Hey Davis, I hope you're well. I have an urgent request.
Do you know the hermit from the mountain behind the ravine who comes by sometimes? The strange old fellow, dressed in pelts, that trades amethysts for supplies?
He came by again but didn't ask for herbs, spices, or vegetables. The man was pleading for medicine, but we were all out. Even the bag of amethysts he clutched in his wrinkly hands couldn't change that.
Once we receive new stock, could you put some tinctures aside for him? Our soldiers take priority, but the old chap was desperate, so let's reserve some when we see him again.