Chapter 11

Theo had a sense, as he left the lab, that his barrels were almost done fermenting. He never experimented with fermentation back on Earth, but he knew this was quicker than it should be. Azrug tried to strike up conversation as he left, but the alchemist waved him off for the time being, explaining that he had to catch Fenian before he left town. The shopkeeper seemed understanding, that excitement for his new venture bubbling to the surface at every opportunity.

The rain was falling, as expected, outside. A gentle mist that settled over the town like a shroud, enveloping the workers with a wet haze that put off work for another day. Theo worked his way north over the wet cobbles, streams of water falling from the roof of the Newt and Demon. The rain played a song for his journey, giving him time to reflect on the decisions that lay ahead. In his mind, [Loremaster] was the best pick. But Uharis had undersold the core to him. The man’s motives were as ethereal as his magical practices, leaving the alchemist without an answer to his suspicions.

The Marsh Wolf Tavern sat like a sentinel in the rain, dim lights flickering from warped windows. Despite her high prices, it was a refuge from the constant rain. A place where people could share their stories for the day, looking forward to a season without the constant drive of unforgiving rain. Theo pushed his way through the front door, finding a few of those people scattered around the interior. Fenian was eating something near the back window while Xam herself looked on with disinterested eyes.

Theo assumed the seat next to the Elf and smiled. “Good to see you again.”

“Old friend,” Fenian said, holding his arms wide. “Fortunately, I’ve been very busy. I’ve been making a fortune while the roads are impassable. Things will calm down in the next few days. Then, I’ll have a nice order for you to complete. How have you been?”

“I’m good,” Theo said. “If the roads are impassable, how did you get here?”

“Ah, that’s a secret. I’ll say there are other paths one can take,” Fenian said, grinning.

“Paths only accessible to demonic Karatan,” Theo said, smiling back. “I want your expert opinion on something. I have to pick a new core and I’m torn between [Loremaster] and [Administrator].”

Fenian’s face lit up. The grin painting his face widened. “That’s a simple question to answer. You’re the mayor of a town—that’s not a common thing. [Loremaster] would grant you more income on a short term basis. You’d learn a lot about things, but [Administrator]? I might be able to source an extremely rare core for the right price. If you want Broken Tusk to go from well off to rich, I recommend the [Administrator] route.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Theo said. “My instinct says to take the [Administrator] class, find a [Governance Core] if I can.”

“I don’t have a mind for politics, or governance. What I have a mind for is trade. That’s the exact core I was thinking of—with it, you can strike deals with other towns. Create town-specific titles and assign those roles to others.”

“That settles it,” Theo said, lowering his voice. “Grub seems to think someone in the capital likes me.”

“Because someone does,” Fenian said, also lowering his voice. “They’re respecting your sovereignty and giving you a clear path forward.”

“How much could you source the [Governance Core] for?” Theo asked.

“For you? Make me your trade liaison and I’ll find it at cost,” Fenian said.

“You’d be my first pick for that kind of title, anyway,” Theo said. “How much?”

“Perhaps 15 gold,” Fenian said.

“A steep price,” Theo said, nodding.

“It’s a rare legendary core. Sought after by the nobility. Anyway, I can find it,” Fenian said, puffing up with pride.

“Then it's just a matter of finding some cores for Tresk,” Theo said.

“For the [Shadowdancer’s Core]? She already saw me about that. I was happy to sell her the two cores,” Fenian said.

“That sneaky little Marshling,” Theo said, narrowing his eyes. “I was going to buy them for her.”

“She also sold me a lot of magical items,” Fenian said. “She also bought a bigger dimensional bag.”

“She’s been busy,” Theo said.

Fenian nodded, eating some of his meal. He took a long moment before speaking again, slurping the broth of his soup noisily.

“Take the administration core,” Fenian said. “For the sake of Broken Tusk.”

Theo furrowed his brow, staring out the window into the constant haze of rainfall. His mind swirled with possibilities, a whisper in his chest baiting him to take that path. He was already playing a dangerous game with Drogramath so close to his heart, but to seize the reins of power would be another thing. But that, too, was a fallacy. He’d already taken the reins unwittingly. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he wanted that power. Not a yoke cast over the people of Broken Tusk, but the power to steer her destiny wherever he wanted. The alchemist wasn’t vain enough to think himself the soul savior of the town, but the self-appointed title was tempting.

He kept his mind focused on doing the most good, whatever that meant. The people of the town were in a better place now that he was at the helm. They were fed, sheltered, and getting fat from his efforts. It was the least he could do, in his mind. If this place was some kind of elaborate set-up was beyond him. It didn’t matter.

“Right,” Theo said. “Find one for me. I only have one more question.”

“What is it?” Fenian said, swallowing a mouthful of mystery meat.

“Grub suggested that Qavell would finance my core,” Theo said, narrowing his eyes. “I can feel Drogramath himself screaming into my chest about that.”

Fenian smiled. “Then the old potioneer is smarter than anyone could hope. That’s absolutely a trap of some kind. A ploy to get you to relinquish your independence. Don’t trust a word Grub says about that.”

Theo tilted his head back and loosed a sigh. The crown, Fenian, Uharis, Sulvan… They were all steering him in a direction, but which one was right? Of all those interests, the Elf before him was the most trustworthy.

“An honest merchant,” Theo said, snorting a laugh. “We’re a strange pair.”

“We are,” Fenian admitted. “But that’s what makes this work. I’ll put up my own gold before I let you take coin handed by the crown. If you can’t afford my price, let me know.”

Theo nodded. “You have a stake in Broken Tusk. The least I can do is give you the position to negotiate our contracts. Without you, I wouldn’t have accomplished all this.”

Fenian set down his wooden spoon, leaning back in his chair. “Think of it like this. We’re all disparate pieces, strewn over the land. Tresk, You, Me, Broken Tusk, Drogramath… We’re all tiny pieces to a gigantic puzzle. No one expected us to come together, but here we are. Standing in defiance of what others thought possible. This town is special. I came here because I heard of a new alchemist. What I found was an alchemist exploiting some cosmic loophole. I found a companion.”

Fenian was right about Broken Tusk being different. About things coming together to form something larger. The confluence he thought about was forming before his eyes. The town produced more than it should be able to. His quarry in the north, the timber in the swamp, and the reagents scattered around the fields. They all grew back at extraordinary rates. Everything leaned in the favor of a prosperous town. The alchemist would be foolish not to take advantage of that quirk in the system.

“You’re right. We’re stronger together,” Theo said before lowering his voice again. “You know my ambitions, don’t you? The things I seek to accomplish?”

Fenian leaned in, smiling. “A kingdom. An independent state born of the swamp. A force of mercantile greatness. Yes, I know what you want to do. I know how high you’ve set your expectations.”

“Then, I have to ask. Do you think I’ll succeed?” Theo asked.

“With the company you keep?” Fenian asked, pointing to himself. “Absolutely. We’ll have the northlanders by their toes. Every merchant's guild will beg me for a piece of the action.”

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“Khahar Sefo Zus,” Theo said, going glassy in the eyes. “The desert of the Khahari provides.”

“Was that the old Khahari tongue? The cat-people?” Fenian said, cocking his head to the side.

He couldn’t explain how he knew the phrase. It was indeed the old tongue of the Khahari tribe from the western desert nations. Zan’kir had said a few words in the old tongue around him, but he didn’t think he picked much of it up. It was likely a hidden trait of his outworlder origin that revealed the strange language to him. Something deeper inside him was whispering those words into his mind, though. Something demonic.

Theo leaned in further, pressing most of his torso against the table. “The Khahari. Who trades with the Khahari? What about the Toora?”

Fenian’s eyes went wide. “Qavell trades with the Toora, on a small scale. No one trades with the eastern deserts, though.”

“Broken Tusk will,” Theo said, nodding to himself. “Other paths… How well can you move goods between here and Khahar?”

A smile crept across Fenian’s face. “I love the way you think, Dronon. Gods, you have a knack for this. Or, perhaps you’re being led by something else.”

Theo’s face went pale for a moment. “I have a feeling Drogramath is steering me that way.”

Fenian placed his hand over Theo’s and nodded. “Don’t let the order hear me say this, but that Demon isn’t so bad. He’s so far outside the realm of Demonic influence, he may as well be unaligned. From what I understand, he’s currently banished. Take those whispers in stride, but listen to them. This is a fantastic idea.”

“One more thing,” Theo said. “I need a [Fabricator’s Core].”

Fenian didn’t skip a beat, producing one from thin air. It had a wooden mesh exterior with a glowing green center. Theo inspected the glowing object.

[Fabricator’s Core]

Rare

Fabricator Core

Unbound

2 Slots

Level 1 (0%)

The [Fabricator] specializes in creating upgrades and modifying seed core buildings.

Effects:

+1 Vigor

“How much?” Theo asked. “And why do you keep so many cores on you?”

“Many merchant cores grant a vast inventory,” Fenian said, setting the core down on the table. “My supplier has an array of cores that I get for cheap. I paid 50 silver for this one, you can have it for a gold.”

“Your standard double-rate,” Theo said, nodding. He produced a gold coin and handed it over to the trader. “Your prices are still fair.”

“For you? Always,” Fenian said. “You could have talked me down to my cost, of course. But as always, you’re unwilling to barter. All the more reason you need someone representing the town in trade deals.”

Theo stuffed the core into his inventory.

“My woodworker needs something more meaningful,” Theo said, nodding to himself. “Now I just need to trick her into taking it.”

“A task for which you’re most suited,” Fenian said, returning to his soup. “There’s a certain charm in this soup, isn’t there?”

“What do you mean? It’s very plain,” Theo said, grimacing at the bowl.

“Ah, the charm of imperfection,” Fenian said, letting out a wistful sigh. “When something is too perfect, it becomes mechanical. I find the light of things in their flaws.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” Theo said, laughing. “Sounds like Broken Tusk.”

“Indeed.”

Theo checked in with the Elven trader a bit more, lingering on less serious topics. Fenian couldn’t be happier with his position as a courier, although he feared it would end sooner than expected. It was a strange middle ground where he paused most of his normal trading in favor of carting around dignitaries and military personnel alike. The alchemist departed the inn once he was satisfied with the conversation, his mind wandering to the fermentation barrels back at the lab.

“So long,” Theo said, waving.

Fenian waved absentmindedly, returning his attention to the soup. Theo departed into the rain, working his way back to the Newt and Demon. Azrug was standing proudly behind the counter, gesturing to an array of junk strewn about the surface.

“What’s all this?” Theo asked.

“Part of the new business plan,” Azrug said. “I’m buying up the magical gear from local adventurers, then I’ll sell it to foreigners.”

“Whatever you think is right,” Theo said, waving him off. “You bought this with the profits from selling potions?”

“Yeah, I think it's going to work out,” Azrug said. “I got experience for buying the stuff, too.”

Theo often dismissed the shopkeeper’s intelligence. In a lot of ways, Azrug was still a boy. The alchemist couldn’t know for certain, but he was likely around 15 years old, which was early for getting one’s cores. He had a natural affinity for trade and a keen mind for negotiation.

“What core should I slot for my third core?” Theo asked.

“Oh, right. You hit level 10,” Azrug said, nodding. He leaned in and flashed a grin. “You gotta take something for the town, right? How can you not? You’re our mayor.”

Theo smiled. That statement was as reductive as he could get, boiling the problem down to a simple fact. The people of Broken Tusk needed him. He needed to be there for them in any way possible, including giving up his ambitions to be a good mayor.

“Thanks,” Theo said, patting the shopkeeper on the shoulder.

“Hey, no problem,” Azrug said. “I’m really smart.”

Theo retreated upstairs, a strange scent lingering in the air. It was a sharp smell like alcohol mixing with something else like decaying vegetation. He assumed it was the fermentation going to work, but upon inspecting his latest project, he found that the process was done. The contents of each barrel had undergone a transformation. The small pieces inside the mash had broken down, covered in a layer of frothing foam as bubbles rose from the bottom of the mixture.

It was time to consult Basic Drogramath Alchemy yet again. The fermentation process was the first step in creating essence modifiers, the second step being a familiar one. Once the mixture had fermented for enough time, which the book assured him would be intuitive, he’d transfer the mash into the still and run it on a higher heat setting than normal. The thing that set the fermentation process apart from a regular mash was that the fermented mash would only produce one property. This new property would be the essence modifier property, but the tome claimed there were advanced processing methods after this. Something far out of Theo’s reach with his current skills.

He transferred the 50 units of the [Spiny Swamp Thistle Root] fermented mash into his [Drogramath Still], and the 50 units of [Moss Nettle] fermented mash to his [Custom Copper Still], lighting medium-strength fires beneath both. The alchemist went back to the book to read more about the modifier essences.

Each reagent produced a unique modifier. Once fermented and distilled, they could be added to any potion to change the way it worked. The book had many examples, but a friend-or-foe style firebomb was high on his list of things that interested him. Some modifiers didn’t work with some potions, but the information on that was scarce. Theo would need to upgrade his lab to get the testing area, which would hopefully allow him to experiment with explosions without damaging the building.

Theo patted the top of the hot [Drogramath Still], grinning as it completed its run before his non-magical still. He inspected the still itself to appreciate the bonus effects.

[Drogramath Still]

[Alchemy Equipment]

Legendary

Created By: ????

A 500 unit capacity Drogramathi still with attached advanced condenser. The advanced condenser allows for a more efficient cooling of essences, decreasing the time needed to distill. The Drogramathi metal increases the spread of heat, providing an even distribution across a run.

Effects:

Distillation time reduced.

Occasionally produces more essence per run.

As promised, it produced more than the 50 units he put in, 58 units, and ran significantly quicker than the still built by Throk. The essence it produced had a different appearance than the normal essences. Streams of silver baubles ran through the liquid, rising through it like bubbles. The system informed him about the experience he gained, but he disregarded the notification and inspected his new creation.

[Over-time Modifier]

[Essence Modifier]

Rare

Created by: Belgar

Grade: Great Quality

50 units (liquid)

Add to a completed potion to add the “over-time” modifier. May not work with all potions.

Theo made a mental note. A mash of [Spiny Swamp Thistle Root] and an [Earth Mote] produced an [Over-time Modifier]. He dug an old healing potion from his inventory, appraising it for a moment. The potion was 2 units of liquid, and his intuition told him to add an equal amount of the modifier solution to gain the effect. The alchemist create a 4 unit vial and transferred his existing potion over. He examined it before adding the new effect.

[Lesser Healing Potion]

[Potion]

Common

Created by: Belgar

Grade: Great Quality

A lesser healing potion. Drink to restore health.

Effect:

Instantly restores 30 health points.

It wasn’t his best work, created back before he could get excellent quality out of his stills. Theo slowly introduced 2 units of his modifier essence to the potion, watching as the silvery liquid mixed to spout plumes of red smoke. It bubbled for a moment before settling down, filling the lab with a scent crossed between fresh-tilled earth and industrial-strength solvent. He inspected his new creation.

[Lesser Healing Potion]

[Over-Time]

[Potion] [Modified Potion]

Common

Created by: Belgar

Grade: Great Quality

A lesser healing potion. Drink to restore health.

Effect (modified):

Restores 30 health points every minute for five minutes.

Theo gawked for a moment at the system screen. The potion was absurdly better than the last version. The imbiber would get the same effect of the potion 5 times in total over the course of 5 minutes. He stoppered the vial, rushing downstairs and thrusting his still-warm creation into Azrug’s hands. The shopkeeper’s mouth dropped open.

“This is powerful,” Azrug said. “My [Merchant’s Core] is screaming at me. You’ve at least doubled the value of the regular potion.”

Theo grinned. “I knew you’d think this was awesome.”