Jelekar guides me through a path lined with gnarled trees and glowing toadstools not unlike those I’ve seen in Glenheim. His chirrups are slowly becoming less and less annoying as I realize that he really does know his stuff.
“Here – here!” he shouts at the top of his squeaky voice. “Ambergrut! Yes! Ambergrut for Lightborn!”
I turn my nose up at the nondescript tree he’s lighted on, touching down on its equally nondescript branch.
[Snoop]
And my eyes widen as the insides of the tree bark are revealed to me – like my eyes slowly peel away the skin of the thing and see it’s blood laid bare before me.
Thick, sticky amber glows within the tree, flowing up through its roots and branching off down its wooden veins.
[SUBSTANCE: IDENTIFIED]
---Belchometstry Level required to extract: 1---
“Well, I’ll be…” I murmur, tearing through the bark with the side of my scimitar and quickly producing one of Myra’s vials from the little pack she gave me.
As I run the thing under the spilling wound in the tree, Jelekar starts chirping like crazy.
“Lightborn – has – what – he – needs. Lightborn – has – what – elf – needs! Jelekar – help – Jelekar – helpful – bird – useful – bird – yes, yes!”
He certainly is…I think, as I eye the thick, goopy liquid that now sloshes within the vial.
I shove a cork in its top and squeeze it in tight, performing a final [Snoop] on the potion:
[Distillation] success chance: 45% (Belchomestry Lvl 1)
---Attempt [Distillation?]---
Ok, so there’s one more step before it becomes a sweet little vial of booze…wonder if it’s best to take another sample just in case –
“Lightborn! Lightborn! Lightborn – now – listen! Lightborn – now – hea-“
On second thoughts, forget it. I’m outta here as soon as this little thing does his job. Who knows how many of its kind might be up there in the darkened leaves, ready to peck away or – even worse – talk to me.
Look – you know I’m not socially awkward. But, come on, birds? Even I gotta draw the line somewhere. I got enough friends (and enemies) as it is…
“Alright,” I say as I shove the vial away. “But hurry it up. I’ve got a date with a very cranky elf.”
Jelekar does another circuit round me before appearing right in front of my eyes and perching on the tip of my snout.
“Lightborn – listen! Listen – with – big – ears! Master – Solus – knows – you – hear. Master – Solus – tells – you: come – to – Liaghost. City – of – magic. City – of – Academy! Bring – Elves – if – you – want! Meet – with – real – magic – users – of – Arwyll! See – how – Darkseed – will – die!”
Huh. Y’know, as annoying as this little critter is, his Master sounds even more annoying. How the Darkseed will die? Well, I’d always assumed it was me that would be doing that…
“Lightborn! Lightborn!” The little bird squawks again. “Always – taking – always – from – the – Other – Place. From – Place – Beyond! No – more. Mages – will – provide. Mages – are -trained. Mages – will – help – you – win!”
The Place Beyond…
That’s the other dimension that Myra said magic comes from, right?
But what’s all this about me taking –
“Hey!”
Jelekar has already began fluttering away with a triumphant cry of “Free! Free! Freeeeeeee!” on his thin beaked lips. “Goodbye – Lightborn! May – we – meet – agaaaaaaaaaain!”
I think about this for exactly five seconds before shaking my head gently and [Snooping]up my pawprints to take me right back home
Birds. Honestly.
…
[Core Skill] Increased:
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[Snoop]
LVL 5 -> 6
Distance increased: 350ft
I could literally snoop out an invasion before it happened, now…
I burst through the final set of thorny bushes that lead me right back to Myra and her now billowing fire.
“Surprise!” I say, holding the amber-filled vial in my mouth. “Don’t hesitate to praise me.”
She barely looks up from her little campfire and I suddenly get the distinct impression I’ve interrupted a solemn ritual or something.
“Hmpf,” she grunts. “Good. Did you make any new friends on your quest?”
“I sure hope not,” I mutter. Then, when she cocks her eyebrow. “I – uh – it’s nothing important. Anyway, I figured I’d distill this puppy here and see what it can do.”
She nods, returning her gaze to the fire, one arm on her raised knee.
Whatever she sees in those flames, it sure must be fun…
I spin around three times across from her and plop myself down, spitting out the vial and eyeing it with suspicion again.
[Distillation] success chance: 45% (Belchomestry Lvl 1)
---Attempt [Distillation?]---
“Er, Myra?” I ask. “You happen to know what happens when a distillation attempt fails?”
She considers this with a puckered lip before responding way more nonchalantly than she should: “Aethel explained this to us last time he visited. At best? You will distill a poison that will probably kill you with a single sniff of its contents. At worst? An explosion.”
“Oh,” I murmur. “Just instant death? Sure. Of course. What was I so afraid of?”
I eye the sloshing liquid, turning it between my paws.
“So, uh, is there anything we can do to help my chance of –“
When I look back up, Myra’s nowhere to be seen.
“Do not worry, Raziel!” she shouts from between the trees at the edge of the wooden shack. “I believe in your abilities!”
You sure got a funny way of showing it…
I give a huff of indignation before placing the vial between my paw-pads and closing my eyes.
Somehow, it’s like I’ve done this all before…
[Distillation] in progress…
I feel the contents of the vial shift and jump around, globules of amber trying to escape through the cork like they’re part of a living entity.
My paws begin to burn and I keep my eyes closed as a deep sensation of heat runs up my legs and pools at my nose, which begins to smell fire…
Come on…come on…don’t explode in front of Myra!
…don’t take that out of context.
[Distillation] results
…
…
SUCCESS
Recipe learned: Ambergrut Coating
[BELCHOMESTRY: LVL 1 -> 2]
CHANCE OF DISTILLING REAGENTS (NOVICE) INCREASED TO 50%
I open my eyes as, all at once, the intensity of the heat dies away, and I look down to see the amber liquid settle in the vial, a distinct scent of something like gooseberry juice wafting up from the cork.
“I…I think I did it!”
Myra emerges from the bushes just as surprised as I am.
Was that your plan? I suddenly wonder. To let me explode out here like that..?
“Hm,” she says with a nod. “I expected as much.”
She simply resumes her vigil by the fireside without much fanfare.
“H-hey!” I shout. “Don’t I deserve some praise here – at least a little bit?”
She shoots me a stare that sends a shiver up my spine.
“I mean – come on! I could’ve died. Don’t I get something from my gracious Master? I am a dog, after all…”
She closes her eyes and shakes her short locks.
“Very well,” she says. “Well done.”
I look away sullenly.
“You are happy?”
“I was hoping for a bit more…gumption,” I whisper. But I guess that’ll do…
The vial between my paws now holds my distilled liquid – much more viscous than before.
SPIRIT: AMBERGRUT COATING
“What do you think of it?” Myra asks me.
I sniff at the top. “It’s…pretty.”
“You know what it does?”
I shrug. “No clue. If Aethel’s brews are anything to go by though, it probably has one hell of a kick.”
Myra looks up at me once and gives a little smile of satisfaction.
“You really are not like your predecessor,” she says. “He was a man focused on form and function. For him, all things had to have a purpose. He did not see the earth as something he could live with, but something he had to act on.”
She’s trailing off again, stuck in her own world. But I’m listening now, crouching beside the father and letting her speak. It’s like she’s trying to tell me something she can’t really say.
“You listened to me without question,” she said quietly. “Even though you are Lightborn. Even though you didn’t know why I was sending you away.”
I blink. “Hold up. Are you telling me this was some kind of test or something?”
She regards me cooly. Distantly.
“Give me the vial,” she says. “And I’ll show you what you can do when you listen before you act.”
I do as she says, admittedly a little mesmerized. Maybe it’s the natural warmth of the fire, maybe it’s her candid speech right now, maybe it’s the fact I haven’t eaten like all day…but whatever the reason, I watch her uncork the vial and tilt a single drop of the Ambergrut onto the surface of her drawn longsword.
CRACK
Her sword bursts with a coating of pure, unchecked flame. Each spark runs up the blade and fills it right to the tip. In merely a second her sword has become a shimmering beacon of light in the darkness of the forest, a trail of smoke billowing from its tip.
“That…that’s a pretty mean looking candle,” I say.
“Active until one sheathes their blade,” she replies, looking at me through the searing light of her energized sword. “Ambergrut has always been the Glenmaiden’s favored weapon, ever since Aethel first showed us how to harness it’s blood.”
She twirls the blade in her hand, little sparks flicking off and dancing all around her shimmering armor, before cutting off the light completely by slamming her blade back in its sheath.
Now it’s my turn to look into the crackling flames as the world is returned to its dark reality.
“Aethel…” I mutter. “He was a mad genius.”
She regards me from across the crackling bonfire.
“He used to have a saying,” she says quietly. “Men and women come and go, wars rack this world’s surface, but in our darkest moments it is the earth that provides.”
I smile at that.
“I used to think this statement was ignorant,” Myra continues. “But it has a certain charm to it, does it not, Raziel? This world, after all, belongs to everyone. It is right that in our weakest moments we should turn to it for strength.”
I give a slight chuckle as I yawn, readying myself for slumber. “Sounds like something a drunken Belchometrist would say…I miss him…”
Before I drift off, I hear her sigh distinctly as she looks off again into the plains beyond us at something maybe she couldn’t even see.
“As do I, Raziel. As do I.”