“Tea or coffee?”

Arjun was so surprised at having the option that, at first, his sleep-addled Crown Chakra couldn’t process the innkeeper’s question.

“Coffee? You have coffee?” He finally managed to croak after dumbly staring at the man for several moments.

With a dazzling flash of pearl-white teeth in the midst of dark-brown beard and mustache, the gravelly voice replied, “Last of the batch.” The smile vanished as a bushy uni-browed frown formed. “Suppliers are running late. I’ll bring you a mug. Breakfast will follow in quarter bell.”

He turned to leave as another figure approached their table. The frown returned tenfold as the bearded innkeeper pursed his lips. With a flickering glance at the three of them at the table, he ambled back into the kitchen. The sentiment behind the glance was clear, at least to Arjun.

The figure standing before their table was quite distinct, especially so considering the other patrons of the inn, most of whom were simple farmers, hunters and crafters, with one or two moderately prosperous merchants thrown in. Dressed in yellow doublet over a cream-white shirt with knee-length leather shoes and a pair of dark-orange trousers, he resembled a bard more than a merchant, though Arjun suspected he was neither. The purse around his waist, tied together by a band of leather, seemed to be custom-made. And conspicuously empty.

Eve, seated across from Arjun, looked over the garishly dressed man and muttered under her breath, “This Om-cursed mountain trail is turning out to be a highway.”

The man gave no indication that he’d heard the remark, although it’d be hard not to, given the extraordinary output capability of her larynx. “Alchemist Alvin, Purveyor of Precious Potions, at your service,” he said, giving them an elaborate bow with the wooden right arm tapping his chest.

Frankly, Arjun noticed his outlandish attire or wooden arm much later. What arrested his immediate attention was the man’s kernel signature.

It was broken.

His Heart and Crown Chakras glowed strongly while the Throat formed a tenuous connection between the two, implying it had only opened recently, or was severely damaged. His left Shoulder Chakra gave off a dim glow, but the right one was a turbulent mess. The Chakra of his left palm was intact, and surprisingly dense. Arjun assumed that’s how he was able to make a living as an Alchemist. If he was an Alchemist at all.

“An unlikely bunch to be sure, especially in this neck of the woods.” He gave each of them a shrewd yet friendly glance, coming to rest on Arjun. “Going to Garbal, perhaps.” He said it in the form of a question.

“Our business is our own,” Kumil put in.

“To be sure. To be sure. But how could I, in good conscience, let unsuspecting travelers visit a place without first informing them of some of the local customs?” said Alvin, a picture of innocence. “Assuming you’re headed there, the fashionable women of Garbal, indeed most of the Southern Satrap, are partial to men of a fairer complexion,” he informed Arjun.

Then, plucking a small glass bottle, seemingly out of thin air, he said, “Perhaps a discernible young man such as you, who likes to be prepared for all eventualities,” he eyed Arjun’s clothes and gears, “would be interested in this peerless creation of mine.” He gave an almost beatific smile. “Potion of Divine Beauty,” he announced, proffering the bottle as if he was gifting Arjun Aimin’s hair locks.

“Racism in a bottle. Wonderful.” Arjun replied, not bothering to hide his disdain.

In the blink of an eye, the bottle vanished, as if its existence had been a nightmare. “Of course, to a discernible young man like you, who has the wisdom to see beyond current mundane trends, such wares reveal themselves to be what they are in reality. Trifle and vain,” he declared. “Also, in certain parts of Arunia, Fukril for instance, darker complexion is almost a novelty and hence considered quite attractive by the opposite sex,” Alvin finished, eyeing Arjun with interest.

Before the man could ask another vague yet probing question, Arjun decided to ask a direct and probing question himself. One that was so obvious that not asking it would be suspicious.

“How did you lose the arm?”

“A tragedy of my own making,” was the ready and surprisingly honest reply. Alvin’s eyes lost the playful frivolity as he dropped into the chair opposite Arjun’s, without bothering with an invitation.

“Fulfilling a childhood dream of mine, I joined the First Naval Division.” He paused to make sure all three of them had heard of it. It’d be hard not to, even for a half-stonehorn living under a mountain half a continent away from the ocean. It was the largest naval military unit in all of Sindria, though not necessarily the strongest, with Viskian Navy laying claim to that honor. Arguably.

“This was before or after you left the Academy?” Arjun asked.

“As I said, a discernible young man.” Alvin gave an approving smile that pleased Arjun more than it probably should have. “After. I was a Journeyman then.”

“How did the sea treat you?” Eve had lost some of her earlier hostility and was drawn into the story.

“She gave me equal treatment. Same as everyone.” A carefully crafted grimace formed on his face. “Only I didn’t take it well. The most glamorous part of my day was cleaning the already spotless deck.”

“What? No pirates?” Eve asked.

Arjun never understood people’s fascination with the criminal elements that roamed the Aiminian Sea and Great Eastern Ocean. Both Shiyelia and Hammond were absolutely obsessed with them. Arjun absently wondered if he’d ever see them again.

“Oh, there were pirates alright. A fair few, in the east,” he said, voice and emotion dripping with rage. “Blood and bones!!!. There’s nothing glamorous about those murderous bastards. Killed many mates of mine.” A hint of sadness could be seen in those eyes that had witnessed so much. “Some more than mates. So I did what all good sailors do when confronted with grief.”

“What?” Eve asked.

“Went to find solace at the bottom of a cup.”

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Kumil gave a snort that even Arjun couldn’t decipher, while Eve was trying very hard to hide the pitying look in her eyes.

“Did you?” Arjun prompted. “Find it, I mean.”

After a few silent moments, Alvin put on an amused smile. “Perhaps. Next morning, never could remember though.”

“Humans!!!” Kumil shook his head in disappointment, though it hid a deeper amusement.

“Stonehorns are blessed with constitution no human can possibly match when it comes to handling liquor. Also learned that the hard way. After more than a few agonizing mornings with splitting headaches,” he told the half-stonehorn.

At that, Kumil lifted his mug appreciatively and took a swig, eyes shining. Arjun could tell that he also was warming up to the strange Alchemist.

“One night however, I did find something. A fight I couldn’t win.”

Eve sat up a little straighter in her chair while Alvin slumped in his. “Never get into a sword fight with a Viskian. At least not one held on a Viskian ship.”

“You lost?”

“Oh, I won the fight, but lost the arm when his mates demanded recompense for losing their bets.” With a tired sigh, he added, “Thus ended my youthful endeavors on the sea, gaining valuable life experience at the cost of an arm.” He produced a grin. “Not a bad trade, I would say. Knowledge gained through personal experience is more valuable. Now I share my vast collection of knowledge and information with discernible young ladies such as you,” he told Eve. “One such piece of information is that the young men of Jivanpur seem to prefer ladies of….delicate stature.” Another small bottle, more of a vial, holding a fluid with faint forest-green glow of essence appeared in his left hand.

Arjun wanted to intervene before Alvin said anything else that might result in his premature death, but Eve beat him to the punch. Only figuratively speaking, thank Aimin.

Grinding her teeth, she half-rose from her chair. “Are you implying I’m fat?”

Alvin gulped, shaking his head vehemently. “A vision of perfection such as you doesn’t require useless concoctions like this.” The vial vanished. “Trying to enhance perfection is a foolhardy endeavor.”

“You bet it is,” Eve muttered, still fuming, but now seated.

“Surprised you still got the other arm,” Kumil supplied, eyes filled with mirth.

Alvin returned the infectious grin of the half-stonehorn, proving himself a deft manipulator of the mundane kind. It’s a rare man who can laugh at his own expense, though in this case, Arjun felt even that act was calculated to invoke a feeling of camaraderie. Which it did.

“These mountains are known to be quite treacherous during the Monsoon,” he said. “A knowledgeable guide is always a welcome addition to any team crossing the Kailash.”

“Already have two,” Eve said. Her kernel signature expressed almost nothing, but her face screamed exasperation verging on anger.

Alvin gave an amiable nod, a smile hovering over his face. Arjun was starting to believe the man might be able to rival James himself when it comes to subterfuge, so difficult was he finding it to distinguish fact from fiction. Every word uttered was filled with traps, only some of them hidden.

“Where are the other members of your party?” he asked, glancing around.

“They’re around here somewhere,” Arjun replied before Kumil could. He was careful to keep his comment vague yet truthful.

Aisha hadn’t come down from her and Eve’s room. Agreeing to James’ suggestion that their group was attracting enough attention as it is, she’d stayed upstairs, going over in her mind how much she was willing to share with University officials once they got there.

As for James, he, supposedly, was resting his eyes.

“You travel this path often?” Kumil asked.

“Not as often as some of my stonehornish friends, but yes.”

“Any interesting encounters this year?” Arjun ventured.

“Apart from this one?” Alvin’s lips pursed. “Yes. A couple of deserted villages. Not a soul in sight. Seemed to have left in a hurry. Only Aimin knows why.”

Eve leaned forward. “Where was this?”

“About twenty miles back, both places.” His glance accessed their faces, and signatures. “You’ve come across someplace similar, I take it.”

“Yes,” Arjun replied after a blink of deliberation. “Work of some animal perhaps?”

“These are hardy folks who’ve been living here for generations. It’d require something extraordinary to uproot them from their homes. What makes you so certain it was an animal?”

Arjun gave a nonchalant shrug. “What else could it be?”

Alvin’s expression sobered as a thoughtful frown formed. “What indeed!” He then gave a smile, an apparently genuine one, and got to his feet. “Hope we meet again, my friends. May patience be your greatest ally.” He turned around and headed toward the side door, one leading to the stable.

“Aimin’s Balls!!” Eve shouted under her breath. “That whole conversation felt like a damned exam.”

“James couldn’t have orchestrated all that, could he?” Arjun asked the half-stonehorn who had known James the longest.

“Too convoluted, even for him,” Kumil said, tipping his mug upside down and uttering a deep sigh of contentment. “The lager’s better than I expected.”

Soon, the bearded innkeeper returned bearing trays filled with beef steak, a favorite in these parts. Conversation ceased as Heart and Stomach were satiated, in Kumil’s case, several times. Arjun had rarely eaten beef before, and never for breakfast. But, all such thoughts soon left his Crown as he too requested a second helping.

With the bell approaching midday, more patrons started trickling in and whispered conversations could be heard from all corners of the room, most involving their party, which was probably expected given the remoteness of the town and the composition of their group. After suffering through half a bell of whispering, Arjun finished his breakfast and headed outside for some fresh air.

Or that was the reason he gave Eve and Kumil.

Standing there on the side porch, Arjun heaved a sigh of relief.

Silence. Blessed silence.

Then, he heard two men arguing, thankfully not in a hushed tone.

“Gave me the creeps, that place,” a male voice said, vainly trying to hide his fear by the forceful intonation. “Empty as Sigrid’s Heart. Even left their food out in the open.”

“Been hearing rumors, these past few months,” a second, older, voice said. “Thought they’d tripped and fallen inside a mead casket.”

“Nah,” the first man insisted. “Something unholy is brewing in the mountain passes.”

“All’s gonna end soon,” the second voice declared. “Sigrid’s peeking through the veil Aimin placed on him.”

He was a strong advocate of the nihilistic school of thought, it seemed. Arjun had been unlucky enough to meet more than his fair share during his wanderings across Aiminia. Most, perhaps inevitably, tended to be illiterate and uneducated regular folk. That is to say the majority of the population. Unfortunately.

“Hey, who’s that fellow?” asked the same man. “Haven’t seen him around before.”

“One of them Blackhearts, gotta be,” the angry voice insisted. “See how he moves. Like he’s lording over us all.”

The man was perceptive, if also prejudicial. It seemed even here in Arunia the Clerics were regarded with fear, suspicion and hatred, behind their back. It didn’t help that a large proportion of the ‘Lords’ or landowners in the form of Jamindars, did happen to be Clerics, or Blackhearts, to use the less flattering moniker, one used by a lot of the common folk.

Shaking his head in disappointment, Arjun edged toward the two men, seated just around the corner, on the front porch. Ironically, a mundane person, one without an Awakened Heart Chakra, couldn’t sense kernel or essence, and as a result couldn’t ‘see’ the concentration of deep-purple, almost black, kernel inside the Heart.

“What about the other guy? That’s the Alchemist, ain’t it?” said the older man.

“Peacock has arrived with the Monsoon, sure enough,” replied the first, voice laced with humor.

As Arjun rounded the corner, the faces of the men came into view. But his attention was on the other two men.

One, as expected, was Alvin, who was in the process of mounting his pony, his left foot on the stirrup. The purse strung around his waist was suddenly bulging with coins. The other person was James, deftly pocketing a small vial of green essence. A familiar vial.

The Battle Cleric, perhaps sensing Arjun gaze, glanced up. After quickly assessing and discarding the two old men as threats, his eyes settled on Arjun, whose own eyes were still stuck on the vial.

Sensing James wanted him to hold onto this piece of information in silence, Arjun gave a small nod. Then, burying all the burning questions in his Crown, he headed upstairs to see how Aisha was faring. Between silence, candor, and friendship, two were guaranteed there.

But two out of three was good enough, at least for now.