The warlock and the necromancer

Phaedras the Warlock opened the sturdy oaken door, ringing the small bell attached to it. The shop smelled like the oddest combination of concoctions: Phaedras smelled a bit of incense, combined with a soft smell or rotting flesh and the heavy odour of cooked mushrooms. The walls were stacked with shelves, each containing a wide array of potions, each with it's own colour and texture. Some in large round bottles, others in coneshaped flasks. One took Phaedras's attention. It was a bloodred liquid, contained in a flask shaped as a Chinese dragon. The potion seemed to radiate some red light as well, just before turning yellow altogether.

"Can I help you?" asked a crackling voice from behind the counter. Phaedras noticed a small but ancient-looking man.

"I'm planning on going into battle soon, and I'd like to see some of your most potent potions" He said.

"Ah, I see. May I know which creatures you expect to fight? Or are you looking for quick healing potions? I should have a Cantabrian back-on-your-feet here somewhere" And the old man started looking over to a few shelves behind him, rumbling some flasks out of the way.

"I'm good for healing potions, potion seller. I'm looking for something a bit more... specific."

"Let's hear it then, what are you looking for?"

"I will be fighting a powerful necromancer, so I'd like undead oils for my blade. I'd also want some additional protection against his magic, and maybe something that can help turn the battle in my favour." The potion seller raised an eyebrow.

"A necromancer, eh? Where'd you find one of them? They've been beaten a thousand years ago by the Immortal Queen Namrodia!"

"I only seek the materials to defeat one, not to tell a story. So do you have what I'm looking for?" The little man seemed to take that as a personal insult to his abilities.

"Of course I have what you're looking for! You're talking to the Grand Alchemist of our capital. If I don't have it, it doesn't exist! Let me see..." This time, he looked under the counter, where Phaedras could hear the rattling of glass bottles.

"Very potent undead oil, this one. Incapacitates any undead upon touch, it's potent enough to kill them, should you cut an open wound with your blade. It's worthless when fighting other creatures though, beware not to spill it." The bottle's content was dark white, if that makes any sense. It looked white, but dirty. The old man went to one of the shelves close to the door and climbed up a ladder. He dug another flask from one of the shelves.

"Drink this in one swig, and you'll find yourself immune to even the darkest magic for at least an hour. Probably longer, but this shop guarantees only a full hour. Beware though, powerful mages can still cut through this defensive barrier, but it will take them a lot of time and effort." He put the flask on the counter, next to the dirty white bottle.

"And finally, something to give you an edge... let's see here" He scratched his chin and let his eyes go over the shelves. Eventually he picked up the bottle shaped as a Chinese dragon. Phaedras noticed that the liquid had turned from yellow to lightblue. "There you go, now that'll be..."

"Hold on!" Phaedras said "what does that one do?" The little alchemist looked at the small dragon flask.

"It gives you an edge to win the battle. It's called dragon's breath. Hold on, I have an empty vial, let me show you." The shopkeeper got an empty vial from under his counter. It was exactly alike the one on the table, dragon shaped, but it had no potion in it.

"When you press here..." The man pressed a button in the dragon's neck "...you can see its mouth open on the other side" And indeed, the dragon's glass mouth opened.

"Make sure you point the dragon to your enemies, and anything you want dead or destroyed. This vial creates the most potent fire when exposed to air. The flask itself is heavily enchanted to protect the user. It's best to imagine this potion as a portable dragon to breath fire on your enemies. I should also mention that it only has one use, so use it wisely." Phaedras the warlock nodded,

"this will do, how much do I owe you?"

"Two standard potions, extra strong, means twenty gold coins. The Dragon's breath is a bit more costly, forty gold coins in total." Phaedras summoned forty gold coins from his moneypouch and put them on the table.

"Pleasure doing business." said the potion seller when Phaedras loaded the potions in his backpack.

Later that night, Immortal Queen Namrodia's palace

Phaedras struck the hundredth blow of the evening. Each of the onehundred Royal Guardsmen now laid dead. It was just as his research had pointed out. The anonymous and invincible guards of the queen were no more than Undead creatures, their skeletonlike features disguised by their armour. All it took to defeat them was a capable swordfighter with a blade treated with undead oils.

Now, Phaedras entered the throne room. The cold, dark granite room had only one entrance: the large door through which he had entered. There was only one window: a large, cathedral-like stained glass depiction of the Queen's victory against an army of necromancers, and her foundation of the mortal kingdom.

On the throne sat a woman. She was a gorgeous blonde, wearing what seemed to be a ragged dress: the remains of what she had worn a thousand years ago during the great war. Even though she was ancient, she still looked like she was in her early twenties, a charming young lady. But, unknown to her kingdom, she was not just immortal, she was a necromancer herself. She had vouched to destroy all of the undead kings, gaining support from the mortals. It all lead to her being the last remaining necromancer in the mortal world. She could raise armies from the dead, and her most loyal servants, like her Royal Guards, were secretly no more than reanimated skeletons. Phaedras had discovered this secret several months ago, and ever since he was burned on destroying her, the last necromancer. Only then could the dead finally have their deserved rest.