Mirragan was a city situated along the outskirts of the Kepian Royal University. Nicknamed the City of Scholars, it housed a uniquely large population of sages, wisemen, alchemists, and various other professions of intellect.
It was also occasionally really fucking cold.
Geravael sneezes, and his spittle forms a frozen cloud of mist as it leaves his mouth. He watches as it travels across the street, spreading and blanking the building opposite of him in a shimmering haze of snot crystals before fading away into nothing.
The Kepian continent had always been a particularly popular subject amongst painters and poets due to its rather unique geography. Starting from the southern and western coasts, the land gradually but consistently sloped upwards, with the environments becoming more hostile and fantastical the farther up one went, going from rolling plains to primordial forests, volcanic rocklands, a massive plateau, all culminating into a mythical land of living clouds and floating waterfalls that stretched endlessly upwards into the sky. The Swallowed Isles.
Said Isles regularly dumped water down onto the plateau beneath it, creating a massive system of sprawling canyons known as Step Valley Gulch.
Mirragan and the University sat right at the base of one such region. This one specifically had a tendency to spit out ice elemental mana along with water about once a month, snap freezing the town for a day or two whenever it occurs.
Garavael feels another sneeze coming, and walks back into the store before his lips freeze from his own saliva.
Unfortunately, the woman is still standing there in the middle of the room, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. He slumps into his chair in defeat, hand reaching behind the counter for a drink.
‘I don’t suppose you’ll kindly go and disappear if I go back outside a second time?’
‘It’s rather puzzling how a broker can make money if they treat their top client the way you do.’
‘I’ve got enough regulars that losing you wouldn’t hurt me too hard, plus you seem to bring me way more trouble than it's worth whenever I see you.’
‘You wouldn’t be talking to me if you didn’t think the amount I paid was worth it. Plus this time, I just want some information.’
‘Really now? Well in that case, what can the illustrious Garavael do for you?’
Bedivere takes two steps back and a hooded figure steps out in front of her. Garavael sees the markings on the robe and feels his stomach drop.
‘Oh fucking hell… Bedivere, tell me you didn’t just bring a god damned elder house noble into my fucking shop…’
‘I told you, we’re just here for inform-’
‘Fuck that shit! Gods, he’s Tudor as well! You’re seriously trying to get me killed! Why the fuck are you even associating with-’
‘Enough.’
The words have a physical force to them, and Garavel can feel the air literally being forced back into his lungs before you can bring out proper words.
‘I seek answers.’
Each word is like a sledgehammer against his brain, and Garavael can feel dribbles of blood leaving his nose with each word.
‘O-ok! Ok! God… What the fff-fuck do you wanna know?!’
The figure walks closer and he feels his eyeballs start to vibrate in their sockets.
‘Do not waste my time. You know.’
‘F-ff-fffFfffuuucccccfkhhhhh! Yeshhhhh! Ok! T-the festival! I-I cccan sponsor your s-spot!’
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‘How?’
‘C-crater FFffforest! J-jjjust show up!
The figure leaves along with Bedivere, and Garavel is left to reorient his senses.
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Gibet and Bedivere travel a few blocks away from the store before turning into an alleyway. Gibet pulls down his hood and vomits all over the floor. His eyes, nose, and mouth all seep with a thick, viscous blood.
‘Fuck… that didn’t work too well…’
‘Yes, it definitely didn’t. ‘
Bedivere stares at him in a mixture of concern, frustration, and disbelief.
‘What on Earth made you decide to use your divinity for something like this? No, not even yours, but the divinity of the Tudor name? I’m surprised you’re still breathing all things concerned…’
‘Wanted to… hhrrrph… test something I was working on. Wouldn’t have tried it if I wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t kill me…’
‘Maybe not kill you, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m seeing what looks like bits of intestines coming out of your nose…’
‘’S fine… just need some healing is all…’
‘I really wish you would have told me this plan before you went ahead with it…’
‘W-what’s th’ problem? Don’ tell me you’re actually worried?’
‘Not at all, but now I’ve burned the bridge with one of my contacts, and it’s going to be a lot harder to protect you now that you’re coughing up your organs…’
‘Protect?’
Bedivere guides him so that she is now in front of him. His head is pounding so hard that he isn’t able to hear them, but the light of the sun shining into the alleyway has now been blocked off.
Someone had followed them.
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‘So you’re basically trying to sell me a worse version of the exact same thing but at three times the price?’
The merchant blubbers in fake outrage, lips quivering like a fish ready to fight him back in slews of ‘how dares’ and ‘I’ll have you knows’, and if Sieva has to deal with one more merchant trying to rip the stupid orc with no alchemical knowledge off he’s going to punch someone.
‘H-how dare you-’
‘Nope, not interested. Listen, this conversation is going exactly the same way as the last three I had, and you’re one predictable sentence away from a fist down your throat.’
He takes out one of the law tomes he brought for the picnic Gibet had set up for them and drops it on the stand. The book is heavy enough that the wood of the counter beneath it splinters slightly.
‘Right, listen up buddy. You’re an alchemist, yes? Judging from the ingredients, probably one with a permit for selling up to class 1 items? Show me that permit.’
‘I-I’ll have you kno-’
‘What did I just fucking say about the outranged merchant shtick?!’
‘I-I mean… um… yes, esteemed customer! Permits for selling up to class one ingredients, straight from the capital’s very best inspectors!’
He takes the card offered to him and unfolds the tome, flipping it to the relevant section and turning it around for the merchant to read.
‘See this mark right here on your license? Read this paragraph. Right here, see that? “Alchemists who have gained the permit to deal with level one or higher ingredients are considered to be part of the very heritage of Kepia, and are therefore awarded a royal sigil. They are therefore expected to act in a manner that befits their elevated status. Unscrupulous and/or illegal behavior is viewed to be an insult to the legitimacy of the nation of Kepia itself, and carries with it a minimum punishment of demotion of rank and no upper limit.” Do you know what that means?’
‘The audacity you have to be accusing-’
‘You are trying to sell me a class 0 ingredient pretending that it is a class 1, which is not only a case of dishonest practice, but can also be considered illegal smuggling of magical ingredients up to class 1 if I phrase it right. Do you have any idea how badly I could fuck you over in court?’
‘I-’
‘You know alchemists were originally considered as direct vassals acting under the king back during the Magellan Era? Your earnings are therefore directly taxed by the king. Class 1 and higher is taxed a hell of a lot less than base ingredients, so I technically have a right to bring you to court for tax evasion as well. Sure, it's just for a single transaction, but wouldn’t that be a fun investigation? I know people like you aren’t honest about your earnings. How much stolen wealth do you think they’ll be able to find? What about-’
‘Alright, alright! Just take the damn plants! It’s free!’
Sieva snatches the satchel from the merchant's hand, offering a mocking smile as he turns to leave. He walks down the canyon the district was situated in for some time, with Lily emerging out of the earth to join him as they get to the outskirts of the area. She is carrying her own satchel of plants, flowers, and roots that she managed to find out in the canyonlands.
‘Do you think we should go meet up with Gibet? It’s almost noon.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been haggling with these fucking scammers all morning. Lets go to the normal meeting spot. That lady, Bedivere was it? She cooks some good fucking food. Could go for some more.’
‘Could we go directly to them instead?’
‘Why and how? We don’t even know where they are.’
‘They’re in an alleyway along the downtown main street.’
‘How the fuck do you know that? We’re on the opposite side of town’.
‘It’s what the people in the canyons were saying.’
‘The people in the canyons? What the fu-’
He doesn’t get a chance to finish the statement before he hears something whirling towards him. He has just enough time to duck, but not enough to grab Lily before her body is knocked backwards by some sort of massive gray blur.
He doesn’t get a chance to stand back up because the blur suddenly changes directions in midair, doing a loop in midair before coming back up behind him, this time slamming directly into his back. The momentum carries him forward, away from Lily’s crumpled body. He flies into a bush, tumbling through branches and weeds. For some reason, he was speeding up instead of slowing down.
At some point, Sieva is able to orient himself enough to realize that he was currently being pressed onto the flat side of a massive greatsword. One that was apparently speeding up, going by the fact that the scenery passing by was starting to blur.
Also, judging by the spasms of pain, noise, and dust in front of him, he was probably getting shredded through some combination of trees, shrubbery, and rocks. That last one was definitely a boulder, because he actually stops once he hits it. The impact sends spiderweb cracks along the rock, and Sieva feels his ribs shift and crack as he peels off the giant greatsword and falls down to the ground.