Luke entered the alchemy laboratory. Luke took in the sights when Brisen gestured in showmanship to his store.
Various clean countertops abounded. Inside were a mishmash of potions and elixirs, as well as a poison or two. Luke struggled to understand what the majority of them were for, as his total ‘experience’ with potions was only for the health potion variant. As for elixirs, he could hardly differentiate their effects. The glass holding elixirs tended to be triangular, while for potions, it was circular toward the bottom.
Gentle green lights floated back and forth in every nook and cranny of the store. Each item was displayed against a soft, thick cloth within the glass showcasing, usually accompanied by a short placard with a description.
As Luke went to read one of the placards, two attendants came out the floor. The crystal flooring shifted out in a square, and they rose up. After being fully unveiled, the crystal slid back into place.
Both newly appeared beings greeted him, “Welcome to Thundergast’s Elixirs. How may we help?”
They were impossibly beautiful monic women with no marks on their skin, outside of intricate runes on their cheeks. Their eyes were silver, and hair light blue. Their ahem, *assets* were an unnaturally ideal ratio. In the pursuit of ‘natural perfection’ during creation, it became painfully obvious to Luke that they were artificial creations—an odd paradox to witness.
As Brisen was a monic man, Luke supposed that even elixirists with hermetic impulses got lonely and wanted ladies around. At least their voices passed muster for an imitation of a monic woman’s, although Luke considered he may not be attuned to note subtle tonal differences for races not his own.
“Quite the display you’ve got. How did you make these two, sorry, what do you call them?”
Thundergast stroked his beard. “Their names are Leera and Meera. As for what they are, I’ve made them to be homunculi.” He winked at Luke. “You can look, but you can’t touch. Both are made of tougher stuff than those two useless guards.”
“Unless I need help buying something from you, I’ll not do either. Their uniforms are…too revealing.” Luke coughed in embarrassment.
Thundergast shamelessly laughed, “That means it’s working. Those clothes are meant to show what they show. Anything to help convince customers to buy my overpriced wares!”
Is that something you’re supposed to admit out loud? Luke wondered.
The elixirist tapped against a wall in the back room behind the counter, and a new chamber opened within the store, “Come in; we’ll have our talk here.”
Luke glanced at Iona, who stood at the entrance. She said, “That’s your conversation, not mine. I’ll wait here and keep Timber company.
The thunder paw bear refused to enter the store, something to do with him disliking enclosed spaces, avoiding them where possible.
After a shrug, Luke proceeded to the back room. Inside were alchemy laboratory equipment, a small portal, and the walling reflected a magically generated idyllic landscape. When Luke touched the walls out of curiosity, he felt a barrier. A small mat stifled itself in the corner.
Brisen Thundergast stood next to a green metal table. He pointed to a misshapen stack of papers and said, “You go by Luke, yes?”
Luke nodded toward the old monic man and looked around for a place to sit. Brisen intuited what he wanted, “There’s no seats in here, Luke. I prefer it that way when I work. Now, shall we begin to discuss your father?”
Standing a respectful distance away from Brisen, Luke said, “That’s what I’m here for. What do you have to say?” Part of Luke wanted to be more snappy or add wisecracks, as he was to do when angry, but he held back. This man could shed light where he needed it most.
Brisen put both hands behind his back, making them a right angle, to keep his spine straight, “Most organizations hired to find missing high-tier crafters say they are unsure for their reason of disappearance. That Luke,” Brisen smacked his hand against the green metal table near him, “is a lie.”
The Reaver only listened further. Something about Brisen’s demeanor commanded attention and time to finish his piece.
“This has been a pattern across the Edgelands for years: the most dedicated among us are stolen away. Most have a particular talent, and all are at the third or fourth tier when it happens.”
Brisen began to walk back and forth, occasionally turning his head to Luke as he spoke, “This means one thing. Can you guess what it is?”
Luke felt like he was grasping at straws. What could he gather from that? He shook his head, “I’ve no idea, Brisen.”
“Usually, I demand to be called Master Thundergast, as becoming a Master Elixirist has been my life’s work, but, in this case, I’ll allow you to call me by my given name.” Brisen coughed and straightened his back, returning to his point: “It means, Luke, that whoever is taking away tier three and four crafters deems those at tier two or below useless.”
A question stuck itself into Luke’s mind. He asked, “If this has been happening for years, why isn’t the Duchy doing anything to stop it?”
Brisen looked up to the ceiling. The barriers overlaid on the walls resembled a blue, calm sky with clouds floating about. “It has been, as does Artem and Shattered Blade. All three countries decree those at tier four in a non-combat profession or class to relocate to their capital for protection. The measure is half-effective but better than the previous situation.”
Luke supposed being corralled into one city against your will was a hassle, but he'd follow the decree if the alternative were a skyrocketing chance of being kidnapped to unknown parts. He said, “When tier fours became harder to target, they started bearing down on tier threes with impunity, am I right?”
Nodding in approval, Brisen agreed, “That is exactly what has happened. Unlike tier four, while a tier three is rare, none of the countries could possibly have the resources to keep an eye on each one. Simply too many. To protect a hundred is a headache. To protect thousands individually is impossible.”
“Knowing that, you invited my dad here?” Luke asked in accusation.
“It was my oversight. I believed the chances of anything happening on his way to my store were negligible. As for when he comes here? Well, you met Leera and Meera. Those two magnificent women are my magnum opus outside of my master-series Elixirs. While they are prohibitively expensive to maintain, each has the combat ability of an average tier three. This is why I had total confidence to assure his safety once here as my research partner.”
Luke opened his mouth to speak; however, Brisen raised a hand and said, “Listen, Luke. I am not finished.”
Things have come this far. May as well hear out the rest. Luke thought.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“In addition to my homunculi, I sent a party of tier two’s to greet Paul Wallace at the gate. It was my oversight not to let him know in advance. If he had known…he would’ve never entered the city. I’m sorry for my lacking foresight, Luke.”
Luke blurted out, “There’s no way. The report mentioned my dad went missing shortly after passing the south gate.”
Brisen nodded grimly, “The party I hired was found dead hours later.”
“That means it had to be an experienced group of high tier two’s at the minimum. What else could kill that party?” Luke analyzed, too detached, a forcibly instilled habit from training.
“Likely worse, but that clue tells you the seven possible public groups that could start to pull this off.”
“Only start to? Not do it on their own?” Luke asked.
The elixirist came to his alchemy lab and leaned against the metal frame, “There is no organization in this city powerful enough to slaughter a team of tier two’s and kidnap a tier three non-combat class without leaving a trace.” Brisen paused, scratching his cheek, “Except for the Defiers Guild.”
“There’s no way they would. Each one of them has a profession of their own. What would they kidnap someone like my dad for?” Luke denied it.
“Only a thought, Luke. Chances are, it is not the Defiers Guild. It would astound me if it were. Moreover, they have the least incentive to do so out of every known powerful group in Sylen.”
Luke paced out of nervousness, “Then who does benefit from this?”
Brisen got to his point, holding up all five fingers. “Seven groups could pull this off to start, but only five have any reason to try. They are the Pyrite and Melen titled noble families, or the three kingpin groups of the underworld: the Red Gorrids, Golden Lions, or Velvet Hand.”
The Reaver smashed his fist against a barrier, distorting it for a moment, “It’s those fuckers again. When I leave this city for good, the one responsible will disappear from this world. I’ll make sure of it.” He muttered under his breath, “No one steals my family from me.” Out of caution, Luke asked, “Who are the other two groups you say could do it but have no reason to?”
“The Defiers Guild, and the City Lord’s faction. The City Lord would rather take them back to Aelon than kidnap them, and the Defiers have a wide enough range of connections throughout the Midlands, Edgelands, and Extrema. They can afford the services of whichever craftsmen they need.”
Brisen Thundergast picked up an elixir off his alchemy lab, “Do you know the importance of elixirs, Luke?”
“What does that have to do with this?” Luke said
“It has everything to do with your dad’s disappearance, young man. Elixirists are confoundedly rare. Out of every twenty alchemists you meet, with only three possible specializations, one will be an elixirist. To add insult to injury, elixirs are endlessly demanded. Higher-quality teams refuse to delve without one assigned to each member.”
Luke tilted his head. “Why would they do that? Seems too bothersome and stifling to forgo diving into the tower or dungeon for a consumable.”
“Elixirs grant a considerable boost in talent once a day for a predetermined aspect. The other type of Elixir can grant a permanent bonus to talent or certain resources, with limits attached.” Brisen put down the elixir and combed through his beard.
A permanent bonus I can see as important, but how much of a ‘talent boost’ does the temporary kind give to have people refuse to enter dungeons without one?
When Luke became still in wonderment, Brisen continued, “A subset of these elixirs, blood elixirs, are able to not only temporarily boost talent in one direction but also permanently strengthen it over repeated use. Whenever I make a batch, they’re sold out in days. The ones you saw in the store were solely comprised of the one-time permanent bonus and the temporary boost type.” Brisen’s expression tightened, “Blood elixirs are delighted by certain monsters and beasts. Occasionally, they’re used as a distraction to escape those creatures.”
As Luke wondered about Brisen’s point, he remembered a small sentence in the document he had torn to shreds earlier. He said part of it out loud: “...was found to have great talent for blood elixirs. No, no, no, they didn’t take Dad because he reached tier three so quickly; they took him because of his ability with blood elixirs.”
Brisen raised an eyebrow in surprise, “Wouldn’t have expected you to come to the same conclusion as me so quickly. That is my belief, Luke. After a person has consumed the limited amount of ‘permanent’ boost elixirs known to man, often the only way to further gain lasting talent is through blood elixirs. Worryingly, powerful, intelligent monsters have been found to forcibly ‘sponsor’ blood elixirists. But do you know why, despite the immense demand, I only create one batch a month?”
Luke ventured a guess, “You’re worried they’ll get into the wrong hands? Or that they’re too difficult to create often?”
The elixirist approached Luke and said, “Both are fine reasons, but not the primary one. Blood elixirs, if created too often, start to sap away at the creator’s life span. If made any more often than once a month, the price to be paid is their lifeblood. Hence the name, Blood elixirs.”
Brisen turned away from Luke. “World Laws attempt to create a balance. Shortcuts to power have their price. But in this cruel realm, in the case of blood elixirs, it is the maker who pays the price, not the consumer.”
Snapping his fingers, the barrier ‘walls’ transformed into plain white plaster. Looking back at Luke, Brisen said, “This drawback is half the reason why elixirists are as rare as they are. Fortunately, even if forced to make blood elixirs, they can only make four such batches a month. Aside from the first, the other three shall cost a month of their life for each successful attempt.”
Walking toward the exit, Brisen said, “The reason I mentioned that to you, is to give you hope. If your father is in this terrible situation as I fear, you have time. If I may Luke, I would concentrate your efforts on the Red Gorrids, Golden Lions, and Velvet Hand. These three organizations perform human trafficking frequently. Even if the Pyrites or Melens are ultimately responsible, it is one of the three criminal kingpins that did the initial deed.”
Luke remained rooted to the floor, processing the repeated bombshells laid on him throughout the course of the day. He focused on the positive. Chances were, his dad was alive, if in a terrible situation, and that only three groups needed to be targeted at first.
It certainly helped those same three groups attacked him once before.
He considered Iona’s way of doing things as well and agreed it needed to be implemented simultaneously with this new information Brisen revealed. To figure out which of the three underworld factions performed the kidnapping, he needed social influence.
And to punish the one who dared to take Luke’s family?
He needed power.
Luke walked out of the back room. Brisen interacted with his two homunculi, his eyes roaming their bodies. The dichotomy of this elixirist caught Luke off guard, but regardless, he thanked him.
“I’m sorry for my rude entrance earlier, Brisen. I couldn’t think straight. Thank you for your help. I now have a better idea of what happened and what to do.”
Brisen waved him off, “Come back here in a few days. I’ll give you an elixir as an apology. I know it is not enough, but may it help you in some small way.”
The Reaver put a hand over his chest, “In a few days, then.” He strolled out the store, while signaling to Iona his business was done.
As Luke came out into the open, he saw the pool of blood his earlier outburst created. While a shard of him felt bad for Plen, he’d do it again if that was the only way to get Brisen to meet him.
He was not a bastion of morals and never pretended to be.
After the two Defiers paced past the Silver-Black Tower, Iona asked, “Any other places you want to see, Luke?”
Timber tried to push Luke away from standing too close to Iona. She flicked Timber on the nose, “Be nice. Luke here just had a bad day. Try to understand, okay Timber?”
The bear grunted, not entirely convinced.
Luke put aside Timber being protective after his recent actions, “Planned on visiting Celen, but I’m no longer in the mood for that. Are Sooty and Lulu going to be out for the entire day?”
“To be safe, yes, that’s what I instructed to Lulu. While Lulu’s wanting to spend time with her friend is genuine, I also ordered her to make sure Sooty stayed put when you were freaking out.”
Luke ruminated. That’s why Sooty never showed. Reaver’s Link absolutely would’ve shared some of the emotions I experienced earlier—no need to worry.
That struck a nerve with Luke, “Why would you do that? How would you feel if your companion is gone when everything goes to shit?”
Iona kept her eyes on the floor, her body language closed up, “Sorry, Luke, I know it’s unfair to you and Sooty, but it was a safety measure to make you easier to handle until you calmed down.”
Luke wanted to refute and accuse Iona, to hate her for the controlling act. But he’d settled down enough to see things from her perspective. In her shoes, she was assigned to ensure a ticking time bomb went off in a particular place so that Sylen’s innocents wouldn’t be caught in the crosshairs. In that case, why wouldn’t she separate a companion from its master?
He would do the same thing. It helped she appeared guilty over it.
“Not saying I approve of it, but I understand it. Anywhere nearby to eat? I’ll work on some abilities, then head back to the guild. I’m no longer in the mood for a social call with Celen.”
Iona’s eyes sparkled. “I know a great place. Some farworlders opened up a restaurant. They call it ‘New World Chicken’. Their breading and spices with sides are quite unlike the other food places in Sylen.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ve gotten hungry after this unexpected disaster today.”