I was seeing things, clearly. I wasn’t all here right now and had been blanking out all night and I had to be misunderstanding. I had to be because I was seeing what had to be a healing potion being offered to Clause instead of a [Healer] or a balm or whatnot.
His condition was bad, but surely not the healing potion bad.
Surely.
But reality did not care about my disbelief; it did not listen to my thoughts; it listened to the cold, hard rules it functioned on and no other. Reality always has one because Clause was about to do what only the rich could; he was about to buy life, distilled into a bottle.
To understand the disbelief, you had to understand just enough about alchemy to fall into the trap of knowing enough to know you know nothing. My mother had worked for an alchemist, but she had mostly done the most basic of work, the kind that anyone, in theory, could. I had with Anna back when I brewed her a medicinal tea.
Sure, a [Alchemist] could make it better, extract a better effect, but anyone could boil leaves.
You could take mundane or even magical ingredients and make teas, ointments, balms oils and the like, take whatever component inside a thing makes them beneficial and remove it, store it and use it when needed.
They all had a downside: teas were good, but they needed to be prepared fresh, and most magical ingredients didn’t take well to dry like mundane tea. Ointments and balms were topical, apply direct to wound, as was a salve.
But to get better than a hastened recovery? To truly heal? You needed more.
Distilling could be used to form a tincture, a highly concentrated essential oil in a medicinal solvent. It was the basis of a healing potion. A magical healing herb turned from plant to oil to a shot glass. But that would only do so much. What if you magically concentrated the oil? What if you reached the maximum concentration? What if you added more powerful herbs?
It could be made in many ways, sure, but even the cheapest swill healing potion was beyond expensive. An ounce of essential oil could take multiple plants, a concentrated tincture tens of times that. A healing potion? A healing potion was the work of a dedicated high-level [Alchemist], using volumes of raw material in the gold coin range using distilling, skills, and gods knew what.
I had seen something akin to the swill of healing potions, a potion that you should be ashamed of making on purpose, and it was 200 gold pieces.
A healing potion, even a cheap one, was liquid life. And Clause was about to drink one that was very obviously not swill.
The bottle held more than just life mana; it was more likely regeneration. Life and Growth, with what looked like small amounts of Earth, Beast, Plant, and the Arcane, only knew what else. And that was just what the bottle held. It was obviously a crystal glass of some kind, but it seemed to glow under my magical sight almost as much as the liquid within.
It moved along what I could only call lines that seemed etched into the crystal in an effect I could tell was renewal, the crystal itself holding bizarre mana that felt like the earth, but it was to earth as steel was to raw iron ore, a mana that held the potency of the liquid held within, allowing no leakage.
The top was not cork but glass, seemingly flush with the fluted neck to form a perfect seal.
The hunched scholarly man carried it toward Clause and numbly called out to the guards that stood around, but I was too carried away with the gestures of a spell.
The quick motions of [Inspect] coalesced, and I cast it forth toward the bottle, a little speck of light.
Magical mild potency, Healing Potion, Condition: Preserved
Description:
A magical liquid used to heal wounds contains Regeneration, Earthblood, Wild, mana, held in an enchanted crystal bottle. A mild-grade healing potion can forcibly regenerate mild wounds without issue, nurture and mend the body after healing, set bones, clear mundane and lesser poisons, toxins and venoms, and clear the body of many diseases.
Can not set major breakages, regenerate limbs, or clear the body of physical blockage or shrapnel, rot, or decayed tissue.
Regeneration mana is a merger of life and growth mana, granting the aid of both life and growth mana in the growth of a living medium and converting mana into the medium to mend breakages without protuberances.
Earthblood mana is a merger of life and earth mana, taking on the living nature of life mana and the nurturing nature of earth mana, can draw healing power from the earth or bring life to earth to further boost the life that relies on it. Can be used as a source of renewal for soil, and can be used to help mend bone.
Wild mana is a mixture of plant and beast magic, mixing the properties of both to clear a body of toxins via plant mana, give a plant greater motility or enhance tissue. Common in sentient plants or magical beasts.
Enchantment mana is an arcane mana that can help hold magic in a given place or on an object without causing flow issues. Enchantment mana creates magical gemstones where a given mana confluences. Enchantment mana is theorized to make mana act more solid than fluid.
Dear gods above, it was even more substantial than I thought it would be.
The guards noticed the spell, but they didn’t react; lucky me, checking the potion was not enough.
“Dearest me, I’m glad you called for me, Strause,” the stumped-over man told him, “One moment, my lord,” he said quickly, marching over to Clause.
He was going to pour it when I quickly spoke up, “Wait, wait. He has fluid in his lounges that the potion won’t fix. You’re going to need to take care of that, and there might be metal in him from the chest plate,” I told him.
There was nothing to do about it. If he was going to burn a fortune in gold on a potion instead of going for healing ointment, he might as well not drown, need more attention, or get an infection from a pit of metal stuck in him.
He turned to me, his features unruffled by my words; he tilted his head, taking me in.
“Indeed?” he asked, talking more to himself than to me, who he quickly dismissed, “Well, no matter. Come on then, lets [Clean you Up], [Dust you Off], and do [Spit that Out].”
He said it with the tone of a man who disliked messes, dust and people putting things in their mouths, but while the skills sounded quite silly from the dignified man with a funny accent, the crazier part was that they worked.
The blood came off, simply wicked away with the gesture of his hand; two crumbly bits of metal seemed to fall off Clouse from the holes in his now clean armour and, in a bit of a gross turn, like a cat spitting up a hairball Clouse spat out a puck of red about the size of a coin purse. It did not look like it should be able to leave his mouth, and the visual was wretched, but Clouse looked relieved, sucking down a breath.
In a hitching voice, Couse said softly, “Thank you, [Steward] Mangal. I feel far better already-”
There was a joking tone, though the [Steward], which made far more sense than a random cousin, simply tisked, his mood not softening at all.
He walked up, pulled the glass stopper from the neck so smoothly it made no noise and cut Clouse off by pressing the neck of the bottle in his mouth and tilting his head up like it was a lever.
The glowing liquid clashed through Clouse, who sputtered as the liquid life drained down his throat smoothly.
The bottle was quickly pulled from his mouth, the bottle seeming to empty rapidly. Clouse let out a cough after hastily swallowing it.
Then and only then did the severe man say, “Nonsense, young master Clouse. Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”
Strause shuttered next to him, taking his distance from the [Steward] before whispering to me, “We used to call him mangle.”
“It fits,” I whispered back.
“And it is rude to talk about others,” the [Steward] chided.
Strause and I both blanched, but while we waited for Clause to mend, I asked, “I thought Moarn couldn’t afford walls. How can it afford healing potions?”
“We save a few golds each year from our personal budget and buy one every so often. Or did you expect us to beggar ourselves?”
It took me a moment to realize that I had in part, forgotten the catch when it came to nobility. They were always in it for themselves first.
“How very noble of you,” I told him.
“I’m sorry to disappoint your idea on the nature of our income, but no one alive had anything to do with it, that one is from when our Father was my age if I have it right.”
That.
That made more sense, though it only changed the calculus a little. It still meant that they could have budgeted a wall or some earthen works.
“Generally, every so often means every few years, not once in a lifetime,” I told him.
“And it is not a sin to care for your own children more than a wall,” he said.
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I couldn’t resist the idea; it was touching even, at least from the family angle, taking care of your own and all that. Though you would think they could have looked more at ointment or some tinctures, solving their long term problems seemed to be the Mynes family's greatest weakness with how often they kicked the can down the road. Hells, getting a wall
It also disappointed me that Anna would probably make ten times the lord Clause would, but Strause, the mind reader he was, said, “She’s too free-spirited, that sister of mine. Free-spirited and left with the strange proclivities left to mages, the kind that would only chafe if she were obligated as a noble is.”
He was hiding it, being tongue-in-cheek about it, but he knew. I started to think on it but he continued, “I have nothing against her, mind you. Everyone deserves something they hold dear, and that’s not for us to decide, to each their own,” he told me giving me a strange look that didn’t fit his face for a moment, like he was trying to stare through me at something.
He brightened then, obviously fake, his sweat beading in the corners of his eyes, “And besides, could you imagine her sitting at a desk worrying all day? It’s bound to take a decade or two off Clause's life, and he’s a big strong, not anxious at all man, who does manly things, like getting his ribs clubbed in fighting monsters,” he said, turning to face toward Clause before saying, “Isn’t that right brother?”
Clause, for his part, looked like he had been hit over the head and, in a daze, asked, “Sure? What are you on about?”
“See, perfectly fine in the head that one. Now, if you want to go see Anna, its best to ask him now before he passes out,” Strause whispered before speaking up, pronouncing, “I was just saying I was going to head out. Damsels to save, you know how it is.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but he did look out of it. Apparently, healing was a taxing process.
Strause stalked off, and then, as if I knew what I was doing, I walked up to him.
“How are you feeling, Clause?” I asked him, much to the disapproving face of the [Steward].
“Weird,” he mumbled, not quite looking at me.
He had a ten-yard stare that could rival a vegetable, but I gave him a pat on the shoulder and asked, “Can I go find Anna, maybe give her a little help? She should be up on the roof.”
Not seeming to comprehend, he nodded his assent, and I turned to meet the [Steward].
“It’s good to meet you, [Steward] Mangall. I’m lady Annabeth’s student, Saphine,” I told him, introducing myself with a little bow, in my best attempt at getting in his good graces.
I knew I didn’t quite get his name right, I could tell because he corrected me, “Indeed, I am [Steward] Mangal. It is good to meet you miss Saphine. Do you, perchance have any more things to ask of my young lord, or any other tidbits as to how I should treat him?”
He had a tone that told me he was not impressed, but not wanting to show vulnerability to him; I pulled out something I had heard my mother say.
“He should drink plenty of water for the next few days,” I told him, not sure if that would help at all, but sure it wouldn’t do anything bad. It was drinking water; water was good for you, it wasn’t alchemy.
Clause looked half passed out and half manic, and the [Steward] seemed to slide into range to catch him without so much as a brushing his sleeve. I made a lankly-legged getaway. Quickly grabbing my shovel on reflex, I scuttled from the Mangler and toward the front door.
I half expected someone to stop me, for one of the big bad level 70s to stop me, but they didn’t, and I got to skip my way into the front hall, where I stopped, took a deep breath and let the weight of the situation hit me.
The fire, the fighting, the undead, the dead people who were trying to live their lives, the guards, the death, my breath hitching as I thought through it.
The sooner I was done here, the better.
I wanted to let Anna do her thing and then smuggle her off to the grove and cuddle and worry about my own stupid stuff for a while. Life was never that simple, but I wanted nothing more than to shut it out for a few hours so I could breathe.
In a stupor, I walked deeper into the house, doing my best to find my way around tracking dirt on the rug. I walked through the halls like a moron until I bumped into one of the staff who confusingly pointed toward the front hall after composing themselves.
Feeling like a moron, I tracked dirt back over to the front staring at my feet, while I made my way back to the front and the nearby staircase that could bring up and stopped.
I was staring at a bit of rug. It was a nice rug, but on it was a familiar crest. It was different than the one I remembered, though it was similar. The ones that had been on Clause had been too tiny to make out in detail, but here they were larger, so one could admire that the Mynes were rich enough that you could walk on a detailed piece of art that would take forever to clean.
They were large enough to make out the forms.
The old one had many different forms, different Kobolds picking grapes on trellised rows, with a lower section that stood for the mines that had given them their name. But this one only had two different forms. Little mice and a tall, lanky kind, with little points that came from the top of their head.
Mice and Deerfoxes.
It was a stupid thing to focus on, but there it was. A little bit of history, of my history, emblazoned on a crest that had lasted over two thousand years.
Ayme, the little half-mouse, and me, the woman who had led her to her callous father. A piece of history.
A part of me wanted to stop and point and proclaim to someone, ‘Look, there I am.’ But another bigger part of me saw it, and the floor came out from under it.
I teared up, not in a sob, but in a calm that slowly melted, rubbing into me until an emotional charge that had been building the whole night exploded through me, making my lungs falter and my heart scream. I did my best to breathe as I cried quietly, leaning on the shovel, breath hitching while all I could think to myself was that it was a dumb reason to cry.
Crying over a dinky little Dearfox on a dinky family crest. I rubbed my eyes with my gritty hands, which only made it worse, but breathing made it easier and slowly let me slow down my tears until my stinging eyes stopped.
I must have made a strange sight, but no one was there to awkwardly pretend not to notice.
Eyes not dry, I made my way toward the stairs because rich people loved having multiple floors, and from there, with a few questions to confused and afraid staff, I made my way to an open wall panel that hid a short ladder that led to an open hatch I got up on the roof.
None of the staff mentioned my red eyes. I suppose the little flames were distracting, and for once, I felt grateful for them because someone noticing might make me curl up and die in embarrassment.
Hauling my way up to the roof with my shovel, I took in the sight.
There was a big ass magic circle up on the roof, Anna holding the staff in the center, her body moving, eyes open as she pushed magical power around.
A bead of sweat rolled down her face, the gathering heat on the roof far and above warmer than the courtyard below.
There was someone else, a taller woman, who had none of the timidity of the servants and none of the soft mousiness Anna had. But what she lacked in a mouse, she made up for in other features. She had a look that spoke of a close resemblance to Anna.
A woman on the roof, one who looked like Anna. This one was more straightforward, at least.
This was their Mother, and it was Mother, not mother. They always emphasized it like it was a title. For all the talk, she seemed a normal person, a proper lady for sure, but a normal woman. She was observing, carefully watching Anna move and cast.
Anna noticed me, and despite holding a gargantuan set of spell lines and holding enough power in one place to make me nervous to look at, she spoke.
“Hello, Saphine. Good to see you. Great timing. Any chance you have a thousand points of mana floating around?”
“Good to see you too, Anna. I can’t say I do; I barely have enough mana to cast anything. Your brother decided to fight a magic-casting monster, and I used up quite a bit fighting it.”
She looked at me properly then, and a look of calculating worry edged her words as she said, “You’re a mess. Are your eyes puffy?”
“I got ash in them while protecting your brother. He is quite the handful, you know,” I lied before giving the lady nearby a shallow bow.
She didn’t speak back, looking more curious at our chat. There was a familiar look in her eyes as she watched us that reminded me of when Anna chewed over a problem, though the look was not half as pleasant.
Trying to keep my mind off of it, I focused on Anna and only Anna.
“Do you need a thousand points of mana to cast it?” I asked her.
“No. No. It just means I need to finagle it a bit,” she said hesitantly, a crooked smile on her face.
I looked at her and asked, “Anna, what does that thousand points of mana do?”
“It’s part of a lightning charm. I’m cutting down on parts of the spell to speed it up,” she told me.
“That sounds suspiciously dangerous,” I told her, walking over towards her and stopping at the edge of the circle.
“You can’t be the only one taking risks. We need a storm, but we don’t need lightning; most of these parts aren’t needed… Well, I think.”
“Anna…” I said hesitantly.
“Oh, don’t. You're willing to get smashed around; I can damn well play a little loose with this spell. It’s hard but not that hard, and I can’t mess up a portion of the spell if I don’t use it. It’s the least I can do.” She said, determination in her voice if a tentative determination.
“Can I?” I asked, gesturing toward the circle.
“You may, if you feel like it,” she said.
I did feel like it; I entered.
I walked up next to her, staring up at the clouds and whistling.
It was definitely close-ish, probably. Little flecks of light seemed to flicker, and I asked, “Anna, how close are you?”
“Without the extra stuff?” she asked, “Probably a minute or two. I’ll be dead tired, but I’m willing to force it. Why?”
“Well, it was just… You said you removed the lightning charm bit, but there's lightning gathering up there.” I pointed out, something about the situation tickling me the wrong way.
“Of course, lightning is natural in a storm. And it’s going to be a big one.”
“It’s going to be a pain to go on the second outing,” I told her, “I was hoping to bring you there.”
“We could always stay next to a warm fire,” she pointed out, “It could be nice.”
“I hired Gunther to help me cart out a [Loremasters] Library, but if we can’t, that will be a real shit way to lose out on all those rare books.”
She choked a little at the idea; it was the perfect lure for a curious [Druid].
Was that my first time telling her? I can’t even remember.
She stuttered, lots of “but,” “Wait,” and a little, “Huh?” but most of all, it was a confused noise.
I smiled a little. If I had told her, then she hadn’t remembered it.
At least we’re on the same page. Maybe she has a skill for keeping goods dry? Skipseo demanded I keep them safe…
There was another flicker of lightning above; this time, it shot across the sky in a small sheet of lightning, and the crack of it drew my eye up, a frown crossing my face.
That was more lightning than I had expected.
“Are you sure the lightning is off?” I asked her again.
“Yes, Yes. I’m just about ready, then we can get off this roof and away from the scary lightning,” she said jokingly.
She started pulling, hefting the staff up the growing power around us, the cyclone of mana, shrank on us, the power sending a prickle of static up my arm.
My fingers twitched.
Something was wrong.
“Anna…” I started, only for her to ignore me, her eyes closed, a look of concentration on her face as she moved, wafting strands of mana puffing off of her as she used a skill.
Lightning flashed up above, and once again, my mind turned to the lightning.
I rolled it around in my head, doing my best to puzzle out what about the situation felt so wrong, and it kept coming back to lightning.
After all, the staff was for putting out fires; I had read as much from it; it was the storm caller, not the lightning caller.
Why would a staff meant to call storms have the ability to call lightning? That would be like equipping a bucket brigade with halberds, they already needed both hands.
A storm made lightning, even without Anna powering it.
Lightning not being the purpose of the staff.
Lightning charm for not calling lightning that took up a bunch of mana, enough for a tier two spell. Not enough to call lightning, surely… But… Enough to ward against non-magical lightning?
I put together a few things as I sat there in dawning horror, staring up at the sky, the lighting beginning to flash. The gathering energy that would let the magic kick off a big ass storm, bigger than the clouds above that were making enough lightning to arc from one to another, but not enough to jump down to us... Yet.
We were about to stick a whole ass storm straight above our heads, more than enough lightning to strike down, down a path of least resistance.
The prickling on my neck redoubled.
The Cyclone closed, and I asked, “Anna, where was that lightning thingy?”
She didn’t respond, even as I began to burn my life mana, pumping up my reserves. From dwindled hundreds, it began to bloom as I fed it life mana and seeded my body with death mana.
“Anna! Where was that lightning bit?”
“Not now, I’m about to cast, it's too late to alter the spell-”
The spell closed in, passing over us like a curtain as it began from the staff, expanding up and out.
The sky boomed with lightning.
Anna thrust the staff up in the air, calling out the spell, and my hair stood on end.
I shoved my mana into my spade and thrust it up above her on instinct just after the mana was cast free.
Just in time to catch a bolt of searing hot lightning on the spade. Or most of it.