[15 Days until the Gods’ Tournament]

[8 Days until Blackcloak membership is due]

“So what do you think?” I ask, seated across from Cyros inside the Blackcloak Guild Hall. A handful of others are checking the job board or speaking with the vendor behind the supplies counter, but otherwise it’s much emptier than it had been the previous week. I guess assassins don’t hang around at the secret base in the middle of the day.

Cyros takes the Mana Drain potion from me, eying it dubiously. “I think that was extremely rash of you. What if it actually created something toxic that you didn’t have the cure to?”

“I had the cure to wormroot,” I say. “And I wasn’t too worried. They’re not that venomous, anyway.”

“Poisonous,” Cyros corrects with a sigh. “But just because you have the cure to individual components doesn’t mean they’ll combine into a new effect you do have the cure to. Next time you mix a mystery potion, take it back here so we can get it appraised before you start poisoning yourself.”

The last time I poisoned myself it actually turned out pretty great, but I doubt he’ll agree with me on that point.

He sets the bottle down and slides it back across the table. “So this is your plan for dealing with Enrold, then? Mess around with spell circles and ingredients until you stumble upon something useful?”

“Well, I mean, I’m also following the instructions on some potions,” I say. “Most of the time.”

Cyros sighs, shaking his head. “That’s not going to cut it for getting into the Blackcloaks. You need to be going about this more methodically.”

“What’s there to be methodical about?” I ask. “I break in, dump some drugs on his food, and break back out.”

“Oh yeah?” Cyros says. “What food?”

“I dunno.” I shrug. “Whatever’s in his kitchen?”

“He’s a dhampyr,” Cyros says flatly.

I blink. “Okay, explain what that means to me as if I might have no idea why that’s significant.”

“How do you not know what a—never mind. Dhampyrs are carnivores. They subsist off of blood and rare meat.”

“Oh!” I say. “Like vampires! Ohhhhh.” I think about his ashen skin and fangs. “Now it all makes sense.”

“Vampires?” Cyros repeats, confused. “No, dhampyrs. What are you even talking about?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “So you’re saying he only eats fresh meat?”

“Very likely,” Cyros replies, massaging a temple. “He probably keeps some frozen meat on-hand, too, in case he needs something in a pinch. But he might only eat it if he’s short on getting something more fresh, which means your plan to drug whatever’s in his house hinges on information you don’t yet know.”

I open my mouth, then shut it. “Fair point. So what’s the plan, then? Scope out his house to figure out where and when he’s eating?”

Cyros points a finger at me. “Now you’re getting it. And as far as what you’ll use to drug him…”

“I don’t suppose there’s some dhampyr-specific drug that knocks them out for a few days?” I venture.

“No,” Cyros says. “But any of the generic ones should do. You’ll just need to make sure he consumes a higher dose; dhampyrs are tough to take down. Triple the amount needed for a human of his size should do it.”

“Which means I need to get an estimate of his weight, too,” I realize. “Wow, thanks! This is great info. What would I do without you?”

“I’m beginning to wonder the same,” Cyros says with a sigh.

“Don’t worry about me,” I say. “I’ve still got eight days before membership is due—and six days before the council meetings I’m supposed to drug him for. Plenty of time to stalk him and figure out his weight and eating habits. After that, all I’ll have to do is brew the right potion to send him to Dreamland.”

I riffle through my pockets, pulling the pouch of Frost Seeds (now up to three) off my bandolier to show Cyros. “I made these from the potion book I stole from Talia. See? I can follow instructions.”

“Okay.” He smiles slightly. “These won’t take down Enrold, but this isn’t bad, either. Good progress.”

I grin at the compliment. “The biggest thing holding me back is my mana. I’ve got like no magic in my tanks at all. I use it all up with one spell and then I need to wait hours before I can make a new potion. I could have done ten times this amount if I didn’t have to worry about refilling my tanks.”

“Hmm.” Cyros rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Well there’s some mana potions that could help with that.”

I sit upright. “Really? Do you have the recipe?”

He waves a hand at me to temper my enthusiasm. “Yes, but it wouldn’t make any sense for you to make them. The mana that goes into the spell is the same that comes out—well, the amount of magic it can restore will actually be less than the magic that was put into it, since potions tend to degrade in effectiveness over time. So if you’re looking for a cheat on how to gain more magic than you’d naturally recover, your best bet is to buy them.”

I lean forward across the table. “Do you guys sell them here?”

“Yes, and the price varies by how much you need restored,” Cyros says. “Since it sounds like you don’t have much natural ability to begin with—”

“Watch it.”

“—you can probably try one of the cheaper ones.”

“Oh, well that sounds good, actually. How much?”

“For a low-grade mana potion, probably something like 10 silvers,” he says.

I wince. I only make a few coppers from Iski and Gugora each day—that adds up to a little over two silvers per week. I’ve only got seven silvers to my name so far.

I must be making a face of some kind, because Cyros chuckles. “Once you’re a full member, that’s nothing. Most of the easy quests up there will give out a few silvers.”

“Well that’s great for you, but doesn’t help me at all,” I grumble.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Cyros drums his fingers on the table. “Tell you what. If you find some jobs up there you could complete—just the herb stuff—if you hand the ingredients over to me, I’ll use the funds to buy a mana potion for you.”

“Deal,” I say, jumping at the opportunity. “I saw like five last time I could already do. Some of these aren’t very hard to find in the woods.” I tip my head. “How come they pay so much for just a bunch of plants and animal parts?”

He shrugs. “Most of the ingredient jobs are posted by our traders.” He thumbs a hand over his shoulder to the hooded individual working behind the counter. “Time is money. It’s half a day’s travel just to get somewhere remote enough, like your inn, that everything isn’t already picked over. Most people who purchase materials here are willing to spend the extra coin for the convenience and privacy.”

“You mentioned the Guild has other stuff besides just potion ingredients and alchemy materials,” I say, eying the three stairwells spaced around the walls. Each one has a symbol carved above the stairs, though they don’t mean anything to me. “Like tools and weapons.”

“We do,” Cyros says with a nod.

“If you’ve got some leftover money from the quests—er, jobs—could you buy me some of those supplies, too?”

Cyros looks a little uneasy. “I suppose so. I’m not really supposed to buy anything for people outside the guild, but I guess since you’re trying out, it should be fine.”

“Great.” I grin. “Then how do you feel about lending me some coins now? You buy me the mana potion, maybe that drug I need for Enrold, and I’ll get you the herbs to cover the cost next time I see you.”

He wrinkles his nose. “I suppose…”

Got him. “And while we’re at it, there’s some supplies I’d like to borrow.”

“Um…”

“And a couple weapons I want to use.”

Cyros squirms in his chair. “I’m not sure they’ll let me do that.”

“Just the supplies then,” I say, having known the weapons would be a bust.

He’s still hesitating, but doesn’t say no, so I jump in before he can make up his mind. “Great! Thanks for the help. Let’s go check out what alchemic equipment they’ve got.”

I grab Cyros’s arm and drag him from the seat. Reluctantly, he leads me to one of the sets of stairs. Cyros pulls back the hem of his cloak. A yellow symbol glows from within the fabric, matching the mark carved into the stairwell. Both fade out, then Cyros starts up the steps.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Permission to access this floor,” he says. “You have to earn it from someone higher up. Same way you get into the Guild Hall itself. Nieve or one of the other masters will grant you a mark once you pass the acceptance test.”

“Neat,” I say. “So I’ll get a cloak like that, too?”

“Ah, no,” Cyros says. “They just give you the enchantment: the cloak was already mine. You’ll need to pick your own badge, weapon, or article of clothing to imbue your access enchantments in once you’re a member. Ah, actually probably don’t go with a cloak; it’s seen as a bit of a cliche these days.” He grimaces. “They didn’t tell me that until after I’d joined.”

Unlike below, where the walls were stocked with jars of perishables, up here are things like paper, chalk, twine, crystals, and candlesticks. There’s also different types of cauldrons and even stone tablets spelled to preserve the ingredients placed on them. I’m itching to get my hands on everything, but if I’m going to get Cyros to eventually buy me bigger and better things, I’ll need to start small and work my way up.

“Just some chalk for now,” I say. “I’ve heard you can get some infused with different kinds of arcana. I need Ocular.”

He looks a bit relieved at my request. “Sure, chalk should be cheaper than most other stuff. Let’s go see.”

My stomach flutters with anticipation as I mentally start going through all the spells in the Alchemy book that hadn’t previously been accessible to me. With a mana potion or two, things are about to start getting really interesting.

----------------------------------------

[13 Days until the Gods’ Tournament]

[7 Days until Blackcloak membership is due]

I finish tracing the circle on the floor of the butcher hut, the now-familiar sound of crackling wood and water bubbling away in the fireplace. The windows are cracked open to let in some light and keep the room from getting too hot and stuffy; the spell requires that the draught be cooled back down to room temperature before the magic is added. I’m all topped off, 10/10 mana, though I haven’t used the Mana Potion Cyros got for me yet. I want to save that until I absolutely need it. In my downtime between spells and reading, I’ve been practicing my other skills, mostly Soft Step, Knifework, Poison Resistance, and Toxic Intuition. The last especially has come in handy with potion experimentation. Although Echo doesn’t seem to know what I’m making when I throw random ingredients together, when I activate Toxic Intuition I’m able to glean some surface level information about the use of a potion. No more “suicidal guessing games,” as Cyros calls it.

Well. Fewer suicidal guessing games.

Cracking my neck and stretching my back, I tuck the chalk away and head back over to my workbench, where the book is open to the page of one of the spells Lisari had suggested I check out. And to be fair, it’s pretty freaking useful.

[Lesser Potion of Invisibility.]

“Alright,” I mutter, going over the instructions for the thousandth time. “Blackroot, camouflaged spiked lizard skin, and ground jackalope horn boiled. Circle drawn. Mana tanks full. Wormwood chopped. I think we’re ready to do this.”

I’d already measured out a large bowl from the simmering brew in the fireplace, which has been sitting at the middle of the alchemic circle for the last half hour.

“Temperature?” I ask Echo.

[41 degrees centigrade.]

That’s about right I think. No time like the present.

I sit down next to the transmutation circle, placing my hands in the correct slots. Reaching for my mana, I hold my breath and start to pour my magic in. This spell can only be activated by ocular arcana, which I don’t have. However, the circle was drawn in ocular-infused chalk, so, according to the book, it should be a work-around. I wait for a moment, my stomach churning, as nothing happens. Then the circle illuminates as the spell begins to take effect. I let out my breath. Yes!

[Mana: 9/10]

[Mana: 8/10]

I cut it off at 5/10. If it’s not potent enough, I can take the mana potion and try again: I still have more of the potion brewing over the fire. In the meantime, I lean forward, watching the magic swirl.

As always, the lines glow with the green of my magic. This time, however, there’s also threads of purple woven into the light. The colors climb up the sides of the cup and spill into the water, where they swirl into a brown, brackish color. I wrinkle my nose at the sight, but a moment later, the colors vanish. In fact, all the water in the bowl vanishes.

[Spell complete,] Echo says.

Cautiously, I pluck the bowl from the spell circle. The sides are still hot, and I can feel a liquid sloshing around in its center, even though I can’t see it.

“Looks promising so far, Echo,” I say. Setting the bowl before me, I dip a tentative finger into the potion. My finger vanishes. Laughter bursts out of me in disbelief.

“I did it. I made an invisibility potion!” I push the rest of my hand into the bowl, and it all vanishes as well. Cackling with glee, I pull my hand back out of the bowl, waving my seemingly severed arm in front of my face. As I do, however, I can feel the liquid streaking down my arm and dripping off. In a few moments, I can see bits of my hand, a hint of movement where my skin is drying. Flexing my fingers and waving my arm around, it only takes another ten seconds or so for the form of my hand to fade back into sight.

“Echo, what’s the efficacy of this potion?” I ask her.

[Efficacy: 70%]

That’s pretty good, all things considered. Must be the ocular chalk that’s helping.

“But how come it wears off so fast?” I ask. “Is it due to the small amount of mana in it?”

[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Half Life: 5 seconds.]

“That’s not much time to do much of anything,” I say. But if I use twice as much mana, hopefully I can also double the effectiveness. Of course, most other people could probably make this potion, like, ten times as effective. I’ll just have to make do with mana potions.

“Application is also going to be a problem,” I note, dipping both hands into the invisible brew and then lathering the potion over both arms. They disappear in invisible streaks, but if I miss any spots, I end up with visible patches of skin floating around. And by the time I move to my legs, my arms are starting to fade back in again.

“Hmm. Tricky. Think drinking it will be more effective?”

Echo doesn’t reply.

I shrug. “It can’t hurt to try.”

I sniff the liquid: it doesn’t smell like anything. Cautiously, I stick out my tongue, and tip the cup forward until the smallest amount spills over it.

I wait for Echo to say I’m fatally poisoned, or something, but no status effect window pops up.

“Whew.”

Which leaves one last step in the experiment: I take a generous gulp of the invisibility potion, and…

Nothing happens.

“Booo,” I say, setting the bowl down as I check myself over and determine I’m very much still visible. Maybe my stomach is invisible, for all the good that will do. “Rip off invisibility potion.”

I’ll need to try some other way to make this potion effective, then. I go back to my work station and start sorting through my completed potions and ingredients.

“Aha,” I say, stopping at one. I uncap the mana potion and take a small sip. It tastes like dew and sunlight, sparkling over my tongue and down my throat, filling me with warmth.

[Mana restored.]

I re-cork the mana potion and set it aside. “Alright. I think it’s time for another experiment.”