Azrug and Theo spent some time messing around with the new modifier essence. When mixed with a [Lesser Vigor Potion], the essence fizzled, then exploded violently. The alchemist began making mental notes about what worked and what didn’t. It was logical what would work and what wouldn’t. When they were done having their fun with the first modifier, they inspected the second modifier he’d crafted.

[Surge]

[Essence Modifier]

Rare

Created by: Belgar

Grade: Great Quality

50 units (liquid)

Add to a completed potion to add the “surge” modifier. Surge applies bonuses as an instant, temporary effect.

The description of the modifier was confusing. The alchemist determined it was derived from the [Moss Nettle’s] surge property, but couldn’t figure out what it meant. He found another healing potion and applied the faintly green liquid to it in a 4 unit vial. The effect was instant, creating a pungent citrus smell throughout the lab. He inspected the result.

[Lesser Healing Potion]

[Surge]

[Potion] [Modified Potion]

Common

Created by: Belgar

Grade: Great Quality

A lesser healing potion. Drink to restore health.

Effect (modified):

If the user is at full health, add 30 health to their maximum and restore that amount. Effect lasts 1 minute.

“That makes more sense,” Theo said, nodding to himself.

“Wow. The modifiers really change the potion,” Azrug said. “Both effects you made are great. I can sell these.”

“They’re useful,” Theo said. “I want to find all the modifier properties. I know there’s going to be some cool stuff.”

“Better get fermenting,” Azrug said.

The pair went to work with transforming what stock they had and creating new stock for the store. Every potion he modified with the modifier essences granted him a small amount of experience, something he was grateful for. He now had more steps in the process which would give him more experience. While the modified potions cost more in reagents than the base potions, it would net him more experience. If Azrug could get double for the new potions, that would help make up for the additional cost in raw materials.

Theo made plans in his mind to ferment everything he could get his hands on. It turned out the 10 barrels he’d commissioned were going to be exactly what he needed, even if the lab didn’t have the space for it. There was also the idea of experimenting with different motes during fermentation. His intuition, and references in his book, said that this would produce different modifiers. The day was getting late, though. The unexpected arrival of Grub and Fenian had already drawn the labors of the day out, forcing him to focus on things other than alchemy. He felt the slow tide of responsibility washing in and focused the rest of the day on his mayoral duties.

Azrug retreated down to the shop, intent on manning it for the rest of the day. Theo consulted his mayor’s screen, flicking through the population screen. Broken Tusk had grown marginally, but not enough. With the roads clogged, only the adventurers already in the southlands could come to inspect the town. The alchemist needed to entice more people to make this place their home. Population was one marker that determined if the town upgraded from town status to something larger.

Theo let out a sigh at the financial screen, focusing on the sales tax section. Grub had calculated the taxes he owed, likely using some administration cores, but the screen the alchemist viewed was barren. It listed all parties that had to pay taxes, but their entries were mostly blank. The section regarding property taxes was filled out, although he didn’t know why. It was another section that revealed how derelict he’d been in his duties. To further drive the point home, the export tax section was also empty.

Theo felt as though he didn’t have an option anymore. Manually calculating all the taxes was a burdensome task that he wanted nothing to do with. He resolved to push Fenian for that governance core, dismissing the entire thing from his mind and turning his attention elsewhere. After a moment of staring out the window, sullen, he felt Tresk’s approach. The sun was getting low outside, signaling the end of her adventuring day. She burst into the lab, the wide smile on her face washing away any sense of sadness from the alchemist’s mind.

“Azrug told me about the modifiers,” Tresk said. “Gimmie!”

Theo smiled, producing several modified potions from his inventory. The Marshling took them, pressing a vial close to her face and whistling. “That’s some fancy stuff. The adventurers are asking about your bombs, now.”

“Of course they are,” Theo said. “I regret my demonstration.”

“Nah, they just want to blow stuff up. Who doesn’t?” Tresk asked. “I’m sure you have a plan.”

“I do,” Theo said. “I’m relying on the modifier essences. There’s one that makes it so a firebomb will only affect monsters.”

“You’re worried people will blow themselves up,” Tresk said, shrugging. “I mean, if you saw how they conduct themselves out there, you’d be more worried.”

Theo nodded. “The modifiers are going to set us apart.”

“Have you talked to Fenian? I think he’s still in town,” Tresk asked.

Theo craned his neck, looking out the window and into the colors of approaching dusk. “He has a way to travel long distances quickly. I guess he doesn’t need to worry about having sunlight.”

“Yeah, there’s something fancy about that carriage,” Tresk said. “Come on, he’s still at the Marsh Wolf.”

Tresk tugged on Theo’s arm, forcing him to his feet. She dragged him up the avenue, his diminishing stamina bar making the journey exhausting. By the time they reached the Marsh Wolf Tavern, it was alive with the sound of excited patrons. The pair pushed through the front door, waded through the crowds, and found their way to Fenian’s table. Grub was there with him, the small Brogling grimacing as he ate through Xam’s legendary soup.

Tresk departed for the counter, ordering several bowls.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you again before we left,” Fenian said, smiling. “The Karatan are almost charged and ready to go.”

“I have something you might be interested in,” Theo said, withdrawing a modified healing potion from his inventory. He handed it over to the trader, grinning. This new discovery boosted his mood, despite his stamina.

Fenian’s face lit up, then his brow furrowed. “This is advanced stuff. You made it?”

“Of course,” Theo said, waving him away. “What do you think?”

“I think this is unique,” Fenian said, rolling the hefty potion over in his hands. “You made this with your level 10 skills?”

“One of them,” Theo said. “I haven’t tested the other.”

“Hand that here, you grubby-mouthed Elf,” Grub said, snatching the potion from Fenian’s hand.

“Rude,” Fenian said.

“I’m no alchemist, but I’ve never heard of modifiers,” Grub said.

“You don’t run in the right circles,” Fenian said, sneering. “The concept behind Theo’s cores is that they put him at a strong starting position, revealing paths of alchemy out of reach to normal alchemists. I’ve seen modifiers before, but only from high-level alchemists.”

“The legacy of Drogramath,” a familiar voice called from across the room.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Uharis stumbled from the other side of the tavern, tripping several times before depositing himself in a chair opposite Theo. Tresk returned with 2 bowls of soup, ‌setting one down for the alchemist and slurping hers.

“Well, now it’s a party,” Fenian said, shaking his head. “A drunk wizard and a functionary of the crown. Exciting.”

“Drogramath, as you all should know, is an outsider amongst the Demon Lords. His cores are never seeded into dungeons, and besides Theo, there are no recorded cases of a Drogramath Dronon transitioning,” Uharis said, smacking his lips. “Now, some might assume this means—”

“Get to the point,” Fenian said.

Uharis blustered for a moment, shaking his head vigorously before continuing. “You’re right to assume he has a special start. Essence handling is an alchemical art reserved for masters of the craft. Theo is in an interesting place because he cannot produce high-level potions. When a master alchemist masters essences, they’re already crafting fifth-tier potions. What we’re witnessing is the birth of a new art, unknown in this land.”

“So, you’re just blowing smoke up Theo’s butt,” Tresk said, swallowing a large piece of meat. “We know this already, mister Archmage.”

“Seems that way,” Fenian said, grinning. “I have a few contacts at those master-level alchemy labs.”

“Well, mister-knows-everything-there-is-to-know, you’ll know that modifiers are common among sixth tier alchemy, around level 60,” Uharis said, casting a smug look at the trader. “The skill unlocks after hitting that level, by which time any sane alchemist would have a [Master Alchemist’s Core]. The scholarly cults, which I frequently lecture for, have pontificated on the reason for this for ages. Why lock fermentation away behind such a high level?”

“Because modifiers are powerful,” Theo said, shrugging. It was that simple. Changing the baseline potion was an extreme measure. Unlocking the fermentation skill opened a new world of potion making, unbound by the normal conventions.

“Because modifiers are extremely powerful,” Uharis said, hiccuping. “Drogramath seems to disagree, as you can see with our alchemist here. Although, if you could determine the motives of a Demon Lord, my order would pay you handsomely. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have someone to attend to.”

Uharis stood from his chair, wobbled dangerously, then sauntered over the Xam. The Half-Ogre woman rolled her eyes as he approached, busying herself with cleaning the bar as he came.

“I don’t much like that man,” Grub said.

“It’s an act,” Theo said. “I mean, he might really be drunk, but he knows what he’s doing.”

“He likes to drop these seeds,” Tresk said, slurping her soup. “I think he’s trying to influence Theo.”

“Me, too,” Fenian said, narrowing his eyes on the Archmage. “The scholars charge a fortune for that kind of information. Why drop it here and now?”

“My intuition says he’s trying to light a fire under me,” Theo said. He wasn’t entirely comfortable discussing this around Grub, but he was taken by the moment. “He was steering me toward the [Loremaster] class.”

“Horrible pick for your station,” Grub said, waving a dismissive hand. “You’d be a fool not to pick an administration class.”

“I know,” Theo said, finally taking his first sip of the soup. It was as plain as ever.

“Hey, I wanted [Loremaster], too,” Tresk said, frowning. “I have all this magic crap that I can’t identify.”

Fenian was more focused than normal. His eyes didn’t leave the Archmage, as though he was trying to unravel the man’s very being from afar. Theo didn’t dare interrupt him, allowing him to continue his vigil. Grub, Tresk, and Theo fell into light conversation about the state of the kingdom. Things were already getting better, a fact that surprised the alchemist. The roads would clear in days and the war in the west would continue, although ‌those battles were beyond anyone in Broken Tusk. They were cogs in a much smaller machine.

“That’s why Broken Tusk will prosper,” Grub said proudly. “Towns headed by those with a mind for crafting and commerce tend to do very well. Just consider Rivers and Daub!”

“I remember when they were just Daub,” Fenian said, snapping out of his concentration. “A crafter at the helm has little to do with their success.”

Grub shrugged. “Exploitation of natural resources is a valid strategy.”

“Until all your timber is gone. And your mines are empty,” Fenian said.

“Well, they should have been upgrading their core buildings,” Grub said, nodding. “Thus the merger with Rivers.”

Fenian nodded at Theo, sensing his confusion. “You can upgrade core buildings like a quarry, mine, or forester to increase the rate that resources regenerate. Daub failed to do so, thus their debt to the crown.”

“Are most towns in debt?” Tresk asked. “We’re not in debt.”

“Most of them are,” Grub said, smiling. “But, loans are an important thing for a growing town. You should take a few out—take me up on my offer to finance your [Governance Core].”

There it was. The hidden piece of information the Brogling was holding back about the free core they’d provide him. The man wanted Theo to go into debt to the crown, something he wanted nothing to do with. If Broken Tusk couldn’t afford to pay for it with coin, they wouldn’t buy it. But, now wasn’t the time for picking fights. It was a time for playing nice with the important government functionary taking his dinner in the alchemist’s town.

“Absolutely,” Theo said, receiving a swift kick under the table from Fenian. “Once I sort our long-term finances out, I’ll be talking to my contact.”

Fenian’s brow knit for a moment, then the deep tracks on his forehead vanished.

“Well, I think it's about time we get going,” Fenian said, straightening his ruffled coat. “Galflower doesn’t enjoy waiting.”

Grub reached out a hand for Theo to shake. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Theo rose from his seat, affecting a shallow bow. “You’re welcome here any time.”

The pair departed the table, setting off into the onset of dusk.

“We’re not going into debt, are we?” Tresk asked.

“Absolutely not,” Theo said. “More people are trying to manipulate me. As long as I’m alive, Broken Tusk will be as free as possible.”

“Good. I don’t want any of that crap,” Tresk said.

The pair settled into their meal, watching as Uharis withdrew a flask from his robe several times, draining the contents. As the sun set, the Archmage stumbled upstairs toward the rooms, vomiting at the landing and disappearing through a door. The sound of raucous conversation died down after a while. Theo felt himself falling asleep at that dingy table, but endeavored to finish his soup. With the last spoonful of the bland liquid down his throat, he blinked heavily. A sudden sound came from outside, a sound that seemed foreign in his dazed state.

Tresk bolted upright from her chair, withdrawing her two wicked daggers. She shouted something that Theo couldn’t hear, the words blocked out by his exhaustion. The Marshling withdrew a yellow potion from her inventory, tipped the alchemist’s head back and poured it down his throat. A rush of energy flooded through his body, banishing his tiredness away in a single heartbeat. He recognized the sound. The clanging bell that signaled a call to arms.

“Let’s go!” Tresk shouted, pulling Theo along.

The tavern was a blur of motion, adventurers hoisting their weapons and downing their own potions. Out on the street he spotted Fenian, cramming monster cores into the monolith at the center of town.

“Of all the days to leave late!” Fenian shouted. “I pick the one where you’ve failed to upgrade the town.”

Aarok emerged from the adventurer’s guild, shouting orders among the gathered adventurers. Pandemonium set in over Broken Tusk, the sounds of a pitched battle coming from the western gate. The guildmaster shouted something at Tresk and she vanished from the spot. Luras appeared from the southern road, removing something from his chest before inserting something else. He was equipping his [Hunter’s Core] in preparation for a fight. The pain was evident on his face.

“What’s happening?” Theo asked, the haze of the night still clouding his thoughts.

“Monster wave!” Grub shouted, his voice quavering. “By the Gods, a monster wave in the southlands. We’re dead!”

“Someone remove this idiot,” Aarok shouted, pointing at the Brogling. “We trained for this. Ranged attackers on the wall, everyone else in reserve near the gate. Someone go raid Theo’s stash of potions.”

A pair of adventurers escorted Grub into Fenian’s black carriage, the Brogling screaming the entire way.

“Theo!” Fenian shouted, shoving monster cores into the monolith. “Your prompt should appear…. Now!”

A prompt flashed into the alchemist’s vision.

[Broken Tusk] has advanced to level 15!

[Broken Tusk] is eligible for an upgrade. As the Mayor, you may make a section of the following:

[Watchtowers]

Your [Town] will gain watchtowers placed along the border. The watchtowers will move to match the edge of your borders, should you expand. 12 watchtowers will be placed.

[Water Tower]

Your [Town] will gain a single 1,000 unit water tower in its center. The tower will not automatically fill.

[Defensive Emplacements]

Your [Town] gains weapon slots at each gate, and sporadically along the wall. You may place a single [Defensive Artifice] in each slot.

Theo selected the [Defensive Emplacements] upgrade, hearing the gate rumble from the west. Aarok shouted more orders as the adventurer’s scattered. Tresk reappeared from nowhere, nodding to the guildmaster.

“The boss is there,” Tresk said. “Leading an army of goblins, wolves, trolls—some other things in the swamp I couldn’t see.”

“Mount the [Chain Lightning Towers], Theo,” Fenian said, his face painted with grim resolve. “My Galflower can get us out of here, but I won’t see your town fall.”

Theo nodded, walking on shaky legs to the western gate. This was a day he’d feared for a long time. The manifestation of a monster wave was something people talked about a lot, but it seemed so far off. He thought he had more time to mount his guns, but was grateful that Aarok was taking command. The [Lesser Stamina Potion] flooded through his body, speeding his thoughts up by the moment. Any desire for sleep was banished, leaving only a resolve to defend his town.

“Stay close,” Tresk said, crouching low. Her daggers caught the light of the rising moon, glinting with a pale blue glow. She removed a [Basic Poison] from her inventory, coating the length of both blades.

The alchemist spotted the western gate. Flashes of fire streamed over the top, sending adventurers tumbling onto the ground below. Theo froze on the spot, watching as the defenders pulled the wounded away from the wild battle. Flashes of life on Earth drove an iron spike through his skull, sending him to his knees. The sharp sting of pain brought him from his stupor. Looking up, he saw Tresk huffing angrily. She’d slapped him across the face.

“Move,” Tresk said. “To the battlements. Plant the [Chain Lightning Tower]. Defend Broken Tusk.”

Those simple words were enough to bring him to his feet, moving in lock-step with the Marshling woman. His feet played an unhappy sloshing song to join in chorus among the ring of steel and the loosing of arrows. Nausea spread through his stomach, but he swallowed the bile down. He couldn’t run any longer. He needed to face his demons head-on.