one thought, and a rather unpleasant one: Phoenix's illness had worsened, and now he needed a new cure, otherwise he would soon die. They most likely wanted to send Dion to get the necessary rare herbs without anyone from the Hideaway finding out, lest they cause unnecessary uproar. However, this was still strange, because Dion had seen Joshua just that morning, and he was feeling quite well.
Jote stepped aside, allowing the prince to enter the room, and then closed the door. Dion tried to examine the other Dominant's face more closely, looking for any signs of discomfort, but the other, realizing someone had arrived, looked up.
"Dion?" he asked, surprised.
The prince nodded and was about to ask what had happened, when Tarja interrupted him, her voice sounding far too cheerful.
"Well, welcome to our humble experiment, Your Highness!" she grinned, and there was something so manic in that grin that it nearly made even the battle-hardened Dion the Bold flinch. "Thank you for agreeing to participate."
"An experiment?" Dion raised his eyebrows and looked first at Jote and then at Joshua. "I was told my help was needed, and it was a serious matter."
"Didn't Jote tell you?" the Dominant of the Phoenix grumbled.
"Anything related to His Grace condition is, from the perspective of the Undying order, confidential information, the disclosure of which is forbidden without the express orders of the appropriate persons," the Undying breathed out, then added in a casual tone, "Please don't hold it against me, Your Grace, but there are times when I follow the order's rules, even if they contradict your direct orders. I couldn't mention that when too many people might hear."
It was strange, considering the situation didn't seem all that critical, but there was a certain logic to it, which earned Dion a feeling of respect.
"Then I'll explain myself," Joshua muttered, his face flushing. "You see, Dion, the medicine I have to take every day tastes absolutely disgusting, so I always try to postpone taking it."
"And avoid anyone who tries to force him to drink it," Tarja added.
"...So Tarja and Jote decided they could try to refine the recipe to improve the taste and make the medicine easier to swallow," Joshua finished. "But there are too many trial recipes here, and even if I try a little from each vial, I'll still get sick. And we need someone with a sufficiently refined taste, so almost everyone in the Hideaway is out, including Clive." The Dominant looked down guiltily. "Over the years, he's gotten too used to eating without paying attention to the taste, including the medicines. Jill tried to help us, but she got sick after a few samples, so she needs rest. Vivian has been searching through the archives for hours and won't even answer the door. Anyway," he added hastily, "you shouldn't have worried. Sorry we made you worry about such trivial things for nothing."
"This isn't nonsense at all," Tarja stated authoritatively. "One day, this medicine may be needed not only by you, but by other patients as well, and improving the taste ensures that more people, including children, can take it. It's an investment in the future."
Sounded perfectly reasonable.
"You said you were always ready to help His Grace," Jote added, making Joshua even more confused.
"And I was serious," Dion nodded. "I will help you with your... experiment."
Tarja smiled contentedly.
"Then let's continue!"
***
At first glance, it looked like a typical tasting: Dion and Joshua were each given a "sample" of the current medicine and several vials of new infusions, with jugs of water placed on the table next to them so they could adjust the taste before testing again. Just in case, Tarja also asked if there were any herbs or foods that had ever caused hay fever-like symptoms in him.
"And now for the final briefing," the physician said. "Remember, we're primarily looking to change the taste, so pay attention to that first. If you suddenly feel ill, don't remain silent; side effects are also important, and there's nothing shameful about that. Oh, I almost forgot: the bucket is under the table."
"Let's hope we don't need it," Joshua muttered.
With that, the experiment began.
Dion couldn't say it was all that bad: the original medicine certainly had a strong swamp-mud taste, but it was quite tolerable, especially since the additives, even if they didn't completely mask the flavor, softened it. However, the problem was the side effects: apparently, something in the original recipe was a powerful universal catalyst, because the thyme sample gave Joshua such a coughing fit that he couldn't catch his breath for several minutes, and the peppermint-flavored infusion, which had seemed pleasant, almost immediately gave Dion something akin to heartburn.
Also curious was the medicine with an unexpected citrus tang. It was unlikely to be lemon, since citrus fruits weren't readily available. Tarja called it "Schisandra." The prince liked the taste, but just as he was about to approve, he was engulfed in a strange, familiar heat. He looked at Joshua, who had flushed deeply, and panic was clearly visible in his eyes. Dion immediately handed him a mug of water and drained his own.
"...It raises your temperature sharply," Joshua finally muttered.
"Then I'll rule it out," Tarja nodded.
"I liked the taste," Dion snatched up the vial. "I suppose adding a little to tea or just hot water wouldn't hurt."
Tarja shrugged, not looking up from her papers, and Dion, taking advantage of the moment when neither she nor Jote were looking, winked slyly at the Dominant of the Phoenix, who was blushing even more.
In fact, this experiment seemed quite interesting (even though at one point the prince looked longingly at the—thank Greagor—empty bucket, as his stomach was starting to churn), and suddenly the last vial appeared before them. For some reason, Jote glanced at it and sighed. But this was the only option he had any hope of, because all the previous ones either tasted terrible or had side effects.
Dion took a cautious sip. The taste was surprisingly fresh, slightly sweet, but he couldn't quite place it. Joshua, too, chewed his lips thoughtfully, his eyes closed.
"I don't know what's in this, but I don't taste anything strange," Dion said.
"Something familiar," Joshua muttered.
"Oh, yeah. It's carrot juice," Tarja walked over and took the vial. "Do we approve?"
Instead of answering, Joshua's eyes widened, then he slumped dramatically in his chair, raising his face to the ceiling.
"Phoenix?" the prince called out cautiously.
"I'm poisoned," he muttered. "I was treacherously poisoned by those from whom I expected no danger."
Dion tried to suppress his laughter at such an obvious game, but Tarja and Jote seemed unimpressed.
"Your Grace, be reasonable," the Undying said seriously.
"You understand, right, that if you refuse this option, we'll have to go through another round of the experiment?" the physician raised an eyebrow.
"I understand," Phoenix said, still sounding weary. "Now that I know what's in it, I can't take it. It's even worse now."
Jote closed her eyes, clearly holding back a sigh, and Tarja muttered something about the Rosfields' penchant for overdramatization.
***
Finally, Tarja announced that she'd need several more weeks to develop new recipes, so further experiments were postponed. It was already evening, and Dion and Joshua were walking together toward their rooms.
"You know, I'm still surprised you can't stand carrots after all these years," the prince chuckled. "That's sweet."
Phoenix rolled his eyes.
"Everyone has something they don't like. It turns out that for me, it's carrots, and I can't stand them. I can't help it. I'd rather drink this awful stuff without any additives."
"Speaking of additives," Dion paused and held up a vial containing a lemon-flavored concoction. Joshua gasped and looked away, his cheeks flushed.
"Did you really take it?"
"Why not?" "The prince stepped closer and intertwined their fingers so that the vial of medicine was in both their grasps. "I think you, too, appreciated the effect and were already thinking about how we could use it... say, right now."
Joshua looked up at him and licked his dry lips.
Perhaps, in some sense, the experiment had already been a success.