Novels2Search

1 - 2 A Gamble

Ryan stumbled through the crowded marketplace, his mind racing faster than his hungover body could keep up. The weight of the five gold coins the equivalent of five thousand silvers in his pocket felt like an anchor, dragging him down into the depths of his own desperation. He'd just made the riskiest decision of his life, and now he had to figure out how to turn it into profit before he lost everything.

The sale of the skill tablet for two hundred silver pieces – a stroke of luck he still couldn't believe – had given him a glimmer of hope. But hope, as Ryan well knew, was a dangerous thing. It could drive a man to greatness or send him spiraling into the abyss of failure. Right now, he was teetering on the edge.

As he weaved through the throng of merchants, adventurers, and denizens, Ryan's eyes darted from stall to stall. He needed potions, and he needed them cheap. But more than that, he needed a plan that would turn his measly five gold coins into six within a week. The alternative – losing his shop and everything in it – was unthinkable.

Ryan paused, leaning against a weathered wooden post to catch his breath. His head was pounding, a cruel reminder of last night's excesses. As he stood there, trying to will away the pain, a memory surfaced from the fog of his mind. He was an Alchemist. A piss-poor one, sure, but an Alchemist nonetheless.

"Veron's hairy balls," he muttered, earning a disapproving glare from a passing noblewoman. "I could make the damn potions myself."

The realization hit him like a slap to the face. He'd been so focused on his Merchant profession that he'd completely neglected his Alchemist class. It was still at apprentice, a fact that filled him with equal parts shame and frustration. But maybe, just maybe, it could be his salvation.

Ryan pushed himself off the post, his mind now racing with possibilities. He had two options: buy a recipe book and try to brew the potions himself, or find another Alchemist willing to sell their wares at a discount. Both paths were fraught with risk, but then again, what in this life wasn't?

He made his way towards the Alchemists' quarter, a section of the market filled with the pungent odors of herbs, minerals, and less identifiable substances. As he walked, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. This could have been his world if he'd put in the effort to level up his Alchemist class. Instead, he'd wasted his time and coin on cheap ale and cheaper dreams.

The first stall he came across belonged to a gnome with a wild mane of green hair and a beard that seemed to defy gravity. Vials and bottles of every shape and size covered every available surface, their contents shimmering and bubbling enticingly.

"What can I do for ye, lad?" the gnome asked, his voice surprisingly deep for his small stature.

Ryan cleared his throat, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I'm in the market for some potions. Minor health, maybe some stat boosters. Bulk quantities, if you've got them."

The gnome's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Bulk, eh? That'll cost ye a pretty penny, it will. What's yer budget?"

Ryan hesitated. He couldn't reveal how desperate he was, or he'd never get a fair price. "Let's just say I'm looking for the best deal possible. I've got other suppliers to check out, you understand."

The gnome stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I see, I see. Well, for minor health potions, I can do... let's say, sixty-silvers per dozen. Stat boosters I'll run ye about seventy-two per dozen, depending on the stat."

Ryan did some quick mental math and felt his heart sink. At those prices, he'd barely be able to afford enough potions to make a profit, let alone pay back his loan with interest.

"Thanks," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he turned to leave, the gnome called out, "Hold on there, lad. Ye wouldn't happen to be an Alchemist yerself, would ye?"

Ryan froze. "What makes you say that?"

The gnome chuckled. "I can smell it on ye. The lingering scent of herbs and reagents, even if it's faint. Ye've brewed before, haven't ye?"

Reluctantly, Ryan nodded. "I am an Alchemist, technically. But I'm... out of practice."

"Out of practice, he says!" the gnome guffawed. "Lad, being an Alchemist is like riding a dragon. Ye never really forget; ye just get a bit rusty." He reached under his stall and pulled out a worn, leather-bound book. "Here. This here's a basic recipe book. It ain't fancy, but it'll get ye started again. Thirty silver pieces, and it's yours."

Ryan eyed the book warily. It was tempting, but thirty silver pieces was still a significant chunk of his limited funds. "I don't know..."

The gnome's expression softened. "Look, lad. I've been where ye are. Broke, desperate, looking for a way out. This book? It saved me life once upon a time. Maybe it can do the same for you."

Something in the gnome's tone struck a chord in Ryan. Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached into his coin purse and pulled out thirty silver pieces. "Deal."

As he took the book, the gnome grinned. "Good choice, lad. Oh, and a bit of free advice? The secret to good alchemy ain't in the ingredients or the equipment. It's in here." He tapped his temple. "And here." He placed a hand over his heart. "Remember that, and ye'll go far."

Ryan nodded, a lump forming in his throat. It had been a long time since anyone had shown him kindness without expecting something in return. "Thanks. I... I appreciate it."

With the recipe book tucked safely under his arm, Ryan continued his trek through the Alchemists' quarter. He still needed to source ingredients, and the cost of setting up even a basic alchemy lab would eat into his limited funds. But for the first time in years, he felt a spark of something that might have been hope.

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As he perused the various ingredient stalls, Ryan's mind wandered back to his days in the orphanage. He remembered the first time he'd brewed a potion, a simple concoction meant to soothe minor aches and pains. It had been a disaster, the mixture exploding in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke that had taken days to clear. But beneath the embarrassment and the harsh words from the matron, there had been a thrill, a sense of potential just waiting to be tapped.

Lost in thought, Ryan almost missed the small, nondescript stall tucked away in a shadowy corner. What caught his eye was the proprietor: a young woman with a shock of white hair and eyes that seemed to shift color in the dim light. She sat behind a table laden with vials and jars, her expression one of bored indifference.

Intrigued, Ryan approached. "Afternoon," he said, trying to sound casual. "I'm in the market for some alchemical supplies. Basic stuff, mostly. You wouldn't happen to have any deals, would you?"

The woman's eyes flickered to life, a hint of interest breaking through her bored facade. "Depends on what you're looking for and how much you're willing to spend." Her voice was low and melodious, with an accent Ryan couldn't quite place.

"Let's say I'm working with a limited budget, but I need enough to set up a small operation. Nothing fancy, just the basics to get started."

The woman leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "You're an Alchemist?"

Ryan nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt at the implied deception. He was an Alchemist, technically, even if his skills were practically nonexistent.

"Show me your hands," the woman demanded suddenly.

Taken aback, Ryan hesitated for a moment before extending his hands, palms up. The woman grabbed them, her touch surprisingly gentle as she examined his fingers and palms.

After a moment, she released his hands and sat back, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "You're no Alchemist," she said, her tone more amused than accusatory. "At least, not an active one. Your hands are too soft, no calluses from handling ingredients or burns from failed experiments."

Ryan felt his face flush with embarrassment. "I... I'm out of practice," he admitted, echoing his earlier words to the gnome. "But I'm trying to get back into it."

The woman regarded him silently for a long moment, her eyes seeming to peer into his very soul. Finally, she nodded. "I see. Well, honesty is a rare commodity in this market. I appreciate it." She reached under her table and pulled out a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. "Here. This is a starter kit. Basic ingredients, a few empty vials, and some essential tools. Normally, I'd charge five hundred silver for this, but for you... Four hundred and thirty-five will do."

Ryan's eyes widened. It was still a significant amount, but far less than he'd expected to pay. "Why?" he asked before he could stop himself. "Why help me?"

The woman shrugged, a hint of sadness creeping into her eyes. "Let's just say I know what it's like to be starting over. Sometimes, all it takes is one person willing to give you a chance."

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Ryan counted out the silver pieces and handed them over. As he took the bundle, the woman leaned in close. "Word of advice," she whispered. "Start with minor health potions. They're simple, always in demand, and hard to mess up too badly. And if you need any help, my name's Jenora. Come find me."

Ryan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Thank you, Jenora. I'm Ryan."

With the starter kit from Jenora providing some basics, he set out to find the remaining necessities.

At a nearby herb stall, he purchased bundles of red clover, yarrow, and comfrey - the key ingredients for minor health potions for sixty- five silvers. The elderly herbalist threw in a handful of dried mint leaves for free, winking as she said, "For the smell, dearie. Trust me, you'll need it."

Next, he found a glassblower's shop where he haggled for a set of sturdy vials and a few larger bottles for mixing. The dwarf proprietor grumbled but eventually gave him a decent price at two-hundred and seventy silvers.

Lastly, Ryan visited a general goods store, picking up a small mortar and pestle, a set of measuring spoons, and a copper pot for boiling water. By the time he finished, his coin purse felt significantly lighter, but he had everything he needed to start his brewing operation.

With his arms full of his newfound treasures, Ryan made his way back to his rundown stall. His mind was buzzing with possibilities, the familiar weight of self-doubt warring with a newfound sense of determination. He had the tools, he had the knowledge (or at least access to it), and most importantly, he had a glimmer of hope.

Setting his purchases down on the rickety table that served as his counter, Ryan took a deep breath. He opened the recipe book, flipping through the pages until he found the section on minor health potions. The instructions seemed simple enough: a mixture of common herbs, a bit of purified water, and yarrow as a catalyst to bind it all together.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, rolling up his sleeves. "Let's see if I can remember how to do this without blowing myself up."

For the next several hours, Ryan lost himself in the world of alchemy. He crushed herbs, measured liquids, and stirred mixtures with a concentration he hadn't felt in years. The first few attempts were disappointing, resulting in foul-smelling sludge that he quickly disposed of. But with each failure, he learned. He adjusted his technique, tweaked the proportions, and slowly but surely, began to produce potions that actually looked and smelled like they were supposed to.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across his humble workspace, Ryan held up a vial of reddish liquid. It wasn't perfect – the color was a bit off, and the consistency was slightly thicker than it should have been – but it was undeniably a minor health potion.

A grin spread across his face, so wide it made his cheeks ache. He'd done it. He'd actually brewed a usable potion. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Just then, a chime sounded in his head, accompanied by a translucent blue screen that appeared before his eyes:

[Congratulations! Your Alchemist class has been upgraded to journeyman!]

[ Name: Ryan Lionheart.

Profession: Merchant.

Class: Alchemist(journeyman).

Coin: 4 gold, 470 silvers.

Debt : 6 gold (deadline 7 days).

]

Ryan stared at the notification in disbelief. He'd leveled up. After years of neglecting his Alchemist class, he'd finally made progress. It was a small step, but it felt monumental.

As the notification faded, Ryan became aware of how late it had gotten. The market was quieting down, most merchants packing up their wares for the night. He'd spent the entire day brewing, and while he'd made progress, he was still a long way from having enough stock to start turning a real profit.

With a sigh, he began cleaning up his workspace. As he corked the last vial of potion, a thought struck him. He still had his remaining skill tablets. If he could combine them with his newly brewed potions, offering them as a package deal for a much higher price than two hundred silvers...

"It just might work," he murmured, his mind already racing with possibilities.

But first, he needed rest. His head was pounding again, this time from the fumes of his brewing rather than last night's ale. As he locked up his stall, Ryan realized with a start that he hadn't thought about drinking all day. The urge was still there, a persistent itch at the back of his mind, but for once, it wasn't all-consuming.

Making his way back to The Messy Inn, Ryan's steps felt lighter than they had in years. He had a plan, he had skills, however rudimentary, and most importantly, he had hope. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

As he collapsed onto his rickety bed, exhaustion finally catching up with him, Ryan allowed himself a small smile. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for the first time in a long time, he felt ready to face them.

With that thought, Ryan drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, the faint scent of herbs and reagents clinging to his clothes.