100:
It was early in the morning, as Aleph, Zirel and Tom walked down the Nameless District’s main drag. Even at this early hour, as the air was damp with moisture, the open-air market was fairly populated.
It did not escape Tom how the bystanders near them stepped away and made sure to keep their distance from their party. None of them were surprised at the reaction, especially not Zirel’s alias Riven Blackheart, who was armoured in his recognizable black leather armour, metal gauntlets and grey cloth boots that were likely to be an artefact.
“There it is,” Aleph chimed, her expression brightening as she noticed an aspiring alchemist selling a wide variety of ingredients and tinctures.
Tom’s expression visibly brightened as he noticed the drugged beasts held in metal cages, arrayed behind the man in two rows stacked upon each other.
The aspiring alchemist himself, clad in verdant green robes that betrayed his desire to one day officially join the Alchemist Guild, took in the approaching group with a startled gasp.
“You there,” Zirel spoke in a slow, rumbling tone, consistent with the persona he had built up along with light disguise to avoid identification. It was too late now, he knew, but thanks to the trump card Aleph he had earned from Aleph, he no longer feared capture by the Royal Knights or the Elite Guards.
“Y-Yes sire,” The aspiring alchemist stuttered, his expression horrified as he took in Zirel’s considering expression in. “Please sire, don’t kill me,” He blurted out, his expression grave from anxiety as his survival instincts kicked into overdrive.
“I’m not going to kill you,” Zirel replied calmly. “Do you think a murderer would be allowed to roam the streets, even if it is the Nameless District? You think too little of your betters,” He replied in a manner befitting a noble.
“V-Very well, sire,” The shopkeeper muttered, his tone sounding apologetic as he realised how offensive his slip of tongue had been. Sure, Riven Blackheart was a man who would murder his party members in cold blood, but no one could prove it as it took place in the Zelez Dungeon.
He could not try something like that in the early morning hours if he wished to continue staying in the Nameless District.
“How can I help you, then?” He asked, taking for the first time since conversation began, the two masked individuals behind the infamous Riven Blackheart.
“Can I ask you a question?” Tom inquired, his tone curious and disarming even behind a pretty menacing mask that mimicked the shape of a long beaked bird with sharp incisors.
“Yes sire,” The shopkeeper hurriedly affirmed.
“Why do you keep those beasts in stock when there is no proper alchemist to be found in the Nameless District. Would it not be easier for you sell directly to the Noble District?” Tom asked, his question actually well reasoned. While the denizens of the Nameless District could not step into the Noble District without reason, the Royal Knight at the checkpoint was party there to encourage and facilitate trade—- especially, if something valuable was at stake.
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“I can only pay lower ranked dungeoneers to capture weak beasts for myself in the neighbouring lands, sire. Some I use to practise alchemy on my own. Others, like the ones behind me, are surplus that I sell to recoup my costs. Not all that come to this forsaken town are here for the glory of the dungeon, after all, sire. There are enough like me who wish to become alchemists proper, though few can fund their operations as well as I can do with my acumen, sire,” The shopkeeper candidly explained, making Tom feel bad that this was the way their paths had to cross.
“That two headed serpent behind you. It’s poisonous, right?” Tom asked, his expression gleaming with interest as he did.
“Poisonous yes, venomous, no. It’s a pretty weak beast, but it doesn’t enjoy behind hurt. It’s bloodstream is pumped full of paralytics that it’s immune to. You claw at it, or scratch it, the you’ve got to be careful not to let any of its blood touch you. Though it’s obviously temporary, otherwise I would not be selling it,” The shopkeeper explained.
“I told you I’d seen someone selling a two-headed drakon in the marketplace,” Aleph chimed in, her tone smug.
“How much will it cost? Oh and tell me the real price, we’re not here to rob you,” Tom’s tone was calm and had a light-hearted tint to it, which seemed to reassure the shopkeeper a little.
“Half a gold coin?” He asked, his tone a bit uncertain.
“Look, help me blood let it and I’ll pay you a full gold coin,” Tom proposed.
The shopkeepers visage turned from intimidated to surprised and then interested, as his eye caught on the gleam of tremendous opportunity.
“Sure, sire. I will kill it right now and drain it’s blood into a jar for you,” He hurriedly offered.
“No,” Tom tersely replied. “No, I need to be the one to kill it. You can just pack it for me,” Tom counter-offered.
“As you wish, as you wish, sire. Few aspiring alchemists can afford live beasts, but there are no shortage of cocky brats who believe they can succeed making a potion on their first try. You, sire, on the other hand, seem to know what you are doing,” The shopkeeper explained.
“Thank you, I guess,” Tom replied.
“Uh sire, would it be possible to get the gold before we behead the creature?” He asked, letting Tom know why he had been buttering him up.
The sound of a coin bouncing off a soft surface sounded out, before the alchemist hurriedly caught on to a single gold coin with both his hands. It was Zirel who had flicked it, clearly uninterested in haggling or wasting time any further.
The shopkeeper nodded gratefully, before reaching for reinforced leather gloves that were stored in his inventory. He then pulled out a large jar, unscrewed the lid and only then did his right hand wrap around one of the two headed drakon’s heads.
“Make sure to go for clean cuts,” He directed, as he opened the metal cage from the top and pulled out the pretty intimidating looking beast. His free hand wrapped around it’s other neck, holding it in place firmly. .
Tom nodded, a quick, straight cut being all he required to behead both the two headed drakon’s heads in a single strike.
Without wasting a moment, the beheaded necks were tilted in the direction of the large jar and Tom watched it fill up with elation.
‘This is the last powerup I can get,’ He thought. ‘It better be enough.’
The large jar was placed into his inventory and not long after, Tom’s party stood before the Nameless District’s entrance to the Zelez Dungeon.