“*Birds are singing, bees are buzzing, sunshine overhead~*” Waking up slightly later in the morning, everything had been progressing so much faster recently. Before getting on with the other matters of the day, I took care of Ria, this time rousing her first to feed her before giving her mana.

With a bit of a jump as usual, she steadied herself faster than in the past. She tried sitting up for herself and was somewhat managing, so I retracted my arms for the moment.

“Questions?” I asked, hoping to jog her memory faster.

“Ah, what’s going on?” Still working on that surprised stuttering in the beginning. Considering how short the sessions of lucidity were, that ate up a lot more of our time than it had any right to.

“You’re sick, I’m magic and doing my best to fix it. Next?”

“Wha-, uh, w-wait, you’re a mage?”

“Yes, as I just said. You can only wake up 10 seconds at a time, doing my best to improve that. Stay focused and don’t ask rhetorical questions next time.”

“Rhe-rhetori-cal…” I used too big of a word and she slipped into the hazier state of consciousness “wha’s imma notta surr…” Her words started slurring together again before slumping over. Catching her and laying her down, I hoped her presence of mind would learn to adapt. There probably wasn’t anything else to do other than waiting to wake up again, so there was plenty of time to psych herself up.

I didn’t gain much from the interaction here, but Ria became more informed on her situation. It would probably take a while before she was really up to speed, but repetition aided acclimation. The fact awakening couldn’t be done multiple times in a row seemed like a saftey of some sort, which further supported my conclusion that the affliction wasn’t intended to be malicious. Due to the variety of fauna in the world, it may have been something developed for a foreign creature that didn’t match up with human biology.

Morning routine complete! Fun time had arrived, time to concoct some medicinal pills! All manner of natural materials stuffed Inventory almost to the brim. As a pack rat, this problem came often, and it was difficult deciding on what really needed to be kept. In this case, it was because I collected quite the variety of ingredients.

I could tell that my alchemical path would be crippling to the usefulness of my Inventory in the future. With such a vast array, leaving some out would mean a number of potions couldn’t be made, but there was no way to further condense them in my Inventory. In Underworld of Armok there were ways to expand the Inventory, but for the most part those were a type module quest randomly placed through the world. Having completed many, I would hunt any possibility if I recognized it, but even having leveled up, there would be no telling how frequently such chances would occur.

Adding that to my list of things to do, recent success overshadowed the new burden. It wasn’t an obligation anyway, the only reason I kept feeling pressured and torn was because I was the one who wanted all these things. Moving forward step by step, there were so many things to do; the complaining may sound like I’m lamenting dire situations, but doing so didn’t affect my ability to actually proceed; one benefit at a time.

My stocks weren’t small, but they were of low quality; both on an individual basis, and the fact that their species lacked as a whole. Another limitation for the day was that there were very few inorganic reagents to be found in the forest. As a large, slightly homogenous biome, I was unable to gather any respectable quantity of crystals or stones and the like.

Thus my options were limited. Before actually starting, I went through all the products Theodore had taught me. Sorting out those I couldn’t make, I tried doing mental calculations to optimize the amount of potions and whatnot that could be made with the available items. Multi-variable equations are boring though, and by accident, an hour of fiddling with firewood passed before forcing myself to actually do the math.

The products I envisioned...were less than incredible. Only one of the possibilities showed a bit of promise. Healing Potion. I say it as though it were only one item, but in reality, Healing Potion was more of a class of related products. Theodore taught me at least seven different ways to formulate a Healing Potion. I’d been a bit confused at first, as we’d so often gone over the fact that alchemy is a very delicate art, yet there were several different baselines and many permutations within each recipe.

All of alchemy is unlocking the inner properties of the ingredients, when mistakes are made, those properties interact in unexpected ways, leading to unexpected, usually undesired results. However, unlike enhancing the durability of the flesh, healing is a natural process of the body. There are many permutations to the healing potion because as long as the change is not too great, the body will be able to make use of the resources within. This tied back to my question of eating ingredients raw, apparently if the potion is made poorly, you might as well just eat the reagents for a better result!

There were other products I could make in addition to the healing potion, but first I wanted to test its effectiveness. No use planning and spending most of my resources on something useless. Bringing out the best of the mediocre, the alchemy lab was set up alongside the stream. Making sure the children were not in the area to disturb me, a lit the pile of wood.

Things went well, the materials were prepared, the water distilled, extract was prepared, all of it mixed in the beaker and changed color accordingly(though green just seems wrong for a healing potion). And that’s where alchemy stopped for the day, the smile from happily concocting froze.

Eye twitching, the edge of my mouth curled into a self degrading sneer.

I didn’t have any vessels for for holding potions. Orz…

Hanging my head in shame, I mournfully looked into my reflection within the beaker. Who is this absent minded fool in the potion? Can you believe he forgot to buy something to hold his potions in? Can he be called an alchemist at all?

Preparing for that moment for days, then failing because you overlooked something so simple, my earlier joy all vanished. Woe is me, truly the gifts I have been given are only so that I can survive to suffer further torment. Letting out a deep sigh, with a lament not seen under these heavens for a thousand years, I placed the beaker of healing potion into the Inventory.

Technically speaking, the result was a success. Moving past all the whining, I headed back towards my hut. Despite blood sacrifice being a fairly common thing among the city-folk, it still seemed like an odd thing to do in the open, plus doing it wrong might have repercussions. Not that I thought the people of the village would immediately turn hostile.

Thinking about the weapons in my possession, I went with the dagger I’d brought with me from Underworld of Armok. Mutilating goblins was way less sanitary than mutilating a mage who cleaned himself regularly. Mutilating was a strong word for it though; having learned about how much damage strikes would cause, I mimicked one of the sword slashes received by the arm. I reduced its power by a bit, but the percentage of damage fell all the way to 3%. It seemed my stat points had distributed between my mind and body statistics more evenly than predicted. Theodore said the healing potions taught to me were of low effectiveness, but three percent felt lower still. I went over the cut again to get it to 10% total, careful not to inflict any crippling effects.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“*Bottoms up!*” With a swift flick of the wrist, the green fluid went down the hatch. It tasted like slightly bitter honey and bits stuck along the insides of the cheeks, ensuring an unpleasant taste for hours to come. That is, if you didn’t have to change the flavor. So instead, it tasted like peanut butter milkshake. Yum.

Watching the wound, a few moments passed before my hit points surged forward. Closing at an appreciable rate for a second, the flesh didn’t quite knit together before my very eyes. Theodore said that the baseline wasn’t all that good, nor were my materials, but a 5% heal? It really took a while of mental gymnastics to become satisfied with the results. After all, I had essentially produced it for free. Maybe the real version healed 10%, that would be satisfactory.

In comparison, the starter potions from Underworld would heal about 20% of my current health. Yes, those would be the lowest tier. This newb zone was really underpowered for its level.

Possibly worth the effort, since it could be easily replenished and sold, but there was no possibility of it becoming a staple of my battle tactics at this level. Well, making one more wouldn’t hurt. If there was only one potion slot on the belt, it may as well be used. I returned to the river and made another, no big events there.

So my plans for the day shot, I wandered around to find Ralph. It’s not like Ross and Troy are the only two people I interact with. Ralph was a wealth of...words which could possibly contain information. Much of it seems like blather, but it’s better to point information out when I got it. That way you have a better chance of making connections as I did, and a better chance to forget things, making mistakes like the one I made that day seem more reasonable.

It’s not all on me that I can’t remember everything, there’s just so much that goes on in the world.

“Good morning Ralph.”

“Ah, morning ta ya Alric. What brings ya over here?” Ralph knocked his heels together in a pair of thin canvas shoes, as his legs dangled over the earthen bank. A fishing pole in hand, and a bowl of bait to his side, he looked pleasantly surprised. His prime fishing spot was outside shouting distance from the village, and usually ended up sitting alone. Ralph said he’d rather spend the day away if it meant catching more fish. A fishing maniac, I hadn’t heard of that one before meeting him.

“Actually, I don’t have much to do today. Thought I’d come by for another story.”

“Really? Ya mean it? Ha, that’s great, let me think a moment…” And so began another tale, slightly less painful than the last. This time he told the story of the Fang Lord Muhosim, his grandpappy’s idol.

The edge between Derriad and Kallahall is vast, and would take more than five years to travel along the whole of it unobstructed. A massive stretch of land, yet compared to the two empires on either side, it amounts to very little. On the fastest horses, messages still take ages to come and go from the capital cities, and for the territories near the outskirts of the country, there is little benefit in investing in speedier forms of communication. The border’s true edge varies by thousands of miles, even on the most accurate maps. Kallahall and Derriad can’t be bothered with such small quantities of land.

In the eyes of giants, it is a mere breadcrumb, but most operate at a more tangible scale. If Derriad’s border is a thousand miles east, and Kallahall’s border a thousand miles west, then for 40 thousand by two thousand miles, there is more than enough land for men to become kings.

Such is the origin of the Interstitial States.

Along the borders of any country of size, kingdoms rise and fall between them. Not only monsters, but people will spill one another’s blood. Unlike the eternally peaceful Derriad, these areas are small enough that citizens can dream of becoming a lord; small enough that a fight between two of them will result in a victor. A land of shifting borders and chaos, kingdoms will only last a few generations before being broken up. The Interstitial States are a land of war.

Fang Lord Muhosim, born near the edge of Kallahall, was raised to be a Fang Knight. The equivalent of a Disciple, at age 14 he cut a bloody swathe through the Interstitial States that stretched over Kallahall’s borders. A series of bloody footprints walked across the edge of the country, each massacre becoming a site Interstitial States would refuse to move past. Stretches of a few hundred miles, the kings of Kallahall never cared about such things. Yet Fang Lord Muhosim would risk his life time and again to reclaim that land for his country.

This campaign was undertaken without the consent of the Fang Hill, the local governing structure. However as years went by, they eventually stopped trying to arrest Muhosim and his band, and instead directly appealed to the king to grant him the title of Fang Lord. The lands themselves did not mean much to the country, but the action was indeed worthy. Once Fang Lord Muhosim completed his trek north, he headed west. 40 years later, along the border of the Demon States, contact with Fang Lord Muhosim ceased, and further record of him no longer existed.

As Ralph told the tale, the size of the world became so mind-bogglingly large that at this point I stopped being boggled. There wasn’t any point to it, once I got used to this size, it would become even larger; best just to accept the world as an infinite plane. Those Interstitial States were the real regularly sized countries.

We started in the morning, but managed to waste until evening. Ralph’s ability was nowhere near good enough to create my pleasantly concise rendition, though after hours of speaking he did improve. Much of that time was added by me inquiring about Kallahall. These questions were not seen as strange at all.

Care to guess why?

Because apparently Derriad is so big that many people aren’t even aware there’s another country! Supermassive territories really had me confounded on the logistics of it all, and needless to say, Ralph didn’t have much insight into the topic. That night I went to sleep spinning my intellectual gears in the mud.

A/N:AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! That is pretty disappointing isn't it? Well, such is life when fate doesn't gift wrap you things. Reality ensues; how could he even begin to afford so many glass containers?

Also, I'm wondering who all y'all favorite characters are. Nominate your favorite character and I'll set up a poll in a chappy or two.