Fendrel stumbled backward, his back hitting the doorframe. Two more bodies lay crumpled by his workbench. Another slumped over his ingredient shelves, knocking several jars to the floor. The fifth guard had fallen face-first into Fendrel's distillation setup, shattering glass everywhere.

Movement caught his eye. Dark figures lounged around his lab like they owned it. One sat in his chair, boots propped on the desk. Another leaned against the wall, cleaning a blade. Three more stood examining his equipment with casual interest.

Fendrel spun to flee, but the door slammed shut behind him. Rough hands shoved him forward, sending him stumbling into the room.

"Going somewhere?" A tall man stepped from the shadows, his voice smooth as silk. "After we waited so patiently to meet you?" He gestured at the carnage. "Sorry about the mess. These guards were quite insistent about searching your lab. We had to... discourage them."

"Who-" Fendrel's voice cracked.

"We've been watching you, Master Solinar. Your little adventure in the noble quarter today was particularly interesting." The man's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You've caught our attention."

Fendrel's legs threatened to give out as he stared at the bodies scattered across his workshop floor. The tall man circled him like a predator sizing up prey.

"Consider this a professional courtesy." The man gestured at the carnage. "These guards would have torn your shop apart, found your more... interesting creations. Can't have that, can we?"

Blood soaked into Fendrel's shoes. He fought the urge to vomit.

"We've been monitoring your work for some time." The man picked up a vial from the workbench, holding it to the lamplight. "Quality stuff. Would be a shame if the city guard shut you down just when you're getting interesting."

"You killed them." Fendrel's voice came out as a whisper.

"Protected your interests." The man set the vial down with careful precision. "Those guards would have executed you by morning once they found your poison stores. Instead, they'll be written off as victims of a gang attack. Much cleaner this way."

The other assassins chuckled. One wiped his blade on a guard's uniform.

"I didn't ask for this." Fendrel's hands shook. "I never wanted-"

"And yet here we are." The man's smile turned predatory. "Now you have a choice - appreciate our assistance and consider yourself in our debt, or..." He let the threat hang unspoken.

Fendrel's mind raced. These people had murdered five city guards without hesitation. They knew about his poisons, his illegal work.

Fendrel ran a trembling hand through his hair. "I'm finished. After this..." He gestured at the bodies littering his floor. "I'll have to abandon the lab, find somewhere else-"

"Calm yourself." The tall man's voice carried an edge of amusement. "We're professionals. This will look like nothing more than a failed robbery attempt." He nudged one of the guards with his boot. "These fine officers heard a disturbance, investigated, and tragically lost their lives in the line of duty."

"But-"

"You'll go to the garrison right now." Another assassin stepped forward, his dark clothes blending with the shadows. "Report how thieves broke into your shop. How these brave men died trying to protect your property."

The tall man traced a finger along Fendrel's workbench. "Of course, we'll need compensation for our... cleanup services. Your current stock of poisons should suffice."

Fendrel's chest tightened. Those poisons were his lifeline against the parasite. But watching the assassins move through his lab with casual efficiency, he knew arguing would only end one way.

"The garrison will investigate," Fendrel said.

"You would be surprised what you might find when you go report this." The tall man's smile widened. "And even if, then some unfortunate street thugs will turn up dead in a few days, wearing bloody clothes that match witness descriptions. The case will be closed, justice served."

"No one will look deeper," another assassin added, already gathering vials into a cloth bag. "Not with five of their own dead. They'll want it wrapped up quickly, quietly."

The tall man placed a hand on Fendrel's shoulder. "Trust in our expertise. By the morning, you'll be nothing more than another victim of the city's criminal element. Tragic, but ultimately unremarkable. Back in business in no time."

Fendrel looked at the blood seeping between his floorboards, unable to respond, he gave a small nod before turning to leave.

Fendrel limped down the dark streets toward the garrison, each step sending jolts of pain through his bruised ribs. The weight of the fabricated story pressed heavier on his mind than his injuries. His hands wouldn't stop shaking.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Five dead guards. In my lab. And I'm supposed to just walk in there and report it?

The garrison's torchlight cast long shadows across the cobblestones. Two guards stood at attention by the entrance, their armor gleaming. Fendrel slowed his pace.

What would he even say? That he'd returned to find his worthless shop ransacked? That brave officers died protecting a failed alchemist's meager possessions? The story felt paper-thin at best.

He touched his swollen lip, remembering the beating he'd received hours earlier. The same guards who'd questioned his presence in the noble quarter would now scrutinize his role in their colleagues' deaths.

They'll see right through it.

His feet stopped moving. The garrison loomed ahead, but the shadows between buildings beckoned. Safety. Escape.

A patrol rounded the corner, their boots clicking against stone. Fendrel ducked into an alley, pressing himself against the cold wall. His heart hammered in his chest as they passed.

This is insane. I can't do this.

He turned away from the garrison, his shoulders hunched. Each step that carried him back toward his blood-soaked lab felt like another nail in his coffin. The assassins' "help" had only trapped him further.

The night air grew thick with fog as he retreated through the warren of streets, leaving the garrison's warm light behind. No matter which direction he turned, he found no escape from the corner he'd been backed into.

Fendrel pushed open his lab door, bracing for the horror he'd left behind. The familiar scent of herbs and chemicals hit his nostrils - but something was off. The metallic tang of blood had vanished.

He froze in the doorway. The floorboards gleamed, scrubbed clean of any trace of carnage. No bodies. No blood. No shattered glass. His workbench stood pristine, equipment arranged with military precision.

"Impossible," he whispered, running his fingers across the wood grain where pools of blood had soaked in mere hours ago. The boards felt smooth, as if freshly oiled and polished.

His feet carried him through the lab on autopilot, checking shelves and storage. With each cabinet door he opened, his jaw clenched tighter. Empty hiding spaces gaped where his poison stock had been. Silkslither Toxin, gone. Three batches of Xytherium Poison, vanished.

Fendrel yanked up the loose floorboard beneath his bed, reaching for his emergency funds. His fingers found only half the coins he'd hidden there.

"Bastards!" He slammed the board back into place. "They consider this the fucking service fee?!"

He grabbed an empty vial and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered with a satisfying crash. Another followed, then another, each explosion of glass punctuating his rage.

Fendrel slumped against his workbench, chest heaving. His ribs screamed in protest at the outburst. The lab's unnatural cleanliness mocked him,. "Fuck this," he muttered, dragging himself toward his bed. His muscles gave out as soon as he hit the straw mattress.

----------------------------------------

Fendrel's eyes cracked open to the morning light filtering through his grimy window. His body ached as he rolled over, the coins from the Blackthorn job clinking in his pocket. He pulled them out, spreading them across his palm.

His breath caught. Two gold coins gleamed among the silver. He counted again - one hundred and fifty silver pieces plus the gold. He'd never held this much money at once.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with gold?" He turned one of the coins over, studying its pristine surface. Then it hit him - the equipment he needed for the Distillate. Real glass vessels, not the cracked second-hand ones he'd been using. With his previous savings, he had over two hundred silver to work with.

Quickly changing his clothes he rushed out of the doors with new determination.

The market buzzed with morning activity as Fendrel wove between stalls. He kept his head down, avoiding the guards' patrols while he gathered supplies. Fresh Dralk weed, nightshade essence, bone ash - he stocked up on everything needed for Xytherium production.

"Three silver for that much?" Fendrel haggled with an herb merchant over a bundle of dried dreamthorn berries. "It's half-wilted."

"Two silver, eight copper. Final offer." The merchant wrapped the berries in paper.

Fendrel moved deeper into the lower district, where cramped shops held used equipment and questionable goods. The bell above Morrick's Glass Works chimed as he entered.

"I need solvent vials. The thick-walled kind." Fendrel set one gold coin on the counter to prevent any annoying questions. "And purifying filters."

The shopkeeper's eyes widened at the gold. "Right this way, sir."

Two shops later, Fendrel had assembled the basics for a cold extraction setup - condensers, filters, collection vessels. Not pretty, but it would work. He tucked the wrapped glass carefully into his bag, conscious of every step on the uneven streets.

Fendrel tucked the last of his purchases into his satchel and turned toward the Adventurer's Guild. The worn stone building loomed ahead, its weather-beaten sign creaking in the breeze. Inside, the hall buzzed with noon activity. It should be cheaper to get some noobs gather the herbs rather then trying to buy all from the market.

He found an empty table in the corner and pulled out a sheet of parchment. His hand hovered over it as he considered his wording. The guild provided request forms, but those asked too many specific questions.

[QUEST LOG]: Adventurer's Guild request submitted.

Type: Ingredient Collection.

'Research Project: Studying Medicinal Properties of Rare Flora,' he wrote at the top. Below, he listed the items:

'Seeking specimens for academic research into neutralizing toxic compounds:

* Witherbloom mushrooms (400g)

* Dreamthorn berries (fresh preferred) (300g)

* Silkslither cocoon fibers (10 cocoons)

* Swampbriar vines (20 stalks)

Compensation: 25 silver per successful collection, plus two Intermediate Healing Potions.

Fendrel read over the request again. The wording felt simple enough - focused on antidotes rather than poisons. He'd seen enough similar posts from legitimate researchers.

At the desk, a young woman with auburn hair took his form. Her eyes skimmed the page.

"Interesting project." She stamped the bottom. "Most scholars request through the university."

"Independent research." Fendrel kept his voice steady. "The university's application process takes too long."

She shrugged and pinned his request to the board. "Payment up front for posting fees."

Fendrel counted out four copper pieces. Each clink against the desk made his chest tighter. More connections, more chances for questions. But he needed those ingredients - the market prices would drain his funds too quickly.

The guild clerk handed him a note. "It will stay up for ten days if nobody picks it up. Adventurers usually grab the easier gathering jobs first."

He nodded and turned away, trying not to hurry toward the door.